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Page 71
NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON
I stood at Harley's open window--looking down in the Tudor garden. The
moon, like a silver mirror, hung in a cloudless sky. Over an hour had
elapsed since I had heard Pedro making his nightly rounds. Nothing
whatever of an unusual nature had occurred, and although Harley and I
had listened for any sound of nocturnal footsteps, our vigilance had
passed unrewarded. Harley, unrolling the Chinese ladder, had set out
upon a secret tour of the grounds, warning me that it must be a long
business, since the brilliance of the moonlight rendered it necessary
that he should make a wide detour, in order to avoid possible
observation from the windows. I had wished to join him, but:
"I count it most important that one of us should remain in the house,"
he had replied.
As a result, here was I at the open window, questioning the shadows to
right and left of me, and every moment expecting to see Harley
reappear. I wondered what discoveries he would make. It would not have
surprised me to learn that there were lights in many windows of Cray's
Folly to-night.
Although, when we had rejoined the ladies for half an hour, after
leaving Colonel Menendez's room, there had been no overt reference to
the menace overhanging the house, yet, as we separated for the night, I
had detected again in Val Beverley's eyes that look of repressed fear.
Indeed, she was palpably disinclined to retire, but was carried off by
the masterful Madame, who declared that she looked tired.
I wondered now, as I gazed down into the moon-bathed gardens, if Harley
and I were the only wakeful members of the household at that hour. I
should have been prepared to wager that there were others. I thought of
the strange footsteps which so often passed Miss Beverley's room, and I
discovered this thought to be an uncomfortable one.
Normally, I was sceptical enough, but on this night of the full moon as
I stood there at the window, the horrors which Colonel Menendez had
related to us grew very real in my eyes, and I thought that the
mysteries of Voodoo might conceal strange and ghastly truths, "The
scientific employment of darkness against light." Colin Camber's words
leapt unbidden to my mind; and, such is the magic of moonlight, they
became invested with a new and a deeper significance. Strange, that
theories which one rejects whilst the sun is shining should assume a
spectral shape in the light of the moon.
Such were my musings, when suddenly I heard a faint sound as of
footsteps crunching upon gravel. I leaned farther out of the window,
listening intently. I could not believe that Harley would be guilty of
such an indiscretion as this, yet who else could be walking upon the
path below?
As I watched, craning from the window, a tall figure appeared, and,
slowly crossing the gravel path, descended the moss-grown steps to the
Tudor garden.
It was Colonel Menendez!
He was bare-headed, but fully dressed as I had seen him in the smoking-
room; and not yet grasping the portent of his appearance at that hour,
but merely wondering why he had not yet retired, I continued to watch
him. As I did so, something in his gait, something unnatural in his
movements, caught hold of my mind with a sudden great conviction. He
had reached the path which led to the sun-dial, and with short, queer,
ataxic steps was proceeding in its direction, a striking figure in the
brilliant moonlight which touched his gray hair with a silvery sheen.
His unnatural, automatic movements told their own story. He was walking
in his sleep! Could it be in obedience to the call of M'kombo?
My throat grew dry and I knew not how to act. Unwillingly it seemed,
with ever-halting steps, the figure moved onward. I could see that his
fists were tightly clenched and that he held his head rigidly upright.
All horrors, real and imaginary, which I had ever experienced,
culminated in the moment when I saw this man of inflexible character, I
could have sworn of indomitable will, moving like a puppet under the
influence of some unnameable force.
He was almost come to the sun-dial when I determined to cry out. Then,
remembering the shock experienced by a suddenly awakened somnambulist,
and remembering that the Chinese ladder hung from the window at my
feet, I changed my mind. Checking the cry upon my lips, I got astride
of the window ledge, and began to grope for the bamboo rungs beneath
me. I had found the first of these, and, turning, had begun to descend,
when:
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