but I am as sure as it is humanly possible to be sure of anything that whatever Colonel Menendez may tell us to-night, one point at least he will withhold.”
“What do you expect him to withhold?”
“The meaning of the sign of the Bat Wing.”
“Then you think he knows its meaning?”
“He has told us that it is the death-token of Voodoo.”
I stared at Harley in perplexity.
“Then you believe his explanation to be false?”
“Not necessarily, Knox. It may be what he claims for it. But he is keeping something back. He speaks all the time from behind a barrier which he, himself, has deliberately erected against me.”
“I cannot understand why he should do so,” I declared, as he looked at me steadily. “Within the last few moments I have become definitely convinced that his appeal to you was no idle one. Therefore, why should he not offer you every aid in his power?”
“Why, indeed?” muttered Harley.
“The same thing,” I continued, “applies to Madame de Stämer. If ever I have seen love-light in a woman’s eyes I have seen it in hers, to-day, whenever her glance has rested upon Colonel Menendez. Harley, I believe she literally worships the ground he walks upon.”
“She does, she does!” cried my companion, and emphasized the words with beats of his clenched fist. “It is utterly, damnably mystifying. But I tell you, she knows, Knox, she knows!”
“You mean she knows that he is a doomed man?”
Harley nodded rapidly.
“They both know,” he replied; “but there is something which they dare not divulge.”
