"Burglary?" She smiled unmirthfully. "It was no burglary."
"Why do you say so, Miss Beverley?"
"Do you think I don't know why Mr. Harley is here?" she challenged.
"Oh, believe me, I know--I know. I, too, saw the bat's wing nailed to
the door, Mr. Knox. You are surely not going to suggest that this was
the work of a burglar?"
I seated myself beside her on the settee.
"You have great courage," I said. "Believe me, I quite understand all
that you have suffered."
"Is my acting so poor?" she asked, with a pathetic smile.
"No, it is wonderful, but to a sympathetic observer only acting,
nevertheless."
I noted that my presence reassured her, and was much comforted by this
fact.
"Would you like to tell me all about it," I continued; "or would this
merely renew your fears?"
"I should like to tell you," she replied in a low voice, glancing about
her as if to make sure that we were alone. "Except for odd people,
friends, I suppose, of the Colonel's, we have had so few visitors since
we have been at Cray's Folly. Apart from all sorts of queer happenings
which really"--she laughed nervously--"may have no significance
whatever, the crowning mystery to my mind is why Colonel Menendez
should have leased this huge house.
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