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.”
He remained in a very evil humour, and now the cause of this suddenly came to light.
“I have spent a thoroughly unpleasant afternoon,” he continued, “interviewing an impossible country policeman who had never heard of my existence!”
This display of human resentment honestly delighted me. It was refreshing to know that the omniscient Paul Harley was capable of pique.
“One, Inspector Aylesbury,” he went on, bitterly, “a large person bearing a really interesting resemblance to a walrus, but lacking that creature’s intelligence. It was not until Superintendent East had spoken to him from Scotland Yard that he ceased to treat me as a suspect. But his new attitude was almost more provoking than the old one. He adopted the manner of a regimental sergeant-major reluctantly interviewing a private with a grievance. If matters should so develop that we are compelled to deal with that fish-faced idiot, God help us all!”
He burst out laughing, his good humour suddenly quite restored, and taking out his pipe began industriously to load it.
“I can smoke while I am changing,” he said, “and you can sit there and tell me all about Colin Camber.”
I did as he requested, and Harley, who could change quicker than any man I had ever known, had just finished tying his bow as I completed my story of the encounter at the Lavender Arms.
“Hm,” he muttered, as I ceased speaking. “At every turn I realize that without you I should have been lost, Knox. I am afraid I shall have to change your duties to-morrow.”
“Change my duties? What do you mean?”
“I warn you that the new ones will be less pleasant than the old! In other words, I must ask you to tear yourself away from Miss Val Beverley for an hour in the morning, and take advantage of Mr. Camber’s invitation to call upon him.”
“Frankly, I doubt if he would acknowledge me.”
“Nevertheless, you have a better excuse than I. In the circumstances it is most important that we should get in touch with this man.”
“Very well,” I said, ruefully. “I will do my best. But you don’t seriously think, Harley, that the danger comes from there?”
Paul Harley took his dinner jacket from the chair upon which the man had laid it out, and turned to me.
“My dear Knox,” he said, “you may remember that I spoke, recently, of retiring from this profession?”
“You did.”
“My retirement will not be voluntary, Knox. I shall be kicked out as an incompetent ass; for, respecting the connection, if any, between the narrative of Colonel Menendez, the bat wing nailed to the door of the house, and Mr. Colin Camber, I have not the foggiest notion. In this, at last, I have triumphed over Auguste Dupin. Auguste Dupin never confessed defeat.”
Chapter 10 THE NIGHT WALKER
If luncheon had seemed extravagant, dinner at Cray’s Folly proved to be a veritable Roman banquet. To associate ideas of selfishness with Miss Beverley was hateful, but the more I learned of the luxurious life of this queer household hidden away in the Surrey Hills the less I wondered at any one’s consenting to share such exile. I had hitherto counted an American freak dinner, organized by a lucky plunger and held at the Café de Paris, as the last word in extravagant feasting. But I learned now that what was caviare in Monte Carlo was ordinary fare at Cray’s Folly.