"Hm," muttered Harley, when I had ceased speaking. "Assuming her
account to be true----"
"Why should you doubt it?" I interrupted, hotly.
"My dear Knox, it is my business to doubt everything until I have
indisputable evidence of its truth. I say, assuming her story to be
true, we find ourselves face to face with the fantastic theory that
some woman unknown is living secretly in Cray's Folly."
"Perhaps in one of the tower rooms," I suggested, eagerly. "Why,
Harley, that would account for the Colonel's marked unwillingness to
talk about this part of the house."
My sight was now becoming used to the dusk, and I saw Harley vigorously
shake his head.
"No, no," he replied; "I have seen all the tower rooms. I can swear
that no one inhabits them. Besides, is it feasible?"
"Then whose were the footsteps that Miss Beverley heard?"
"Obviously those of the woman who, at this present moment, so far as I
know, is in the smoking-room with Colonel Menendez."
I sighed wearily.
"This is a strange business, Harley. I begin to think that the mystery
is darker than I ever supposed."
We fell silent again. The weird cry of a night hawk came from somewhere
in the valley, but otherwise everything within and without the great
house seemed strangely still.
Pages:
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156