18. Inspector Aylesbury Of Market Hilton
"Now, gentlemen," said Inspector Aylesbury, "I will take evidence."
Dawn was creeping grayly over the hills, and the view from the library windows resembled a study by Bastien-Lepage. The lamps burned yellowly, and the exotic appointments of the library viewed in that cold light for some reason reminded me of a stage set seen in daylight. The Velasquez portrait mentally translated me to the billiard room where something lay upon the settee with a white sheet drawn over it; and I wondered if my own face looked as wan and comfortless as did the faces of my companions, that is, of two of them, for I must except Inspector Aylesbury.
Squarely before the oaken mantel he stood, a large, pompous man, but in this hour I could find no humour in Paul Harley's description of him as resembling a walrus. He had a large auburn moustache tinged with gray, and prominent brown eyes, but the lower part of his face, which terminated in a big double chin, was ill- balanced by his small forehead. He was bulkily built, and I had conceived an unreasonable distaste for his puffy hands. His official air and oratorical manner were provoking.
Harley sat in the chair which he had occupied during our last interview with Colonel Menendez in the library, and I had realized--a realization which had made me uncomfortable--that I was seated upon the couch on which the Colonel had reclined. Only one other was present, Dr. Rolleston of Mid-Hatton, a slight, fair man with a brisk, military manner, acquired perhaps during six years of war service. He was standing beside me smoking a cigarette.
"I have taken all the necessary particulars concerning the position of the body," continued the Inspector, "the nature of the wound, contents of pockets, etc., and I now turn to you, Mr. Harley, as the first person to discover the murdered man." Paul Harley lay back in the armchair watching the speaker.
"Before we come to what happened here to-night I should like to be quite clear about your own position in the matter, Mr. Harley. Now"-- Inspector Aylesbury raised one finger in forensic manner--"now, you visited me yesterday afternoon, Mr. Harley, and asked for certain information regarding the neighbourhood."
"I did," said Harley, shortly.
"The questions which you asked me were," continued the Inspector, slowly and impressively, "did I know of any negro or coloured people living in, or about, Mid- Hatton, and could I give you a list of the residents within a two-mile radius of Cray's Folly. I gave you the information which you required, and now it is your turn to give me some. Why did you ask those questions?"
"For this reason," was the reply--"I had been requested by Colonel Menendez to visit Cray's Folly, accompanied by my friend, Mr. Knox, in order that I might investigate certain occurrences which had taken place here."
"Oh," said the Inspector, raising his eyebrows, "I see. You were here to make investigations?"
"Yes."
"And these occurrences, will you tell me what they were?"
"Simple enough in themselves," replied Harley. "Someone broke into the house one night."
"Broke into the house?"
"Undoubtedly."
"But this was never reported to us."
"Possibly not, but someone broke in, nevertheless. Secondly, Colonel Menendez had detected someone lurking about the lawns, and thirdly, the wing of a bat was nailed to the main door."
Inspector Aylesbury lowered his eyebrows and concentrated a frowning glance upon the speaker.
"Of course, sir," he said, "I don't want to jump to conclusions, but you are not by any chance trying to be funny at a time like this?"
"My sense of humour has failed me entirely," replied Harley. "I am merely stating bald facts in reply to your questions."
"Oh, I see."
The Inspector cleared his throat.
"Someone broke into Cray's Folly, then, a fact which was not reported to me, a suspicious loiterer was seen in the grounds, again not reported, and someone played a silly practical joke by nailing the wing of a bat, you say, to the door. Might I ask, Mr. Harley, why you mention this matter? The other things are serious, but why you should mention the trick of some mischievous boy at a time like this I can't imagine."
"No," said Harley, wearily, "it does sound absurd, Inspector; I quite appreciate the fact. But, you see, Colonel Menendez regarded it as the most significant episode of them all."
"What! The bat wing nailed on the door?"
"The bat wing, decidedly. He believed it to be the token of a negro secret society which had determined upon his death, hence my enquiries regarding coloured men in the neighbourhood. Do you understand, Inspector?"
Inspector Aylesbury took a large handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. Replacing the handkerchief he cleared his throat, and:
"Am I to understand," he enquired, "that the late Colonel Menendez had expected to be attacked?"
"You may understand that," replied Harley. "It explains my presence in the house."
"Oh," said the Inspector, "I see. It looks as though he might have done better if he had applied to me."
Paul Harley glanced across in my direction and smiled grimly.
"As I had predicted, Knox," he murmured, "my Waterloo."
"What's that you say about Waterloo, Mr. Harley?" demanded the Inspector. "Nothing germaine to the case," replied Harley. "It was a reference to a battle, not to a railway station."
Inspector Aylesbury stared at him dully.
"You quite understand that you are giving evidence?" he said.
"It were impossible not to appreciate the fact." "Very well, then. The late Colonel Menendez thought he was in danger from negroes. Why did he think that?"
"He was a retired West Indian planter," replied Harley, patiently, "and he was under the impression that he had offended a powerful native society, and that for many years their vengeance had pursued him. Attempts to assassinate him had already taken pl