Bat-Wing (32 page)

"At last we were really happy. No one knew us. Because we were strange,
and because of Ah Tsong, they looked at us very funny and kept away,
but we did not care. Then Sir James Appleton sold Cray's Folly."

She looked up quickly.

"How can I tell you? It must have been by Ah Tsong that he traced me to
Surrey. Some spy had told him there was a Chinaman living here. Oh, I
don't know how he found out, but when I heard who was coming to Cray's
Folly I thought I should die.

"Something I must tell you now. When I had told my story to Colin, one
thing I had not told him, because I was afraid what he might do. I had
not told him the name of the man who had caused me to suffer so much.
On the day I first saw Señor Menendez walking in the garden of Cray's
Folly I knew I must tell my husband what he had so often asked me to
tell him—the name of the man. I told him—and at first I thought he
would go mad. He began to drink—do you know? It is a failing in his
family. But because I knew—because I knew—I forgave him, and hoped,
always hoped, that he would stop. He promised to do so. He had given up
going out each day to drink, and was working again like he used to
work—too hard, too hard, but it was better than the other way."

She stopped speaking, and suddenly, before I could divine her
intention, dropped upon her knees, and raised her clasped hands to me.

"He did not, he did not kill him!" she cried, passionately. "He did
not! O God! I who love him tell you he did not! You think he did. You
do—you do! I can see it in your eyes!"

"Believe me, Mrs. Camber," I answered, deeply moved, "I don't doubt
your word for a moment."

She continued to look at me for a while, and then turned to Val
Beverley.

"
You
don't think he did," she sobbed, "do you?"

She looked such a child, such a pretty, helpless child, as she knelt
there on the carpet, that I felt a lump rising in my throat.

Val Beverley dropped down impulsively beside her and put her arms
around the slender shoulders.

"Of course I don't," she exclaimed, indignantly. "Of course I don't.
It's quite unthinkable."

"I know it is," moaned the other, raising her tearful face. "I love him
and know his great soul. But what do these others know, and they will
never believe
me
."

"Have courage," I said. "It has never failed you yet. Mr. Paul Harley
has promised to clear him by to-night."

"He has promised?" she whispered, still kneeling and clutching Val
Beverley tightly. She looked up at me with hope reborn in her beautiful
eyes. "He has promised? Oh, I thank him. May God bless him. I know he
will succeed."

I turned aside, and walked out across the hall and into the empty
study.

I recognize that whosoever may have taken the trouble to follow my
chronicle thus far will be little disposed to suffer any intrusion of
my personal affairs at such a point. Therefore I shall pass lightly
over the walk back to Cray's Folly, during which I contrived to learn
much about Val Beverley's personal history but little to advance the
investigation which I was there to assist.

As I had surmised, Miss Beverley had been amply provided for by her
father, and was bound to Madame de Stämer by no other ties than those
of friendship and esteem. Very reluctantly I released her, on our
returning to the house; for she, perforce, hurried off to Madame's
room, leaving me looking after her in a state of delightful
bewilderment, the significance of which I could not disguise from
myself. The absurd suspicions of Inspector Aylesbury were forgotten; so
was the shadow upon the blind of Colonel Menendez's study. I only knew
that love had come to me, an unbidden guest, to stay for ever.

Manoel informed me that a number of pressmen, not to be denied, had
taken photographs of the Tudor garden and of the spot where Colonel
Menendez had been found, but Pedro, following my instructions, had
referred them all to Market Hilton.

I was standing in the doorway talking to the man when I heard the drone
of Harley's motor in the avenue, and a moment later he and Wessex
stepped out in front of the porch and joined me. I thought that Wessex
looked stern and rather confused, but Harley was quite his old self,
his keen eyes gleaming humorously, and an expression of geniality upon
his tanned features.

"Hullo, Knox!" he cried, "any developments?"

"Yes," I said. "Suppose we go up to your room and talk."

"Good enough."

Inspector Wessex nodded without speaking, and the three of us mounted
the staircase and entered Paul Harley's room. Harley seated himself
upon the bed and began to load his pipe, whilst Wessex, who seemed very
restless, stood staring out of the window. I sat down in the armchair,
and:

"I have had an interesting interview with Mrs. Camber," I said.

"What?" exclaimed Harley. "Good. Tell us all about it."

Wessex turned, hands clasped behind him, and listened in silence to an
account which I gave of my visit to the Guest House. When I had
finished:

"It seems to me," said the Inspector, slowly, "that the only doubtful
point in the case against Camber is cleared up; namely, his motive."

"It certainly looks like it," agreed Harley. "But how strangely Mrs.
Camber's story differs from that of Menendez although there are points
of contact. I regret, however, that you were unable to settle the most
important matter of all."

"You mean whether or not she had visited Cray's Folly?"

"Exactly."

"Then you still consider my theory to be correct?" I asked eagerly.

"Up to a point it has been proved to be," he returned. "I must
congratulate you upon a piece of really brilliant reasoning, Knox. But
respecting the most crucial moment of all, we are still without
information, unfortunately. However, whilst the presence or otherwise,
of Mrs. Camber in Cray's Folly on the night preceding the tragedy may
prove to bear intimately upon the case, an experiment which I propose
to make presently will give the matter an entirely different
significance."

"Hm," said Wessex, doubtfully, "I am looking forward to this experiment
of yours, Mr. Harley, with great interest. To be perfectly honest, I
have no more idea than the man in the moon how you hope to clear
Camber."

"No," replied Harley, musingly, "the weight of evidence against him is
crushing. But you are a man of great experience, Wessex, in criminal
investigations. Tell me honestly, have you ever known a murder case in
which there was such conclusive material for the prosecution?"

"Never," replied the Inspector, promptly. "In this respect, as in
others, the case is unique."

"You have seen Camber," continued Harley, "and have been enabled to
form some sort of judgment respecting his character. You will admit
that he is a clever man, brilliantly clever. Keep this fact in mind.
Remember his studies, and he does not deny that they have included
Voodoo. Remember his enquiries into the significance of Bat Wing.
Remember, as we now learn definitely from Mrs. Camber's evidence, that
he was in Cuba at the same time as the late Colonel Menendez, and once,
at least, actually in the same hotel in the United States. Consider the
rifle found under the floor of the hut; and, having weighed all these
points judicially, Wessex, tell me frankly, if in the whole course of
your experience, you have ever met with a more perfect frame-up?"

"What!" shouted Wessex, in sudden excitement. "What!"

"I said a frame-up," repeated Harley, quietly. "An American term, but
one which will be familiar to you."

"Good God!" muttered the detective, "you have turned all my ideas
upside down."

"What may be termed the
physical
evidence," continued Harley,
"is complete, I admit: too complete. There lies the weak spot. But what
I will call the psychological evidence points in a totally different
direction. A man clever enough to have planned this crime, and Camber
undoubtedly is such a man, could not—it is humanly impossible—have
been fool enough, deliberately to lay such a train of damning facts.
It's a frame-up, Wessex! I had begun to suspect this even before I met
Camber. Having met him, I knew that I was right. Then came an
inspiration. I saw where there must be a flaw in the plan. It was
geographically impossible that this could be otherwise."

"Geographically impossible?" I said, in a hushed voice, for Harley had
truly astounded me.

"Geographical is the term, Knox. I admit that the discovery of the
rifle beneath the floor of the hut appalled me."

"I could see that it did."

"It was the crowning piece of evidence, Knox, evidence of such fiendish
cleverness on the part of those who had plotted Menendez's death that I
began to wonder whether after all it would be possible to defeat them.
I realized that Camber's life hung upon a hair. For the production of
that rifle before a jury of twelve moderately stupid men and true could
not fail to carry enormous weight. Whereas the delicate point upon
which my counter case rested might be more difficult to demonstrate in
court. To-night, however, we shall put it to the test, and there are
means, no doubt, which will occur to me later, of making its
significance evident to one not acquainted with the locality. The press
photographs, which I understand have been taken, may possibly help us
in this."

Bewildered by my friend's revolutionary ideas, which explained the
hitherto mysterious nature of his enquiries, I scarcely knew what to
say; but:

"If it's a frame-up, Mr. Harley," said Wessex, "and the more I think
about it the more it has that look to me, practically speaking, we have
not yet started on the search for the murderer."

"We have not," replied Harley, grimly. "But I have a dawning idea of a
method by which we shall be enabled to narrow down this enquiry."

It must be unnecessary for me to speak of the state of suppressed
excitement in which we passed the remainder of that afternoon and
evening. Dr. Rolleston called again to see Madame de Stämer, and
reported that she was quite calm. In fact, he almost echoed Val
Beverley's words spoken earlier in the day.

"She is unnaturally calm, Mr. Knox," he said in confidence. "I
understand that the dead man was a cousin, but I almost suspect that
she was madly in love with him."

I nodded shortly, admiring his acute intelligence.

"I think you are right, doctor," I replied, "and if it is so, her
amazing fortitude is all the more admirable."

"Admirable?" he echoed. "As I said before, she has the courage of ten
men."

A formal dinner was out of the question, of course; indeed, no one
attempted to dress. Val Beverley excused herself, saying that she would
dine in Madame's room, and Harley, Wessex, and I, partook of wine and
sandwiches in the library.

Inspector Aylesbury arrived about eight o'clock in a mood of repressed
irritation. Pedro showed him in to where the three of us were seated,
and:

"Good evening, gentlemen," said he, "here I am, as arranged, but as I
am up to my eyes in work on the case, I will ask you, Mr. Harley, to
carry out this experiment of yours as quickly as possible."

"No time shall be lost," replied my friend, quietly. "May I request you
to accompany Detective-Inspector Wessex and Mr. Knox to the Guest House
by the high road? Do not needlessly alarm Mrs. Camber. Indeed, I think
you might confine your attention to Mrs. Powis. Merely request
permission to walk down the garden to the hut, and be good enough to
wait there until I join you, which will be in a few minutes after your
arrival."

Inspector Aylesbury uttered an inarticulate, grunting sound, but I, who
knew Harley so well, could see that he felt himself to be upon the eve
of a signal triumph. What he proposed to do, I had no idea, save that
it was designed to clear Colin Camber. I prayed that it might also
clear his pathetic girl-wife; and in a sort of gloomy silence I set out
with Wessex and Aylesbury, down the drive, past the lodge, which seemed
to be deserted to-night, and along the tree-lined high road, cool and
sweet in the dusk of evening.

Aylesbury was very morose, and Wessex, who had lighted his pipe, did
not seem to be in a talkative mood either. He had the utmost faith in
Paul Harley, but it was evident enough that he was oppressed by the
weight of evidence against Camber. I divined the fact that he was
turning over in his mind the idea of the frame-up, and endeavouring to
re-adjust the established facts in accordance with this new point of
view.

We were admitted to the Guest House by Mrs. Powis, a cheery old soul;
one of those born optimists whose special task in life seems to be that
of a friend in need.

As she opened the door, she smiled, shook her head, and raised her
finger to her lips.

"Be as quiet as you can, sir," she said. "I have got her to sleep."

She spoke of Mrs. Camber as one refers to a child, and, quite
understanding her anxiety:

"There will be no occasion to disturb her, Mrs. Powis," I replied. "We
merely wish to walk down to the bottom of the garden to make a few
enquiries."

"Yes, gentlemen," she whispered, quietly closing the door as we all
entered the hall.

She led us through the rear portion of the house, and past the quarters
of Ah Tsong into that neglected garden which I remembered so well.

"There you are, sir, and may Heaven help you to find the truth."

"Rest assured that the truth will be found, Mrs. Powis," I answered.

Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat, but Wessex, puffing at his
pipe, made no remark whatever until we were all come to the hut
overhanging the little ravine.

"This is where I found the rifle, Detective-Inspector," explained
Aylesbury.

Wessex nodded absently.