The Amethyst Box

  V

  THREE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING

  As he spoke, youth with its brilliant hopes, illusions and beliefspassed from me, never to return in the same measure again. I stared atthe glimmering amethyst, I stared at the empty vial and, as a fullrealization of all his words implied seized my benumbed faculties, Ifelt the icy chill of some grisly horror moving among the roots of myhair, lifting it on my forehead and filling my whole being withshrinking and dismay.

  Sinclair, with a quick movement, replaced the tiny flask in its oldreceptacle, and then thrusting the whole out of sight, seized my handand wrung it.

  "I am your friend," he whispered. "Remember, under all circumstances andin every exigency, your friend."

  "What are you going to do with _those_?" I demanded when I regainedcontrol of my speech.

  "I do not know."

  "What are you going to do with--with Dorothy?"

  He drooped his head; I could see his fingers working in the moonlight.

  "The physicians will soon be here. I heard the telephone going a fewminutes ago. When they have pronounced the old woman dead we will givethe--the lady you mention an opportunity to explain herself."

  Explain herself, she! Simple expectation. Unconsciously I shook my head.

  "It is the least we can do," he gently persisted. "Come, we must not beseen with our heads together--not yet. I am sorry that we two were foundmore or less dressed at the time of the alarm. It may cause comment."

  "She was dressed, too," I murmured, as much to myself as to him.

  "Unfortunately, yes," was the muttered reply, with which he drew offand hastened into the hall, where the now thoroughly-aroused householdstood in a great group about the excited hostess.

  Mrs. Armstrong was not the woman for an emergency. With streaming hairand tightly-clutched kimono, she was gesticulating wildly and bemoaningthe break in the festivities which this event must necessarily cause. AsSinclair approached, she turned her tirade on him, and as all stoodstill to listen and add such words of sympathy or disappointment assuggested themselves in the excitement of the moment, I had anopportunity to note that neither of the two girls most interested waswithin sight. This troubled me. Drawing up to the outside of the circle,I asked Beaton, who was nearest to me, if he knew how Miss Camerden was.

  "Better, I hear. Poor girl, it was a great shock to her."

  I ventured nothing more. The conventionality of his tone was not to bemistaken. Our conversation on the veranda was to be ignored. I did notknow whether to feel relief at this or an added distress. I was in awhirl of emotion which robbed me of all discrimination. As I realized myown condition, I concluded that my wisest move would be to withdrawmyself for a time from every eye. Accordingly, and at the risk ofoffending more than one pretty girl who still had something to sayconcerning this terrible mischance, I slid away to my room, happy toescape the murmurs and snatches of talk rising on every side. One bitterspeech, uttered by I do not know whom, rang in my ears and made allthinking unendurable. It was this:

  "Poor woman! she was angry once too often. I heard her scolding Dorothyagain after she went to her room. That is why Dorothy is so overcome.She says it was the violence of her aunt's rage which killed her,--arage of which she unfortunately was the cause."

  So there were words again between these two after the door closed uponthem for the night! Was this what we heard just before that scream wentup? It would seem so. Thereupon, quite against my will, I found myselfthinking of Dorothy's changed position before the world. Only yesterdaya dependent slave; to-day, the owner of millions. Gilbertine would haveher share, a large one, but there was enough to make them both wealthy.Intolerable thought! Would that no money had been involved! I hated tothink of those diamonds and--

  Oh, anything was better than this! Dashing from my room I joined one ofthe groups into which the single large circle had now broken up. Thehouse had been lighted from end to end, and some effort had been made ata more respectable appearance by such persons as I now saw; some evenwere fully dressed. All were engaged in discussing the one great topic.Listening and not listening, I waited for the front door bell to ring.It sounded while one woman was saying to another:

  "The Sinclairs will now be able to take their honeymoon on their ownyacht."

  I made my way to where I could watch Sinclair while the physicians werein the room. I thought his face looked very noble. The narrowness of hisown escape, the sympathy for me which the event, so much worse thaneither of us anticipated, had awakened in his generous breast, hadcalled out all that was best in his naturally reserved andnot-always-to-be-understood nature. A tower of strength he was to methat hour. I knew that mercy and mercy only would influence his conduct.He would be guilty of no rash or inconsiderate act. He would give thisyoung girl a chance.

  Therefore when the physicians had pronounced the case one of apoplexy (aconclusion most natural under the circumstances), and the excitementwhich had held together the various groups of uneasy guests had begun tosubside, it was with perfect confidence I saw him approach and addressGilbertine. She was standing fully dressed at the stairhead, where shehad stopped to hold some conversation with the retiring physicians; andthe look she gave him in return and the way she moved off in obedienceto his command or suggestion assured me that he was laying plans for aninterview with Dorothy. Consequently I was quite ready to obey him whenhe finally stepped up to me and said:

  "Go below, and if you find the library empty, as I have no doubt youwill, light one gas-jet and see that the door to the conservatory isunlocked. I require a place in which to make Gilbertine comfortablewhile I have some words with her cousin."

  "But how will you be able to influence Miss Camerden to come down?"Somehow, the familiar name of Dorothy would not pass my lips. "Do youthink she will recognize your right to summon her to an interview?"

  "Yes."

  I had never seen his lip take that firm line before, yet I had alwaysknown him to be a man of great resolution.

  "But how can you reach her? She is shut up in her own room, under thecare, I am told, of Mrs. Armstrong's maid."

  "I know, but she will escape that dreadful place as soon as her feetwill carry her. I shall wait in the hall till she is seen to enter it,then I will say 'Come!' and she will come, attended by Gilbertine."

  "And I? Do you mean me to be present at an interview so painful, nay, soserious and so threatening? It would cut short every word you hope tohear. I--can not--"

  "I have not asked you to. It is imperative that I should see MissCamerden alone." (He could not call her Dorothy, either.) "I shall askGilbertine to accompany us, so that appearances may be preserved. I wantyou to be able to inform any one who approaches the door that you saw mego in there with Miss Murray."

  "Then I am to stay in the hall?"

  "If you will be so kind."

  The clock struck three.

  "It is very late," I exclaimed. "Why not wait till morning?"

  "And have the whole house about our ears? No. Besides, some things willnot keep an hour, a moment. I must hear what this young girl has to sayin response to my questions. Remember, I am the owner of the flask whosecontents killed the old woman!"

  "You believe she died from swallowing that drop?"

  "Absolutely."

  I said no more, but hastened down stairs to do his bidding.

  I found the lower hall partly lighted, but none of the rooms.

  Entering the library, I lit the gas as Sinclair had requested. Then Itried the conservatory door. It was unlocked. Casting a sharp glancearound, I made sure that the lounges were all unoccupied and that Icould safely leave Sinclair to hold his contemplated interview withoutfear of interruption. Then, dreading a premature arrival on his part, Islid quickly out and moved down the hall to where the light of the oneburning jet failed to penetrate. "I will watch from here," thought I,and entered upon the quick pacing of the floor which my impatience andthe overwrought condition of my nerves demanded.

  But before I had turned o
n my steps more than half a dozen times, thesingle but brilliant ray coming from some half-open door in the rearcaught my eye, and I had the curiosity to step back and see if any onewas sharing my watch. In doing so I came upon the little spiralstaircase which, earlier in the evening, Sinclair had heard creak undersome unknown footstep. Had this footstep been Dorothy's, and if so, whathad brought her into this remote portion of the house? Fear? Anguish?Remorse? A flying from herself or from _it_? I wished I knew just whereshe had been found by the two young persons who had brought her backinto her aunt's room. No one had volunteered the information, and I hadnot seen the moment when I felt myself in a position to demand it.

  Proceeding further, I stood amazed at my own forgetfulness. The lightwhich had attracted my attention came from the room devoted to thedisplay of Miss Murray's wedding-gifts. This I should have knowninstantly, having had a hand in their arrangement. But all my facultieswere dulled that night, save such as responded to dread and horror.Before going back I paused to look at the detective whose business itwas to guard the room. He was sitting very quietly at his post, and ifhe saw me he did not look up. Strange that I had forgotten this man whenkeeping my own vigil above. I doubted if Sinclair had remembered himeither. Yet he must have been unconsciously sharing our watch from startto finish; must even have heard the cry as only a waking man could hearit. Should I ask him if this was so? No. Perhaps I had not the courageto hear his answer.

  Shortly after my return into the main hall I heard steps on the grandstaircase. Looking up, I saw the two girls descending, followed bySinclair. He had been successful, then, in inducing Dorothy to comedown. What would be the result? Could I stand the suspense of theimpending interview?

  As they stepped within the rays of the solitary gas-jet alreadymentioned, I cast one quick look into Gilbertine's face, then a long oneinto Dorothy's. I could read neither. If it was horror and horror onlywhich rendered both so pale and fixed of feature, then their emotion wassimilar in character and intensity. But if in either breast the onedominant sentiment was fear--horrible, blood-curdling fear--then wasthat fear confined to Dorothy; for while Gilbertine advanced bravely,Dorothy's steps lagged, and at the point where she should have turnedinto the library, she whirled sharply about and made as if she would flyback up stairs.

  But one stare from Gilbertine, one word from Sinclair, recalled her toherself and she passed in and the door closed upon the three. I was leftto prevent possible intrusion and to eat out my heart in intolerablesuspense.