be sleeping so peacefully that Claire once more glancedround the room prior to returning to bed.
The folding-doors were closed so that there could be no draught. Theglass of lemonade was on the little table on the other side of the bed,on which ticked the little old carriage-clock, for Lady Teigne wasalways anxious about the lapse of time. The jewel-casket was on the--
No: the jewel-casket was not on the dressing-table, and with a spasm ofdread shooting through her, Claire Denville stepped quietly to thebedside, drew back the curtain, holding the candle above her head, letfall the curtain and staggered back with her eyes staring with horror,her lips apart, and her breath held for a few moments, but to come againwith a hoarse sob.
She did not shriek aloud; she did not faint. She stood there with herface thrust forward, her right arm crooked and extended as if in the actof drawing back the curtain, and her left hand still holding thecandlestick above her head--stiffened as it were by horror into theposition, and gazing still toward the bed.
That hoarse sob, that harsh expiration of the breath seemed to give herback her power of movement, and, turning swiftly, she ran from the roomand down the short passage to rap quickly at her father's door.
"Papa! Papa!" she cried, in a hoarse whisper, trembling now in everylimb, and gazing with horror-stricken face over her shoulder, as if shefelt that she was being pursued.
Almost directly she heard a faint clattering sound of a glass rattlingon the top of the water-bottle as someone crossed the room, thenight-bolt was raised, the door opened, and the Master of the Ceremoniesstood there, tall and thin, with his white hands tightly holding hislong dressing-gown across his chest.
His face was ghastly as he gazed at Claire. There was a thick dew overhis forehead, so dense that it glistened in the light of the candle, andmade his grey hair cling to his white temples.
He had evidently not been undressed, for his stiff white cravat wasstill about his neck, and the silken strings of his pantaloons werestill tied at the ankles. Moreover, the large signet-ring that hadgrown too large for his thin finger had not been taken off. It was asif he had hastily thrown off his coat, and put on his dressing-gown;but, though the night was warm, he was shivering, his lower liptrembling, and he had hard work to keep his teeth from chatteringtogether like the glass upon the carafe.
"Father," cried Claire, catching him by the breast, "then you have heardsomething?"
"Heard--heard something?" he stammered; and then, seeming to make aneffort to recover his _sang froid_, "heard something? Yes--you--startled me."
"But--but--oh, papa! It is too horrible!"
She staggered, and had to hold by him to save herself from falling. Butrecovering somewhat, she held him by one hand, then thrust herself away,looking the trembling man wildly in the face.
"Did you not hear--that cry?"
"No," he said hastily, "no. What is the matter?"
"Lady Teigne! Quick! Oh, father, it cannot be true!"
"Lady--Lady Teigne?" he stammered, "is--is she--is she ill?"
"She is dead--she is dead!" wailed Claire.
"No, no! No, no! Impossible!" cried the old man, who was shiveringvisibly.
"It is true," said Claire. "No, no, it cannot be. I must be wrong.Quick! It may be some terrible fit!"
She clung to his hand, and tried to hurry him out of the room, but hedrew back.
"No," he stammered, "not yet. Your--your news--agitated me, Claire.Does--wait a minute--does anyone--in the--in the house know?"
"No, dear. I thought I heard a cry, and I came down, and she--"
"A fit," he said hastily, as he took the glass from the top of thewater-bottle, filled it, gulped the water down, and set bottle and glassback in their places. "A fit--yes--a fit."
"Come with me, father, quick!" cried Claire.
"Yes. Yes, I'll go with you--directly," he said, fumbling for hishandkerchief in the tail of the coat thrown over the chair, finding hissnuff-box, and taking a great pinch.
"Come, pray come!" she cried again, as she gazed at him in a bewilderedway, his trembling becoming contagious, and her lips quivering with anew dread greater than the horror at the end of the passage.
"Yes--yes," he faltered--"I'll come. So alarming to be woke up--likethis--in the middle of the night. Shall I--shall I ring, Claire? Orwill you call the maids?"
"Come with me first," cried Claire. "It may not be too late."
"Yes," he cried, "it is--it is too late."
"Father!"
"You--you said she was dead," he cried hastily. "Yes--yes--let us go.Perhaps only a fit. Come."
He seemed to be now as eager to go as he had been to keep back, and,holding his child's hand tightly, he hurried with her to Lady Teigne'sapartment, where he paused on the mat to draw a long, catching breath.
The next moment the door had swung to behind them, and father anddaughter stood gazing one at the other.
"Don't, don't," he cried, in a low, angry voice, as he turned from her."Don't look at me like that, Claire. What--what do you want me to do?"
Claire turned her eyes from him to gaze straight before her in acuriously dazed manner; and then, without a word, she crossed to thebedside and drew back the curtain, fixing her father with her eyes oncemore.
"Look!" she said, in a harsh whisper; "quick! See whether we are intime."
The old man uttered a curious supplicating cry, as if in remonstranceagainst the command that forced him to act, and, as if in his sleep, andwith his eyes fixed upon those of his child, he walked up close to thebed, bent over it a moment, and then with a shudder he snatched thecurtain from Claire's hand, and thrust it down.
"Dead!" he said, with a gasp. "Dead!"
There was an awful silence in the room for a few moments, during whichthe ticking of the little clock on the table beyond the bed soundedpainfully loud, and the beat of the waves amid the shingle rose into aloud roar.
"Father, she has been--"
"Hush!" he half shrieked, "don't say so. Oh, my child, my child!"
Claire trembled, and it was as though a mutual attraction drew them togaze fixedly the one at the other, in spite of every effort to teartheir eyes away.
At last, with a wrench, the old man turned his head aside, and Claireuttered a low moan as she glanced from him to the bed and then backtowards the window.
"Ah!" she cried, starting forward, and, bending down beside thedressing-table, she picked up the casket that was lying half hidden bydrapery upon the floor.
But the jewel-casket was quite empty, and she set it down upon thetable. It had been wrenched open with a chisel or knife-blade, and theloops of the lock had been torn out.
"Shall we--a doctor--the constables?" he stammered.
"I--I do not know," said Claire hoarsely, acting like one in a dream;and she staggered forward, kicking against something that had fallennear the casket.
She involuntarily stooped to pick it up, but it had been jerked by herfoot nearer to her father, who bent down with the quickness of a boy andsnatched it up, hiding it hastily beneath his dressing-gown, but not soquickly that Claire could not see that it was a great clasp-knife.
"What is that?" she cried sharply.
"Nothing--nothing," he said.
They stood gazing at each other for a few moments, and then the old manuttered a hoarse gasp.
"Did--did you see what I picked up?" he whispered; and he caught her armwith his trembling hand.
"Yes; it was a knife."
"No," he cried wildly. "No; you saw nothing. You did not see me pickup that knife."
"I did, father," said Claire, shrinking from him with an invinciblerepugnance.
"You did not," he whispered. "You dare not say you did, when I say besilent."
"Oh, father! father!" she cried with a burst of agony.
"It means life or death," he whispered, grasping her arm so tightly thathis fingers seemed to be turned to iron. "Come," he cried with moreenergy, "hold the light."
He cross
ed the room and opened the folding-doors, going straight intothe drawing-room, when the roar of the surf upon the shore grew louder,and as Claire involuntarily followed, she listened in a heavy-dazed wayas her father pointed out that a chair had been overturned, and that thewindow was open and one of the flower-pots in the balcony upset.
"The jasmine is torn away from the post and balustrade," he saidhuskily; "someone must have climbed up there."
Claire did not speak, but listened to him as he grew more animated now,and talked quickly.
"Let us call up Isaac and Morton," he said. "We must have help. Thedoctor should be fetched, and--and a