AYLESBURY’S THEORY
There were strangers about Cray’s Folly and a sort of furtive activity,
horribly suggestive. We had not pursued the circular route by the high
road which would have brought us to the lodge, but had turned aside
where the swing-gate opened upon a footpath into the meadows. It was the
path which I had pursued upon the day of my visit to the Lavender
Arms. A second private gate here gave access to the grounds at a point
directly opposite the lake; and as we crossed the valley, making for the
terraced lawns, I saw unfamiliar figures upon the veranda, and knew that
the cumbersome processes of the law were already in motion.
I was longing to speak to Val Beverley and to learn what had taken place
during her interview with Inspector Aylesbury, but Harley led the way
toward the tower wing, and by a tortuous path through the rhododendrons
we finally came out on the northeast front and in sight of the Tudor
garden.
Harley crossed to the entrance, and was about to descend the steps, when
the constable on duty there held out his arm.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said, “but I have orders to admit no one to this
part of the garden.”
“Oh,” said Harley, pulling up short, “but I am acting in this case. My
name is Paul Harley.”
“Sorry, sir,” replied the constable, “but you will have to see Inspector
Aylesbury.”
My friend uttered an impatient exclamation, but, turning aside:
“Very well, constable,” he muttered; “I suppose I must submit. Our
friend, Aylesbury,” he added to me, as we walked away, “would appear
to be a martinet as well as a walrus. At every step, Knox, he proves
himself a tragic nuisance. This means waste of priceless time.”
“What had you hoped to do, Harley?”
“Prove my theory,” he returned; “but since every moment is precious, I
must move in another direction.”
He hurried on through the opening in the box hedge and into the
courtyard. Manoel had just opened the doors to a sepulchral-looking
person who proved to be the coroner’s officer, and:
“Manoel!” cried Harley, “tell Carter to bring a car round at once.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I haven’t time to fetch my own,” he explained.
“Where are you off to?”
“I am off to see the Chief Constable, Knox. Aylesbury must be superseded
at whatever cost. If the Chief Constable fails I shall not hesitate to
go higher. I will get along to the garage. I don’t expect to be more
than an hour. Meanwhile, do your best to act as a buffer between
Aylesbury and the women. You understand me?”
“Quite,” I returned, shortly. “But the task may prove no light one,
Harley.”
“It won’t,” he assured me, smiling grimly. “How you must regret, Knox,
that we didn’t go fishing!”
With that he was off, eager-eyed and alert, the mood of dreamy
abstraction dropped like a cloak discarded. He fully realized, as I did,
that his unique reputation was at stake. I wondered, as I had wondered
at the Guest House, whether, in undertaking to clear Colin Camber, he
had acted upon sheer conviction, or, embittered by the death of his
client, had taken a gambler’s chance. It was unlike him to do so. But
now beyond reach of that charm of manner which Colin Camber possessed,
and discounting the pathetic sweetness of his girl-wife, I realized how
black was the evidence against him.
Occupied with these, and even more troubled thoughts, I was making my
way toward the library, undetermined how to act, when I saw Val Beverley
coming along the corridor which communicated with Madame de Stämer’s
room.
I read a welcome in her eyes which made my heart beat the faster.
“Oh, Mr. Knox,” she cried, “I am so glad you have returned. Tell me all
that has happened, for I feel in some way that I am responsible for it.”
I nodded gravely.
“You know, then, where Inspector Aylesbury went when he left here, after
his interview with you?”
She looked at me pathetically.
“He went to the Guest House, of course.”
“Yes,” I said; “he was close behind us.”
“And”--she hesitated--“Mr. Camber?”
“He has been detained.”
“Oh!” she moaned. “I could hate myself! Yet what could I say, what could
I do?”
“Just tell me all about it,” I urged. “What were the Inspector’s
questions?”
“Well,” explained the girl, “he had evidently learned from someone,
presumably one of the servants, that there was enmity between Mr. Camber
and Colonel Menendez. He asked me if I knew of this, and of course I
had to admit that I did. But when I told him that I had no idea of its
cause, he did not seem to believe me.”
“No,” I murmured. “Any evidence which fails to dove-tail with his
preconceived theories he puts down as a lie.”
“He seemed to have made up his mind for some reason,” she continued,
“that I was intimately acquainted with Mr. Camber. Whereas, of course, I
have never spoken to him in my life, although whenever he has passed me
in the road he has always saluted me with quite delightful courtesy.
Oh, Mr. Knox, it is horrible to think of this great misfortune coming to
those poor people.” She looked at me pleadingly. “How did his wife take
it?”
“Poor little girl,” I replied, “it was an awful blow.”
“I feel that I want to set out this very minute,” declared Val Beverley,
“and go to her, and try to comfort her. Because I feel in my very soul
that her husband is innocent. She is such a sweet little thing. I have
wanted to speak to her since the very first time I ever saw her, but on
the rare occasions when we have met in the village she has hurried
past as though she were afraid of me. Mr. Harley surely knows that her
husband is not guilty?”
“I think he does,” I replied, “but he may have great difficulty in
proving it. And what else did Inspector Aylesbury wish to know?”
“How can I tell you?” she said in a low voice; and biting her lip
agitatedly she turned her head aside.
“Perhaps I can guess.”
“Can you?” she asked, looking at me quickly. “Well, then, he seemed to
attach a ridiculous importance to the fact that I had not retired last
night at the time of the tragedy.”
“I know,” said I, grimly. “Another preconceived idea of his.”
“I told him the truth of the matter, which is surely quite simple, and
at first I was unable to understand the nature of his suspicions. Then,
after a time, his questions enlightened me. He finally suggested, quite
openly, that I had not come down from my room to the corridor in which
Madame de Stämer was lying, but had actually been there at the time!”
“In the corridor outside her room?”
“Yes. He seemed to think that I had just come in from the door near
the end of the east wing and beside the tower, which opens into the
shrubbery.”
“That you had just come in?” I exclaimed. “He thinks, then, that you had
been out in the grounds?”
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.”