Bat Wing by Sax Rohmer


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Page 105

"Sorry, sir," replied the constable, "but you will have to see
Inspector Aylesbury."

My friend uttered an impatient exclamation, but, turning aside:

"Very well, constable," he muttered; "I suppose I must submit. Our
friend, Aylesbury," he added to me, as we walked away, "would appear to
be a martinet as well as a walrus. At every step, Knox, he proves
himself a tragic nuisance. This means waste of priceless time."

"What had you hoped to do, Harley?"

"Prove my theory," he returned; "but since every moment is precious, I
must move in another direction."

He hurried on through the opening in the box hedge and into the
courtyard. Manoel had just opened the doors to a sepulchral-looking
person who proved to be the coroner's officer, and:

"Manoel!" cried Harley, "tell Carter to bring a car round at once."

"Yes, sir."

"I haven't time to fetch my own," he explained.

"Where are you off to?"

"I am off to see the Chief Constable, Knox. Aylesbury must be
superseded at whatever cost. If the Chief Constable fails I shall not
hesitate to go higher. I will get along to the garage. I don't expect
to be more than an hour. Meanwhile, do your best to act as a buffer
between Aylesbury and the women. You understand me?"

"Quite," I returned, shortly. "But the task may prove no light one,
Harley."

"It won't," he assured me, smiling grimly. "How you must regret, Knox,
that we didn't go fishing!"

With that he was off, eager-eyed and alert, the mood of dreamy
abstraction dropped like a cloak discarded. He fully realized, as I
did, that his unique reputation was at stake. I wondered, as I had
wondered at the Guest House, whether, in undertaking to clear Colin
Camber, he had acted upon sheer conviction, or, embittered by the death
of his client, had taken a gambler's chance. It was unlike him to do
so. But now beyond reach of that charm of manner which Colin Camber
possessed, and discounting the pathetic sweetness of his girl-wife, I
realized how black was the evidence against him.

Occupied with these, and even more troubled thoughts, I was making my
way toward the library, undetermined how to act, when I saw Val
Beverley coming along the corridor which communicated with Madame de
St�mer's room.

I read a welcome in her eyes which made my heart beat the faster.

"Oh, Mr. Knox," she cried, "I am so glad you have returned. Tell me all
that has happened, for I feel in some way that I am responsible for
it."

I nodded gravely.

"You know, then, where Inspector Aylesbury went when he left here,
after his interview with you?"

She looked at me pathetically.

"He went to the Guest House, of course."

"Yes," I said; "he was close behind us."

"And"--she hesitated--"Mr. Camber?"

"He has been detained."

"Oh!" she moaned. "I could hate myself! Yet what could I say, what
could I do?"

"Just tell me all about it," I urged. "What were the Inspector's
questions?"

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Wed 3rd Dec 2025, 6:41