Bat Wing by Sax Rohmer

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"To Whitehall! What, you have been to London?"

"I had half anticipated it, Knox. The Chief Constable, although quite a
decent fellow, is a stickler for routine. On the strength of those
facts which I thought fit to place before him he could see no reason
for superseding Aylesbury. Accordingly, without further waste of time,
I headed straight for Whitehall. You may remember a somewhat elaborate
report which I completed upon the eve of our departure from Chancery
Lane?"

I nodded.

"A very thankless job for the Home Office, Knox. But I received my
reward to-day. Inspector Wessex has been placed in charge of the case
and I hope he will be down here within the hour. Pending his arrival I
am tied hand and foot."

We had walked into the library, and, stopping, suddenly, Harley stared
me very hard in the face.

"You are bottling something up, Knox," he declared. "Out with it. Has
Aylesbury distinguished himself again?"

"No," I replied; "on the contrary. He interviewed Madame de Staemer, and
came out with a flea in his ear."

"Good," said Harley, smiling. "A clever woman, and a woman of spirit,
Knox."

"You are right," I replied, "and you are also right in supposing that I
have a communication to make to you."

"Ah, I thought so. What is it?"

"It is a theory, Harley, which appears to me to cover the facts of the
case."

"Indeed?" said he, continuing to stare at me. "And what inspired it?"

"I was staring up at the window of the smoke-room to-day, and I
remembered the shadow which you had seen upon the blind."

"Yes?" he cried, eagerly; "and does your theory explain that, too?"

"It does, Harley."

"Then I am all anxiety to hear it."

"Very well, then, I will endeavour to be brief. Do you recollect Miss
Beverley's story of the unfamiliar footsteps which passed her door on
several occasions?"

"Perfectly."

"You recollect that you, yourself, heard someone crossing the hall, and
that both of us heard a door close?"

"We did."

"And finally you saw the shadow of a woman upon the blind of the
Colonel's private study. Very well. Excluding the preposterous theory
of Inspector Aylesbury, there is no woman in Cray's Folly whose
footsteps could possibly have been heard in that corridor, and whose
shadow could possibly have been seen upon the blind of Colonel
Menendez's room."

"I agree," said Harley, quietly. "I have definitely eliminated all the
servants from the case. Therefore, proceed, Knox, I am all attention."

"I will do so. There is a door on the south side of the house, close to
the tower and opening into the rhododendron shrubbery. This was the
door used by Colonel Menendez in his somnambulistic rambles, according
to his own account. Now, assuming his statement to have been untrue in
one particular, that is, assuming he was not walking in his sleep, but
was fully awake--"

"Eh?" exclaimed Harley, his expression undergoing a subtle change. "Do
you think his statement was untrue?"

"According to my theory, Harley, his statement was untrue, in this
particular, at least. But to proceed: Might he not have employed this
door to admit a nocturnal visitor?"

"It is feasible," muttered Harley, watching me closely.

"For the Colonel to descend to this side door when the household was
sleeping," I continued, "and to admit a woman secretly to Cray's Folly,
would have been a simple matter. Indeed, on the occasions of these
visits he might even have unbolted the door himself after Pedro had
bolted it, in order to enable her to enter without his descending for
the purpose of admitting her."

"By heavens! Knox," said Harley, "I believe you have it!"

His eyes were gleaming excitedly, and I proceeded:

"Hence the footsteps which passed Miss Beverley's door, hence the
shadow which you saw upon the blind; and the sounds which you detected
in the hall were caused, of course, by this woman retiring. It was the
door leading into the shrubbery which we heard being closed!"

"Continue," said Harley; "although I can plainly see to what this is
leading."

"You can see, Harley?" I cried; "of course you can see! The enmity
between Camber and Menendez is understandable at last."

"You mean that Menendez was Mrs. Camber's lover?"

"Don't you agree with me?"

"It is feasible, Knox, dreadfully feasible. But go on."

"My theory also explains Colin Camber's lapse from sobriety. It is
legitimate to suppose that his wife, who was a Cuban, had been intimate
with Menendez before her meeting with Camber. Perhaps she had broken
the tie at the time of her marriage, but this is mere supposition.
Then, her old lover, his infatuation by no means abated, leases the
property adjoining that of his successful rival."

"Knox!" exclaimed Paul Harley, "this is brilliant. I am all impatience
for the _denouement_."

"It is coming," I said, triumphantly. "Relations are reestablished,
clandestinely. Colin Camber learns of these. A passionate quarrel
ensues, resulting in a long drinking bout designed to drown his
sorrows. His love for his wife is so great that he has forgiven her
this infidelity. Accordingly, she has promised to see her lover no
more. Hers was the figure which you saw outlined upon the blind on the
night before the tragedy, Harley! The gestures, which you described as
those of despair, furnish evidence to confirm my theory. It was a final
meeting!"

"Hm," muttered Harley. "It would be taking big chances, because we have
to suppose, Knox, that these visits to Cray's Folly were made whilst
her husband was at work in the study. If he had suddenly decided to
turn in, all would have been discovered."

"True," I agreed, "but is it impossible?"

"No, not a bit. Women are dreadful gamblers. But continue, Knox."

"Very well. Colonel Menendez has refused to accept his dismissal, and
Mrs. Camber had been compelled to promise, without necessarily
intending to carry out the promise, that she would see him again on the
following night. She failed to come; whereupon he, growing impatient,
walked out into the grounds of Cray's Folly to look for her. She may
even have intended to come and have been intercepted by her husband.
But in any event, the latter, seeing the man who had wronged him,
standing out there in the moonlight, found temptation to be too strong.
On the whole, I favour the idea that he had intercepted his wife, and
snatching up a rifle, had actually gone out into the garden with the
intention of shooting Menendez."

"I see," murmured Harley in a low voice. "This hypothesis, Knox, does
not embrace the Bat Wing episodes."

"If Menendez has lied upon one point," I returned, "it is permissible
to suppose that his entire story was merely a tissue of falsehood."

"I see. But why did he bring me to Cray's Folly?"

"Don't you understand, Harley?" I cried, excitedly. "He really feared
for his life, since he knew that Camber had discovered the intrigue."

Paul Harley heaved a long sigh.

"I must congratulate you, Knox," he said, gravely, "upon a really
splendid contribution to my case. In several particulars I find myself
nearer to the truth. But the definite establishment or shattering of
your theory rests upon one thing."

"What's that?" I asked. "You are surely not thinking of the bat wing
nailed upon the door?"

"Not at all," he replied. "I am thinking of the seventh yew tree from
the northeast corner of the Tudor garden."

CHAPTER XXIX

A LEE-ENFIELD RIFLE

What reply I should have offered to this astonishing remark I cannot
say, but at that moment the library door burst open unceremoniously,
and outlined against the warmly illuminated hall, where sunlight poured
down through the dome, I beheld the figure of Inspector Aylesbury.

"Ah!" he cried, loudly, "so you have come back, Mr. Harley? I thought
you had thrown up the case."

"Did you?" said Harley, smilingly. "No, I am still persevering in my
ineffectual way."

"Oh, I see. And have you quite convinced yourself that Colin Camber is
innocent?"

"In one or two particulars my evidence remains incomplete."

"Oh, in one or two particulars, eh? But generally speaking you don't
doubt his innocence?"

"I don't doubt it for a moment."

Harley's words surprised me. I recognized, of course, that he might
merely be bluffing the Inspector, but it was totally alien to his
character to score a rhetorical success at the expense of what he knew
to be the truth; and so sure was I of the accuracy of my deductions
that I no longer doubted Colin Camber to be the guilty man.

"At any rate," continued the Inspector, "he is in detention, and likely
to remain there. If you are going to defend him at the Assizes, I don't
envy you your job, Mr. Harley."

He was blatantly triumphant, so that the fact was evident enough that
he had obtained some further piece of evidence which he regarded as
conclusive.

"I have detained the man Ah Tsong as well," he went on. "He was an
accomplice of your innocent friend, Mr. Harley."

"Was he really?" murmured Harley.

"Finally," continued the Inspector, "I have only to satisfy myself
regarding the person who lured Colonel Menendez out into the grounds
last night, to have my case complete."

I turned aside, unable to trust myself, but Harley remarked quite
coolly:

"Your industry is admirable, Inspector Aylesbury, but I seem to
perceive that you have made a very important discovery of some kind."

"Ah, you have got wind of it, have you?"

"I have no information on the point," replied Harley, "but your manner
urges me to suggest that perhaps success has crowned your efforts?"

"It has," replied the Inspector. "I am a man that doesn't do things by
halves. I didn't content myself with just staring out of the window of
that little hut in the grounds of the Guest House, like you did, Mr.
Harley, and saying 'twice one are two'--I looked at every book on the
shelves, and at every page of those books."

"You must have materially added to your information?"

"Ah, very likely, but my enquiries didn't stop there. I had the floor
up."

"The floor of the hut?"

"The floor of the hut, sir. The planks were quite loose. I had
satisfied myself that it was a likely hiding place."

"What did you find there, a dead rat?"

Inspector Aylesbury turned, and:

"Sergeant Butler," he called.

The sergeant came forward from the hall, carrying a cricket bag. This
Inspector Aylesbury took from him, placing it upon the floor of the
library at his feet.

"New, sir," said he, "I borrowed this bag in which to bring the
evidence away--the hanging evidence which I discovered beneath the
floor of the hut."

I had turned again, when the man had referred to his discovery; and
now, glancing at Harley, I saw that his face had grown suddenly very
stern.

"Show me your evidence, Inspector?" he asked, shortly.

"There can be no objection," returned the Inspector.

Opening the bag, he took out a rifle!

Paul Harley's hands were thrust in his coat pockets, By the movement of
the cloth I could see that he had clenched his fists. Here was
confirmation of my theory!

"A Service rifle," said the Inspector, triumphantly, holding up the
weapon. "A Lee-Enfield charger-loader. It contains four cartridges,
three undischarged, and one discharged. He had not even troubled to
eject it."

The Inspector dropped the weapon into the bag with a dramatic movement.

"Fancy theories about bat wings and Voodoos," he said, scornfully, "may
satisfy you, Mr. Harley, but I think this rifle will prove more
satisfactory to the Coroner."

He picked up the bag and walked out of the library.

Harley stood posed in a curiously rigid way, looking after him. Even
when the door had closed he did not change his position at once. Then,
turning slowly, he walked to an armchair and sat down.

"Harley," I said, hesitatingly, "has this discovery surprised you?"

"Surprised me?" he returned in a low voice. "It has appalled me."

"Then, although you seemed to regard my theory as sound," I continued
rather resentfully, "all the time you continued to believe Colin Camber
to be innocent?"

"I believe so still."

"What?"

"I thought we had determined, Knox," he said, wearily, "that a man of
Camber's genius, having decided upon murder, must have arranged for an
unassailable alibi. Very well. Are we now to leap to the other end of
the scale, and to credit him with such utter stupidity as to place
hanging evidence where it could not fail to be discovered by the most
idiotic policeman? Preserve your balance, Knox. Theories are wild
horses. They run away with us. I know that of old, for which very
reason I always avoid speculation until I have a solid foundation of
fact upon which to erect it."

"But, my dear fellow," I cried, "was Camber to foresee that the floor
of the hut would be taken up?"

Harley sighed, and leaned back in his chair.

"Do you recollect your first meeting with this man, Knox?"

"Perfectly."

"What occurred?"

"He was slightly drunk."

"Yes, but what was the nature of his conversation?"

"He suggested that I had recognized his resemblance to Edgar Allan
Poe."

"Quite. What had led him to make this suggestion?"

"The manner in which I had looked at him, I suppose."

"Exactly. Although not quite sober, from a mere glance he was able to
detect what you were thinking. Do you wish me to believe, Knox, that
this same man had not foreseen what the police would think when Colonel
Menendez was found shot within a hundred yards of the garden of the
Guest House?"

I was somewhat taken aback, for Harley's argument was strictly logical,
and:

"It is certainly very puzzling," I admitted.

"Puzzling!" he exclaimed; "it is maddening. This case is like a Syrian
village-mound. Stratum lies under stratum, and in each we meet with
evidence of more refined activity than in the last. It seems we have
yet to go deeper."

He took out his pipe and began to fill it.

"Tell me about the interview with Madame de Staemer," he directed.

I took a seat facing him, and he did not once interrupt me throughout
my account of Inspector Aylesbury's examination of Madame.

"Good," he commented, when I had told how the Inspector was dismissed.
"But at least, Knox, he has a working theory, to which he sticks like
an express to the main line, whereas I find myself constantly called
upon to readjust my perspective. Directly I can enjoy freedom of
movement, however, I shall know whether my hypothesis is a house of
cards or a serviceable structure."

"Your hypothesis?" I said. "Then you really have a theory which is
entirely different from mine?"

"Not entirely different, Knox, merely not so comprehensive. I have
contented myself thus far with a negative theory, if I may so express
it."

"Negative theory?"

"Exactly. We are dealing, my dear fellow, with a case of bewildering
intricacies. For the moment I have focussed upon one feature only."

"What is that?"

"Upon proving that Colin Camber did not do the murder."

"Did _not_ do it?"

"Precisely, Knox. Respecting the person or persons who did do it, I had
preserved a moderately open mind, up to the moment that Inspector
Aylesbury entered the library with the Lee-Enfield."

"And then?" I said, eagerly.

"Then," he replied, "I began to think hard. However, since I practise
what I preach, or endeavour to do so, I must not permit myself to
speculate upon this aspect of the matter until I have tested my theory
of Camber's innocence."

"In other words," I said, bitterly, "although you encouraged me to
unfold my ideas regarding Mrs. Camber, you were merely laughing at me
all the time!"

"My dear Knox!" exclaimed Harley, jumping up impulsively, "please don't
be unjust. Is it like me? On the contrary, Knox"--he looked me squarely
in the eyes--"you have given me a platform on which already I have
begun to erect one corner of a theory of the crime. Without new facts I
can go no further. But this much at least you have done."

"Thanks, Harley," I murmured, and indeed I was gratified; "but where do
your other corners rest?"

"They rest," he said, slowly, "they rest, respectively, upon a bat
wing, a yew tree, and a Lee-Enfield charger-loader."

CHAPTER XXX

THE SEVENTH YEW TREE

Detective-Inspector Wessex arrived at about five o'clock; a quiet,
resourceful man, highly competent, and having the appearance of an ex-
soldier. His respect for the attainments of Paul Harley alone marked
him a student of character. I knew Wessex well, and was delighted when
Pedro showed him into the library.

"Thank God you are here, Wessex," said Harley, when we had exchanged
greetings. "At last I can move. Have you seen the local officer in
charge?"

"No," replied the Inspector, "but I gather that I have been
requisitioned over his head."

"You have," said Harley, grimly, "and over the head of the Chief
Constable, too. But I suppose it is unfair to condemn a man for the
shortcoming with which nature endowed him, therefore we must endeavour
to let Inspector Aylesbury down as lightly as possible. I have an idea
that I heard him return a while ago."

He walked out into the hall to make enquiries, and a few moments later
I heard Inspector Aylesbury's voice.

"Ah, there you are, Inspector Aylesbury," said Harley, cheerily. "Will
you please step into the library for a moment?"

The Inspector entered, frowning heavily, followed by my friend.

"There is no earthly reason why we should get at loggerheads over this
business," Harley continued; "but the fact of the matter is, Inspector
Aylesbury, that there are depths in this case to which neither you nor
I have yet succeeded in penetrating. You have a reputation to consider,
and so have I. Therefore I am sure you will welcome the cooperation of
Detective-Inspector Wessex of Scotland Yard, as I do."

"What's this, what's this?" said Aylesbury. "I have made no application
to London."

"Nevertheless, Inspector, it is quite in order," declared Wessex. "I
have my instructions here, and I have reported to Market Hilton
already. You see, the man you have detained is an American citizen."

"What of that?"

"Well, he seems to have communicated with his Embassy." Wessex glanced
significantly at Paul Harley. "And the Embassy communicated with the
Home Office. You mustn't regard my arrival as any reflection on your
ability, Inspector Aylesbury. I am sure we can work together quite
agreeably."

"Oh," muttered the other, in evident bewilderment, "I see. Well, if
that's the way of it, I suppose we must make the best of things."

"Good," cried Wessex, heartily. "Now perhaps you would like to state
your case against the detained man?"

"A sound idea, Wessex," said Paul Harley. "But perhaps, Inspector
Aylesbury, before you begin, you would be good enough to speak to the
constable on duty at the entrance to the Tudor garden. I am anxious to
take another look at the spot where the body was found."

Inspector Aylesbury took out his handkerchief and blew his nose loudly,
continuing throughout the operation to glare at Paul Harley, and
finally:

"You are wasting your time, Mr. Harley," he declared, "as Detective-
Inspector Wessex will be the first to admit when I have given him the
facts of my case. Nevertheless, if you want to examine the garden, do
so by all means."

He turned without another word and stamped out of the library across
the hall and into the courtyard.

"I will join you again in a few minutes, Wessex," said Paul Harley,
following.

"Very good, Mr. Harley," Wessex answered. "I know you wouldn't have had
me down if the case had been as simple as he seems to think it is."

I joined Harley, and we walked together up the gravelled path, meeting
Inspector Aylesbury and the constable returning.

"Go ahead, Mr. Harley!" cried the Inspector. "If you can find any
stronger evidence than the rifle, I shall be glad to take a look at
it."

Harley nodded good-humouredly, and together we descended the steps to
the sunken garden. I was intensely curious respecting the investigation
which Harley had been so anxious to make here, for I recognized that it
was associated with something which he had seen from the window of
Camber's hut.

He walked along the moss-grown path to the sun-dial, and stood for a
moment looking down at the spot where Menendez had lain. Then he stared
up the hill toward the Guest House; and finally, directing his
attention to the yews which lined the sloping bank:

"One, two, three, four," he counted, checking them with his fingers--
"five, six, seven."

He mounted the bank and began to examine the trunk of one of the trees,
whilst I watched him in growing astonishment.

Presently he turned and looked down at me.

"Not a trace, Knox," he murmured; "not a trace. Let us try again."

He moved along to the yew adjoining that which he had already
inspected, but presently shook his head and passed to the next. Then:

"Ah!" he cried. "Come here, Knox!"

I joined him where he was kneeling, staring at what I took to be a
large nail, or bolt, protruding from the bark of the tree.

"You see!" he exclaimed, "you see!"

I stooped, in order to examine the thing more closely, and as I did so,
I realized what it was. It was the bullet which had killed Colonel
Menendez!

Harley stood upright, his face slightly flushed and his eyes very
bright.

"We shall not attempt to remove it, Knox," he said. "The depth of
penetration may have a tale to tell. The wood of the yew tree is one of
the toughest British varieties."

"But, Harley," I said, blankly, as we descended to the path, "this is
merely another point for the prosecution of Camber. Unless"--I turned
to him in sudden excitement, "the bullet was of different--"

"No, no," he murmured, "nothing so easy as that, Knox. The bullet was
fired from a Lee-Enfield beyond doubt."

I stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Then I am utterly out of my depth, Harley. It, appears to me that the
case against Camber is finally and fatally complete. Only the motive
remains to be discovered, and I flatter myself that I have already
detected this."

"I am certainly inclined to think," admitted Harley, "that there is a
good deal in your theory."

"Then, Harley," I said in bewilderment, "you do believe that Camber
committed the murder?"

"On the contrary," he replied, "I am certain that he did not."

I stood quite still.

"You are certain?" I began.

"I told you that the test of my theory, Knox, was to be looked for in
the seventh yew from the northeast corner of the Tudor garden, did I
not?"

"You did. And it is there. A bullet fired from a Lee-Enfield rifle;
beyond any possible shadow of doubt the bullet which killed Colonel
Menendez."

"Beyond any possible shadow of doubt, as you say, Knox, the bullet
which killed Colonel Menendez."

"Therefore Camber is guilty?"

"On the contrary, therefore Camber is innocent!"

"What!"

"You are persistently overlooking one little point, Knox," said Harley,
mounting the steps on to the gravel path. "I spoke of the seventh yew
tree from the northeast corner of the garden."

"Well?"

"Well, my dear fellow, surely you observed that the bullet was embedded
in the ninth?"

I was still groping for the significance of this point when, re-
crossing the hall, we entered the library again, to find Inspector
Aylesbury posed squarely before the mantelpiece stating his case to
Wessex.

"You see," he was saying, in his most oratorical manner, as we entered,
"every little detail fits perfectly into place. For instance, I find
that a woman, called Mrs. Powis, who for the past two years had acted
as housekeeper at the Guest House and never taken a holiday, was sent
away recently to her married daughter in London. See what that means?
Her room is at the back of the house, and her evidence would have been
fatal. Ah Tsong, of course, is a liar. I made up my mind about that the
moment I clapped eyes on him. Mrs. Camber is the only innocent party.
She was asleep in the front of the house when the shot was fired, and I
believe her when she says that she cannot swear to the matter of
distance."

"A very interesting case, Inspector," said Wessex, glancing at Harley.
"I have not examined the body yet, but I understand that it was a clean
wound through the head."

"The bullet entered at the juncture of the nasal and frontal bones,"
explained Harley, rapidly, "and it came out between the base of the
occipital and first cervical. Without going into unpleasant surgical
details, the wound was a perfectly _straight_ one. There was no
ricochet."

"I understand that a regulation rifle was used?"

"Yes," said Inspector Aylesbury; "we have it."

"And at what range did you say, Inspector?"

"Roughly, a hundred yards."

"Possibly less," murmured Harley.

"Hundred yards or less," said Wessex, musingly; "and the obstruction
met with in the case of a man shot in that way would be--" He looked
towards Paul Harley.

"Less than if the bullet had struck the skull higher up," was the
reply. "It passed clean through."

"Therefore," continued Wessex, "I am waiting to hear, Inspector, where
you found the bullet lodged?"

"Eh?" said the Inspector, and he slowly turned his prominent eyes in
Harley's direction. "Oh, I see. That's why you wanted to examine the
Tudor garden, is it?"

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