Bat-Wing (10 page)

Colonel Menendez sat down again, puffing furiously at his cigarette,
whilst beginning to roll another. He was much disturbed, was fighting
to regain mastery of himself.

"I apologize from the bottom of my heart," he said, "for a breach of
good behaviour which really was unforgivable. I was angry when I should
have been grateful. Much that you have said is true. Because it is
true, I despise myself."

He flashed a glance at Paul Harley.

"Awake," he continued, "I care for no man breathing, black or white;
but
asleep
"—he shrugged his shoulders. "It is in sleep that these
dealers in unclean things obtain their advantage."

"You excite my curiosity," declared Harley.

"Listen," Colonel Menendez bent forward, resting his elbows upon his
knees. Between the yellow fingers of his left hand he held the newly
completed cigarette whilst he continued to puff vigorously at the old
one. "You recollect my speaking of the death of a certain native girl?"

Paul Harley nodded.

"The real cause of her death was never known, but I obtained evidence
to show that on the night after the wing of a bat had been attached to
her hut, she wandered out in her sleep and visited the Black Belt. Can
you doubt that someone was calling her?"

"Calling her?"

"Mr. Harley, she was obeying the call of M'kombo!"

"The
call
of M'kombo? You refer to some kind of hypnotic
suggestions?"

"I illustrate," replied the Colonel, "to help to make clear something
which I have to tell you. On the night when last the moon was full—on
the night after someone had entered the house—I had retired early to
bed. Suddenly I awoke, feeling very cold. I awoke, I say, and where do
you suppose I found myself?"

"I am all anxiety to hear."

"On the point of entering the Tudor garden—you call it Tudor garden?—
which is visible from the window of your room!"

"Most extraordinary," murmured Harley; "and you were in your night
attire?"

"I was."

"And what had awakened you?"

"An accident. I believe a lucky accident. I had cut my bare foot upon
the gravel and the pain awakened me."

"You had no recollection of any dream which had prompted you to go down
into the garden?"

"None whatever."

"Does your room face in that direction?"

"It does not. It faces the lake on the south of the house. I had
descended to a side door, unbarred it, and walked entirely around the
east wing before I awakened."

"Your room faces the lake," murmured Harley.

"Yes."

Their glances met, and in Paul Harley's expression there seemed to be a
challenge.

"You have not yet told me," said he, "the name of your neighbour."

Colonel Menendez lighted his new cigarette.

"Mr. Harley," he confessed, "I regret that I ever referred to this
suspicion of mine. Indeed it is hardly a suspicion, it is what I may
call a desperate doubt. Do you say that, a desperate doubt?"

"I think I follow you," said Harley.

"The fact is this, I only know of one person within ten miles of Cray's
Folly who has ever visited Cuba."

"Ah."

"I have no other scrap of evidence to associate him I with my shadowy
enemy. This being so, you will pardon me if I ask you to forget that I
ever referred to his existence."

He spoke the words with a sort of lofty finality, and accompanied them
with a gesture of the hands which really left Harley no alternative but
to drop the subject.

Again their glances met, and it was patent to me that underlying all
this conversation was something beyond my ken. What it was that Harley
suspected I could not imagine, nor what it was that Colonel Menendez
desired to conceal; but tension was in the very air. The Spaniard was
on the defensive, and Paul Harley was puzzled, irritated.

It was a strange interview, and one which in the light of after events
I recognized to possess extraordinary significance. That sixth sense of
Harley's was awake, was prompting him, but to what extent he understood
its promptings at that hour I did not know, and have never known to
this day. Intuitively, I believe, as he sat there staring at Colonel
Menendez, he began to perceive the shadow within a shadow which was the
secret of Cray's Folly, which was the thing called Bat Wing, which was
the devilish force at that very hour alive and potent in our midst.

This conversation in Colonel Menendez's study produced a very
unpleasant impression upon my mind. The atmosphere of Cray's Folly
seemed to become charged with unrest. Of Madame de Stämer and Miss
Beverley I saw nothing up to the time that I retired to dress. Having
dressed I walked into Harley's room, anxious to learn if he had formed
any theory to account for the singular business which had brought us to
Surrey.

Harley had excused himself directly we had left the study, stating that
he wished to get to the village post-office in time to send a telegram
to London. Our host had suggested a messenger, but this, as well as the
offer of a car, Harley had declined, saying that the exercise would aid
reflection. Nevertheless, I was surprised to find his room empty, for I
could not imagine why the sending of a telegram should have detained
him so long.

Dusk was falling, and viewed from the open window the Tudor garden
below looked very beautiful, part of it lying in a sort of purplish
shadow and the rest being mystically lighted as though viewed through a
golden veil. To the whole picture a sort of magic quality was added by
a speck of high-light which rested upon the face of the old sun-dial.

I thought that here was a fit illustration for a fairy tale; then I
remembered the Colonel's account of how he had awakened in the act of
entering this romantic plaisance, and I was touched anew by an
unrestfulness, by a sense of the uncanny.

I observed a book lying upon the dressing table, and concluding that it
was one which Harley had brought with him, I took it up, glancing at
the title. It was "Negro Magic," and switching on the light, for there
was a private electric plant in Cray's Folly, I opened the book at
random and began to read.

"The religion of the negro," said this authority, "is emotional, and
more often than not associated with beliefs in witchcraft and in the
rites known as Voodoo or Obi Mysteries. It has been endeavoured by some
students to show that these are relics of the Fetish worship of
equatorial Africa, but such a genealogy has never been satisfactorily
demonstrated. The cannibalistic rituals, human sacrifices, and obscene
ceremonies resembling those of the Black Sabbath of the Middle Ages,
reported to prevail in Haiti and other of the islands, and by some
among the negroes of the Southern States of America, may be said to
rest on doubtful authority. Nevertheless, it is a fact beyond doubt
that among the negroes both of the West Indies and the United States
there is a widespread belief in the powers of the Obeah man. A native
who believes himself to have come under the spell of such a sorcerer
will sink into a kind of decline and sometimes die."

At this point I discovered several paragraphs underlined in pencil, and
concluding that the underlining had been done by Paul Harley, I read
them with particular care. They were as follows: "According to Hesketh
J. Bell, the term Obeah is most probably derived from the substantive
Obi, a word used on the East coast of Africa to denote witchcraft,
sorcery, and fetishism in general. The etymology of Obi has been traced
to a very antique source, stretching far back into Egyptian mythology.
A serpent in the Egyptian language was called Ob or Aub. Obion is still
the Egyptian name for a serpent. Moses, in the name of God, forbade the
Israelites ever to enquire of the demon, Ob, which is translated in our
Bible: Charmer or wizard, divinator or sorcerer. The Witch of Endor is
called Oub or Ob, translated Pythonissa; and Oubois was the name of the
basilisk or royal serpent, emblem of the Sun and an ancient oracular
deity of Africa."

A paragraph followed which was doubly underlined, and pursuing my
reading I made a discovery which literally caused me to hold my breath.
This is what I read:

"In a recent contribution to the
Occult Review
, Mr. Colin Camber, the
American authority, offered some very curious particulars in support of
a theory to show that whereas snakes and scorpions have always been
recognized as sacred by Voodoo worshippers, the real emblem of their
unclean religion is the bat, especially
the Vampire Bat of South
America.

"He pointed out that the symptoms of one dying beneath the spell of an
Obeah man are closely paralleled in the cases of men and animals who
have suffered from nocturnal attacks of blood-sucking bats."

I laid the open book down upon the bed. My brain was in a tumult. The
several theories, or outlines of theories which hitherto I had
entertained, were, by these simple paragraphs, cast into the utmost
disorder. I thought of the Colonel's covert references to a neighbour
whom he feared, of his guarded statement that the devotees of Voodoo
were not confined to the West Indies, of the attack upon him in
Washington, of the bat wing pinned to the door of Cray's Folly.

Incredulously, I thought of my acquaintance of the Lavender Arms, with
his bemused expression and his magnificent brow; and a great doubt and
wonder grew up in my mind.

I became increasingly impatient for the return of Paul Harley. I felt
that a clue of the first importance had fallen into my possession; so
that when, presently, as I walked impatiently up and down the room, the
door opened and Harley entered, I greeted him excitedly.

"Harley!" I cried, "Harley! I have learned a most extraordinary thing!"

Even as I spoke and looked into the keen, eager face, the expression in
Harley's eyes struck me. I recognized that in him, too, intense
excitement was pent up. Furthermore, he was in one of his irritable
moods. But, full of my own discoveries:

"I chanced to glance at this book," I continued, "whilst I was waiting
for you. You have underlined certain passages."

He stared at me queerly.

"I discovered the book in my own library after you had gone last night,
Knox, and it was then that I marked the passages which struck me as
significant."

"But, Harley," I cried, "the man who is quoted here, Colin Camber,
lives in this very neighbourhood!"

"I know."

"What! You know?"

"I learned it from Inspector Aylesbury of the County Police half an
hour ago."

Harley frowned perplexedly. "Then, why, in Heaven's name didn't you
tell me?" he exclaimed. "It would have saved me a most disagreeable
journey into Market Hilton."

"Market Hilton! What, have you been into the town?"

"That is exactly where I have been, Knox. I 'phoned through to Innes
from the village post-office after lunch to have the car sent down.
There is a convenient garage by the Lavender Arms."

"But the Colonel has three cars," I exclaimed.

"The horse has four legs," replied Harley, irritably, "but although I
have only two, there are times when I prefer to use them. I am still
wondering why you failed to mention this piece of information when you
had obtained it."

"My dear Harley," said I, patiently, "how could I possibly be expected
to attach any importance to the matter? You must remember that at the
time I had never seen this work on negro sorcery."

"No," said Harley, dropping down upon the bed, "that is perfectly true,
Knox. I am afraid I have a liver at times; a distinct Indian liver.
Excuse me, old man, but to tell you the truth I feel strangely inclined
to pack my bag and leave for London without a moment's delay."

"What!" I cried.

"Oh, I know you would be sorry to go, Knox," said Harley, smiling, "and
so, for many reasons, should I. But I have the strongest possible
objection to being trifled with."

"I am afraid I don't quite understand you, Harley."

"Well, just consider the matter for a moment. Do you suppose that
Colonel Menendez is ignorant of the fact that his nearest neighbour is
a recognized authority upon Voodoo and allied subjects?"

"You are speaking, of course, of Colin Camber?"

"Of none other."

"No," I replied, thoughtfully, "the Colonel must know, of course, that
Camber resides in the neighbourhood."

"And that he knows something of the nature of Camber's studies his
remarks sufficiently indicate," added Harley. "The whole theory to
account for these attacks upon his life rests on the premise that
agents of these Obeah people are established in England and America.
Then, in spite of my direct questions, he leaves me to find out for
myself that Colin Camber's property practically adjoins his own!"

"Really! Does he reside so near as that?"

"My dear fellow," cried Harley, "he lives at a place called the Guest
House. You can see it from part of the grounds of Cray's Folly. We were
looking at it to-day."

"What! the house on the hillside?"

"That's the Guest House! What do you make of it, Knox? That Menendez
suspects this man is beyond doubt. Why should he hesitate to mention
his name?"

"Well," I replied, slowly, "probably because to associate practical
sorcery and assassination with such a character would be preposterous."

"But the man is admittedly a student of these things, Knox."

"He may be, and that he is a genius of some kind I am quite prepared to
believe. But having had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Colin Camber, I am
not prepared to believe him capable of murder."

I suppose I spoke with a certain air of triumph, for Paul Harley
regarded me silently for a while.

"You seem to be taking this case out of my hands, Knox," he said.
"Whilst I have been systematically at work racing about the county in
quest of information you would appear to have blundered further into
the labyrinth than all my industry has enabled me to do."