“It’s curious,” said Ashton-Kirk, “how a man will hold to silence regarding some things. In the midst of happenings which sap his courage and weaken his will in everything else, this young man keeps his mouth shut as to the cause of it.”
“If it’s something which began with his father,” said Bat, “and you think it might be, as your sending your man to Mexico shows—isn’t it possible that Campe doesn’t know what it is?”
But the crime specialist shook his head.
“No,” said he. “If this were so, he would not hesitate to call in the police.”
“That’s true,” said Bat. “It never occurred to me.”
“Your crippled man, in his chair on the hilltop, watching the moon on the towers of Schwartzberg, is a pleasing thought,” said Ashton-Kirk. The keen, complete form which he gave every word showed intense interest. “He smiled, you say, and closed his eyes?”
“And a couple of times he laughed,” answered Scanlon.
“The hill is northwest of the castle, is it?”
“Almost exactly, as far as I can make out.”
“And Miss Knowles stood in a window facing in that direction?”