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Page 40
I understood only too well; and recollecting the words spoken by Paul
Harley that afternoon, respecting the Colonel's will to live, I became
conscious of an uncomfortable sense of chill.
If I had doubted that in so speaking he had been contemplating his own
death, the behaviour of Madame de St�mer must have convinced me. Her
complexion was slightly but cleverly made up, with all the exquisite
art of the Parisienne, but even through the artificial bloom I saw her
cheeks blanch. Her face grew haggard and her eyes burned unnaturally.
She turned quickly aside to address Paul Harley, but I knew that the
significance of this slight episode had not escaped him.
He was by no means at ease. In the first place, he was badly puzzled;
in the second place, he was angry. He felt it incumbent upon him to
save this man from a menace which he, Paul Harley, evidently recognized
to be real, although to me it appeared wildly chimerical, and the very
person upon whose active co�peration he naturally counted not only
seemed resigned to his fate, but by deliberate omission of important
data added to Harley's difficulties.
How much of this secret drama proceeding in Cray's Folly was
appreciated by Val Beverley I could not determine. On this occasion, I
remember, she was simply but perfectly dressed and, in my eyes, seemed
the most sweetly desirable woman I had ever known. Realizing that I had
already revealed my interest in the girl, I was oddly self-conscious,
and a hundred times during the progress of dinner I glanced across at
Harley, expecting to detect his quizzical smile. He was very stern,
however, and seemed more reserved than usual. He was uncertain of his
ground, I could see. He resented the understanding which evidently
existed between Colonel Menendez and Madame de St�mer, and to which,
although his aid had been sought, he was not admitted.
It seemed to me, personally, that an almost palpable shadow lay upon
the room. Although, save for this one lapse, our host throughout talked
gaily and entertainingly, I was obsessed by a memory of the expression
which I had detected upon his face that morning, the expression of a
doomed man.
What, in Heaven's name, I asked myself, did it all mean? If ever I saw
the fighting spirit looking out of any man's eyes, it looked out of the
eyes of Don Juan Sarmiento Menendez. Why, then, did he lie down to the
menace of this mysterious Bat Wing, and if he counted opposition
futile, why had he summoned Paul Harley to Cray's Folly?
With the passing of every moment I sympathized more fully with the
perplexity of my friend, and no longer wondered that even his highly
specialized faculties had failed to detect an explanation.
Remembering Colin Camber as I had seen him at the Lavender Arms, it was
simply impossible to suppose that such a man as Menendez could fear
such a man as Camber. True, I had seen the latter at a disadvantage,
and I knew well enough that many a genius has been also a drunkard. But
although I was prepared to find that Colin Camber possessed genius, I
found it hard to believe that this was of a criminal type. That such a
character could be the representative of some remote negro society was
an idea too grotesque to be entertained for a moment.
I was tempted to believe that his presence in the neighbourhood of this
haunted Cuban was one of those strange coincidences which in criminal
history have sometimes proved so tragic for their victims.
Madame de St�mer, avoiding the Colonel's glances, which were
pathetically apologetic, gradually recovered herself, and:
"My dear," she said to Val Beverley, "you look perfectly sweet to-
night. Don't you think she looks perfectly sweet, Mr. Knox?"
Ignoring a look of entreaty from the blue-gray eyes:
"Perfectly," I replied.
"Oh, Mr. Knox," cried the girl, "why do you encourage her? She says
embarrassing things like that every time I put on a new dress."
Her reference to a new dress set me speculating again upon the apparent
anomaly of her presence at Cray's Folly. That she was not a
professional "companion" was clear enough. I assumed that her father
had left her suitably provided for, since she wore such expensively
simple gowns. She had a delightful trick of blushing when attention was
focussed upon her, and said Madame de St�mer:
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