The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [5306]
She stopped speaking, and suddenly, before I could divine her intention, dropped upon her knees, and raised her clasped hands to me.
"He did not, he did not kill him!" she cried, passionately. "He did not! O God! I who love him tell you he did not! You think he did. You do--you do! I can see it in your eyes!"
"Believe me, Mrs. Camber," I answered, deeply moved, "I don't doubt your word for a moment."
She continued to look at me for a while, and then turned to Val Beverley.
"_You_ don't think he did," she sobbed, "do you?"
She looked such a child, such a pretty, helpless child, as she knelt there on the carpet, that I felt a lump rising in my throat.
Val Beverley dropped down impulsively beside her and put her arms around the slender shoulders.
"Of course I don't," she exclaimed, indignantly. "Of course I don't. It's quite unthinkable."
"I know it is," moaned the other, raising her tearful face. "I love him and know his great soul. But what do these others know, and they will never believe _me_."
"Have courage," I said. "It has never failed you yet. Mr. Paul Harley has promised to clear him by to-night."
"He has promised?" she whispered, still kneeling and clutching Val Beverley tightly. She looked up at me with hope reborn in her beautiful eyes. "He has promised? Oh, I thank him. May God bless him. I know he will succeed."
I turned aside, and walked out across the hall and into the empty study.
CHAPTER XXXII
PAUL HARLEY'S EXPERIMENT
I recognize that whosoever may have taken the trouble to follow my chronicle thus far will be little disposed to suffer any intrusion of my personal affairs at such a point. Therefore I shall pass lightly over the walk back to Cray's Folly, during which I contrived to learn much about Val Beverley's personal history but little to advance the investigation which I was there to assist.
As I had surmised, Miss Beverley had been amply provided for by her father, and was bound to Madame de Staemer by no other ties than those of friendship and esteem. Very reluctantly I released her, on our returning to the house; for she, perforce, hurried off to Madame's room, leaving me looking after her in a state of delightful bewilderment, the significance of which I could not disguise from myself. The absurd suspicions of Inspector Aylesbury were forgotten; so was the shadow upon the blind of Colonel Menendez's study. I only knew that love had come to me, an unbidden guest, to stay for ever.
Manoel informed me that a number of pressmen, not to be denied, had taken photographs of the Tudor garden and of the spot where Colonel Menendez had been found, but Pedro, following my instructions, had referred them all to Market Hilton.
I was standing in the doorway talking to the man when I heard the drone of Harley's motor in the avenue, and a moment later he and Wessex stepped out in front of the porch and joined me. I thought that Wessex looked stern and rather confused, but Harley was quite his old self, his keen eyes gleaming humorously, and an expression of geniality upon his tanned features.
"Hullo, Knox!" he cried, "any developments?"
"Yes," I said. "Suppose we go up to your room and talk."
"Good enough."
Inspector Wessex nodded without speaking, and the three of us mounted the staircase and entered Paul Harley's room. Harley seated himself upon the bed and began to load his pipe, whilst Wessex, who seemed very restless, stood staring out of the window. I sat down in the armchair, and:
"I have had an interesting interview with Mrs. Camber," I said.
"What?" exclaimed Harley. "Good. Tell us all about it."
Wessex turned, hands clasped behind him, and listened in silence to an account which I gave of my visit to the Guest House. When