Bat-Wing by Sax Rohmer Read Free Book Online

simple," he said. "There is
something bizarre, something unclean—I had almost said unholy—at work
in this house, Knox."
    "He has foreign servants."
    Harley shook his head.
    "I shall make it my business to become acquainted with all of them," he
replied, "but the danger does not come from there. Let us go down to
lunch."

Chapter V - Val Beverley
*
    The luncheon was so good as to be almost ostentatious. One could not
have lunched better at the Carlton. Yet, since this luxurious living
was evidently customary in the colonel's household, a charge of
ostentation would not have been deserved. The sinister-looking Pedro
proved to be an excellent servant; and because of the excitement of
feeling myself to stand upon the edge of unusual things, the enjoyment
of a perfectly served repast, and the sheer delight which I experienced
in watching the play of expression upon the face of Miss Beverley, I
count that luncheon at Cray's Folly a memorable hour of my life.
    Frankly, Val Beverley puzzled me. It may or may not have been curious,
that amidst such singular company I selected for my especial study a
girl so freshly and typically English. I had thought at the moment of
meeting her that she was provokingly pretty; I determined, as the lunch
proceeded, that she was beautiful. Once I caught Harley smiling at me
in his quizzical fashion, and I wondered guiltily if I were displaying
an undue interest in the companion of Madame.
    Many topics were discussed, I remember, and beyond doubt the colonel's
cousin-housekeeper dominated the debate. She possessed extraordinary
force of personality. Her English was not nearly so fluent as that
spoken by the colonel, but this handicap only served to emphasize the
masculine strength of her intellect. Truly she was a remarkable woman.
With her blanched hair and her young face, and those fine, velvety eyes
which possessed a quality almost hypnotic, she might have posed for the
figure of a sorceress. She had unfamiliar gestures and employed her
long white hands in a manner that was new to me and utterly strange.
    I could detect no family resemblance between the cousins, and I
wondered if their kinship were very distant. One thing was evident
enough: Madame de Stämer was devoted to the Colonel. Her expression
when she looked at him changed entirely. For a woman of such intense
vitality her eyes were uncannily still; that is to say that whilst she
frequently moved her head she rarely moved her eyes. Again and again I
found myself wondering where I had seen such eyes before. I lived to
identify that memory, as I shall presently relate.
    In vain I endeavoured to define the relationship between these three
people, so incongruously set beneath one roof. Of the fact that Miss
Beverly was not happy I became assured. But respecting her exact
position in the household I was reduced to surmises.
    The Colonel improved on acquaintance. I decided that he belonged to an
order of Spanish grandees now almost extinct. I believed he would have
made a very staunch friend; I felt sure he would have proved a most
implacable enemy. Altogether, it was a memorable meal, and one notable
result of that brief companionship was a kind of link of understanding
between myself and Miss Beverley.
    Once, when I had been studying Madame de Stämer, and again, as I
removed my glance from the dark face of Colonel Menendez, I detected
the girl watching me; and her eyes said, "You understand; so do I."
    Some things perhaps I did understand, but how few the near future was
to show.
    The signal for our departure from table was given by Madame de Stämer.
She whisked her chair back with extraordinary rapidity, the contrast
between her swift, nervous movements and those still, basilisk eyes
being almost uncanny.
    "Off you go, Juan," she said; "your visitors would like to see the
garden, no doubt. I must be away for my afternoon siesta. Come, my
dear"—to the girl—"smoke one little cigarette with me, then I will
let you go."
    She retired,