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Page 32
She rang a little bell which stood upon the tea-table beside the urn,
and Pedro came out through the drawing room.
"Pedro," she said, "is the car ready?"
The Spanish butler bowed.
"Tell Carter to bring it round. Hurry, dear," to the girl, "if you are
coming with me. I shall not be a minute."
Thereupon she whisked her mechanical chair about, waved her hand to
dismiss Pedro, and went steering through the drawing room at a great
rate, with Val Beverley walking beside her.
As we resumed our seats Colonel Menendez lay back with half-closed
eyes, his glance following the chair and its occupant until both were
swallowed up in the shadows of the big drawing room.
"Madame de St�mer is a very remarkable woman," said Paul Harley.
"Remarkable?" replied the Colonel. "The spirit of all the old chivalry
of France is imprisoned within her, I think."
He passed cigarettes around, of a long kind resembling cheroots and
wrapped in tobacco leaf. I thought it strange that having thus
emphasized Madame's nationality he did not feel it incumbent upon him
to explain the mystery of their kinship. However, he made no attempt to
do so, and almost before we had lighted up, a racy little two-seater
was driven around the gravel path by Carter, the chauffeur who had
brought us to Cray's Folly from London.
The man descended and began to arrange wraps and cushions, and a few
moments later back came Madame again, dressed for driving. Carter was
about to lift her into the car when Colonel Menendez stood up and
advanced.
"Sit down, Juan, sit down!" said Madame, sharply.
A look of keen anxiety, I had almost said of pain, leapt into her eyes,
and the Colonel hesitated.
"How often must I tell you," continued the throbbing voice, "that you
must not exert yourself."
Colonel Menendez accepted the rebuke humbly, but the incident struck me
as grotesque; for it was difficult to associate delicacy with such a
fine specimen of well-preserved manhood as the Colonel.
However, Carter performed the duty of assisting Madame into her little
car, and when for a moment he supported her upright, before placing her
among the cushions, I noted that she was a tall woman, slender and
elegant.
All smiles and light, sparkling conversation, she settled herself
comfortably at the wheel and Val Beverley got in beside her. Madame
nodded to Carter in dismissal, waved her hand to Colonel Menendez,
cried "Au revoir!" and then away went the little car, swinging around
the angle of the house and out of sight.
Our host stood bare-headed upon the veranda listening to the sound of
the engine dying away among the trees. He seemed to be lost in
reflection from which he only aroused himself when the purr of the
motor became inaudible.
"And now, gentlemen," he said, and suppressed a sigh, "we have much to
talk about. This spot is cool, but is it sufficiently private? Perhaps,
Mr. Harley, you would prefer to talk in the library?"
Paul Harley flicked ash from the end of his cigarette.
"Better still in your own study, Colonel Menendez," he replied.
"What, do you suspect eavesdroppers?" asked the Colonel, his manner
becoming momentarily agitated.
He looked at Harley as though he suspected the latter of possessing
private information.
"We should neglect no possible precaution," answered my friend. "That
agencies inimical to your safety are focussed upon the house your own
statement amply demonstrates."
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