by Sax Rohmer
I recognize that whosoever may have taken the trouble to follow mychronicle thus far will be little disposed to suffer any intrusion ofmy personal affairs at such a point. Therefore I shall pass lightly overthe walk back to Cray's Folly, during which I contrived to learnmuch about Val Beverley's personal history but little to advance theinvestigation which I was there to assist.
As I had surmised, Miss Beverley had been amply provided for by herfather, and was bound to Madame de Staemer by no other ties than those offriendship and esteem. Very reluctantly I released her, on our returningto the house; for she, perforce, hurried off to Madame's room, leavingme looking after her in a state of delightful bewilderment, thesignificance of which I could not disguise from myself. The absurdsuspicions of Inspector Aylesbury were forgotten; so was the shadow uponthe blind of Colonel Menendez's study. I only knew that love had come tome, an unbidden guest, to stay for ever.
Manoel informed me that a number of pressmen, not to be denied, hadtaken photographs of the Tudor garden and of the spot where ColonelMenendez had been found, but Pedro, following my instructions, hadreferred them all to Market Hilton.
I was standing in the doorway talking to the man when I heard thedrone of Harley's motor in the avenue, and a moment later he and Wessexstepped out in front of the porch and joined me. I thought that Wessexlooked stern and rather confused, but Harley was quite his old self, hiskeen eyes gleaming humorously, and an expression of geniality upon histanned 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 mountedthe staircase and entered Paul Harley's room. Harley seated himselfupon the bed and began to load his pipe, whilst Wessex, who seemed veryrestless, 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 toan account which I gave of my visit to the Guest House. When I hadfinished:
"It seems to me," said the Inspector, slowly, "that the only doubtfulpoint 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 pointsof contact. I regret, however, that you were unable to settle the mostimportant 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 mustcongratulate you upon a piece of really brilliant reasoning, Knox.But respecting the most crucial moment of all, we are still withoutinformation, unfortunately. However, whilst the presence or otherwise,of Mrs. Camber in Cray's Folly on the night preceding the tragedy mayprove to bear intimately upon the case, an experiment which I propose tomake presently will give the matter an entirely different significance."
"Hm," said Wessex, doubtfully, "I am looking forward to this experimentof 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 clearCamber."
"No," replied Harley, musingly, "the weight of evidence against him iscrushing. But you are a man of great experience, Wessex, in criminalinvestigations. Tell me honestly, have you ever known a murder case inwhich there was such conclusive material for the prosecution?"
"Never," replied the Inspector, promptly. "In this respect, as inothers, the case is unique."
"You have seen Camber," continued Harley, "and have been enabled to formsome sort of judgment respecting his character. You will admit that heis a clever man, brilliantly clever. Keep this fact in mind. Rememberhis studies, and he does not deny that they have included Voodoo.Remember his enquiries into the significance of Bat Wing. Remember, aswe now learn definitely from Mrs. Camber's evidence, that he was inCuba at the same time as the late Colonel Menendez, and once, at least,actually in the same hotel in the United States. Consider the riflefound under the floor of the hut; and, having weighed all these pointsjudicially, Wessex, tell me frankly, if in the whole course of yourexperience, 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, butone which will be familiar to you."
"Good God!" muttered the detective, "you have turned all my ideas upsidedown."
"What may be termed the _physical_ evidence," continued Harley, "iscomplete, I admit: too complete. There lies the weak spot. But whatI will call the psychological evidence points in a totally differentdirection. A man clever enough to have planned this crime, and Camberundoubtedly is such a man, could not--it is humanly impossible--havebeen 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 Imet Camber. Having met him, I knew that I was right. Then came aninspiration. I saw where there must be a flaw in the plan. It wasgeographically impossible that this could be otherwise."
"Geographically impossible?" I said, in a hushed voice, for Harley hadtruly astounded me.
"Geographical is the term, Knox. I admit that the discovery of the riflebeneath the floor of the hut appalled me."
"I could see that it did."
"It was the crowning piece of evidence, Knox, evidence of such fiendishcleverness on the part of those who had plotted Menendez's death that Ibegan to wonder whether after all it would be possible to defeat them. Irealized that Camber's life hung upon a hair. For the production of thatrifle before a jury of twelve moderately stupid men and true could notfail to carry enormous weight. Whereas the delicate point upon whichmy 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, nodoubt, which will occur to me later, of making its significance evidentto one not acquainted with the locality. The press photographs, which Iunderstand have been taken, may possibly help us in this."
Bewildered by my friend's revolutionary ideas, which explained thehitherto mysterious nature of his enquiries, I scarcely knew what tosay; but:
"If it's a frame-up, Mr. Harley," said Wessex, "and the more I thinkabout it the more it has that look to me, practically speaking, we havenot yet started on the search for the murderer."
"We have not," replied Harley, grimly. "But I have a dawning idea of amethod by which we shall be enabled to narrow down this enquiry."
It must be unnecessary for me to speak of the state of suppressedexcitement in which we passed the remainder of that afternoon andevening. Dr. Rolleston called again to see Madame de Staemer, andreported that she was quite calm. In fact, he almost echoed ValBeverley's words spoken earlier in the day.
"She is unnaturally calm, Mr. Knox," he said in confidence. "Iunderstand that the dead man was a cousin, but I almost suspect that shewas 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, heramazing fortitude is all the more admirable."
"Admirable?" he echoed. "As I said before, she has the courage of tenmen."
A formal dinner was out of the question, of course; indeed, no oneattempted to dress. Val Beverley excused herself, saying that she woulddine in Madame's room, and Harley, Wessex, and I, partook of wine andsandwiches in the library.
Inspector Aylesbury arrived about eight o'clock in a mood of repressedirritation. 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 amup to my eyes in work on the case, I will ask you, Mr. Harley, to carryout this experiment of yours as quickly as possible."
"No time shall be lost," r
eplied my friend, quietly. "May I request youto accompany Detective-Inspector Wessex and Mr. Knox to the Guest Houseby the high road? Do not needlessly alarm Mrs. Camber. Indeed, Ithink you might confine your attention to Mrs. Powis. Merely requestpermission to walk down the garden to the hut, and be good enough towait there until I join you, which will be in a few minutes after yourarrival."
Inspector Aylesbury uttered an inarticulate, grunting sound, but I, whoknew Harley so well, could see that he felt himself to be upon the eveof a signal triumph. What he proposed to do, I had no idea, save thatit was designed to clear Colin Camber. I prayed that it might also clearhis pathetic girl-wife; and in a sort of gloomy silence I set out withWessex and Aylesbury, down the drive, past the lodge, which seemed to bedeserted to-night, and along the tree-lined high road, cool and sweet inthe dusk of evening.
Aylesbury was very morose, and Wessex, who had lighted his pipe, did notseem to be in a talkative mood either. He had the utmost faith in PaulHarley, but it was evident enough that he was oppressed by the weight ofevidence against Camber. I divined the fact that he was turning overin his mind the idea of the frame-up, and endeavouring to re-adjust theestablished 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 thatof a friend in need.
As she opened the door, she smiled, shook her head, and raised herfinger 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, quiteunderstanding 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 fewenquiries."
"Yes, gentlemen," she whispered, quietly closing the door as we allentered the hall.
She led us through the rear portion of the house, and past the quartersof 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 overhangingthe little ravine.
"This is where I found the rifle, Detective-Inspector," explainedAylesbury.
Wessex nodded absently.
It was another perfect night, with only a faint tracery of cloud to beseen like lingering smoke over on the western horizon. Everything seemedvery still, so that although we were several miles from the railwayline, when presently a train sped on its way one might have supposed,from the apparent nearness of the sound, that the track was no fartheroff than the grounds of Cray's Folly.
Toward those grounds, automatically, our glances were drawn; and westood there staring down at the ghostly map of the gardens, and allwondering, no doubt, what Harley was doing and when he would be joiningus.
Very faintly I could hear the water of the little stream bubblingbeneath us. Then, just as this awkward silence was becoming intolerable,there came a scraping and scratching from the shadows of the gully, and:
"Give me a hand, Knox!" cried the voice of Harley from below. "I want toavoid the barbed wire if possible."
He had come across country, and as I scrambled down the slope to meethim I could not help wondering with what object he had sent us ahead bythe high road. Presently, when he came clambering up into the garden,this in a measure was explained, for:
"You are all wondering," he began, rapidly, "what I am up to, no doubt.Let me endeavour to make it clear. In order that my test should beconclusive, and in no way influenced by pre-knowledge of certainarrangements which I had made, I sent you on ahead of me. Not wishing towaste time, I followed by the shorter route. And now, gentlemen, let usbegin."
"Good," muttered Inspector Aylesbury.
"But first of all," continued Harley, "I wish each one of you in turnto look out of the window of the hut, and down into the Tudor garden ofCray's Folly. Will you begin, Wessex?"
Wessex, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and staring hard at thespeaker, nodded, entered the hut, and kneeling on the wooden seat,looked out of the window.
"Open the panes," said Harley, "so that you have a perfectly clearview."
Wessex slid the panes open and stared intently down into the valley.
"Do you see anything unusual in the garden?"
"Nothing," he reported.
"And now, Inspector Aylesbury."
Inspector Aylesbury stamped noisily across the little hut, and peeredout, briefly.
"I can see the garden," he said.
"Can you see the sun-dial?"
"Quite clearly."
"Good. And now you, Knox."
I followed, filled with astonishment.
"Do you see the sun-dial?" asked Harley, again.
"Quite clearly."
"And beyond it?"
"Yes, I can see beyond it. I can even see its shadow lying like a blackband on the path."
"And you can see the yew trees?"
"Of course."
"But nothing else? Nothing unusual?"
"Nothing."
"Very well," said Harley, tersely. "And now, gentlemen, we take to therough ground, proceeding due east. Will you be good enough to follow?"
Walking around the hut he found an opening in the hedge, and scrambleddown into the place where rank grass grew and through which he and Ion a previous occasion had made our way to the high road. To-night,however, he did not turn toward the high road, but proceeded along thecrest of the hill.
I followed him, excited by the novelty of the proceedings. Wessex, verysilent, came behind me, and Inspector Aylesbury, swearing under hisbreath, waded through the long grass at the rear.
"Will you all turn your attention to the garden again, please?" criedHarley.
We all paused, looking to the right.
"Anything unusual?"
We were agreed that there was not.
"Very well," said my friend. "You will kindly note that from this pointonward the formation of the ground prevents our obtaining any other viewof Cray's Folly or its gardens until we reach the path to the valley,or turn on to the high road. From a point on the latter the tower maybe seen but that is all. The first part of my experiment is concluded,gentlemen. We will now return."
Giving us no opportunity for comment, he plunged on in the direction ofthe stream, and at a point which I regarded as unnecessarily difficult,crossed it, to the great discomfiture of the heavy Inspector Aylesbury.A few minutes later we found ourselves once more in the grounds ofCray's Folly.
Harley, evidently with a definite objective in view, led the way up theterraces, through the rhododendrons, and round the base of the tower. Hecrossed to the sunken garden, and at the top of the steps paused.
"Be good enough to regard the sun-dial from this point," he directed.
Even as he spoke, I caught my breath, and I heard Aylesbury utter a sortof gasping sound.
Beyond the sun-dial and slightly to the left of it, viewed from where westood, a faint, elfin light flickered, at a point apparently some fouror five feet above the ground!
"What's this?" muttered Wessex.
"Follow again, gentlemen," said Harley quietly.
He led the way down to the garden and along the path to the sun-dial.This he passed, pausing immediately in front of the yew tree in which Iknew the bullet to be embedded.
He did not speak, but, extending his finger, pointed.
A piece of candle, some four inches long, was attached by means of anail to the bark of the tree, so that its flame burned immediately infront of the bullet embedded there!
For perhaps ten seconds no one spoke; indeed I think no one moved. Then:
"Good God!" murmured Wessex. "You have done some clever things to myknowledge, Mr. Harley, but this crowns them all."
"Clever
things!" said Inspector Aylesbury. "I think it's a lot of damnedtomfoolery."
"Do you, Inspector?" asked the Scotland Yard man, quietly. "I don't. Ithink it has saved the life of an innocent man."
"What's that? What's that?" cried Aylesbury.
"This candle was burning here on the yew tree," explained Harley, "atthe time that you looked out of the window of the hut. You could not seeit. You could not see it from the crest adjoining the Guest House--theonly other spot in the neighbourhood from which this garden is visible.Now, since the course of a bullet is more or less straight, and sincethe nature of the murdered man's wound proves that it was not deflectedin any way, I submit that the one embedded in the yew tree before youcould not possibly have been fired from the Guest House! The second partof my experiment, gentlemen, will be designed to prove from whence it_was_ fired."
CHAPTER XXXIII
PAUL HARLEY'S EXPERIMENT CONCLUDED