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- Author: Sax Rohmer
Book online «Bat Wing by Sax Rohmer (ebook reader for surface pro txt) 📖». Author Sax Rohmer
“I understand that a regulation rifle was used?”
“Yes,” said Inspector Aylesbury; “we have it.”
“And at what range did you say, Inspector?”
“Roughly, a hundred yards.”
“Possibly less,” murmured Harley.
“Hundred yards or less,” said Wessex, musingly; “and the obstruction met with in the case of a man shot in that way would be—” He looked towards Paul Harley.
“Less than if the bullet had struck the skull higher up,” was the reply. “It passed clean through.”
“Therefore,” continued Wessex, “I am waiting to hear, Inspector, where you found the bullet lodged?”
“Eh?” said the Inspector, and he slowly turned his prominent eyes in Harley’s direction. “Oh, I see. That’s why you wanted to examine the Tudor garden, is it?”
“Exactly,” replied Harley.
The face of Inspector Aylesbury grew very red.
“I had deferred looking for the bullet,” he explained, “as the case was already as clear as daylight. Probably Mr. Harley has discovered it.”
“I have,” said Harley, shortly.
“Is it the regulation bullet?” asked Wessex.
“It is. I found it embedded in one of the yew trees.”
“There you are!” exclaimed Aylesbury. “There isn’t the ghost of a doubt.”
Wessex looked at Harley in undisguised perplexity.
“I must say, Mr. Harley,” he admitted, “that I have never met with a clearer case.”
“Neither have I,” agreed Harley, cheerfully. “I am going to ask Inspector Aylesbury to return here after nightfall. There is a little experiment which I should like to make, and which would definitely establish my case.”
“Your case?” said Aylesbury.
“My case, yes.”
“You are not going to tell me that you still persist in believing Camber to be innocent?”
“Not at all. I am merely going to ask you to return at nightfall to assist me in this minor investigation.”
“If you ask my opinion,” said the Inspector, “no further evidence is needed.”
“I don’t agree with you,” replied Harley, quietly. “Whatever your own ideas upon the subject may be, I, personally, have not yet discovered one single piece of convincing evidence for the prosecution of Camber.”
“What!” exclaimed Aylesbury, and even Detective-Inspector Wessex stared at the speaker incredulously.
“My dear Inspector Aylesbury,” concluded Harley, “when you have witnessed the experiment which I propose to make this evening you will realize, as I have already realized that we are faced by a tremendous task.”
“What tremendous task?”
“The task of discovering who shot Colonel Menendez.”
CHAPTER XXXI. YSOLA CAMBER’S CONFESSION
Paul Harley, with Wessex and Inspector Aylesbury, presently set out for Market Hilton, where Colin Camber and Ah Tsong were detained and where the body of Colonel Menendez had been conveyed for the purpose of the post-mortem. I had volunteered to remain at Cray’s Folly, my motive being not wholly an unselfish one.
“Refer reporters to me, Mr. Knox,” said Inspector Wessex. “Don’t let them trouble the ladies. And tell them as little as possible, yourself.”
The drone of the engine having died away down the avenue, I presently found myself alone, but as I crossed the hall in the direction of the library, intending to walk out upon the southern lawns, I saw Val Beverley coming toward me from Madame de Stämer’s room.
She remained rather pale, but smiled at me courageously.
“Have they all gone, Mr. Knox?” she asked. “I have really been hiding. I suppose you knew?”
“I suspected it,” I said, smiling. “Yes, they are all gone. How is Madame de Stämer, now?”
“She is quite calm. Curiously, almost uncannily calm. She is writing. Tell me, please, what does Mr. Harley think of Inspector Aylesbury’s preposterous ideas?”
“He thinks he is a fool,” I replied, hotly, “as I do.”
“But whatever will happen if he persists in dragging me into this horrible case?”
“He will not drag you into it,” I said, quietly. “He has been superseded by a cleverer man, and the case is practically under Harley’s direction now.”
“Thank Heaven for that,” she murmured. “I wonder——” She looked at me hesitatingly.
“Yes?” I prompted.
“I have been thinking about poor Mrs. Camber all alone in that gloomy house, and wondering——”
“Perhaps I know. You are going to visit her?”
Val Beverley nodded, watching me.
“Can you leave Madame de Stämer with safety?”
“Oh, yes, I think so. Nita can attend to her.”
“And may I accompany you, Miss Beverley? For more reasons than one, I, too, should like to call upon Mrs. Camber.”
“We might try,” she said, hesitatingly. “I really only wanted to be kind. You won’t begin to cross-examine her, will you?”
“Certainly not,” I answered; “although there are many things I should like her to tell us.”
“Well, suppose we go,” said the girl, “and let events take their own course.”
As a result, I presently found myself, Val Beverley by my side, walking across the meadow path. With the unpleasant hush of Cray’s Folly left behind, the day seemed to grow brighter. I thought that the skylarks had never sung more sweetly. Yet in this same instant of sheerly physical enjoyment I experienced a pang of remorse, remembering the tragic woman we had left behind, and the poor little sorrowful girl we were going to visit. My emotions were very mingled, then, and I retain no recollection of our conversation up to the time that we came to the Guest House.
We were admitted by a really charming old lady, who informed us that her name was Mrs. Powis and that she was but an hour returned from London,
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