The Angel of Terror

  Chapter XIV

  That night the "grisly Jaggs" was later than usual. Lydia heard himshuffling along the passage, and presently the door of his room closedwith a click. She was sitting at the piano, and had stopped playing atthe sound of his knock, and when Mrs. Morgan came in to announce hisarrival, she closed the piano and swung round on the music stool, a lookof determination on her delicate face.

  "He's come, miss."

  "And for the last time," said Lydia ominously. "Mrs. Morgan, I can'tstand that weird old gentleman any longer. He has got on my nerves sothat I could scream when I think of him."

  "He's not a bad old gentleman," excused Mrs. Morgan.

  "I'm not so worried about his moral character, and I dare say that it isperfectly blameless," said Lydia determinedly, "but I have written anote to Mr. Glover to tell him that I really must dispense with hisservices."

  "What's he here for, miss?" asked Mrs. Morgan.

  Her curiosity had been aroused, but this was the first time she hadgiven it expression.

  "He's here because----" Lydia hesitated, "well, because Mr. Gloverthinks I ought to have a man in the house to look after me."

  "Why, miss?" asked the startled woman.

  "You'd better ask Mr. Glover that question," said Lydia grimly.

  She was beginning to chafe under the sense of restraint. She was being"school-marmed" she thought. No girl likes the ostentatious protectionof the big brother or the head mistress. The soul of the schoolgirlyearns to break from the "crocodile" in which she is marched to churchand to school, and this sensation of being marshalled and ordered about,and of living her life according to a third person's programme, and thatthird person a man, irked her horribly.

  Old Jaggs was the outward and visible sign of Jack Glover's unwarrantedauthority, and slowly there was creeping into her mind a suspicion thatJean Briggerland might not have been mistaken when she spoke of Jack'spenchant for "ordering people about."

  Life was growing bigger for her. She had broken down the barriers whichhad confined her to a narrow promenade between office and home. Thehours which she had had to devote to work were now entirely free, andshe could sketch or paint whenever the fancy took her--which was notvery often, though she promised herself a period of hard work when onceshe was settled down.

  Toward the good-looking young lawyer her point of view had shifted. Shehardly knew herself how she regarded him. He irritated, and yet in someindefinable way, pleased her. His sincerity--? She did not doubt hissincerity. She admitted to herself that she wished he would call alittle more frequently than he did. He might have persuaded her thatJaggs was a necessary evil, but he hadn't even taken the trouble tocome. Therefore--but this she did not admit--Jaggs must go.

  "I don't think the old gentleman's quite right in his head, you know,sometimes," said Mrs. Morgan.

  "Why ever not, Mrs. Morgan?" asked the girl in surprise.

  "I often hear him sniggering to himself as I go past his door. I supposehe stays in his room all night, miss?"

  "He doesn't," said the girl emphatically, "and that's why he's going. Iheard him in the passage at two o'clock this morning; I'm getting intosuch a state of nerves that the slightest sound awakens me. He had hisboots off and was creeping about in his stockings, and when I went outand switched the light on he bolted back to his room. I can't have thatsort of thing going on, and I won't! it's altogether too creepy!"

  Mrs. Morgan agreed.

  Lydia had not been out in the evening for several days, she remembered,as she began to undress for the night. The weather had been unpleasant,and to stay in the warm, comfortable flat was no great hardship. Even ifshe had gone out, Jaggs would have accompanied her, she thoughtironically.

  And then she had a little twinge of conscience, remembering that Jaggs'spresence on a memorable afternoon had saved her from destruction.

  She wondered for the twentieth time what was old Jaggs's history, andwhere Jack had found him. Once she had been tempted to ask Jaggshimself, but the old man had fenced with the question, and had talkedvaguely of having worked in the country, and she was as wise as she hadbeen before.

  But she must get rid of old Jaggs, she thought, as she switched off thelight and kicked out the innumerable water-bottles, with which Mrs.Morgan, in mistaken kindness, had encumbered the bed ... old Jaggs mustgo ... he was a nuisance....

  She woke with a start from a dreamless sleep. The clock in the hall wasstriking three. She realised this subconsciously. Her eyes were fixed onthe window, which was open at the bottom. Mrs. Morgan had pulled itdown at the top, but now it was wide open, and her heart began to thump,thump, rapidly. Jaggs! He was her first thought. She would never havebelieved that she could have thought of that old man with such a warmglow of thankfulness. There was nothing to be seen. The storm of theearly night had passed over, and a faint light came into the room fromthe waning moon. And then she saw the curtains move, and opened hermouth to scream, but fear had paralysed her voice, and she lay staringat the hangings, incapable of movement or sound. As she watched thecurtain she saw it move again, and a shape appeared faintly against thegloomy background.

  The spell was broken. She swung herself out of the opposite side of thebed, and raced to the door, but the man was before her. Before she couldscream, a big hand gripped her throat and flung her back against therail of the bed.

  Horrified she stared into the cruel face that leered down at her, andfelt the grip tighten. And then as she looked into the face she saw asudden grimace, and sensed the terror in his eyes. The hand relaxed; hebubbled something thickly and fell sideways against the bed. And now shesaw. A man had come through the doorway, a tall man, with a fair beardand eyes that danced with insane joy.

  He came slowly toward her, wiping on his cuff the long-handled knifethat had sent her assailant to the floor.

  He was mad. She knew it instinctively, and remembered in a hazy,confused way, a paragraph she had read about an escaped lunatic. Shetried to dash past him to the open door, but he caught her in the crookof his left arm, and pressed her to him, towering head and shouldersover her.

  "You have no right to sit on a court martial, madam," he said withuncanny politeness, and at that moment the light in the room wasswitched on and Jaggs appeared in the doorway, his bearded lips partedin an ugly grin, a long-barrelled pistol in his left hand.

  "Drop your knife," he said, "or I'll drop you."

  The mad doctor turned his head slowly and frowned at the intruder.

  "Good morning, General," he said calmly. "You came in time," and hethrew the knife on to the ground. "We will try her according toregulations!"