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had expended
thousands of pounds upon erecting this house was only equalled, I
thought, by that of Colonel Menendez, who had chosen it for a home. An
out-jutting wing shut us in on the west, and to the east the prospect
was closed by the tallest and most densely grown box hedge I had ever
seen, trimmed most perfectly and having an arched opening in the
centre. Thus, the entrance to Cray's Folly lay in a sort of bay.
    But even as we stepped from the car, the great church-like oaken doors
were thrown open, and there, framed in the monkish porch, stood the
tall, elegant figure of the Colonel.
    "Gentlemen," he cried, "welcome to Cray's Folly."
    He advanced smiling, and in the bright sunlight seemed even more
Mephistophelean than he had seemed in Harley's office.
    "Pedro," he called, and a strange-looking Spanish butler who wore his
side-whiskers like a bull fighter appeared behind his master; a sallow,
furtive fellow with whom I determined I should never feel at ease.
    However, the Colonel greeted us heartily enough, and conducted us
through a kind of paved, covered courtyard into a great lofty hall.
Indeed it more closely resembled a studio, being partly lighted by a
most curious dome. It was furnished in a manner quite un-English, but
very luxuriously. A magnificent oaken staircase communicated with a
gallery on the left, and at the foot of this staircase, in a mechanical
chair which she managed with astonishing dexterity, sat Madame de
Stämer.
    She had snow-white hair crowning the face of a comparatively young
woman, and large, dark-brown eyes which reminded me strangely of the
eyes of some animal although in the first moment of meeting I could not
identify the resemblance. Her hands were very slender and beautiful,
and when, as the Colonel presented us, she extended her fingers, I was
not surprised to see Harley stoop and kiss them in Continental fashion;
for this Madame evidently expected. I followed suit; but truth to tell,
after that first glance at the masterful figure in the invalid chair I
had had no eyes for Madame de Stämer, being fully employed in gazing at
someone who stood beside her.
    This was an evasively pretty girl, or such was my first impression.
That is to say, that whilst her attractiveness was beyond dispute,
analysis of her small features failed to detect from which particular
quality this charm was derived. The contour of her face certainly
formed a delightful oval, and there was a wistful look in her eyes
which was half appealing and half impish. Her demure expression was not
convincing, and there rested a vague smile, or promise of a smile, upon
lips which were perfectly moulded, and indeed the only strictly regular
feature of a nevertheless bewitching face. She had slightly curling
hair and the line of her neck and shoulder was most graceful and
charming. Of one thing I was sure: She was glad to see visitors at
Cray's Folly.
    "And now, gentlemen," said Colonel Menendez, "having presented you to
Madame, my cousin, permit me to present you to Miss Val Beverley, my
cousin's companion, and our very dear friend."
    The girl bowed in a formal English fashion, which contrasted sharply
with the Continental manner of Madame. Her face flushed slightly, and
as I met her glance she lowered her eyes.
    "Now M. Harley and M. Knox," said Madame, vivaciously, "you are quite
at home. Pedro will show you to your rooms and lunch will be ready in
half an hour."
    She waved her white hand coquettishly, and ignoring the proffered aid
of Miss Beverley, wheeled her chair away at a great rate under a sort
of arch on the right of the hall, which communicated with the domestic
offices of the establishment.
    "Is she not wonderful?" exclaimed Colonel Menendez, taking Harley's
left arm and my right and guiding us upstairs followed by Pedro and the
chauffeur, the latter carrying our grips. "Many women would be
prostrated by such an affliction, but she—" he shrugged his shoulders.
    Harley and I had been placed in adjoining rooms. I