by Sax Rohmer
I sat in Paul Harley's room. Luncheon was over, and although, as on theprevious day, it had been a perfect repast, perfectly served, the senseof tension which I had experienced throughout the meal had made mehorribly ill at ease.
That shadow of which I have spoken elsewhere seemed to have becomealmost palpable. In vain I had ascribed it to a morbid imagination:persistently it lingered.
Madame de Staemer's gaiety rang more false than ever. She twirled therings upon her slender fingers and shot little enquiring glances allaround the table. This spirit of unrest, from wherever it arose, hadcommunicated itself to everybody. Madame's several bon mots one and allwere failures. She delivered them without conviction like an amateurrepeating lines learned by heart. The Colonel was unusually silent,eating little but drinking much. There was something unreal, almostghastly, about the whole affair; and when at last Madame de Staemerretired, bearing Val Beverley with her, I felt certain that the Colonelwould make some communication to us. If ever knowledge of portentousevil were written upon a man's face it was written upon his, as he satthere at the head of the table, staring straightly before him. However:
"Gentlemen," he said, "if your enquiries here have led to no result of,shall I say, a tangible character, at least I feel sure that you musthave realized one thing."
Harley stared at him sternly.
"I have realized, Colonel Menendez," he replied, "that something ispending."
"Ah!" murmured the Colonel, and he clutched the edge of the table withhis strong brown hands.
"But," continued my friend, "I have realized something more. You haveasked for my aid, and I am here. Now you have deliberately tied myhands."
"What do you mean, sir?" asked the other, softly.
"I will speak plainly. I mean that you know more about the nature ofthis danger than you have ever communicated to me. Allow me to proceed,if you please, Colonel Menendez. For your delightful hospitality I thankyou. As your guest I could be happy, but as a professional investigatorwhose services have been called upon under most unusual circumstances, Icannot be happy and I do not thank you."
Their glances met. Both were angry, wilful, and self-confident.Following a few moments of silence:
"Perhaps, Mr. Harley," said the Colonel, "you have something further tosay?"
"I have this to say," was the answer: "I esteem your friendship, but Ifear I must return to town without delay."
The Colonel's jaws were clenched so tightly that I could see the musclesprotruding. He was fighting an inward battle; then:
"What!" he said, "you would desert me?"
"I never deserted any man who sought my aid."
"I have sought your aid."
"Then accept it!" cried Harley. "This, or allow me to retire from thecase. You ask me to find an enemy who threatens you, and you withholdevery clue which could aid me in my search."
"What clue have I withheld?"
Paul Harley stood up.
"It is useless to discuss the matter further, Colonel Menendez," hesaid, coldly.
The Colonel rose also, and:
"Mr. Harley," he replied, and his high voice was ill-controlled, "if Igive you my word of honour that I dare not tell you more, and if, havingdone so, I beg of you to remain at least another night, can you refuseme?"
Harley stood at the end of the table watching him.
"Colonel Menendez," he said, "this would appear to be a game in which myhandicap rests on the fact that I do not know against whom I am pitted.Very well. You leave me no alternative but to reply that I will stay."
"I thank you, Mr. Harley. As I fear I am far from well, dare I hope tobe excused if I retire to my room for an hour's rest?"
Harley and I bowed, and the Colonel, returning our salutations, walkedslowly out, his bearing one of grace and dignity. So that memorableluncheon terminated, and now we found ourselves alone and faced witha problem which, from whatever point one viewed it, offered no singleopening whereby one might hope to penetrate to the truth.
Paul Harley was pacing up and down the room in a state of such nervousirritability as I never remembered to have witnessed in him before.
I had just finished an account of my visit to the Guest House and of theindignity which had been put upon me, and:
"Conundrums! conundrums!" my friend exclaimed. "This quest of Bat Wingis like the quest of heaven, Knox. A hundred open doors invite us,each one promising to lead to the light, and if we enter where do theylead?--to mystification. For instance, Colonel Menendez has broadlyhinted that he looks upon Colin Camber as an enemy. Judging from yourreception at the Guest House to-day, such an enmity, and a deadlyenmity, actually exists. But whereas Camber has resided here forthree years, the Colonel is a newcomer. We are, therefore, offeredthe spectacle of a trembling victim seeking the sacrifice. Bah! it ispreposterous."
"If you had seen Colin Camber's face to-day, you might not have thoughtit so preposterous."
"But I should, Knox! I should! It is impossible to suppose that ColonelMenendez was unaware when he leased Cray's Folly that Camber occupiedthe Guest House."
"And Mrs. Camber is a Cuban," I murmured.
"Don't, Knox!" my friend implored. "This case is driving me mad. I havea conviction that it is going to prove my Waterloo."
"My dear fellow," I said, "this mood is new to you."
"Why don't you advise me to remember Auguste Dupin?" asked Harley,bitterly. "That great man, preserving his philosophical calm, doubtlessby this time would have pieced together these disjointed clues, andhave produced an elegant pattern ready to be framed and exhibited to theadmiring public."
He dropped down upon the bed, and taking his briar from his pocket,began to load it in a manner which was almost vicious. I stood watchinghim and offered no remark, until, having lighted the pipe, he began tosmoke. I knew that these "Indian moods" were of short duration, and,sure enough, presently:
"God bless us all, Knox," he said, breaking into an amused smile, "howwe bristle when someone tries to prove that we are not infallible! Howhuman we are, Knox, but how fortunate that we can laugh at ourselves."
I sighed with relief, for Harley at these times imposed a severe straineven upon my easy-going disposition.
"Let us go down to the billiard room," he continued. "I will play you ahundred up. I have arrived at a point where my ideas persistently workin circles. The best cure is golf; failing golf, billiards."
The billiard room was immediately beneath us, adjoining the lastapartment in the east wing, and there we made our way. Harleyplayed keenly, deliberately, concentrating upon the game. I was lesssuccessful, for I found myself alternately glancing toward the doorand the open window, in the hope that Val Beverley would join us. I wasdisappointed, however. We saw no more of the ladies until tea-time, andif a spirit of constraint had prevailed throughout luncheon, a veritabledemon of unrest presided upon the terrace during tea.
Madame de Staemer made apologies on behalf of the Colonel. He wasprolonging his siesta, but he hoped to join us at dinner.
"Is the Colonel's heart affected?" Harley asked.
Madame de Staemer shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, blankly.
"It is mysterious, the state of his health," she replied. "An oldtrouble, which began years and years ago in Cuba."
Harley nodded sympathetically, but I could see that he was notsatisfied. Yet, although he might doubt her explanation, he had noted,and so had I, that Madame de Staemer's concern was very real. Her slenderhands were strangely unsteady; indeed her condition bordered on one ofdistraction.
Harley concealed his thoughts, whatever they may have been, beneath thatmask of reserve which I knew so well, whilst I endeavoured in vain todraw Val Beverley into conversation with me.
I gathered that Madame de Staemer had been to visit the invalid, andthat she was all anxiety to return was a fact she was wholly unable toconceal. There was a tired look in her still eyes, as though she hadundertaken a task beyond her powers to perform, and, so unnatural aquartette were we,
that when presently she withdrew I was glad, althoughshe took Val Beverley with her.
Paul Harley resumed his seat, staring at me with unseeing eyes. Asound reached us through the drawing room which told us that Madame deStaemer's chair was being taken upstairs, a task always performed whenMadame desired to visit the upper floors by Manoel and Pedro's daughter,Nita, who acted as Madame's maid. These sounds died away, and I thoughthow silent everything had become. Even the birds were still, andpresently, my eye being attracted to a black speck in the sky above, Ilearned why the feathered choir was mute. A hawk was hovering loftilyoverhead.
Noting my upward glance, Paul Harley also raised his eyes.
"Ah," he murmured, "a hawk. All the birds are cowering in their nests.Nature is a cruel mistress, Knox."
CHAPTER XVI
RED EVE