Bat-Wing (27 page)

Val Beverley's face had been very pale, but now she flushed
indignantly, and glanced away from me as she replied:

"He dared to suggest that I had been to keep an assignation."

"The fool!" I cried. "The ignorant, impudent fool!"

"Oh," she declared, "I felt quite ill with indignation. I am afraid I
may regard Inspector Aylesbury as an enemy from now onward, for when I
had recovered from the shock I told him very plainly what I thought
about his intellect, or lack of it."

"I am glad you did," I said, warmly. "Before Inspector Aylesbury is
through with this business I fancy he will know more about his
limitations than he knows at present. The fact of the matter is that he
is badly out of his depth, but is not man enough to acknowledge the
fact even to himself."

She smiled at me pathetically.

"Whatever should I have done if I had been alone?" she said.

I was tempted to direct the conversation into a purely personal
channel, but common sense prevailed, and:

"Is Madame de Stämer awake?" I asked.

"Yes." The girl nodded. "Dr. Rolleston is with her now."

"And does she know?"

"Yes. She sent for me directly she awoke, and asked me."

"And you told her?"

"How could I do otherwise? She was quite composed, wonderfully
composed; and the way she heard the news was simply heroic. But here is
Dr. Rolleston, coming now."

I glanced along the corridor, and there was the physician approaching
briskly.

"Good morning, Mr. Knox," he said.

"Good morning, doctor. I hear that your patient is much improved?"

"Wonderfully so," he answered. "She has enough courage for ten men. She
wishes to see you, Mr. Knox, and to hear your account of the tragedy."

"Do you think it would be wise?"

"I think it would be best."

"Do you hold any hope of her permanently recovering the use of her
limbs?"

Dr. Rolleston shook his head doubtfully.

"It may have only been temporary," he replied. "These obscure nervous
affections are very fickle. It is unsafe to make predictions. But
mentally, at least, she is quite restored from the effects of last
night's shock. You need apprehend no hysteria or anything of that
nature, Mr. Knox."

"Oh, I see," exclaimed a loud voice behind us.

We all three turned, and there was Inspector Aylesbury crossing the
hall in our direction.

"Good morning, Dr. Rolleston," he said, deliberately ignoring my
presence. "I hear that your patient is quite well again this morning?"

"She is much improved," returned the physician, dryly.

"Then I can get her testimony, which is most important to my case?"

"She is somewhat better. If she cares to see you I do not forbid the
interview."

"Oh, that's good of you, doctor." He bowed to Miss Beverley. "Perhaps,
Miss, you would ask Madame de Stämer to see me for a few minutes."

Val Beverley looked at me appealingly then shrugged her shoulders,
turned aside, and walked in the direction of Madame de Stämer's door.

"Well," said Dr. Rolleston, in his brisk way, shaking me by the hand,
"I must be getting along. Good morning, Mr. Knox. Good morning,
Inspector Aylesbury."

He walked rapidly out to his waiting car. The presence of Inspector
Aylesbury exercised upon Dr. Rolleston a similar effect to that which a
red rag has upon a bull. As he took his departure, the Inspector drew
out his pocket-book, and, humming gently to himself, began to consult
certain entries therein, with a portentous air of reflection which
would have been funny if it had not been so irritating.

Thus we stood when Val Beverley returned, and:

"Madame de Stämer will see you, Inspector Aylesbury," she said, "but
wishes Mr. Knox to be present at the interview."

"Oh," said the Inspector, lowering his chin, "I see. Oh, very well."

Madame de Stämer's apartment was a large and elegant one. From the
window-drapings, which were of some light, figured satiny material, to
the bed-cover, the lampshades and the carpet, it was French. Faintly
perfumed, and decorated with many bowls of roses, it reflected, in its
ornaments, its pictures, its slender-legged furniture, the personality
of the occupant. In a large, high bed, reclining amidst a number of
silken pillows, lay Madame de Stämer. The theme of the room was violet
and silver, and to this everything conformed. The toilet service was of
dull silver and violet enamel. The mirrors and some of the pictures had
dull silver frames, There was nothing tawdry or glittering. The bed
itself, which I thought resembled a bed of state, was of the same dull
silver, with a coverlet of delicate violet I hue. But Madame's
décolleté robe was trimmed with white fur, so that her hair, dressed
high upon her head, seemed to be of silver, too.

Reclining there upon her pillows, she looked like some grande dame of
that France which was swept away by the Revolution. Immediately above
the dressing-table I observed a large portrait of Colonel Menendez
dressed as I had imagined he should be dressed when I had first set
eyes on him, in tropical riding kit, and holding a broad-brimmed hat in
his hand. A strikingly handsome, arrogant figure he made, uncannily
like the Velasquez in the library.

At the face of Madame de Stämer I looked long and searchingly. She had
not neglected the art of the toilette. Blinds tempered the sunlight
which flooded her room; but that, failing the service of rouge, Madame
had been pale this morning, I perceived immediately. In some subtle way
the night had changed her. Something was gone out of her face, and
something come into it. I thought, and lived to remember the thought,
that it was thus Marie Antoinette might have looked when they told her
how the drums had rolled in the Place de la Revolution on that morning
of the twenty-first of January.

"Oh, M. Knox," she said, sadly, "you are there, I see. Come and sit
here beside me, my friend. Val, dear, remain. Is this Inspector
Aylesbury who wishes to speak to me?"

The Inspector, who had entered with all the confidence in the world,
seemed to lose some of it in the presence of this grand lady, who was
so little impressed by the dignity of his office.

She waved one slender hand in the direction of a violet brocaded chair.

"Sit down, Monsieur l'inspecteur," she commanded, for it was rather a
command than an invitation.

Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat and sat down.

"Ah, M. Knox!" exclaimed Madame, turning to me with one of her rapid
movements, "is your friend afraid to face me, then? Does he think that
he has failed? Does he think that I condemn him?"

"He knows that he has failed, Madame de Stämer," I replied, "but his
absence is due to the fact that at this hour he is hot upon the trail
of the assassin."

"What!" she exclaimed, "what!"—and bending forward touched my arm.
"Tell me again! Tell me again!"

"He is following a clue, Madame de Stämer, which he hopes will lead to
the truth."

"Ah! if I could believe it would lead to the truth," she said. "If I
dared to believe this."

"Why should it not?"

She shook her head, smiling with such a resigned sadness that I averted
my gaze and glanced across at Val Beverley who was seated on the
opposite side of the bed.

"If you knew—if you knew."

I looked again into the tragic face, and realized that this was an
older woman than the brilliant hostess I had known. She sighed,
shrugged, and:

"Tell me, M. Knox," she continued, "it was swift and merciful, eh?"

"Instantaneous," I replied, in a low voice.

"A good shot?" she asked, strangely.

"A wonderful shot," I answered, thinking that she imposed unnecessary
torture upon herself.

"They say he must be taken away, M. Knox, but I reply: not until I have
seen him."

"Madame," began Val Beverley, gently.

"Ah, my dear!" Madame de Stämer, without looking at the speaker,
extended one hand in her direction, the fingers characteristically
curled. "You do not know me. Perhaps it is a good job. You are a man,
Mr. Knox, and men, especially men who write, know more of women than
they know of themselves, is it not so? You will understand that I must
see him again?"

"Madame de Stämer," I said, "your courage is almost terrible."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I am not proud to be brave, my friend. The animals are brave, but many
cowards are proud. Listen again. He suffered no pain, you think?"

"None, Madame de Stämer."

"So Dr. Rolleston assures me. He died in his sleep? You do not think he
was awake, eh?"

"Most certainly he was not awake."

"It is the best way to die," she said, simply. "Yet he, who was brave
and had faced death many times, would have counted it"—she snapped
her white fingers, glancing across the room to where Inspector
Aylesbury, very subdued, sat upon the brocaded chair twirling his cap
between his hands. "And now, Inspector Aylesbury," she asked, "what is
it you wish me to tell you?"

"Well, Madame," began the Inspector, and stood up, evidently in an
endeavour to recover his dignity, but:

"Sit down, Mr. Inspector! I beg of you be seated," cried Madame. "I
will not be questioned by one who stands. And if you were to walk about
I should shriek."

He resumed his seat, clearing his throat nervously.

"Very well, Madame," he continued, "I have come to you particularly for
information respecting a certain Mr. Camber."

"Oh, yes," said Madame.

Her vibrant voice was very low.

"You know him, no doubt?"

"I have never met him."

"What?" exclaimed the Inspector.

Madame shrugged and glanced at me eloquently.

"Well," he continued, "this gets more and more funny. I am told by
Pedro, the butler, that Colonel Menendez looked upon Mr. Camber as an
enemy, and Miss Beverley, here, admitted that it was true. Yet although
he was an enemy, nobody ever seems to have spoken to him, and he swears
that he had never spoken to Colonel Menendez."

"Yes?" said Madame, listlessly, "is that so?"

"It is so, Madame, and now you tell me that you have never met him."

"I did tell you so, yes."

"His wife, then?"

"I never met his wife," said Madame, rapidly.

"But it is a fact that Colonel Menendez regarded him as an enemy?"

"It is a fact-yes."

"Ah, now we are coming to it. What was the cause of this?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Do you mean that you don't know?"

"I mean that I cannot tell you."

"Oh," said the Inspector, blankly, "I see. That's not helping me very
much, is it?"

"No, it is no help," said Madame, twirling a ring upon her finger.

The Inspector cleared his throat again, then:

"There had been other attempts, I believe, at assassination?" he asked.

Madame nodded.

"Several."

"Did you witness any of these?"

"None of them."

"But you know that they took place?"

"Juan—Colonel Menendez—had told me so."

"And he suspected that there was someone lurking about this house?"

"Yes."

"Also, someone broke in?"

"There were doors unfastened, and a great disturbance, so I suppose
someone must have done so."

I wondered if he would refer to the bat wing nailed to the door, but he
had evidently decided that this clue was without importance, nor did he
once refer to the aspect of the case which concerned Voodoo. He
possessed a sort of mulish obstinacy, and was evidently determined to
use no scrap of information which he had obtained from Paul Harley.

"Now, Madame," said he, "you heard the shot fired last night?"

"I did."

"It woke you up?"

"I was already awake."

"Oh, I see: you were awake?"

"I was awake."

"Where did you think the sound came from?"

"From back yonder, beyond the east wing."

"Beyond the east wing?" muttered Inspector Aylesbury. "Now, let me
see." He turned ponderously in his chair, gazing out of the windows.
"We look out on the south here? You say the sound of the shot came from
the east?"

"So it seemed to me."

"Oh." This piece of information seemed badly to puzzle him. "And what
then?"

"I was so startled that I ran to the door before I remembered that I
could not walk."

She glanced aside at me with a tired smile, and laid her hand upon my
arm in an oddly caressing way, as if to say, "He is so stupid; I should
not have expressed myself in that way."

Truly enough the Inspector misunderstood, for:

"I don't follow what you mean, Madame," he declared. "You say you
forgot that you could not walk?"

"No, no, I expressed myself wrongly," Madame replied in a weary voice.
"The fright, the terror, gave me strength to stagger to the door, and
there I fell and swooned."

"Oh, I see. You speak of fright and terror. Were these caused by the
sound of the shot?"

"For some reason my cousin believed himself to be in peril," explained
Madame. "He went in dread of assassination, you understand? Very well,
he caused me to feel this dread, also. When I heard the shot, something
told me, something told me that—" she paused, and suddenly placing her
hands before her face, added in a whisper—"that it had come."

Val Beverley was watching Madame de Stämer anxiously, and the fact that
she was unfit to undergo further examination was so obvious that any
other than an Inspector Aylesbury would have withdrawn. The latter,
however, seemed now to be glued to his chair, and:

"Oh, I see," he said; "and now there's another point: Have you any idea
what took Colonel Menendez out into the grounds last night?"

Madame de Stämer lowered her hands and gazed across at the speaker.

"What is that, Monsieur l'inspecteur?"