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Rohmer, Sax, 1883-1959

"Bat Wing"

He put his arm
about her and drew her close.
Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat and returned his note-book to
his pocket.
"I am going to take a look around the garden," he announced.
My respect for him increased slightly, and Harley and I followed him
out of the study. A police sergeant was sitting in the hall, and Ah
Tsong was standing just outside the door.
"Show me the way to the garden," directed the Inspector.
Ah Tsong stared stupidly, whereupon Paul Harley addressed him in his
native language, rapidly and in a low voice, in order, as I divined,
that the Inspector should not hear him.
"I feel dreadfully guilty, Knox," he confessed, in a murmured aside.
"For any Englishman, fictitious characters excepted, to possess a
knowledge of Chinese is almost indecent."
Presently, then, I found myself once more in that unkempt garden of
which I retained such unpleasant memories.
Inspector Aylesbury stared all about and up at the back of the house,
humming to himself and generally behaving as though he were alone.
Before the little summer study he stood still, and:
"Oh, I see," he muttered.
What he had seen was painfully evident.


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