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Page 22
"Then at least tell me why you stayed?"
"Well," she smiled rather pathetically, "for one thing, I haven't
anywhere else to go."
"Have you no friends in England?"
She shook her head.
"No. There was only poor daddy, and he died over two years ago. That
was when I went to Nice."
"Poor little girl," I said; and the words were spoken before I realized
their undue familiarity.
An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but Miss Beverley did not seem
to have noticed the indiscretion. Indeed my sympathy was sincere, and I
think she had appreciated the fact.
She looked up again with a bright smile.
"Why are we talking about such depressing things on this simply
heavenly day?" she exclaimed.
"Goodness knows," said I. "Will you show me round these lovely
gardens?"
"Delighted, sir!" replied the girl, rising and sweeping me a mocking
curtsey.
Thereupon we set out, and at every step I found a new delight in some
wayward curl, in a gesture, in the sweet voice of my companion. Her
merry laugh was music, but in wistful mood I think she was even more
alluring.
The menace, if menace there were, which overhung Cray's Folly, ceased
to exist--for me, at least, and I blessed the lucky chance which had
led to my presence there.
We were presently rejoined by Colonel Menendez and Paul Harley, and I
gathered that my surmise that it had been their voices which I had
heard proceeding from the top of the tower to have been only partly
accurate.
"I know you will excuse me, Mr. Harley," said the Colonel, "for
detailing the duty to Pedro, but my wind is not good enough for the
stairs."
He used idiomatic English at times with that facility which some
foreigners acquire, but always smiled in a self-satisfied way when he
had employed a slang term.
"I quite understand, Colonel," replied Harley. "The view from the top
was very fine."
"And now, gentlemen," continued the Colonel, "if Miss Beverley will
excuse us, we will retire to the library and discuss business."
"As you wish," said Harley; "but I have an idea that it is your custom
to rest in the afternoon."
Colonel Menendez shrugged his shoulders. "It used to be," he admitted,
"but I have too much to think about in these days."
"I can see that you have much to tell me," admitted Harley; "and
therefore I am entirely at your service."
Val Beverley smiled and walked away swinging her book, at the same time
treating me to a glance which puzzled me considerably. I wondered if I
had mistaken its significance, for it had seemed to imply that she had
accepted me as an ally. Certainly it served to awaken me to the fact
that I had discovered a keen personal interest in the mystery which
hung over this queerly assorted household.
I glanced at my friend as the Colonel led the way into the house. I saw
him staring upward with a peculiar expression upon his face, and
following the direction of his glance I could see an awning spread over
one of the gray-stone balconies. Beneath it, reclining in a long cane
chair, lay Madame de St�mer. I think she was asleep; at any rate, she
gave no sign, but lay there motionless, as Harley and I walked in
through the open French window followed by Colonel Menendez.
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