almost to a whisper, “Wednesday night is the night of the full moon.”
“The full moon?”
“It is at the full moon that the danger comes.”
Paul Harley stood up, and watched by the Spanish colonel paced slowly across the office. At the outer door he paused and turned.
“Colonel Menendez,” he said, “that you would willingly waste the time of a busy man I do not for a moment believe, therefore I shall ask you as briefly as possible to state your case in detail. When I have heard it, if it appears to me that any good purpose can be served by my friend and myself coming to Cray’s Folly I feel sure that he will be happy to accept your proffered hospitality.”
“If I am likely to be of the slightest use I shall be delighted,” said I, which indeed was perfectly true.
Whilst I had willingly agreed to accompany Harley to Norfolk I had none of his passion for the piscatorial art, and the promise of novel excitement held out by Colonel Menendez appealed to me more keenly than the lazy days upon the roads which Harley loved.
“Gentlemen”—the Colonel bowed profoundly—“I am honoured and delighted. When you shall have heard my story I know what your decision will be.”
He resumed his seat, and began, it seemed almost automatically, to roll a fresh cigarette.
“I am all attention,” declared Harley, and his glance strayed again in a wondering fashion to the bat wing lying on his table.
“I will speak briefly,” resumed our visitor, “and any details which may seem to you to be important can be discussed later when you are my guests. You must know then that I first became acquainted with the
