THE
JEWEL OF SEVEN STARS
By
Bram
Stoker
To
Eleanor and Constance Hoyt
Contents:
Chapter
I A Summons in the Night 4
Chapter
II Strange Instructions. 14
Chapter
III The Watchers. 23
Chapter
IV The Second Attempt 33
Chapter
V More Strange Instructions. 43
Chapter
VI Suspicions. 55
Chapter
VII The Traveller's Loss. 67
Chapter
VIII The Finding of the Lamps. 77
Chapter
IX The Need of Knowledge. 86
Chapter
X The Valley of the Sorcerer 98
Chapter
XI A Queen's Tomb. 109
Chapter
XII The Magic Coffer 119
Chapter
XIII Awaking From the Trance. 129
Chapter
XIV The Birth-Mark. 141
Chapter
XV The Purpose of Queen Tera. 152
Chapter
XVI The Cavern. 162
Chapter
XVII Doubts and Fears. 174
Chapter
XVIII The Lesson of the "Ka" 185
Chapter
XIX The Great Experiment 195
It all seemed so
real that I could hardly imagine that it had ever occurred before; and yet each
episode came, not as a fresh step in the logic of things, but as something
expected. It is in such a wise that memory plays its pranks for good or ill;
for pleasure or pain; for weal or woe. It is thus that life is bittersweet, and
that which has been done becomes eternal.
Again, the light
skiff, ceasing to shoot through the lazy water as when the oars flashed and
dripped, glided out of the fierce July sunlight into the cool shade of the
great drooping willow branches--I standing up in the swaying boat, she sitting
still and with deft fingers guarding herself from stray twigs or the freedom of
the resilience of moving boughs. Again, the water looked golden-brown under the
canopy of translucent green; and the grassy bank was of emerald hue. Again, we
sat in the cool shade, with the myriad noises of nature both without and within
our bower merging into that drowsy hum in whose sufficing environment the great
world with its disturbing trouble, and its more disturbing joys, can be
effectually forgotten. Again, in that blissful solitude the young girl lost the
convention of her prim, narrow upbringing, and told me in a natural, dreamy way
of the loneliness of her new life. With an undertone of sadness she made me
feel how in that spacious home each one of the household was isolated by the
personal magnificence of her father and herself; that there confidence had no
altar, and sympathy no shrine; and that there even her father's face was as distant
as the old country life seemed now. Once more, the wisdom of my manhood and the
experience of my years laid themselves at the girl's feet. It was seemingly
their own doing; for the individual "I" had no say in the matter, but
only just obeyed imperative orders. And once again the flying seconds
multiplied themselves endlessly. For it is in the arcana of dreams that
existences merge and renew themselves, change and yet keep the same--like the
soul of a musician in a fugue. And so memory swooned, again and again, in
sleep.
It seems that
there is never to be any perfect rest. Even in Eden the snake rears its head among the laden
boughs of the Tree of Knowledge. The silence of the dreamless night is broken
by the roar of the avalanche; the hissing of sudden floods; the clanging of the
engine bell marking its sweep through a sleeping American town; the clanking of
distant paddles over the sea.... Whatever it is, it is breaking the charm of my
Eden. The
canopy of greenery above us, starred with diamond-points of light, seems to
quiver in the ceaseless beat of paddles; and the restless bell seems as though
it would never cease....
All at once the
gates of Sleep were thrown wide open, and my waking ears took in the cause of
the disturbing sounds. Waking existence is prosaic enough--there was somebody
knocking and ringing at someone's street door.
I was pretty
well accustomed in my Jermyn
Street chambers to passing sounds; usually I did
not concern myself, sleeping or waking, with the doings, however noisy, of my
neighbours. But this noise was too continuous, too insistent, too imperative to be ignored. There was some active
intelligence behind that ceaseless sound; and some stress or need behind the
intelligence. I was not altogether selfish, and at the thought of someone's
need I was, without premeditation, out of bed. Instinctively I looked at my
watch. It was just three o'clock; there was a faint edging of grey round the
green blind which darkened my room. It was evident that the knocking and
ringing were at the door of our own house; and it was evident, too, that there
was no one awake to answer the call. I slipped on my dressing-gown and
slippers, and went down to the hall door. When I opened it there stood a dapper
groom, with one hand pressed unflinchingly on the electric bell whilst with the
other he raised a ceaseless clangour with the knocker. The instant he saw me
the noise ceased; one hand went up instinctively to the brim of his hat, and
the other produced a letter from his pocket. A neat brougham was opposite the
door, the horses were breathing heavily as though they had come fast. A
policeman, with his night lantern still alight at his belt, stood by, attracted
to the spot by the noise.
"Beg
pardon, sir, I'm sorry for disturbing you, but my orders was imperative; I was
not to lose a moment, but to knock and ring till someone came. May I ask you,
sir, if Mr. Malcolm Ross lives here?"
"I am Mr.
Malcolm Ross."
"Then this
letter is for you, sir, and the bro'am is for you too, sir!"
I took, with a
strange curiosity, the letter which he handed to me. As a barrister I had had,
of course, odd experiences now and then, including sudden demands upon my time;
but never anything like this. I stepped back into the hall, closing the door
to, but leaving it ajar; then I switched on the electric light. The letter was
directed in a strange hand, a woman's. It began at once without "dear
sir" or any such address:
"You said
you would like to help me if I needed it; and I believe you meant what you
said. The time has come sooner than I expected. I am in dreadful trouble, and
do not know where to turn, or to whom to apply. An attempt has, I fear, been
made to murder my Father; though, thank God, he still lives. But he is quite
unconscious. The doctors and police have been sent for; but there is no one
here whom I can depend on. Come at once if you are able to; and forgive me if
you can. I suppose I shall realise later what I have done in asking such a
favour; but at present I cannot think. Come! Come at once! MARGARET TRELAWNY."
Pain and
exultation struggled in my mind as I read; but the mastering thought was that
she was in trouble and had called on me--me! My dreaming of her, then, was not
altogether without a cause. I called out to the groom:
"Wait! I
shall be with you in a minute!" Then I flew upstairs.
A very few
minutes sufficed to wash and dress; and we were soon driving through the
streets as fast as the horses could go. It was market morning, and when we got
out on Piccadilly there was an endless stream of carts coming from the west;
but for the rest the roadway was clear, and we went quickly. I had told the
groom to come into the brougham with me so that he could tell me what had
happened as we went along. He sat awkwardly, with his hat on his knees as he
spoke.
"Miss Trelawny,
sir, sent a man to tell us to get out a carriage at once; and when we was ready
she come herself and gave me the letter and told Morgan--the coachman, sir--to
fly. She said as I was to lose not a second, but to keep knocking till someone
come."
"Yes, I
know, I know--you told me! What I want to know is, why
she sent for me. What happened in the house?"
"I don't
quite know myself, sir; except that master was found in his room senseless,
with the sheets all bloody, and a wound on his head. He couldn't be waked
nohow. Twas Miss Trelawny herself as found him."
"How did
she come to find him at such an hour? It was late in the night, I
suppose?"
"I don't
know, sir; I didn't hear nothing at all of the
details."
As he could tell
me no more, I stopped the carriage for a moment to let him get out on the box;
then I turned the matter over in my mind as I sat alone. There were many things
which I could have asked the servant; and for a few moments after he had gone I
was angry with myself for not having used my opportunity. On second thought,
however, I was glad the temptation was gone. I felt that it would be more
delicate to learn what I wanted to know of Miss Trelawny's surroundings from
herself, rather than from her servants.
We bowled
swiftly along Knightsbridge, the small noise of our well-appointed vehicle
sounding hollowly in the morning air. We turned up the Kensington Palace Road and presently
stopped opposite a great house on the left-hand side, nearer, so far as I could
judge, the Notting Hill than the Kensington end of the avenue. It was a truly
fine house, not only with regard to size but to architecture. Even in the dim
grey light of the morning, which tends to diminish the size of things, it
looked big.
Miss Trelawny
met me in the hall. She was not in any way shy. She seemed to rule all around
her with a sort of high-bred dominance, all the more remarkable as she was
greatly agitated and as pale as snow. In the great hall were several servants,
the men standing together near the hall door, and the women clinging together
in the further corners and doorways. A police superintendent had been talking
to Miss Trelawny; two men in uniform and one plain-clothes man stood near him.
As she took my hand impulsively there was a look of relief in her eyes, and she
gave a gentle sigh of relief. Her salutation was simple.
"I knew you
would come!"
The clasp of the
hand can mean a great deal, even when it is not intended to mean anything
especially. Miss Trelawny's hand somehow became lost in my own. It was not that
it was a small hand; it was fine and flexible, with long delicate fingers--a
rare and beautiful hand; it was the unconscious self-surrender. And though at
the moment I could not dwell on the cause of the thrill which swept me, it came
back to me later.
She turned and
said to the police superintendent:
"This is
Mr. Malcolm Ross." The police officer saluted as he answered:
"I know Mr.
Malcolm Ross, miss. Perhaps he will remember I had the honour of working with
him in the Brixton Coining case." I had not at first glance noticed who it
was, my whole attention having been taken with Miss Trelawny.
"Of course,
Superintendent Dolan, I remember very well!" I said as we shook hands. I
could not but note that the acquaintanceship seemed a relief to Miss Trelawny.
There was a certain vague uneasiness in her manner which took my attention;
instinctively I felt that it would be less embarrassing for her to speak with
me alone. So I said to the Superintendent:
"Perhaps it
will be better if Miss Trelawny will see me alone for a few minutes. You, of
course, have already heard all she knows; and I shall understand better how
things are if I may ask some questions. I will then talk the matter over with
you if I may."
"I shall be
glad to be of what service I can, sir," he answered heartily.
Following Miss
Trelawny, I moved over to a dainty room which opened from the hall and looked
out on the garden at the back of the house. When we had entered and I had
closed the door she said:
"I will
thank you later for your goodness in coming to me in my trouble; but at present
you can best help me when you know the facts."
"Go
on," I said. "Tell me all you know and spare no detail, however
trivial it may at the present time seem to be." She went on at once:
"I was
awakened by some sound; I do not know what. I only know that it came through my
sleep; for all at once I found myself awake, with my heart beating wildly,
listening anxiously for some sound from my Father's room. My room is next
Father's, and I can often hear him moving about before I fall asleep. He works
late at night, sometimes very late indeed; so that when I wake early, as I do
occasionally, or in the grey of the dawn, I hear him still moving. I tried once
to remonstrate with him about staying up so late, as it cannot be good for him;
but I never ventured to repeat the experiment. You know how stern and cold he
can be--at least you may remember what I told you about him; and when he is
polite in this mood he is dreadful. When he is angry I can bear it much better;
but when he is slow and deliberate, and the side of his mouth lifts up to show
the sharp teeth, I think I feel--well, I don't know how! Last night I got up
softly and stole to the door, for I really feared to disturb him. There was not
any noise of moving, and no kind of cry at all; but there was a queer kind of
dragging sound, and a slow, heavy breathing. Oh! it
was dreadful, waiting there in the dark and the silence, and fearing--fearing I
did not know what!
"At last I
took my courage a deux mains, and turning the handle as softly as I could, I
opened the door a tiny bit. It was quite dark within; I could just see the
outline of the windows. But in the darkness the sound of breathing, becoming
more distinct, was appalling. As I listened, this continued; but there was no other
sound. I pushed the door open all at once. I was afraid to open it slowly; I
felt as if there might be some dreadful thing behind it ready to pounce out on
me! Then I switched on the electric light, and stepped into the room. I looked
first at the bed. The sheets were all crumpled up, so that I knew Father had
been in bed; but there was a great dark red patch in the centre of the bed, and
spreading to the edge of it, that made my heart stand still. As I was gazing at
it the sound of the breathing came across the room, and my eyes followed to it.
There was Father on his right side with the other arm under him, just as if his
dead body had been thrown there all in a heap. The track of blood went across
the room up to the bed, and there was a pool all around him which looked
terribly red and glittering as I bent over to examine him. The place where he
lay was right in front of the big safe. He was in his pyjamas. The left sleeve
was torn, showing his bare arm, and stretched out toward the safe. It looked--oh!
so terrible, patched all with blood, and with the
flesh torn or cut all around a gold chain bangle on his wrist. I did not know
he wore such a thing, and it seemed to give me a new shock of surprise."
She paused a
moment; and as I wished to relieve her by a moment's divergence of thought, I
said:
"Oh, that
need not surprise you. You will see the most unlikely men wearing bangles. I
have seen a judge condemn a man to death, and the wrist of the hand he held up
had a gold bangle." She did not seem to heed much the words or the idea;
the pause, however, relieved her somewhat, and she went on in a steadier voice:
"I did not
lose a moment in summoning aid, for I feared he might bleed to death. I rang
the bell, and then went out and called for help as loudly as I could. In what
must have been a very short time--though it seemed an incredibly long one to
me--some of the servants came running up; and then others, till the room seemed
full of staring eyes, and dishevelled hair, and night clothes of all sorts.
"We lifted
Father on a sofa; and the housekeeper, Mrs. Grant, who seemed to have her wits
about her more than any of us, began to look where the flow of blood came from.
In a few seconds it became apparent that it came from the arm which was bare.
There was a deep wound--not clean-cut as with a knife, but like a jagged rent
or tear--close to the wrist, which seemed to have cut into the vein. Mrs. Grant
tied a handkerchief round the cut, and screwed it up tight with a silver
paper-cutter; and the flow of blood seemed to be checked at once. By this time
I had come to my senses--or such of them as remained; and I sent off one man
for the doctor and another for the police. When they had gone, I felt that,
except for the servants, I was all alone in the house, and that I knew
nothing--of my Father or anything else; and a great longing came to me to have
someone with me who could help me. Then I thought of you and your kind offer in
the boat under the willow-tree; and, without waiting to think, I told the men
to get a carriage ready at once, and I scribbled a note and sent it on to
you."
She paused. I
did not like to say just then anything of how I felt. I looked at her; I think
she understood, for her eyes were raised to mine for a moment and then fell,
leaving her cheeks as red as peony roses. With a manifest effort she went on
with her story:
"The Doctor
was with us in an incredibly short time. The groom had met him letting himself
into his house with his latchkey, and he came here running. He made a proper
tourniquet for poor Father's arm, and then went home to get some appliances. I
dare say he will be back almost immediately. Then a policeman came, and sent a
message to the station; and very soon the Superintendent was here. Then you
came."
There was a long
pause, and I ventured to take her hand for an instant. Without a word more we
opened the door, and joined the Superintendent in the hall. He hurried up to
us, saying as he came:
"I have
been examining everything myself, and have sent off a message to Scotland Yard.
You see, Mr. Ross, there seemed so much that was odd about the case that I
thought we had better have the best man of the Criminal Investigation
Department that we could get. So I sent a note asking to have Sergeant Daw sent
at once. You remember him, sir, in that American poisoning case at
Hoxton."
"Oh
yes," I said, "I remember him well; in that and other cases, for I
have benefited several times by his skill and acumen. He has a mind that works
as truly as any that I know. When I have been for the defence, and believed my
man was innocent, I was glad to have him against us!"
"That is
high praise, sir!" said the Superintendent gratified: "I am glad you
approve of my choice; that I did well in sending for him."
I answered
heartily:
"Could not be better. I do not doubt that between you we shall get at the
facts--and what lies behind them!"
We ascended to
Mr. Trelawny's room, where we found everything exactly as his daughter had
described.
There came a
ring at the house bell, and a minute later a man was shown into the room. A young man with aquiline features, keen grey eyes, and a forehead
that stood out square and broad as that of a thinker. In his hand he had
a black bag which he at once opened. Miss Trelawny introduced us: "Doctor
Winchester, Mr. Ross, Superintendent Dolan." We
bowed mutually, and he, without a moment's delay, began his work. We all
waited, and eagerly watched him as he proceeded to dress the wound. As he went
on he turned now and again to call the Superintendent's attention to some point
about the wound, the latter proceeding to enter the fact at once in his
notebook.
"See! several parallel cuts or scratches beginning on the left
side of the wrist and in some places endangering the radial artery.
"These
small wounds here, deep and jagged, seem as if made with a blunt instrument.
This in particular would seem as if made with some kind of sharp wedge; the
flesh round it seems torn as if with lateral pressure."
Turning to Miss
Trelawny he said presently:
"Do you
think we might remove this bangle? It is not absolutely necessary, as it will
fall lower on the wrist where it can hang loosely; but it might add to the
patient's comfort later on." The poor girl flushed deeply as she answered
in a low voice:
"I do not
know. I--I have only recently come to live with my Father; and I know so little
of his life or his ideas that I fear I can hardly judge in such a matter. The
Doctor, after a keen glance at her, said in a very kindly way:
"Forgive
me! I did not know. But in any case you need not be distressed. It is not
required at present to move it. Were it so I should do
so at once on my own responsibility. If it be necessary later on, we can easily
remove it with a file. Your Father doubtless has some object in keeping it as
it is. See! there is a tiny key attached to it. . .
." As he was speaking he stopped and bent lower, taking from my hand the
candle which I held and lowering it till its light fell on the bangle. Then
motioning me to hold the candle in the same position, he took from his pocket a
magnifying-glass which he adjusted. When he had made a careful examination he
stood up and handed the magnifying-glass to Dolan, saying as he did so:
"You had
better examine it yourself. That is no ordinary bangle. The gold is wrought
over triple steel links; see where it is worn away. It is manifestly not meant
to be removed lightly; and it would need more than an ordinary file to do
it."
The
Superintendent bent his great body; but not getting close enough that way knelt
down by the sofa as the Doctor had done. He examined the bangle minutely,
turning it slowly round so that no particle of it escaped observation. Then he
stood up and handed the magnifying-glass to me. "When you have examined it
yourself," he said, "let the lady look at it if she will," and
he commenced to write at length in his notebook.
I made a simple
alteration in his suggestion. I held out the glass toward Miss Trelawny,
saying:
"Had you
not better examine it first?" She drew back, slightly raising her hand in
disclaimer, as she said impulsively:
"Oh no! Father would doubtless have shown it to me had he wished me to see it. I
would not like to without his consent." Then she added, doubtless fearing
lest her delicacy of view should give offence to the rest of us:
"Of course
it is right that you should see it. You have to examine and consider
everything; and indeed--indeed I am grateful to you. . ."
She turned away;
I could see that she was crying quietly. It was evident to me that even in the
midst of her trouble and anxiety there was a chagrin that
she knew so little of her father; and that her ignorance had to be shown at
such a time and amongst so many strangers. That they were all men did not make
the shame more easy to bear, though there was a
certain relief in it. Trying to interpret her feelings I could not but think
that she must have been glad that no woman's eyes--of understanding greater
than man's--were upon her in that hour.
When I stood up
from my examination, which verified to me that of the Doctor, the latter
resumed his place beside the couch and went on with his ministrations.
Superintendent Dolan said to me in a whisper:
"I think we
are fortunate in our doctor!" I nodded, and was about to add something in
praise of his acumen, when there came a low tapping at the door.
Superintendent
Dolan went quietly to the door; by a sort of natural understanding he had taken
possession of affairs in the room. The rest of us waited. He opened the door a
little way; and then with a gesture of manifest relief threw it wide, and a
young man stepped in. A young man clean-shaven, tall and
slight; with an eagle face and bright, quick eyes that seemed to take in
everything around him at a glance. As he came in, the Superintendent
held out his hand; the two men shook hands warmly.
"I came at
once, sir, the moment I got your message. I am glad I still have your
confidence."
"That
you'll always have," said the Superintendent heartily. "I have not
forgotten our old Bow Street
days, and I never shall!" Then, without a word of preliminary, he began to
tell everything he knew up to the moment of the newcomer's entry. Sergeant Daw
asked a few questions--a very few--when it was necessary for his understanding
of circumstances or the relative positions of persons; but as a rule Dolan, who
knew his work thoroughly, forestalled every query, and explained all necessary
matters as he went on. Sergeant Daw threw occasionally swift glances round him;
now at one of us; now at the room or some part of it; now at the wounded man
lying senseless on the sofa.
When the
Superintendent had finished, the Sergeant turned to me and said:
"Perhaps
you remember me, sir. I was with you in that Hoxton case."
"I remember
you very well," I said as I held out my hand. The Superintendent spoke
again:
"You understand,
Sergeant Daw, that you are put in full charge of this case."
"Under you
I hope, sir," he interrupted. The other shook his head and smiled as he
said:
"It seems
to me that this is a case that will take all a man's time and his brains. I
have other work to do; but I shall be more than interested, and if I can help
in any possible way I shall be glad to do so!"
"All right,
sir," said the other, accepting his responsibility with a sort of modified
salute; straightway he began his investigation.
First he came
over to the Doctor and, having learned his name and address, asked him to write
a full report which he could use, and which he could refer to headquarters if
necessary. Doctor Winchester bowed gravely as he promised. Then the Sergeant
approached me and said sotto voce:
"I like the
look of your doctor. I think we can work together!" Turning to Miss
Trelawny he asked:
"Please let
me know what you can of your Father; his ways of life, his history--in fact of
anything of whatsoever kind which interests him, or in which he may be
concerned." I was about to interrupt to tell him what she had already said
of her ignorance in all matters of her father and his ways, but her warning
hand was raised to me pointedly and she spoke herself.
"Alas! I
know little or nothing. Superintendent Dolan and Mr. Ross know already all I
can say."
"Well,
ma'am, we must be content to do what we can," said the officer genially.
"I'll begin by making a minute examination. You say that you were outside
the door when you heard the noise?"
"I was in
my room when I heard the queer sound--indeed it must have been the early part
of whatever it was which woke me. I came out of my room at once. Father's door
was shut, and I could see the whole landing and the upper slopes of the
staircase. No one could have left by the door unknown to me, if that is what
you mean!"
"That is
just what I do mean, miss. If every one who knows anything
will tell me as well as that, we shall soon get to the bottom of this."
He then went
over to the bed, looked at it carefully, and asked:
"Has the
bed been touched?"
"Not to my
knowledge," said Miss Trelawny, "but I shall ask Mrs. Grant--the
housekeeper," she added as she rang the bell. Mrs. Grant answered it in
person. "Come in," said Miss Trelawny. "These gentlemen want to
know, Mrs. Grant, if the bed has been touched."
"Not by me, ma'am."
"Then," said Miss Trelawny, turning to Sergeant Daw, "it
cannot have been touched by any one. Either Mrs. Grant or I myself was here all
the time, and I do not think any of the servants who
came when I gave the alarm were near the bed at all. You see, Father lay here
just under the great safe, and every one crowded round him. We sent them all
away in a very short time." Daw, with a motion of his hand, asked us all
to stay at the other side of the room whilst with a magnifying-glass he
examined the bed, taking care as he moved each fold of the bed-clothes to
replace it in exact position. Then he examined with his magnifying-glass the
floor beside it, taking especial pains where the blood had trickled over the
side of the bed, which was of heavy red wood handsomely carved. Inch by inch,
down on his knees, carefully avoiding any touch with the stains on the floor,
he followed the blood-marks over to the spot, close under the great safe, where
the body had lain. All around and about this spot he went for a radius of some
yards; but seemingly did not meet with anything to arrest special attention.
Then he examined the front of the safe; round the lock, and along the bottom
and top of the double doors, more especially at the places of their touching in
front.
Next he went to
the windows, which were fastened down with the hasps.
"Were the
shutters closed?" he asked Miss Trelawny in a casual way as though he
expected the negative answer, which came.
All this time
Doctor Winchester was attending to his patient; now dressing the wounds in the
wrist or making minute examination all over the head and throat, and over the
heart. More than once he put his nose to the mouth of the senseless man and sniffed.
Each time he did so he finished up by unconsciously looking round the room, as
though in search of something.
Then we heard
the deep strong voice of the Detective:
"So far as
I can see, the object was to bring that key to the lock of the safe. There
seems to be some secret in the mechanism that I am unable to guess at, though I
served a year in Chubb's before I joined the police. It is a combination lock
of seven letters; but there seems to be a way of locking even the combination.
It is one of Chatwood's; I shall call at their place and find out something
about it." Then turning to the Doctor, as though his own work were for the
present done, he said:
"Have you
anything you can tell me at once, Doctor, which will not interfere with your
full report? If there is any doubt I can wait, but the sooner I know something
definite the better." Doctor Winchester answered at once:
"For my own
part I see no reason in waiting. I shall make a full report of course. But in
the meantime I shall tell you all I know--which is after all not very much, and
all I think--which is less definite. There is no wound on the head which could
account for the state of stupor in which the patient continues. I must,
therefore, take it that either he has been drugged or is under some hypnotic
influence. So far as I can judge, he has not been drugged--at least by means of
any drug of whose qualities I am aware. Of course, there is ordinarily in this
room so much of a mummy smell that it is difficult to
be certain about anything having a delicate aroma. I dare say that you have
noticed the peculiar Egyptians scents, bitumen, nard, aromatic gums and spices,
and so forth. It is quite possible that somewhere in this room, amongst the
curios and hidden by stronger scents, is some substance or liquid which may
have the effect we see. It is possible that the patient has taken some drug,
and that he may in some sleeping phase have injured himself.
I do not think this is likely; and circumstances, other than those which I have
myself been investigating, may prove that this surmise is not correct. But in
the meantime it is possible; and must, till it be disproved, be kept within our
purview." Here Sergeant Daw interrupted:
"That may
be, but if so, we should be able to find the instrument with which the wrist
was injured. There would be marks of blood somewhere."
"Exactly
so!" said the Doctor, fixing his glasses as though preparing for an
argument. "But if it be that the patient has used some strange drug, it
may be one that does not take effect at once. As we are as yet ignorant of its
potentialities--if, indeed, the whole surmise is correct at all--we must be
prepared at all points."
Here Miss
Trelawny joined in the conversation:
"That would
be quite right, so far as the action of the drug was concerned; but according
to the second part of your surmise the wound may have been self-inflicted, and
this after the drug had taken effect."
"True!"
said the Detective and the Doctor simultaneously. She went on:
"As
however, Doctor, your guess does not exhaust the possibilities, we must bear in
mind that some other variant of the same root-idea may be correct. I take it,
therefore, that our first search, to be made on this assumption, must be for
the weapon with which the injury was done to my Father's wrist."
"Perhaps he
put the weapon in the safe before he became quite unconscious," said I,
giving voice foolishly to a half-formed thought.
"That could
not be," said the Doctor quickly. "At least I think it could hardly
be," he added cautiously, with a brief bow to me. "You see, the left
hand is covered with blood; but there is no blood mark whatever on the
safe."
"Quite right!" I said, and there was a long pause.
The first to
break the silence was the Doctor.
"We shall
want a nurse here as soon as possible; and I know the very one to suit. I shall
go at once to get her if I can. I must ask that till I return some of you will
remain constantly with the patient. It may be necessary to remove him to
another room later on; but in the meantime he is best left here. Miss Trelawny,
may I take it that either you or Mrs. Grant will remain here--not merely in the
room, but close to the patient and watchful of him--till I return?"
She bowed in
reply, and took a seat beside the sofa. The Doctor gave her some directions as
to what she should do in case her father should become conscious before his
return.
The next to move
was Superintendent Dolan, who came close to Sergeant Daw as he said:
"I had
better return now to the station--unless, of course, you should wish me to
remain for a while."
He answered,
"Is Johnny Wright still in your division?"
"Yes! Would
you like him to be with you?" The other nodded reply. "Then I will
send him on to you as soon as can be arranged. He shall then stay with you as
long as you wish. I will tell him that he is to take his instructions entirely
from you."
The Sergeant
accompanied him to the door, saying as he went:
"Thank you,
sir; you are always thoughtful for men who are working with you. It is a
pleasure to me to be with you again. I shall go back to Scotland Yard and
report to my chief. Then I shall call at Chatwood's; and I shall return here as
soon as possible. I suppose I may take it, miss, that I may put up here for a
day or two, if required. It may be some help, or possibly some comfort to you,
if I am about, until we unravel this mystery."
"I shall be
very grateful to you." He looked keenly at her for a few seconds before he
spoke again.
"Before I
go have I permission to look about your Father's table and desk? There might be
something which would give us a clue--or a lead at all events." Her answer
was so unequivocal as almost to surprise him.
"You have
the fullest possible permission to do anything which may help us in this
dreadful trouble--to discover what it is that is wrong with my Father, or which
may shield him in the future!"
He began at once
a systematic search of the dressing-table, and after that of the writing-table
in the room. In one of the drawers he found a letter sealed; this he brought at
once across the room and handed to Miss Trelawny.
"A
letter--directed to me--and in my Father's hand!" she said as she eagerly
opened it. I watched her face as she began to read; but seeing at once that
Sergeant Daw kept his keen eyes on her face, unflinchingly watching every
flitting expression, I kept my eyes henceforth fixed on his. When Miss Trelawny
had read her letter through, I had in my mind a conviction, which, however, I kept locked in my own heart. Amongst the suspicions in the
mind of the Detective was one, rather perhaps potential than definite, of Miss
Trelawny herself.
For several
minutes Miss Trelawny held the letter in her hand with her eyes downcast,
thinking. Then she read it carefully again; this time the varying expressions
were intensified, and I thought I could easily follow them. When she had
finished the second reading, she paused again. Then, though with some
reluctance, she handed the letter to the Detective. He read it eagerly but with
unchanging face; read it a second time, and then handed it back with a bow. She
paused a little again, and then handed it to me. As she did so she raised her
eyes to mine for a single moment appealingly; a swift blush spread over her
pale cheeks and forehead.
With mingled
feelings I took it, but, all said, I was glad. She did not show any
perturbation in giving the letter to the Detective--she might not have shown
any to anyone else. But to me. . . I feared to follow
the thought further; but read on, conscious that the eyes of both Miss Trelawny
and the Detective were fixed on me.
"MY DEAR
DAUGHTER, I want you to take this letter as an instruction--absolute and
imperative, and admitting of no deviation whatever--in case anything untoward
or unexpected by you or by others should happen to me. If I should be suddenly
and mysteriously stricken down--either by sickness, accident or attack--you
must follow these directions implicitly. If I am not already in my bedroom when
you are made cognisant of my state, I am to be brought there as quickly as
possible. Even should I be dead, my body is to be brought there. Thenceforth,
until I am either conscious and able to give
instructions on my own account, or buried, I am never to be left alone--not for
a single instant. From nightfall to sunrise at least two persons must remain in
the room. It will be well that a trained nurse be in the room from time to
time, and will note any symptoms, either permanent or changing, which may
strike her. My solicitors, Marvin & Jewkes, of 27B Lincoln's
Inn, have full instructions in case of my
death; and Mr. Marvin has himself undertaken to see personally my wishes
carried out. I should advise you, my dear Daughter, seeing that you have no
relative to apply to, to get some friend whom you can trust to either remain
within the house where instant communication can be made, or to come nightly to
aid in the watching, or to be within call. Such friend may be either male or
female; but, whichever it may be, there should be
added one other watcher or attendant at hand of the opposite sex. Understand,
that it is of the very essence of my wish that there should be, awake and
exercising themselves to my purposes, both masculine and feminine
intelligences. Once more, my dear Margaret, let me impress on you the need for
observation and just reasoning to conclusions, howsoever strange. If I am taken
ill or injured, this will be no ordinary occasion; and I wish to warn you, so
that your guarding may be complete.
"Nothing in
my room--I speak of the curios--must be removed or displaced in any way, or for
any cause whatever. I have a special reason and a special purpose in the
placing of each; so that any moving of them would thwart my plans.
"Should you
want money or counsel in anything, Mr. Marvin will carry out your wishes; to the which he has my full instructions."
"ABEL
TRELAWNY."
I read the
letter a second time before speaking, for I feared to betray myself. The choice
of a friend might be a momentous occasion for me. I had already ground for
hope, that she had asked me to help her in the first throe of her trouble; but
love makes its own doubtings, and I feared. My thoughts seemed to whirl with
lightning rapidity, and in a few seconds a whole process of reasoning became
formulated. I must not volunteer to be the friend that the father advised his
daughter to have to aid her in her vigil; and yet that one glance had a lesson
which I must not ignore. Also, did not she, when she wanted help, send to
me--to me a stranger, except for one meeting at a dance and one brief afternoon
of companionship on the river? Would it not humiliate her to make her ask me
twice? Humiliate her! No! that pain I could at all
events save her; it is not humiliation to refuse. So, as I handed her back the
letter, I said:
"I know you
will forgive me, Miss Trelawny, if I presume too much; but if you will permit me
to aid in the watching I shall be proud. Though the occasion is a sad one, I
shall be so far happy to be allowed the privilege."
Despite her
manifest and painful effort at self-control, the red tide swept her face and
neck. Even her eyes seemed suffused, and in stern contrast with her pale cheeks
when the tide had rolled back. She answered in a low voice:
"I shall be
very grateful for your help!" Then in an afterthought she added:
"But you
must not let me be selfish in my need! I know you have many duties to engage
you; and though I shall value your help highly--most highly--it would not be
fair to monopolise your time."
"As to
that," I answered at once, "my time is yours. I can for today easily
arrange my work so that I can come here in the afternoon and stay till morning.
After that, if the occasion still demands it, I can so arrange my work that I
shall have more time still at my disposal."
She was much
moved. I could see the tears gather in her eyes, and she turned away her head.
The Detective spoke:
"I am glad
you will be here, Mr. Ross. I shall be in the house myself, as Miss Trelawny
will allow me, if my people in Scotland Yard will permit. That letter seems to
put a different complexion on everything; though the mystery remains greater
than ever. If you can wait here an hour or two I shall go to headquarters, and
then to the safe-makers. After that I shall return; and you can go away easier
in your mind, for I shall be here."
When he had
gone, we two, Miss Trelawny and I, remained in silence. At last she raised her
eyes and looked at me for a moment; after that I would not have exchanged
places with a king. For a while she busied herself round the extemporised
bedside of her father. Then, asking me to be sure not to take my eyes off him
till she returned, she hurried out.
In a few minutes
she came back with Mrs. Grant and two maids and a couple of men, who bore the
entire frame and furniture of a light iron bed. This they proceeded to put
together and to make. When the work was completed, and the servants had
withdrawn, she said to me:
"It will be
well to be all ready when the Doctor returns. He will surely want to have
Father put to bed; and a proper bed will be better for him than the sofa."
She then got a chair close beside her father, and sat down watching him.
I went about the
room, taking accurate note of all I saw. And truly there were enough things in
the room to evoke the curiosity of any man--even though the attendant
circumstances were less strange. The whole place, excepting those articles of furniture
necessary to a well-furnished bedroom, was filled with magnificent curios,
chiefly Egyptian. As the room was of immense size there was opportunity for the
placing of a large number of them, even if, as with these, they were of huge
proportions.
Whilst I was
still investigating the room there came the sound of
wheels on the gravel outside the house. There was a ring at the hall door, and
a few minutes later, after a preliminary tap at the door and an answering
"Come in!" Doctor Winchester entered, followed by a young woman in
the dark dress of a nurse.
"I have
been fortunate!" he said as he came in. "I found her at once and
free. Miss Trelawny, this is Nurse Kennedy!"
I was struck by
the way the two young women looked at each other. I suppose I have been so much
in the habit of weighing up in my own mind the personality of witnesses and of
forming judgment by their unconscious action and mode of bearing themselves, that the habit extends to my life outside as
well as within the court-house. At this moment of my life anything that
interested Miss Trelawny interested me; and as she had been struck by the
newcomer I instinctively weighed her up also. By comparison of the two I seemed
somehow to gain a new knowledge of Miss Trelawny. Certainly, the two women made
a good contrast. Miss Trelawny was of fine figure; dark, straight-featured. She
had marvellous eyes; great, wide-open, and as black and soft as velvet, with a
mysterious depth. To look in them was like gazing at a black mirror such as
Doctor Dee used in his wizard rites. I heard an old gentleman at the picnic, a
great oriental traveller, describe the effect of her
eyes "as looking at night at the great distant lamps of a mosque through
the open door." The eyebrows were typical. Finely arched and rich in long
curling hair, they seemed like the proper architectural environment of the
deep, splendid eyes. Her hair was black also, but was as fine as silk.
Generally black hair is a type of animal strength and seems as if some strong
expression of the forces of a strong nature; but in this case there could be no
such thought. There were refinement and high breeding; and though there was no
suggestion of weakness, any sense of power there was, was rather spiritual than
animal. The whole harmony of her being seemed
complete. Carriage, figure, hair, eyes; the mobile, full mouth, whose scarlet
lips and white teeth seemed to light up the lower part of the face--as the eyes did the upper; the wide sweep of the jaw
from chin to ear; the long, fine fingers; the hand which seemed to move from
the wrist as though it had a sentience of its own. All these perfections went
to make up a personality that dominated either by its grace, its sweetness, its
beauty, or its charm.
Nurse Kennedy,
on the other hand, was rather under than over a woman's average height. She was
firm and thickset, with full limbs and broad, strong, capable hands. Her colour
was in the general effect that of an autumn leaf. The yellow-brown hair was
thick and long, and the golden-brown eyes sparkled from the freckled, sunburnt
skin. Her rosy cheeks gave a general idea of rich brown. The red lips and white
teeth did not alter the colour scheme, but only emphasized it. She had a snub
nose--there was no possible doubt about it; but like such noses in general it
showed a nature generous, untiring, and full of good-nature. Her broad white
forehead, which even the freckles had spared, was full of forceful thought and
reason.
Doctor
Winchester had on their journey from the hospital, coached her in the necessary
particulars, and without a word she took charge of the patient and set to work.
Having examined the new-made bed and shaken the pillows, she spoke to the
Doctor, who gave instructions; presently we all four, stepping together, lifted
the unconscious man from the sofa.
Early in the
afternoon, when Sergeant Daw had returned, I called at my rooms in Jermyn Street, and
sent out such clothes, books and papers as I should be likely to want within a
few days. Then I went on to keep my legal engagements.
The Court sat
late that day as an important case was ending; it was striking six as I drove
in at the gate of the Kensington
Palace Road. I found myself installed in a large
room close to the sick chamber.
That night we
were not yet regularly organised for watching, so that the early part of the
evening showed an unevenly balanced guard. Nurse Kennedy, who had been on duty
all day, was lying down, as she had arranged to come on again by twelve
o'clock. Doctor Winchester, who was dining in the house, remained in the room
until dinner was announced; and went back at once when it was over. During
dinner Mrs. Grant remained in the room, and with her Sergeant Daw, who wished
to complete a minute examination which he had undertaken of everything in the
room and near it. At nine o'clock Miss Trelawny and I went in to relieve the
Doctor. She had lain down for a few hours in the afternoon so as to be
refreshed for her work at night. She told me that she had determined that for
this night at least she would sit up and watch. I did not try to dissuade her,
for I knew that her mind was made up. Then and there I made up my mind that I
would watch with her--unless, of course, I should see that she really did not
wish it. I said nothing of my intentions for the present. We came in on tiptoe,
so silently that the Doctor, who was bending over the bed, did not hear us, and
seemed a little startled when suddenly looking up he saw our eyes upon him. I
felt that the mystery of the whole thing was getting on his nerves, as it had
already got on the nerves of some others of us. He was, I fancied, a little
annoyed with himself for having been so startled, and at once began to talk in
a hurried manner as though to get over our idea of his embarrassment:
"I am
really and absolutely at my wits' end to find any fit cause for this stupor. I
have made again as accurate an examination as I know how, and I am satisfied
that there is no injury to the brain, that is, no external injury. Indeed, all
his vital organs seem unimpaired. I have given him, as you know,
food several times and it has manifestly done him good. His breathing is strong
and regular, and his pulse is slower and stronger than it was this morning. I
cannot find evidence of any known drug, and his unconsciousness does not
resemble any of the many cases of hypnotic sleep which I saw in the Charcot Hospital
in Paris. And
as to these wounds"--he laid his finger gently on the bandaged wrist which
lay outside the coverlet as he spoke, "I do not know what to make of them.
They might have been made by a carding-machine; but that supposition is
untenable. It is within the bounds of possibility that they might have been
made by a wild animal if it had taken care to sharpen its claws. That too is, I
take it, impossible. By the way, have you any strange pets here in the house;
anything of an exceptional kind, such as a tiger-cat or anything out of the
common?" Miss Trelawny smiled a sad smile which made my heart ache, as she
made answer:
"Oh no! Father does not like animals about the house, unless they are dead and
mummied." This was said with a touch of bitterness--or jealousy, I could
hardly tell which. "Even my poor kitten was only allowed in the house on
sufferance; and though he is the dearest and best-conducted cat in the world,
he is now on a sort of parole, and is not allowed into this room."
As she was
speaking a faint rattling of the door handle was heard. Instantly Miss
Trelawny's face brightened. She sprang up and went over to the door, saying as
she went:
"There he is!
That is my Silvio. He stands on his hind legs and rattles the door handle when
he wants to come into a room." She opened the door, speaking to the cat as
though he were a baby: "Did him want his movver? Come then; but he must
stay with her!" She lifted the cat, and came back with him in her arms. He
was certainly a magnificent animal. A chinchilla grey Persian with long silky
hair; a really lordly animal with a haughty bearing despite his gentleness; and
with great paws which spread out as he placed them on the ground. Whilst she
was fondling him, he suddenly gave a wriggle like an eel and slipped out of her
arms. He ran across the room and stood opposite a low table on which stood the
mummy of an animal, and began to mew and snarl. Miss Trelawny was after him in
an instant and lifted him in her arms, kicking and struggling and wriggling to
get away; but not biting or scratching, for evidently he loved his beautiful
mistress. He ceased to make a noise the moment he was in her arms; in a whisper
she admonished him:
"O you naughty Silvio! You have broken your parole that mother gave for
you. Now, say goodnight to the gentlemen, and come away to mother's room!"
As she was speaking she held out the cat's paw to me to shake. As I did so I
could not but admire its size and beauty. "Why," said I, "his
paw seems like a little boxing-glove full of claws." She smiled:
"So it
ought to. Don't you notice that my Silvio has seven toes, see!" she opened
the paw; and surely enough there were seven separate claws, each of them
sheathed in a delicate, fine, shell-like case. As I gently stroked the foot the
claws emerged and one of them accidentally--there was no anger now and the cat
was purring--stuck into my hand. Instinctively I said as I drew back:
"Why, his
claws are like razors!"
Doctor
Winchester had come close to us and was bending over looking at the cat's
claws; as I spoke he said in a quick, sharp way:
"Eh!"
I could hear the quick intake of his breath. Whilst I was stroking the now
quiescent cat, the Doctor went to the table and tore off a piece of
blotting-paper from the writing-pad and came back. He laid
the paper on his palm and, with a simple "pardon me!" to Miss
Trelawny, placed the cat's paw on it and pressed it down with his other hand.
The haughty cat seemed to resent somewhat the familiarity, and tried to draw
its foot away. This was plainly what the Doctor wanted, for in the act the cat
opened the sheaths of its claws and and made several reefs in the soft paper.
Then Miss Trelawny took her pet away. She returned in a couple of minutes; as
she came in she said:
"It is most
odd about that mummy! When Silvio came into the room first--indeed I took him
in as a kitten to show to Father--he went on just the same way. He jumped up on
the table, and tried to scratch and bite the mummy. That was what made Father
so angry, and brought the decree of banishment on poor Silvio. Only his parole,
given through me, kept him in the house."
Whilst she had
been gone, Doctor Winchester had taken the bandage from her father's wrist. The
wound was now quite clear, as the separate cuts showed out in fierce red lines.
The Doctor folded the blotting-paper across the line of punctures made by the
cat's claws, and held it down close to the wound. As he did so, he looked up
triumphantly and beckoned us over to him.
The cuts in the
paper corresponded with the wounds in the wrist! No explanation was needed, as
he said;
"It would
have been better if master Silvio had not broken his parole!"
We were all
silent for a little while. Suddenly Miss Trelawny said:
"But Silvio
was not in here last night!"
"Are you
sure? Could you prove that if necessary?" She hesitated before replying:
"I am
certain of it; but I fear it would be difficult to prove. Silvio sleeps in a
basket in my room. I certainly put him to bed last night; I remember distinctly
laying his little blanket over him, and tucking him in. This morning I took him
out of the basket myself. I certainly never noticed him in here; though, of
course, that would not mean much, for I was too concerned about poor father,
and too much occupied with him, to notice even Silvio."
The Doctor shook
his head as he said with a certain sadness:
"Well, at
any rate it is no use trying to prove anything now. Any cat in the world would
have cleaned blood-marks--did any exist--from his paws in a hundredth part of
the time that has elapsed."
Again we were
all silent; and again the silence was broken by Miss Trelawny:
"But now
that I think of it, it could not have been poor Silvio that injured Father. My
door was shut when I first heard the sound; and Father's was shut when I
listened at it. When I went in, the injury had been done; so that it must have
been before Silvio could possibly have got in." This reasoning commended
itself, especially to me as a barrister, for it was proof to satisfy a jury. It
gave me a distinct pleasure to have Silvio acquitted of the crime--possibly
because he was Miss Trelawny's cat and was loved by her. Happy cat! Silvio's
mistress was manifestly pleased as I said:
"Verdict, 'not guilty!'" Doctor Winchester after a pause observed:
"My
apologies to master Silvio on this occasion; but I am still puzzled to know why
he is so keen against that mummy. Is he the same toward the other mummies in
the house? There are, I suppose, a lot of them. I saw three in the hall as I
came in."
"There are
lots of them," she answered. "I sometimes don't know whether I am in
a private house or the British
Museum. But Silvio never
concerns himself about any of them except that particular one. I suppose it
must be because it is of an animal, not a man or a woman."
"Perhaps it
is of a cat!" said the Doctor as he started up and went across the room to
look at the mummy more closely. "Yes," he went on, "it is the
mummy of a cat; and a very fine one, too. If it hadn't been a special favourite
of some very special person it would never have received so much honour. See! A
painted case and obsidian eyes--just like a human mummy. It is an extraordinary
thing, that knowledge of kind to kind. Here is a dead cat--that is all; it is
perhaps four or five thousand years old--and another cat of another breed, in
what is practically another world, is ready to fly at it, just as it would if
it were not dead. I should like to experiment a bit about that cat if you don't
mind, Miss Trelawny." She hesitated before replying:
"Of course,
do anything you may think necessary or wise; but I hope it will not be anything
to hurt or worry my poor Silvio." The Doctor smiled as he answered:
"Oh, Silvio
would be all right: it is the other one that my sympathies would be reserved
for."
"How do you
mean?"
"Master
Silvio will do the attacking; the other one will do the suffering."
"Suffering?" There was a note of pain in her voice. The Doctor
smiled more broadly:
"Oh, please
make your mind easy as to that. The other won't suffer as we understand it;
except perhaps in his structure and outfit."
"What on
earth do you mean?"
"Simply
this, my dear young lady, that the antagonist will be a mummy cat like this
one. There are, I take it, plenty of them to be had in Museum Street. I shall get one and place
it here instead of that one--you won't think that a temporary exchange will
violate your Father's instructions, I hope. We shall then find out, to begin
with, whether Silvio objects to all mummy cats, or
only to this one in particular."
"I don't
know," she said doubtfully. "Father's instructions seem very
uncompromising." Then after a pause she went on: "But of course under
the circumstances anything that is to be ultimately for his good must be done.
I suppose there can't be anything very particular about the mummy of a
cat."
Doctor
Winchester said nothing. He sat rigid, with so grave a look on his face that
his extra gravity passed on to me; and in its enlightening perturbation I began
to realise more than I had yet done the strangeness of the case in which I was
now so deeply concerned. When once this thought had begun there was no end to
it. Indeed it grew, and blossomed, and reproduced itself in a thousand
different ways. The room and all in it gave grounds for strange thoughts. There
were so many ancient relics that unconsciously one was taken back to strange
lands and strange times. There were so many mummies or mummy objects, round
which there seemed to cling for ever the penetrating odours of bitumen, and
spices and gums--"Nard and Circassia's
balmy smells"--that one was unable to forget the past. Of course, there
was but little light in the room, and that carefully shaded; so that there was
no glare anywhere. None of that direct light which can manifest itself as a
power or an entity, and so make for companionship. The room was a large one,
and lofty in proportion to its size. In its vastness was place for a multitude
of things not often found in a bedchamber. In far corners of the room were
shadows of uncanny shape. More than once as I thought, the multitudinous
presence of the dead and the past took such hold on me that I caught myself
looking round fearfully as though some strange personality or influence was
present. Even the manifest presence of Doctor Winchester and Miss Trelawny
could not altogether comfort or satisfy me at such moments. It was with a
distinct sense of relief that I saw a new personality in the room in the shape
of Nurse Kennedy. There was no doubt that that business-like, self-reliant,
capable young woman added an element of security to such wild imaginings as my
own. She had a quality of common sense that seemed to pervade everything around
her, as though it were some kind of emanation. Up to that moment I had been
building fancies around the sick man; so that finally all about him, including
myself, had become involved in them, or enmeshed, or saturated, or. . . But now
that she had come, he relapsed into his proper perspective as a patient; the
room was a sick-room, and the shadows lost their fearsome quality. The only
thing which it could not altogether abrogate was the strange Egyptian smell.
You may put a mummy in a glass case and hermetically seal it so that no
corroding air can get within; but all the same it will exhale its odour. One
might think that four or five thousand years would exhaust the olfactory
qualities of anything; but experience teaches us that these smells remain, and
that their secrets are unknown to us. Today they are as much mysteries as they
were when the embalmers put the body in the bath of natron. . .
All at once I
sat up. I had become lost in an absorbing reverie. The Egyptian smell had
seemed to get on my nerves--on my memory--on my very will.
At that moment I
had a thought which was like an inspiration. If I was influenced in such a
manner by the smell, might it not be that the sick man, who lived half his life
or more in the atmosphere, had gradually and by slow but sure process taken
into his system something which had permeated him to such degree that it had a
new power derived from quantity--or strength--or . . .
I was becoming
lost again in a reverie. This would not do. I must take such precaution that I
could remain awake, or free from such entrancing thought. I had had but half a
night's sleep last night; and this night I must remain awake. Without stating
my intention, for I feared that I might add to the trouble and uneasiness of
Miss Trelawny, I went downstairs and out of the house. I soon found a chemist's
shop, and came away with a respirator. When I got back, it was ten o'clock; the
Doctor was going for the night. The Nurse came with him to the door of the
sick-room, taking her last instructions. Miss Trelawny sat still beside the
bed. Sergeant Daw, who had entered as the Doctor went out, was some little
distance off.
When Nurse
Kennedy joined us, we arranged that she should sit up till two o'clock, when
Miss Trelawny would relieve her. Thus, in accordance with Mr. Trelawny's
instructions, there would always be a man and a woman in the room; and each one
of us would overlap, so that at no time would a new set of watchers come on
duty without some one to tell of what--if anything--had occurred. I lay down on
a sofa in my own room, having arranged that one of the servants should call me
a little before twelve. In a few moments I was asleep.
When I was
waked, it took me several seconds to get back my thoughts so as to recognise my
own identity and surroundings. The short sleep had, however, done me good, and
I could look on things around me in a more practical light than I had been able
to do earlier in the evening. I bathed my face, and thus refreshed went into
the sick-room. I moved very softly. The Nurse was sitting by the bed, quiet and
alert; the Detective sat in an arm-chair across the room in deep shadow. He did
not move when I crossed, until I got close to him, when he said in a dull
whisper:
"It is all
right; I have not been asleep!" An unnecessary thing to say, I thought--it
always is, unless it be untrue in spirit. When I told him that his watch was
over; that he might go to bed till I should call him at six o'clock, he seemed
relieved and went with alacrity. At the door he turned and, coming back to me,
said in a whisper:
"I sleep
lightly and I shall have my pistols with me. I won't feel so heavy-headed when
I get out of this mummy smell."
He too, then,
had shared my experience of drowsiness!
I asked the
Nurse if she wanted anything. I noticed that she had a
vinaigrette in her lap. Doubtless she, too, had felt some of the
influence which had so affected me. She said that she had all she required, but
that if she should want anything she would at once let me know. I wished to
keep her from noticing my respirator, so I went to the chair in the shadow
where her back was toward me. Here I quietly put it on, and made myself
comfortable.
For what seemed
a long time, I sat and thought and thought. It was a wild medley of thoughts,
as might have been expected from the experiences of the previous day and night.
Again I found myself thinking of the Egyptian smell; and I remember that I felt
a delicious satisfaction that I did not experience it as I had done. The
respirator was doing its work.
It must have
been that the passing of this disturbing thought made for repose of mind, which
is the corollary of bodily rest, for, though I really cannot remember being
asleep or waking from it, I saw a vision--I dreamed a dream, I scarcely know
which.
I was still in
the room, seated in the chair. I had on my respirator and knew that I breathed
freely. The Nurse sat in her chair with her back toward me. She sat quite
still. The sick man lay as still as the dead. It was rather like the picture of
a scene than the reality; all were still and silent; and the stillness and
silence were continuous. Outside, in the distance I could hear the sounds of a
city, the occasional roll of wheels, the shout of a reveller, the far-away echo
of whistles and the rumbling of trains. The light was very, very low; the
reflection of it under the green-shaded lamp was a dim relief to the darkness,
rather than light. The green silk fringe of the lamp had merely the colour of
an emerald seen in the moonlight. The room, for all its darkness, was full of
shadows. It seemed in my whirling thoughts as though all the real things had
become shadows--shadows which moved, for they passed the dim outline of the
high windows. Shadows which had sentience. I even
thought there was sound, a faint sound as of the mew of a cat--the rustle of
drapery and a metallic clink as of metal faintly touching metal. I sat as one
entranced. At last I felt, as in nightmare, that this was sleep,
and that in the passing of its portals all my will had gone.
All at once my
senses were full awake. A shriek rang in my ears. The room was filled suddenly
with a blaze of light. There was the sound of pistol shots--one, two; and a
haze of white smoke in the room. When my waking eyes regained their power, I
could have shrieked with horror myself at what I saw before me.
The sight which
met my eyes had the horror of a dream within a dream, with the certainty of
reality added. The room was as I had seen it last; except that the shadowy look
had gone in the glare of the many lights, and every article in it stood stark
and solidly real.
By the empty bed
sat Nurse Kennedy, as my eyes had last seen her, sitting bolt upright in the
arm-chair beside the bed. She had placed a pillow behind her, so that her back
might be erect; but her neck was fixed as that of one in a cataleptic trance.
She was, to all intents and purposes, turned into stone. There was no special
expression on her face--no fear, no horror; nothing such as might be expected
of one in such a condition. Her open eyes showed neither wonder nor interest.
She was simply a negative existence, warm, breathing, placid; but absolutely
unconscious of the world around her. The bedclothes were disarranged, as though
the patient had been drawn from under them without throwing them back. The
corner of the upper sheet hung upon the floor; close by it lay
one of the bandages with which the Doctor had dressed the wounded wrist. Another and another lay further along the floor, as though forming
a clue to where the sick man now lay. This was almost exactly where he
had been found on the previous night, under the great safe. Again, the left arm
lay toward the safe. But there had been a new outrage,
an attempt had been made to sever the arm close to the bangle which held the
tiny key. A heavy "kukri" knife--one of the leaf-shaped knives which
the Gurkhas and others of the hill tribes of
India use with such effect--had
been taken from its place on the wall, and with it the attempt had been made.
It was manifest that just at the moment of striking, the blow had been
arrested, for only the point of the knife and not the edge of the blade had
struck the flesh. As it was, the outer side of the arm had been cut to the bone
and the blood was pouring out. In addition, the former wound in front of the
arm had been cut or torn about terribly, one of the cuts seemed to jet out
blood as if with each pulsation of the heart. By the side of her father knelt
Miss Trelawny, her white nightdress stained with the blood in which she knelt. In the middle of the room Sergeant Daw, in his shirt
and trousers and stocking feet, was putting fresh cartridges into his revolver
in a dazed mechanical kind of way. His eyes were red and heavy, and he seemed
only half awake, and less than half conscious of what was going on around him.
Several servants, bearing lights of various kinds, were clustered round the doorway.
As I rose from
my chair and came forward, Miss Trelawny raised her eyes toward me. When she
saw me she shrieked and started to her feet, pointing towards me. Never shall I
forget the strange picture she made, with her white drapery all smeared with
blood which, as she rose from the pool, ran in streaks toward her bare feet. I
believe that I had only been asleep; that whatever influence had worked on Mr.
Trelawny and Nurse Kennedy--and in less degree on Sergeant Daw--had not touched
me. The respirator had been of some service, though it had not kept off the
tragedy whose dire evidences were before me. I can understand now--I could
understand even then--the fright, added to that which had gone before, which my
appearance must have evoked. I had still on the respirator, which covered mouth
and nose; my hair had been tossed in my sleep. Coming suddenly forward, thus enwrapped and dishevelled, in that horrified
crowd, I must have had, in the strange mixture of lights, an extraordinary and
terrifying appearance. It was well that I recognised all this in time to avert
another catastrophe; for the half-dazed, mechanically-acting Detective put in
the cartridges and had raised his revolver to shoot at me when I succeeded in
wrenching off the respirator and shouting to him to hold his hand. In this also
he acted mechanically; the red, half-awake eyes had not in them even then the
intention of conscious action. The danger, however, was averted. The relief of
the situation, strangely enough, came in a simple fashion. Mrs. Grant, seeing
that her young mistress had on only her nightdress,
had gone to fetch a dressing-gown, which she now threw over her. This simple
act brought us all back to the region of fact. With a long breath, one and all
seemed to devote themselves to the most pressing matter before us, that of
staunching the flow of blood from the arm of the wounded man. Even as the
thought of action came, I rejoiced; for the bleeding was very proof that Mr.
Trelawny still lived.
Last night's
lesson was not thrown away. More than one of those present knew now what to do
in such an emergency, and within a few seconds willing
hands were at work on a tourniquet. A man was at once despatched for the
doctor, and several of the servants disappeared to make themselves
respectable. We lifted Mr. Trelawny on to the sofa where he had lain yesterday;
and, having done what we could for him, turned our attention to the Nurse. In
all the turmoil she had not stirred; she sat there as before, erect and rigid,
breathing softly and naturally and with a placid smile. As it was manifestly of
no use to attempt anything with her till the doctor had come, we began to think
of the general situation.
Mrs. Grant had
by this time taken her mistress away and changed her clothes; for she was back
presently in a dressing-gown and slippers, and with the traces of blood removed
from her hands. She was now much calmer, though she trembled sadly; and her
face was ghastly white. When she had looked at her father's wrist, I holding
the tourniquet, she turned her eyes round the room, resting them now and again
on each one of us present in turn, but seeming to find no comfort. It was so
apparent to me that she did not know where to begin or whom to trust that, to
reassure her, I said:
"I am all
right now; I was only asleep." Her voice had a gulp in it as she said in a
low voice:
"Asleep!
You! and my Father in danger! I thought you were on
the watch!" I felt the sting of justice i