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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Therefore Camber is guilty?" "On the contrary, therefore Camber is innocent!" "What!" "You are persistently overlooking one little point, Knox," said Harley, mounting the steps on to the gravel path. "I spoke of the seventh yew tree from the northeast corner of the garden." "Well?" "Well, my dear fellow, surely you observed that the bullet was embedded in the ninth?"
And she thought of Camber Sands and the twilight, and saw Craven seeking for Beryl's hand footman and housemaid. What had she, Adela Sellingworth, with her knowledge and her past, her great burden of passionate experiences what had she to do with such an ordinary young man? "Nicolas might possibly be Greek or Russian. But what are we to make of Arabian?"
But although I was prepared to find that Colin Camber possessed genius, I found it hard to believe that this was of a criminal type. That such a character could be the representative of some remote negro society was an idea too grotesque to be entertained for a moment.
Colin Camber inclined his head. "Very well," he said; "you only do your duty." The little fingers clutching his sleeve slowly relaxed, and Mrs. Camber, uttering a long sigh, sank in a swoon at his feet. "Ysola! Ysola!" he muttered. Stooping he raised the child-like figure. "If you will kindly open the door, Mr. Knox," he said, "I will carry my wife to her room."
"So far as I know they never met," she replied, haltingly. "Could you swear to that?" "Yes." I think that hitherto she had not fully realized the nature of the situation; but now something in the Inspector's voice, or perhaps in our glances, told her the truth. She moved to where Colin Camber was sitting, looking down at him questioningly, pitifully. He put his arm about her and drew her close.
Camber is anathema in Cray's Folly." "Colonel Menendez told me last night that he had never met Mr. Camber." Val Beverley shrugged her shoulders, a habit which it was easy to see she had acquired from Madame de Staemer. "Perhaps not," she replied, "but I am certain he hates him." "Hates Mr. Camber?" "Yes." Her expression grew troubled.
She showed us into a quaint, small drawing room which owed its atmosphere quite clearly to Mrs. Camber, for whereas the study was indescribably untidy, this was a model of neatness without being formal or unhomely. Here, in a few moments, Mrs. Camber joined us, an appealing little figure of wistful, almost elfin, beauty.
And he is here now at my request. Come, sir, we are wasting time. At any moment " Colin Camber held up his hand, interrupting him. "By your leave, Mr. Harley," he said, and there was something compelling in voice and gesture, "I must first perform my duty as a gentleman." He stepped forward in my direction. "Mr. Knox, I have grossly insulted you.
Of course, I had anticipated the arrest of Colin Camber, and I fear there is worse to come." "What do you mean, Harley?" "I mean that failing the apprehension of the real murderer, I cannot see, at the moment, upon what the case for the defence is to rest." "But surely you demonstrated out there in the garden that he could not possibly have fired the shot?" "Words, Knox, words.
My American acquaintance having returned to his seat and having added a very little water to the whisky went on: "Now, sir," said he, "my name is Colin Camber, formerly of Richmond, Virginia, United States of America, but now of the Guest House, Surrey, England, at your service." Taking my cue from Mr. Camber's gloomy but lofty manner, I bowed formally and mentioned my name.
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