“Oh, I see,” said Inspector Aylesbury, “a little private confab, eh?”  
He sank his chin into its enveloping folds, treating Harley and myself each to a stare of disapproval.
 
“These gentlemen very kindly called to advise me of the tragic occurrence at Cray’s Folly,” explained Colin Camber. “Won’t you be seated, Inspector?”
 
“Thanks, but I can conduct my examination better standing.”
 
He turned to Paul Harley.
 
“Might I ask, Mr. Harley,” he said, “what concern this is of yours?”
 
“I am naturally interested in anything appertaining to the death of a client, Inspector Aylesbury.”
 
“Oh, so you slip in ahead of me, having deliberately withheld information from the police, and think you are going to get all the credit. Is that it?”
 
“That is it, Inspector,” replied Harley, smiling. “An instance of professional jealousy.”
 
“Professional jealousy?” cried the Inspector. “Allow me to remind you that you have no official standing in this case whatever. You are merely a member of the public, nothing more, nothing less.”
 
“I am happy to be recognized as a member of that much-misunderstood body.”
 
“Ah, well, we shall see. Now, Mr. Camber, your attention, please.”
 
He raised his finger impressively.
 
“I am informed by Miss Beverley that the late Colonel Menendez looked upon you as a dangerous enemy.”
 
“Were those her exact words?” I murmured.
 
“Mr. Knox!”
 
The inspector turned rapidly, confronting me. “I have already warned your friend. But if I have any interruptions from you, I will have you removed.”
 
He continued to glare at me for some moments, and then, turning again to Colin Camber:
 
“I say, I have information that Colonel Menendez looked upon you as a dangerous neighbour.”
 
“In that event,” replied Colin Camber, “why did he lease an adjoining property?”
 
“That’s an evasion, sir. Answer my first question, if you please.”
 
“You have asked me no question, Inspector.”
 
“Oh, I see. That’s your attitude, is it? Very well, then. Were you, or were you not, an enemy of the late Colonel Menendez?”
 
“I was.”
 
“What’s that?”
 
“I say I was. I hated him, and I hate him no less in death than I hated him living.”
 
I think that I had never seen a man so taken aback, Inspector Aylesbury, drawing out a large handkerchief blew his nose. Replacing the handkerchief, he produced a note-book.
 
“I am placing that statement on record, sir,” he said.
 
He made an entry in the book, and then:
 
“Where did you first meet Colonel Menendez?” he asked.
 
“I never met him in my life.”
 
“What’s that?”
 
Colin Camber merely shrugged his shoulders.
 
“I will repeat my question,” said the Inspector, pompously. “Where did you first meet Colonel Juan Menendez?”
 
“I have answered you, Inspector.”
 
“Oh, I see. You decline to answer that question. Very well, I will make a note of this.” He did so. “And now,” said he, “what were you doing at midnight last night?”
 
“I was writing.”
 
“Where?”
 
“Here.”
 
“What happened?”
 
Very succinctly Colin Camber repeated the statement which he had already made to Paul Harley, and, at its conclusion:
 
“Send for the man, Ah Tsong,” directed Inspector Aylesbury.
 
Colin Camber inclined his head, clapped his bands, and silently Ah Tsong entered.
 
The Inspector stared at him for several moments as a visitor to the Zoo might stare at some rare animal; then:
 
“Your name is Ah Tsong?” he began.
 
“Ah Tsong,” murmured the Chinaman.
 
“I am going to ask you to give an exact account of your movements last night.”
 
“No sabby.”
 
Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat.
 
“I say I wish to know exactly what you did last night. Answer me.”
 
Ah Tseng’s face remained quite expressionless, and:
 
“No sabby,” he repeated.
 
“Oh, I see,” said the Inspector, “This witness refuses to answer at all.”
 
“You are wrong,” explained Colin Camber, quietly. “Ah Tsong is a Chinaman, and his knowledge of English is very limited. He does not understand you.”
 
“He understood my first question. You can’t draw wool over my eyes. He knows well enough. Are you going to answer me?” he demanded, angrily, of the Chinaman.
 
“No sabby, master,” he said, glancing aside at Colin Camber. “Number-one p’licee-man gotchee no pidgin.”
 
Paul Harley was leisurely filling his pipe, and:
 
“If you think the evidence of Ah Tsong important, Inspector,” he said, “I will interpret if you wish.”
 
“You will do what?”
 
“I will act as interpreter.”
 
“Do you want me to believe that you speak Chinese?”
 
“Your beliefs do not concern me, Inspector; I am merely offering my services.”
 
“Thanks,” said the Inspector, dryly, “but I won’t trouble you. I should like a few words with Mrs. Camber.”
 
“Very good.”
 
Colin Camber bent his head gravely, and gave an order to Ah Tsong, who turned and went out.
 
“And what firearms have you in the house?” asked Inspector Aylesbury.
 
“An early Dutch arquebus, which you see in the corner,” was the reply.
 
“That doesn’t interest me. I mean up-to-date weapons.”
 
“And a Colt revolver which I have in a drawer here.”
 
As he spoke, Colin Camber opened a drawer in his desk and took out a heavy revolver of the American Army Service pattern.
 
“I should like to examine it, if you please.”
 
Camber passed it to the Inspector, and the latter, having satisfied himself that none of the chambers were loaded, peered down the barrel, and smelled at the weapon suspiciously.
 
“If it has been recently used it has been well cleaned,” he said, and placed it on a cabinet beside him. “Anything else?”
 
“Nothing.”
 
“No sporting rifles?”
 
“None. I never shoot.”
 
“Oh, I see.”
 
The door opened and Mrs. Camber came in. She was very simply dressed, and looked even more child-like than she had seemed before. I think Ah Tsong had warned her of the nature of the ordeal which she was to expect, but her wide-eyed timidity was nevertheless pathetic to witness.
 
She glanced at me with a ghost of a smile, and:
 
“Ysola,” said Colin Camber, inclining his head toward me in a grave gesture of courtesy, “Mr. Knox has generously forgiven me a breach of good manners for which I shall never forgive myself. I beg you to thank him, as I have done.”
 
“It is so good of you,” she said, sweetly, and held out her hand. “But I knew you would understand that it was just a great mistake.”
 
“Mr. Paul Harley,” Camber continued, “my wife welcomes you; and this, Ysola, is Inspector Aylesbury, who desires a few moments’ conversation upon a rather painful matter.”
 
“I have heard, I have heard,” she whispered. “Ah Tsong has told me.”
 
The pupils of her eyes dilated, as she fixed an appealing glance upon the Inspector.
 
In justice to the latter he was palpably abashed by the delicate beauty of the girl who stood before him, by her naivete, and by that childishness of appearance and manner which must have awakened the ............