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Page 124
"Refer reporters to me, Mr. Knox," said Inspector Wessex. "Don't let
them trouble the ladies. And tell them as little as possible,
yourself."
The drone of the engine having died away down the avenue, I presently
found myself alone, but as I crossed the hall in the direction of the
library, intending to walk out upon the southern lawns, I saw Val
Beverley coming toward me from Madame de St�mer's room.
She remained rather pale, but smiled at me courageously.
"Have they all gone, Mr. Knox?" she asked. "I have really been hiding.
I suppose you knew?"
"I suspected it," I said, smiling. "Yes, they are all gone. How is
Madame de St�mer, now?"
"She is quite calm. Curiously, almost uncannily calm. She is writing.
Tell me, please, what does Mr. Harley think of Inspector Aylesbury's
preposterous ideas?"
"He thinks he is a fool," I replied, hotly, "as I do."
"But whatever will happen if he persists in dragging me into this
horrible case?"
"He will not drag you into it," I said, quietly. "He has been
superseded by a cleverer man, and the case is practically under
Harley's direction now."
"Thank Heaven for that," she murmured. "I wonder----" She looked at me
hesitatingly.
"Yes?" I prompted.
"I have been thinking about poor Mrs. Camber all alone in that gloomy
house, and wondering----"
"Perhaps I know. You are going to visit her?"
Val Beverley nodded, watching me.
"Can you leave Madame de St�mer with safety?"
"Oh, yes, I think so. Nita can attend to her."
"And may I accompany you, Miss Beverley? For more reasons than one, I,
too, should like to call upon Mrs. Camber."
"We might try," she said, hesitatingly. "I really only wanted to be
kind. You won't begin to cross-examine her, will you?"
"Certainly not," I answered; "although there are many things I should
like her to tell us."
"Well, suppose we go," said the girl, "and let events take their own
course."
As a result, I presently found myself, Val Beverley by my side, walking
across the meadow path. With the unpleasant hush of Cray's Folly left
behind, the day seemed to grow brighter. I thought that the skylarks
had never sung more sweetly. Yet in this same instant of sheerly
physical enjoyment I experienced a pang of remorse, remembering the
tragic woman we had left behind, and the poor little sorrowful girl we
were going to visit. My emotions were very mingled, then, and I retain
no recollection of our conversation up to the time that we came to the
Guest House.
We were admitted by a really charming old lady, who informed us that
her name was Mrs. Powis and that she was but an hour returned from
London, whither she had been summoned by telegram.
She showed us into a quaint, small drawing room which owed its
atmosphere quite clearly to Mrs. Camber, for whereas the study was
indescribably untidy, this was a model of neatness without being formal
or unhomely. Here, in a few moments, Mrs. Camber joined us, an
appealing little figure of wistful, almost elfin, beauty. I was
surprised and delighted to find that an instant bond of sympathy sprang
up between the two girls. I diplomatically left them together for a
while, going into Camber's room to smoke my pipe. And when I returned:
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