Inspector Aylesbury had disappeared when I came out of the hall,but Pedro was standing there to remind me of the fact that I had notbreakfasted. I realized that despite all tragic happenings, I wasravenously hungry, and accordingly I agreed to his proposal that Ishould take breakfast on the south veranda, as on the previous morning.
To the south veranda accordingly I made my way, rather despising myselfbecause I was capable of hunger at such a time and amidst such horrors.The daily papers were on my table, for Carter drove into Market Hiltonevery morning to meet the London train which brought them down; but Idid not open any of them.
Pedro waited upon me in person. I could see that the man waspathetically anxious to talk. Accordingly, when he presently brought mea fresh supply of hot rolls:
"This has been a dreadful blow to you, Pedro?" I said.
"Dreadful, sir," he returned; "fearful. I lose a splendid master, I losemy place, and I am far, far from home."
"You are from Cuba?"
"Yes, yes. I was with Senor the Colonel Don Juan in Cuba."
"And do you know anything of the previous attempts which had been madeupon his life, Pedro?"
"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all."
"But the bat wing, Pedro?"
He looked at me in a startled way.
"Yes, sir," he replied. "I found it pinned to the door here."
"And what did you think it meant?"
"I thought it was a joke, sir--not a nice joke--by someone who knewCuba."
"You know the meaning of Bat Wing, then?"
"It is Obeah. I have never seen it before, but I have heard of it."
"And what did you think?" said I, proceeding with my breakfast.
"I thought it was meant to frighten."
"But who did you think had done it?"
"I had heard Senor Don Juan say that Mr. Camber hated him, so I thoughtperhaps he had sent someone to do it."
"But why should Mr. Camber have hated the Colonel?"
"I cannot say, sir. I wish I could tell."
"Was your master popular in the West Indies?" I asked.
"Well, sir--" Pedro hesitated--"perhaps not so well liked."
"No," I said. "I had gathered as much."
The man withdrew, and I continued my solitary meal, listening to thesong of the skylarks, and thinking how complex was human existence,compared with any other form of life beneath the sun.
How to employ my time until Harley should return I knew not. Commondelicacy dictated an avoidance of Val Beverley until she should haverecovered from the effect of Inspector Aylesbury's gross insinuations,and I was curiously disinclined to become involved in the gloomyformalities which ensue upon a crime of violence. Nevertheless, Ifelt compelled to remain within call, realizing that there mightbe unpleasant duties which Pedro could not perform, and which musttherefore devolve upon Val Beverley.
I lighted my pipe and walked out on to the sloping lawn. A gardenerwas at work with a big syringe, destroying a patch of weeds which hadappeared in one corner of the velvet turf. He looked up in a sort ofstartled way as I passed, bidding me good morning, and then resuming histask. I thought that this man's activities were symbolic of the way ofthe world, in whose eternal progression one poor human life counts asnothing.
Presently I came in sight of that door which opened into therhododendron shrubbery, the door by which Colonel Menendez had come outto meet his death. His bedroom was directly above, and as I picked myway through the closely growing bushes, which at an earlier time I hadthought to be impassable, I paused in the very shadow of the towerand glanced back and upward. I could see the windows of the littlesmoke-room in which we had held our last interview with Menendez; and Ithought of the shadow which Harley had seen upon the blind. I was unableto disguise from myself the fact that when Inspector Aylesbury shouldlearn of this occurrence, as presently he must do, it would give newvigour to his ridiculous and unpleasant suspicions.
I passed on, and considering the matter impartially, found myself facedby the questions--Whose was the shadow which Harley had seen upon theblind? And with what purpose did Colonel Menendez leave the house atmidnight?
Somnambulism might solve the second riddle, but to the first I couldfind no answer acceptable to my reason. And now, pursuing my aimlessway, I presently came in sight of a gable of the Guest House. I couldobtain a glimpse of the hut which had once been Colin Camber's workroom.The window, through which Paul Harley had stared so intently, possessedsliding panes. These were closed, and a ray of sunlight, striking uponthe glass, produced, because of an over-leaning branch which crossed thetop of the window, an effect like that of a giant eye glittering evillythrough the trees. I could see a constable moving about in the garden.Ever and anon the sun shone upon the buttons of his tunic.
By such steps my thoughts led me on to the pathetic figure of YsolaCamber. Save for the faithful Ah Tsong she was alone in that house towhich tragedy had come unbidden, unforeseen. I doubted if she had awoman friend in all the countryside. Doubtless, I reflected, the oldhousekeeper, to whom she had referred, would return as speedily aspossible, but pending the arrival of someone to whom she could confideall her sorrows, I found it almost impossible to contemplate theloneliness of the tragic little figure.
Such was my mental state, and my thoughts were all of compassion, whensuddenly, like a lurid light, an inspiration came to me.
I had passed out from the shadow of the tower and was walking in thedirection of the sentinel yews when this idea, dreadfully complete,leapt to my mind. I pulled up short, as though hindered by a palpablebarrier. Vague musings, evanescent theories, vanished like smoke, and aghastly, consistent theory of the crime unrolled itself before me, withall the cold logic of truth.
"My God!" I groaned aloud, "I see it all. I see it all."
CHAPTER XXVIII
MY THEORY OF THE CRIME