Convulsively she held Val Beverley to her side, and although I could not see the girl’s face, I knew that she was weeping. Those implacable flaming eyes followed with their stare the figure of the Inspector right to the doorway, for he essayed no further speech, but retired. I, also, rose, and: “Madame de Stämer,” I said, speaking, I fear, very unnaturally, “I love your spirit.” She threw back her head, smiling up at me. I shall never forget that look, nor shall I attempt to portray all which it conveyed--for I know I should fail. “My friend!” she said, and extended her hand to be kissed. CHAPTER XXVII AN INSPIRATION Inspector Aylesbury had disappeared when I came out of the hall, but Pedro was standing there to remind me of the fact that I had not breakfasted. I realized that despite all tragic happenings, I was ravenously hungry, and accordingly I agreed to his proposal that I should take breakfast on the south veranda, as on the previous morning. To the south veranda accordingly I made my way, rather despising myself because I was capable of hunger at such a time and amidst such horrors. The daily papers were on my table, for Carter drove into Market Hilton every morning to meet the London train which brought them down; but I did not open any of them. Pedro waited upon me in person. I could see that the man was pathetically anxious to talk. Accordingly, when he presently brought me a fresh supply of hot rolls: “This has been a dreadful blow to you, Pedro?” I said. “Dreadful, sir,” he returned; “fearful. I lose a splendid master, I lose my place, and I am far, far from home.” “You are from Cuba?” “Yes, yes. I was with Señor the Colonel Don Juan in Cuba.” “And do you know anything of the previous attempts which had been made upon his life, Pedro?” “Nothing, sir. Nothing at all.” “But the bat wing, Pedro?” He looked at me in a startled way. “Yes, sir,” he replied. “I found it pinned to the door here.” “And what did you think it meant?” “I thought it was a joke, sir--not a nice joke--by someone who knew Cuba.” “You know the meaning of Bat Wing, then?” “It is Obeah. I have never seen it before, but I have heard of it.” “And what did you think?” said I, proceeding with my breakfast. “I thought it was meant to frighten.” “But who did you think had done it?” “I had heard Señor Don Juan say that Mr. Camber hated him, so I thought perhaps he had sent someone to do it.” “But why should Mr. Camber have hated the Colonel?” “I cannot say, sir. I wish I could tell.” “Was your master popular in the West Indies?” I asked. “Well, sir--” Pedro hesitated--“perhaps not so well liked.” “No,” I said. “I had gathered as much.” The man withdrew, and I continued my solitary meal, listening to the song of the skylarks, and thinking how complex was human existence, compared with any other form of life beneath the sun.