Sax Rohmer

“ To associate ideas of selfishness with Miss Beverley was hateful, but the more I learned of the luxurious life of this queer household hidden away in the Surrey Hills the less I wondered at any one’s consenting to share such exile. I had hitherto counted an American freak dinner, organized by a lucky plunger and held at the Café de Paris, as the last word in extravagant feasting. But I learned now that what was caviare in Monte Carlo was ordinary fare at Cray’s Folly.
Colonel Menendez was an epicure with an endless purse. ”

“ Realizing that I had already revealed my interest in the girl, I was oddly self-conscious, and a hundred times during the progress of dinner I glanced across at Harley, expecting to detect his quizzical smile. He was very stern, however, and seemed more reserved than usual. He was uncertain of his ground, I could see. He resented the understanding which evidently existed between Colonel Menendez and Madame de Stämer, and to which, although his aid had been sought, he was not admitted. ”

“ Beauty and wit, youth and discretion. Is he not a happy man who possesses all these?”
“He should be,” said Harley, gravely.
The saturnine Pedro entered with some wonderful crusted port, and Colonel Menendez offered cigars.
“I believe you are a pipe-smoker,” said our courteous host to Harley, “and if this is so, I know that you will prefer your favourite mixture to any cigar that ever was rolled.”
“Many thanks,” said Harley, to whom no more delicate compliment could have been paid. ”

“ What makes it so strange is that all the servants sleep out in the west wing, as you know, and Pedro locks the communicating door every night before retiring.”
“It is certainly strange,” I muttered.
“It is horrible,” declared the girl, almost in a whisper. “For what can it mean except that there is someone in Cray’s Folly who is never seen during the daytime?”
“But that is incredible.”
“It is not so incredible in a big house like this. Besides, what other explanation can there be?”
“There must be one,” I said, reassuringly. ”

“ She paused, staring at me with a sort of embarrassment, and presently:
“Were the footsteps those of a man or a woman?” I asked.
“Of a woman. Someone, Mr. Knox,” she bent forward, and that look of fear began to creep into her eyes again, “with whose footsteps I was quite unfamiliar.” ”

“ They are merely straggling.”
“Absent without leave,” murmured Val Beverley.
I laughed, and drew up a chair. Madame de Stämer was smoking, but Miss Beverley was not. Accordingly, I offered her a cigarette, which she accepted, and as I was lighting it with elaborate care, every moment finding a new beauty in her charming face, Pedro again appeared and addressed some remark in Spanish to Madame.
“My chair, Pedro,” she said; “I will come at once.” ”

“ Knox.” She snapped her white fingers and grimaced significantly. “Excitement is bad for him.”
She wheeled her chair up beside Val Beverley, and taking the girl’s hand patted it affectionately.
“You look pale to-night, my dear,” she said. “All this bogey business is getting on your nerves, eh?”
“Oh, not at all,” declared the girl. “It is very mysterious and annoying, of course.”
“But M. Paul Harley will presently tell us what it is all about,” concluded Madame. “Yes, I trust so. We want no Cuban devils here at Cray’s Folly.” ”

“ You know how familiar one grows with the footsteps of persons living in the same house? Well, these footsteps were quite unfamiliar to me.”
“And you say they passed your door?”
“Yes. My rooms are almost directly overhead. And right at the end of the corridor, that is on the southeast corner of the building, is Colonel Menendez’s bedroom, and facing it a sort of little smoke-room. It was in this direction that the footsteps went.”
“To Colonel Menendez’s room?”
“Yes. They were light, furtive footsteps.” ”