why should
he not offer you every aid in his power?"
"Why, indeed?" muttered Harley.
"The same thing," I continued, "applies to Madame de Stämer. If ever I
have seen love-light in a woman's eyes I have seen it in hers, to-day,
whenever her glance has rested upon Colonel Menendez. Harley, I believe
she literally worships the ground he walks upon."
"She does, she does!" cried my companion, and emphasized the words with
beats of his clenched fist. "It is utterly, damnably mystifying. But I
tell you, she knows, Knox, she knows!"
"You mean she knows that he is a doomed man?"
Harley nodded rapidly.
"They both know," he replied; "but there is something which they dare
not divulge."
He glanced at me swiftly, and his bronzed face wore a peculiar
expression.
"Have you had an opportunity of any private conversation with Miss Val
Beverley?" he enquired.
"Yes," I said. "Surely you remember that you found me chatting with her
when you returned from your inspection of the tower."
"I remember perfectly well, but I thought you might have just met. Now
it appears to me, Knox, that you have quickly established yourself in
the good books of a very charming girl. My only reason for visiting the
tower was to afford you just this opportunity! Don't frown. Beyond
reminding you of the fact that she has been on intimate terms with
Madame de Stämer for some years, I will not intrude in any way upon
your private plans in that direction."
I stared at him, and I suppose my expression was an angry one.
"Surely you don't misunderstand me?" he said. "A cultured English girl
of that type cannot possibly have lived with these people without
learning something of the matters which are puzzling us so badly. Am I
asking too much?"
"I see what you mean," I said, slowly. "No, I suppose you are right,
Harley."
"Good," he muttered. "I will leave that side of the enquiry in your
very capable hands, Knox."
He paused, and began to stare about him.
"From this point," said he, "we have an unobstructed view of the
tower."
We turned and stood looking up at the unsightly gray structure, with
its geometrical rows of windows and the minaret-like gallery at the
top.
"Of course"—I broke a silence of some moments duration—"the entire
scheme of Cray's Folly is peculiar, but the rooms, except for a
uniformity which is monotonous, and an unimaginative scheme of
decoration which makes them all seem alike, are airy and well lighted,
eminently sane and substantial. The tower, however, is quite
inexcusable, unless the idea was to enable the occupant to look over
the tops of the trees in all directions."
"Yes," agreed Harley, "it is an ugly landmark. But yonder up the slope
I can see the corner of what seems to be a very picturesque house of
some kind."
"I caught a glimpse of it earlier to-day," I replied. "Yes, from this
point a little more of it is visible. Apparently quite an old place."
I paused, staring up the hillside, but Harley, hands locked behind him
and chin lowered reflectively, was pacing on. I joined him, and we
proceeded for some little distance in silence, passing a gardener who
touched his cap respectfully and to whom I thought at first my
companion was about to address some remark. Harley passed on, however,
still occupied, it seemed, with his reflections, and coming to a gravel
path which, bordering one side of the lawns, led down from terrace to
terrace into the valley, turned, and began to descend.
"Let us go and interview the swans," he murmured absently.
Chapter VII - At the Lavender Arms
*
In certain moods Paul Harley was impossible as a companion, and I, who
knew him well, had learned to leave him to his own devices at such
times. These moods invariably corresponded with his meeting some
problem to the heart of which the lance of his keen wit failed to
penetrate. His humour might not display itself in the spoken word, he
merely became oblivious of everything and everybody around him. People
might talk to him and he scarce noted their
he not offer you every aid in his power?"
"Why, indeed?" muttered Harley.
"The same thing," I continued, "applies to Madame de Stämer. If ever I
have seen love-light in a woman's eyes I have seen it in hers, to-day,
whenever her glance has rested upon Colonel Menendez. Harley, I believe
she literally worships the ground he walks upon."
"She does, she does!" cried my companion, and emphasized the words with
beats of his clenched fist. "It is utterly, damnably mystifying. But I
tell you, she knows, Knox, she knows!"
"You mean she knows that he is a doomed man?"
Harley nodded rapidly.
"They both know," he replied; "but there is something which they dare
not divulge."
He glanced at me swiftly, and his bronzed face wore a peculiar
expression.
"Have you had an opportunity of any private conversation with Miss Val
Beverley?" he enquired.
"Yes," I said. "Surely you remember that you found me chatting with her
when you returned from your inspection of the tower."
"I remember perfectly well, but I thought you might have just met. Now
it appears to me, Knox, that you have quickly established yourself in
the good books of a very charming girl. My only reason for visiting the
tower was to afford you just this opportunity! Don't frown. Beyond
reminding you of the fact that she has been on intimate terms with
Madame de Stämer for some years, I will not intrude in any way upon
your private plans in that direction."
I stared at him, and I suppose my expression was an angry one.
"Surely you don't misunderstand me?" he said. "A cultured English girl
of that type cannot possibly have lived with these people without
learning something of the matters which are puzzling us so badly. Am I
asking too much?"
"I see what you mean," I said, slowly. "No, I suppose you are right,
Harley."
"Good," he muttered. "I will leave that side of the enquiry in your
very capable hands, Knox."
He paused, and began to stare about him.
"From this point," said he, "we have an unobstructed view of the
tower."
We turned and stood looking up at the unsightly gray structure, with
its geometrical rows of windows and the minaret-like gallery at the
top.
"Of course"—I broke a silence of some moments duration—"the entire
scheme of Cray's Folly is peculiar, but the rooms, except for a
uniformity which is monotonous, and an unimaginative scheme of
decoration which makes them all seem alike, are airy and well lighted,
eminently sane and substantial. The tower, however, is quite
inexcusable, unless the idea was to enable the occupant to look over
the tops of the trees in all directions."
"Yes," agreed Harley, "it is an ugly landmark. But yonder up the slope
I can see the corner of what seems to be a very picturesque house of
some kind."
"I caught a glimpse of it earlier to-day," I replied. "Yes, from this
point a little more of it is visible. Apparently quite an old place."
I paused, staring up the hillside, but Harley, hands locked behind him
and chin lowered reflectively, was pacing on. I joined him, and we
proceeded for some little distance in silence, passing a gardener who
touched his cap respectfully and to whom I thought at first my
companion was about to address some remark. Harley passed on, however,
still occupied, it seemed, with his reflections, and coming to a gravel
path which, bordering one side of the lawns, led down from terrace to
terrace into the valley, turned, and began to descend.
"Let us go and interview the swans," he murmured absently.
Chapter VII - At the Lavender Arms
*
In certain moods Paul Harley was impossible as a companion, and I, who
knew him well, had learned to leave him to his own devices at such
times. These moods invariably corresponded with his meeting some
problem to the heart of which the lance of his keen wit failed to
penetrate. His humour might not display itself in the spoken word, he
merely became oblivious of everything and everybody around him. People
might talk to him and he scarce noted their
Similar Books
