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Page 55
I presented myself at the Guest House at half-past eleven. My mental
state was troubled and indescribably complex. Perhaps my own uneasy,
thoughts were responsible for the idea, but it seemed to me that the
atmosphere of Cray's Folly had changed yet again. Never before had I
experienced a sense of foreboding like that which had possessed me
throughout the hours of this bright summer's morning.
Colonel Menendez had appeared about nine o'clock. He exhibiting no
traces of illness that were perceptible to me. But this subtle change
which I had detected, or thought I had detected, was more marked in
Madame St�mer than in any one. In her strange, still eyes I had read
what I can only describe as a stricken look. It had none of the heroic
resignation and acceptance of the inevitable which had so startled me
in the face of the Colonel on the previous day. There was a bitterness
in it, as of one who has made a great but unwilling sacrifice, and
again I had found myself questing that faint but fugitive memory,
conjured up by the eyes of Madame de St�mer.
Never had the shadow lain so darkly upon the house as it lay this
morning with the sun blazing gladly out of a serene sky. The birds, the
flowers, and Mother Earth herself bespoke the joy of summer. But
beneath the roof of Cray's Folly dwelt a spirit of unrest, of
apprehension. I thought of that queer lull which comes before a
tropical storm, and I thought I read a knowledge of pending evil even
in the glances of the servants.
I had spoken to Harley of this fear. He had smiled and nodded grimly,
saying:
"Evidently, Knox, you have forgotten that to-night is the night of the
full moon."
It was in no easy state of mind, then, that I opened the gate and
walked up to the porch of the Guest House. That the solution of the
grand mystery of Cray's Folly would automatically resolve these lesser
mysteries I felt assured, and I was supported by the idea that a clue
might lie here.
The house, which from the roadway had an air of neglect, proved on
close inspection to be well tended, but of an unprosperous aspect. The
brass knocker, door knob, and letter box were brilliantly polished,
whilst the windows and the window curtains were spotlessly clean. But
the place cried aloud for the service of the decorator, and it did not
need the deductive powers of a Paul Harley to determine that Mr. Colin
Camber was in straitened circumstances.
In response to my ringing the door was presently opened by Ah Tsong.
His yellow face exhibited no trace of emotion whatever. He merely
opened the door and stood there looking at me.
"Is Mr. Camber at home?" I enquired.
"Master no got," crooned Ah Tsong.
He proceeded quietly to close the door again.
"One moment," I said, "one moment. I wish, at any rate, to leave my
card."
Ah Tsong allowed the door to remain open, but:
"No usee palaber so fashion," he said. "No feller comee here. Sabby?"
"I savvy, right enough," said I, "but all the same you have got to take
my card in to Mr. Camber."
I handed him a card as I spoke, and suddenly addressing him in
"pidgin," of which, fortunately, I had a smattering:
"Belong very quick, Ah Tsong," I said, sharply, "or plenty big trouble,
savvy?"
"Sabby, sabby," he muttered, nodding his head; and leaving me standing
in the porch he retired along the sparsely carpeted hall.
This hall was very gloomily lighted, but I could see several pieces of
massive old furniture and a number of bookcases, all looking incredibly
untidy.
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