Bat-Wing by Sax Rohmer Read Free Book Online Page A

wheeling herself rapidly out of the room, and my glance
lingered upon the graceful figure of Val Beverley until both she and
Madame were out of sight.
    "Now, gentlemen," said the Colonel, resuming his seat and pushing the
decanter toward Paul Harley, "I am at your service either for business
or amusement. I think"—to Harley—"you expressed a desire to see the
tower?"
    "I did," my friend replied, lighting his cigar, "but only if it would
amuse you to show me."
    "Decidedly. Mr. Knox will join us?"
    Harley, unseen by the Colonel, glanced at me in a way which I knew.
    "Thanks all the same," I said, smiling, "but following a perfect
luncheon I should much prefer to loll upon the lawn, if you don't
mind."
    "But certainly I do not mind," cried the Colonel. "I wish you to be
happy."
    "Join you in a few minutes, Knox," said Harley as he went out with our
host.
    "All right," I replied, "I should like to take a stroll around the
gardens. You will join me there later, no doubt."
    As I walked out into the bright sunshine I wondered why Paul Harley had
wished to be left alone with Colonel Menendez, but knowing that I
should learn his motive later, I strolled on through the gardens, my
mind filled with speculations respecting these unusual people with whom
Fate had brought me in contact. I felt that Miss Beverley needed
protection of some kind, and I was conscious of a keen desire to afford
her that protection. In her glance I had read, or thought I had read,
an appeal for sympathy.
    Not the least mystery of Cray's Folly was the presence of this girl.
Only toward the end of luncheon had I made up my mind upon a point
which had been puzzling me. Val Beverley's gaiety was a cloak. Once I
had detected her watching Madame de Stämer with a look strangely like
that of fear.
    Puffing contentedly at my cigar I proceeded to make a tour of the
house. It was constructed irregularly. Practically the entire building
was of gray stone, which created a depressing effect even in the
blazing sunlight, lending Cray's Folly something of an austere aspect.
There were fine lofty windows, however, to most of the ground-floor
rooms overlooking the lawns, and some of those above had balconies of
the same gray stone. Quite an extensive kitchen garden and a line of
glasshouses adjoined the west wing, and here were outbuildings, coach-
houses and a garage, all connected by a covered passage with the
servants' quarters.
    Pursuing my enquiries, I proceeded to the north front of the building,
which was closely hemmed in by trees, and which as we had observed on
our arrival resembled the entrance to a monastery.
    Passing the massive oaken door by which we had entered and which was
now closed again, I walked on through the opening in the box hedge into
a part of the grounds which was not so sprucely groomed as the rest. On
one side were the yews flanking the Tudor garden and before me uprose
the famous tower. As I stared up at the square structure, with its
uncurtained windows, I wondered, as others had wondered before me, what
could have ever possessed any man to build it.
    Visible at points for many miles around, it undoubtedly disfigured an
otherwise beautiful landscape.
    I pressed on, noting that the windows of the rooms in the east wing
were shuttered and the apartments evidently disused. I came to the base
of the tower, To the south, the country rose up to the highest point in
the crescent of hills, and peeping above the trees at no great distance
away, I detected the red brick chimneys of some old house in the woods.
North and east, velvet sward swept down to the park.
    As I stood there admiring the prospect and telling myself that no
Voodoo devilry could find a home in this peaceful English countryside,
I detected a faint sound of voices far above. Someone had evidently
come out upon the gallery of the tower. I looked upward, but I could
not see the speakers. I pursued my stroll, until, near the eastern base
of the tower, I encountered a perfect thicket of