Devil's Dice
result of thecrushing blow she had received.
"Who caused this?" I inquired. "You have been struck from behind!"
"Yes, by an enemy. But ask me nothing, ask me nothing," she groaned."I--cannot think--I cannot talk. The place goes round--round."
The neat maid entered with her young mistress's hat at that moment, butseeing her mistress lying back in the chair pale and motionless, thegirl halted on the threshold, scared.
"Send a messenger at once for Dr Fothergill," I commanded. "Miss Dorahas been taken ill again," and while she flew to execute my orders Icrossed to the recumbent invalid and tenderly chafed her hands. Theyseemed cold and clammy. Her wild staring eyes were fixed upon me andshe shuddered, but to my questions she gave incoherent replies, lapsinggradually into a state of semi-insensibility.
On the eve of revealing the secret of Sybil, she had been thwarted bymental weakness. Full of pain and anxiety I watched her, reflectingthat this added one more to the string of misfortunes consequent upon mystrange union. Even my friends seemed by the conspiring vagaries ofFate prevented from rendering me any aid.
Within a quarter of an hour the great specialist arrived, being followedalmost immediately by Lady Stretton, haughty, fussy and rapidly fanningherself. The doctor, after hearing from me how Dora had suddenly beenattacked, and having examined her carefully, said, with a sigh:
"Ah! Just as I expected; just what I feared. She has had a relapse,and a very serious one. But she will always be subject to thesespasmodic attacks, unless by chance she experiences some greatunexpected joy or sorrow, which may restore her mind to its properbalance. We can only hope," he added, turning to Lady Stretton whostood beside him. "Hope!"
"But cannot you cure her?" her ladyship asked. "Surely hers is not sucha very serious case?"
"The injury to the brain was very serious," he answered slowly. "Hercase is a most perplexing one and full of the gravest complications.Speaking with candour, I cannot say with any degree of certainty thatshe will ever completely recover."
"Oh, my child! My poor child!" Lady Stretton exclaimed with a suddenoutburst of maternal love quite unusual to her, as she bent over herdaughter, imprinting a fervent kiss upon her cold brow. The face wasbloodless, the eyes closed, the cheeks sunken; she seemed inanimate, asone dead.
"There is, I cannot help thinking, some great weight upon her mind," thedoctor presently exclaimed, speaking in dry businesslike tones. "Onceor twice during the past week, in her more lucid moments, she hasexpressed anxiety regarding a mysterious crime recently committed, inwhich a wealthy young man was murdered. Did she know that young man; oris she a diligent reader of the newspapers?"
"She has, I believe, taken an unusual interest in the mystery, for theyoung man was a personal friend of her sister, Lady Fyneshade, and Ithink she met him at dinner on one occasion at Eaton Square," herladyship answered.
"Ah! then that would account for her morbid fascination towards thedetails of the mysterious affair. In her frame of mind any such eventwould absorb all her thoughts. I will call again after dinner," andrising, he took leave of her ladyship, an example I also followed a fewminutes later.
Dora's object had been to prevent Jack's arrest, but her plans, whateverthey were, had been frustrated by this sudden attack. Without doubt shehad gained knowledge of my curious marriage. But how? Her promise totake me to some place where I could ascertain the truth was remarkable,yet throughout that evening I found myself half convinced that her wordswere merely wild, hysterical utterances precursory of the attack thathad followed. No! It was absolutely impossible to place any credencein such a promise, for the probability would be that when she regainedher normal condition she would immediately disclaim all knowledge ofuttering those words.
Next day was Sunday. In the afternoon I called at Lady Stretton's, onlyto ascertain that Dora, having recovered consciousness, was found to belight-headed and distracted. She had spoken no rational sentence sincethose she had uttered to me on the previous day. I left the housesadly, walking alone in the Park for a long time; then returning I dinedand spent the evening at home. A cloud rested upon me always, dark andpalpable; it entered into my life; it shadowed and destroyed all myhappiness.
The next day and the next passed uneventfully. Eagerly I scanned thepapers morning and evening to ascertain whether Jack had been arrested,but there was no news of the fact, and I began to believe that my friendhad after all succeeded in eluding the vigilance of the police. That hewas guilty I could not doubt. Dora's words were but passionateutterances, such as might have been expected of a woman who loves anaccused man. Indeed, as time went by I reproached myself for myegregious folly in giving her declaration credence and listening to itattentively. It was, however, impossible to let the matter stand as shehad left it. Her mention of my lost well-beloved had whetted mycuriosity, and some further inquiry must take place, although I saw thatso long as she remained in her present state I could do nothing.
Impatient, with head full of cogent arguments I had raised againstmyself, I waited in agony of mind indescribable. I lived for onepurpose alone, to solve the inscrutable mystery.
A discovery I made accidentally struck me as curious. One afternoon,while in the Park, I saw Fyneshade and his wife driving together.Sitting beside her husband, with an expression of perfect contentmentand happiness, Mabel's attention had been attracted in the oppositedirection, therefore she did not notice me. That there had been areconciliation was apparent, and it gave me intense satisfaction, for Iknew that no questions would now be asked me regarding that clandestinemeeting in the grounds of Blatherwycke.
Curiously enough, on the following day I received an invitation fromMabel to dine _en famille_ at Eaton Square, and believing that she hadsome strong motive in this I accepted.
The meal was served with stateliness even though the Earl and his wifehad no other visitor. It had been a breathless day in London, and wasstill light when dinner ended and Mabel rose and left us. The easternsky was growing from blue to a violet dusk, and even then thecrimson-shaded candles upon the table were merely ornamental.
We had been smoking and gossiping some time, and as I sat opposite myhost I thought I somehow observed a change in him. Some anxiety seemedreflected in his clear-cut features, the expression upon which was atrifle stern and moody. It had softened a little while his wife kept upher light amusing chatter, but when she left there again settled uponhis countenance the troubled look that puzzled me. It was caused nodoubt by his suspicions of Mabel's faithlessness.
He had been describing a new play he had seen produced in Paris, whensuddenly he turned to me, exclaiming, as he wiped his single eye-glassand readjusted it: "Dora's illness is most unfortunate, isn't it? Thewhole thing seems enshrouded in mystery. Even Mabel is either ignorant,or desires to keep the cause of her sister's affliction a secret. Whatdo you know about it?"
I removed my cigar from my lips very slowly, for I hesitated whether Ishould unbosom myself and explain the strange circumstances in which Ihad discovered her. But in that brief moment I saw that if I did so Imight become an unwilling witness in the tragedy. I knew the Earl as aninveterate gossip at his club, and having no desire that my name shouldbe bruited all over London in connection with the affair, I thereforeaffected ignorance.
He plied me with many questions regarding Bethune's movements, but tothese also I remained dumb, for I could detect the drift of hisconversation.
"Well," he said at length, "he killed young Sternroyd undoubtedly,though from what motive it is impossible to imagine."
"I suppose it will all come out at the trial," I observed. "All comeout! What do you mean?" he asked, moving slightly to face me.
"I mean that his motive will then be made clear."
"Ah! yes, of course," he said smiling. "You see this wretched businessis most unfortunate for us; it so closely affects my wife, and thereforeworries me beyond measure. Even now there are many people evil disposedenough to couple Mabel's name with hi
s, merely because of the will; buthe was a mad-brained young fool, and only those who knew him personallycan imagine the irresponsibility of his actions."
"Were you acquainted with him?" I asked, eagerly seizing upon thisopportunity to dear up a point on which I had been in doubt. "Oh, yes!I knew him quite well. His father was my friend when a young man, butwhat induced Gilbert to leave all his money to Mabel I really cannotunderstand."
"Perhaps he did it in accordance with his father's instructions. He mayhave been under some obligation to you. Had not Gilbert any relatives?"
"I believe he had some direct relatives; but by some means theyseriously offended him before his father's death. Of course, one cannotdisguise the truth that such a large sum would be