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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17176-8.txt b/17176-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef2ac20 --- /dev/null +++ b/17176-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7751 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ghost, by Arnold Bennett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ghost + A Modern Fantasy + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: November 28, 2005 [EBook #17176] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + THE GHOST + + A Modern Fantasy + + + + BY + + ARNOLD BENNETT + + AUTHOR OF "THE OLD WIVES' TALES," "CLAYHANGER," + ETC., ETC. + + + + BOSTON + SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY + 1911 + + Copyright, 1907 + By HERBERT B. TURNER & CO. + + Copyright, 1911 + + BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED) + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I. MY SPLENDID COUSIN + +II. AT THE OPERA + +III. THE CRY OF ALRESCA + +IV. ROSA'S SUMMONS + +V. THE DAGGER AND THE MAN + +VI. ALRESCA'S FATE + +VII. THE VIGIL BY THE BIER + +VIII. THE MESSAGE + +IX. THE TRAIN + +X. THE STEAMER + +XI. A CHAT WITH ROSA + +XII. EGG-AND-MILK + +XIII. THE PORTRAIT + +XIV. THE VILLA + +XV. THE SHEATH OF THE DAGGER + +XVI. THE THING IN THE CHAIR + +XVII. THE MENACE + +XVIII. THE STRUGGLE + +XIX. THE INTERCESSION + + + + +THE GHOST + +CHAPTER I + +MY SPLENDID COUSIN + + +I am eight years older now. It had never occurred to me that I am +advancing in life and experience until, in setting myself to recall +the various details of the affair, I suddenly remembered my timid +confusion before the haughty mien of the clerk at Keith Prowse's. + +I had asked him: + +"Have you any amphitheatre seats for the Opera to-night?" + +He did not reply. He merely put his lips together and waved his hand +slowly from side to side. + +Not perceiving, in my simplicity, that he was thus expressing a +sublime pity for the ignorance which my demand implied, I innocently +proceeded: + +"Nor balcony?" + +This time he condescended to speak. + +"Noth--ing, sir." + +Then I understood that what he meant was: "Poor fool! why don't you +ask for the moon?" + +I blushed. Yes, I blushed before the clerk at Keith Prowse's, and +turned to leave the shop. I suppose he thought that as a Christian it +was his duty to enlighten my pitiable darkness. + +"It's the first Rosa night to-night," he said with august affability. +"I had a couple of stalls this morning, but I've just sold them over +the telephone for six pound ten." + +He smiled. His smile crushed me. I know better now. I know that clerks +in box-offices, with their correct neckties and their air of +continually doing wonders over the telephone, are not, after all, the +grand masters of the operatic world. I know that that manner of theirs +is merely a part of their attire, like their cravats; that they are +not really responsible for the popularity of great sopranos; and that +they probably go home at nights to Fulham by the white omnibus, or to +Hammersmith by the red one--and not in broughams. + +"I see," I observed, carrying my crushed remains out into the street. +Impossible to conceal the fact that I had recently arrived from +Edinburgh as raw as a ploughboy! + +If you had seen me standing irresolute on the pavement, tapping my +stick of Irish bog-oak idly against the curbstone, you would have +seen a slim youth, rather nattily dressed (I think), with a shadow of +brown on his upper lip, and a curl escaping from under his hat, and +the hat just a little towards the back of his head, and a pretty good +chin, and the pride of life in his ingenuous eye. Quite unaware that +he was immature! Quite unaware that the supple curves of his limbs had +an almost feminine grace that made older fellows feel paternal! Quite +unaware that he had everything to learn, and that all his troubles lay +before him! Actually fancying himself a man because he had just taken +his medical degree.... + +The June sun shone gently radiant in a blue sky, and above the roofs +milky-bosomed clouds were floating in a light wind. The town was +bright, fresh, alert, as London can be during the season, and the +joyousness of the busy streets echoed the joyousness of my heart (for +I had already, with the elasticity of my years, recovered from the +reverse inflicted on me by Keith Prowse's clerk). On the opposite side +of the street were the rich premises of a well-known theatrical club, +whose weekly entertainments had recently acquired fame. I was, I +recollect, proud of knowing the identity of the building--it was one +of the few things I did know in London--and I was observing with +interest the wondrous livery of the two menials motionless behind the +glass of its portals, when a tandem equipage drew up in front of the +pile, and the menials darted out, in their white gloves, to prove that +they were alive and to justify their existence. + +It was an amazingly complete turnout, and it well deserved all the +attention it attracted, which was considerable. The horses were +capricious, highly polished grays, perhaps a trifle undersized, but +with such an action as is not to be bought for less than twenty-five +guineas a hoof; the harness was silver-mounted; the dog-cart itself a +creation of beauty and nice poise; the groom a pink and priceless +perfection. But the crown and summit of the work was the driver--a +youngish gentleman who, from the gloss of his peculiarly shaped collar +to the buttons of his diminutive boots, exuded an atmosphere of +expense. His gloves, his scarf-pin, his watch-chain, his mustache, his +eye-glass, the crease in his nether garments, the cut of his +coat-tails, the curves of his hat--all uttered with one accord the +final word of fashion, left nothing else to be said. The correctness +of Keith Prowse's clerk was as naught to his correctness. He looked as +if he had emerged immaculate from the outfitter's boudoir, an +achievement the pride of Bond Street. + +As this marvellous creature stood up and prepared to alight from the +vehicle, he chanced to turn his eye-glass in my direction. He scanned +me carelessly, glanced away, and scanned me again with a less detached +stare. And I, on my part, felt the awakening of a memory. + +"That's my cousin Sullivan," I said to myself. "I wonder if he wants +to be friends." + +Our eyes coquetted. I put one foot into the roadway, withdrew it, +restored it to the roadway, and then crossed the street. + +It was indeed the celebrated Sullivan Smith, composer of those so +successful musical comedies, "The Japanese Cat," "The Arabian Girl," +and "My Queen." And he condescended to recognize me! His gestures +indicated, in fact, a warm desire to be cousinly. I reached him. The +moment was historic. While the groom held the wheeler's head, and the +twin menials assisted with dignified inactivity, we shook hands. + +"How long is it?" he said. + +"Fifteen years--about," I answered, feeling deliciously old. + +"Remember I punched your head?" + +"Rather!" (Somehow I was proud that he had punched my head.) + +"No credit to me," he added magnanimously, "seeing I was years older +than you and a foot or so taller. By the way, Carl, how old did you +say you were?" + +He regarded me as a sixth-form boy might regard a fourth-form boy. + +"I didn't say I was any age," I replied. "But I'm twenty-three." + +"Well, then, you're quite old enough to have a drink. Come into the +club and partake of a gin-and-angostura, old man. I'll clear all this +away." + +He pointed to the equipage, the horses, and the groom, and with an +apparently magic word whispered into the groom's ear he did in fact +clear them away. They rattled and jingled off in the direction of +Leicester Square, while Sullivan muttered observations on the groom's +driving. + +"Don't imagine I make a practice of tooling tandems down to my club," +said Sullivan. "I don't. I brought the thing along to-day because I've +sold it complete to Lottie Cass. You know her, of course?" + +"I don't." + +"Well, anyhow," he went on after this check, "I've sold her the entire +bag of tricks. What do you think I'm going to buy?" + +"What?" + +"A motor-car, old man!" + +In those days the person who bought a motor-car was deemed a fearless +adventurer of romantic tendencies. And Sullivan so deemed himself. The +very word "motor-car" then had a strange and thrilling romantic sound +with it. + +"The deuce you are!" I exclaimed. + +"I am," said he, happy in having impressed me. He took my arm as though +we had been intimate for a thousand years, and led me fearlessly past +the swelling menials within the gate to the club smoking-room, and put +me into a grandfather's chair of pale heliotrope plush in front of an +onyx table, and put himself into another grandfather's chair of +heliotrope plush. And in the cushioned quietude of the smoking-room, +where light-shod acolytes served gin-and-angostura as if serving +gin-and-angostura had been a religious rite, Sullivan went through an +extraordinary process of unchaining himself. His form seemed to be +crossed and re-crossed with chains--gold chains. At the end of one gold +chain was a gold cigarette-case, from which he produced gold-tipped +cigarettes. At the end of another was a gold matchbox. At the end of +another, which he may or may not have drawn out by mistake, were all +sorts of things--knives, keys, mirrors, and pencils. A singular +ceremony! But I was now in the world of gold. + +And then smoke ascended from the gold-tipped cigarettes as incense from +censers, and Sullivan lifted his tinted glass of gin-and-angostura, and +I, perceiving that such actions were expected of one in a theatrical +club, responsively lifted mine, and the glasses collided, and Sullivan +said: + +"Here's to the end of the great family quarrel." + +"I'm with you," said I. + +And we sipped. + +My father had quarrelled with his mother in an epoch when even musical +comedies were unknown, and the quarrel had spread, as family quarrels +do, like a fire or the measles. The punching of my head by Sullivan in +the extinct past had been one of its earliest consequences. + +"May the earth lie lightly on them!" said Sullivan. + +He was referring to the originators of the altercation. The tone in +which he uttered this wish pleased me--it was so gentle. It hinted +that there was more in Sullivan than met the eye, though a great deal +met the eye. I liked him. He awed me, and he also seemed to me +somewhat ridiculous in his excessive pomp. But I liked him. + +The next instant we were talking about Sullivan Smith. How he +contrived to switch the conversation suddenly into that channel I +cannot imagine. Some people have a gift of conjuring with +conversations. They are almost always frankly and openly interested in +themselves, as Sullivan was interested in himself. You may seek to +foil them; you may even violently wrench the conversation into other +directions. But every effort will be useless. They will beat you. You +had much better lean back in your chair and enjoy their legerdemain. + +In about two minutes Sullivan was in the very midst of his career. + +"I never went in for high art, you know. All rot! I found I could +write melodies that people liked and remembered." (He was so used to +reading interviews with himself in popular weeklies that he had caught +the formalistic phraseology, and he was ready apparently to mistake +even his cousin for an interviewer. But I liked him.) "And I could get +rather classy effects out of an orchestra. And so I kept on. I didn't +try to be Wagner. I just stuck to Sullivan Smith. And, my boy, let me +tell you it's only five years since 'The Japanese Cat' was produced, +and I'm only twenty-seven, my boy! And now, who is there that doesn't +know me?" He put his elbows on the onyx. "Privately, between cousins, +you know, I made seven thousand quid last year, and spent half that. I +live on half my income; always have done; always shall. Good +principle! I'm a man of business, I am, Carl Foster. Give the public +what they want, and save half your income--that's the ticket. Look at +me. I've got to act the duke; it pays, so I do it. I am a duke. I get +twopence apiece royalty on my photographs. That's what you'll never +reach up to, not if you're the biggest doctor in the world." He +laughed. "By the way, how's Jem getting along? Still practising at +Totnes?" + +"Yes," I said. + +"Doing well?" + +"Oh! So--so! You see, we haven't got seven thousand a year, but we've +got five hundred each, and Jem's more interested in hunting than in +doctoring. He wants me to go into partnership with him. But I don't +see myself." + +"Ambitious, eh, like I was? Got your degree in Edinburgh?" + +I nodded, but modestly disclaimed being ambitious like he was. + +"And your sister Lilian?" + +"She's keeping house for Jem." + +"Pretty girl, isn't she?" + +"Yes," I said doubtfully. "Sings well, too." + +"So you cultivate music down there?" + +"Rather!" I said. "That is, Lilian does, and I do when I'm with her. +We're pretty mad on it. I was dead set on hearing Rosetta Rosa in +'Lohengrin' to-night, but there isn't a seat to be had. I suppose I +shall push myself into the gallery." + +"No, you won't," Sullivan put in sharply. "I've got a box. There'll be +a chair for you. You'll see my wife. I should never have dreamt of +going. Wagner bores me, though I must say I've got a few tips from +him. But when we heard what a rush there was for seats Emmeline +thought we ought to go, and I never cross her if I can help it. I made +Smart give us a box." + +"I shall be delighted to come," I said. "There's only one Smart, I +suppose? You mean Sir Cyril?" + +"The same, my boy. Lessee of the Opera, lessee of the Diana, lessee of +the Folly, lessee of the Ottoman. If any one knows the color of his +cheques I reckon it's me. He made me--that I will say; but I made him, +too. Queer fellow! Awfully cute of him to get elected to the County +Council. It was through him I met my wife. Did you ever see Emmeline +when she was Sissie Vox?" + +"I'm afraid I didn't." + +"You missed a treat, old man. There was no one to touch her in boys' +parts in burlesque. A dashed fine woman she is--though I say it, +dashed fine!" He seemed to reflect a moment. "She's a spiritualist. I +wish she wasn't. Spiritualism gets on her nerves. I've no use for it +myself, but it's her life. It gives her fancies. She got some sort of +a silly notion--don't tell her I said this, Carlie--about Rosetta +Rosa. Says she's unlucky--Rosa, I mean. Wanted me to warn Smart +against engaging her. Me! Imagine it! Why, Rosa will be the making of +this opera season! She's getting a terrific salary, Smart told me." + +"It's awfully decent of you to offer me a seat," I began to thank him. + +"Stuff!" he said. "Cost me nothing." A clock struck softly. +"Christopher! it's half-past twelve, and I'm due at the Diana at +twelve. We're rehearsing, you know." + +We went out of the club arm in arm, Sullivan toying with his +eye-glass. + +"Well, you'll toddle round to-night, eh? Just ask for my box. You'll +find they'll look after you. So long!" + +He walked off. + +"I say," he cried, returning hastily on his steps, and lowering his +voice, "when you meet my wife, don't say anything about her +theatrical career. She don't like it. She's a great lady now. See?" + +"Why, of course!" I agreed. + +He slapped me on the back and departed. + +It is easy to laugh at Sullivan. I could see that even then--perhaps +more clearly then than now. But I insist that he was lovable. He had +little directly to do with my immense adventure, but without him it +could not have happened. And so I place him in the forefront of the +narrative. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AT THE OPERA + + +It was with a certain nervousness that I mentioned Sullivan's name to +the gentleman at the receipt of tickets--a sort of transcendantly fine +version of Keith Prowse's clerk--but Sullivan had not exaggerated his +own importance. They did look after me. They looked after me with such +respectful diligence that I might have been excused for supposing that +they had mistaken me for the Shah of Persia in disguise. I was +introduced into Sullivan's box with every circumstance of pomp. The +box was empty. Naturally I had arrived there first. I sat down, and +watched the enormous house fill, but not until I had glanced into the +mirror that hung on the crimson partition of the box to make sure that +my appearance did no discredit to Sullivan and the great lady, his +wife. + +At eight o'clock, when the conductor appeared at his desk to an +accompaniment of applauding taps from the musicians, the house was +nearly full. The four tiers sent forth a sparkle of diamonds, of silk, +and of white arms and shoulders which rivalled the glitter of the vast +crystal chandelier. The wide floor of serried stalls (those stalls of +which one pair at least had gone for six pound ten) added their more +sombre brilliance to the show, while far above, stretching away +indefinitely to the very furthest roof, was the gallery (where but for +Sullivan I should have been), a mass of black spotted with white +faces. + +Excitement was in the air: the expectation of seeing once again +Rosetta Rosa, the girl with the golden throat, the mere girl who, two +years ago, had in one brief month captured London, and who now, after +a period of petulance, had decided to recapture London. On ordinary +nights, for the inhabitants of boxes, the Opera is a social +observance, an exhibition of jewels, something between an F.O. +reception and a conversazione with music in the distance. But to-night +the habitués confessed a genuine interest in the stage itself, +abandoning their rôle of players. Dozens of times since then have I +been to the Opera, and never have I witnessed the candid enthusiasm +of that night. If London can be naïve, it was naïve then. + +The conductor raised his baton. The orchestra ceased its tuning. The +lights were lowered. Silence and stillness enwrapped the auditorium. +And the quivering violins sighed out the first chords of the +"Lohengrin" overture. For me, then, there existed nothing save the +voluptuous music, to which I abandoned myself as to the fascination of +a dream. But not for long. Just as the curtain rose, the door behind +me gave a click, and Sullivan entered in all his magnificence. I +jumped up. On his arm in the semi-darkness I discerned a tall, +olive-pale woman, with large handsome features of Jewish cast, and +large, liquid black eyes. She wore a dead-white gown, and over this a +gorgeous cloak of purple and mauve. + +"Emmeline, this is Carl," Sullivan whispered. + +She smiled faintly, giving me her finger-tips, and then she suddenly +took a step forward as if the better to examine my face. Her strange +eyes met mine. She gave a little indefinable unnecessary "Ah!" and +sank down into a chair, loosing my hand swiftly. I was going to say +that she loosed my hand as if it had been the tail of a snake that she +had picked up in mistake for something else. But that would leave the +impression that her gesture was melodramatic, which it was not. Only +there was in her demeanor a touch of the bizarre, ever so slight; yes, +so slight that I could not be sure that I had not imagined it. + +"The wife's a bit overwrought," Sullivan murmured in my ear. "Nerves, +you know. Women are like that. Wait till you're married. Take no +notice. She'll be all right soon." + +I nodded and sat down. In a moment the music had resumed its sway over +me. + +I shall never forget my first sight of Rosetta Rosa as, robed with the +modesty which the character of Elsa demands, she appeared on the stage +to answer the accusation of Ortrud. For some moments she hesitated in +the background, and then timidly, yet with what grandeur of mien, +advanced towards the king. I knew then, as I know now, that hers was a +loveliness of that imperious, absolute, dazzling kind which banishes +from the hearts of men all moral conceptions, all considerations of +right and wrong, and leaves therein nothing but worship and desire. +Her acting, as she replied by gesture to the question of the king, +was perfect in its realization of the simplicity of Elsa. Nevertheless +I, at any rate, as I searched her features through the lorgnon that +Mrs. Sullivan had silently handed to me, could descry beneath the +actress the girl--the spoilt and splendid child of Good Fortune, who +in the very spring of youth had tasted the joy of sovereign power, +that unique and terrible dominion over mankind which belongs to beauty +alone. + +Such a face as hers once seen is engraved eternally on the memory of +its generation. And yet when, in a mood of lyrical and rapt ecstasy, +she began her opening song, "In Lichter Waffen Scheine," her face was +upon the instant forgotten. She became a Voice--pure, miraculous, +all-compelling; and the listeners seemed to hold breath while the +matchless melody wove round them its persuasive spell. + + * * * * * + +The first act was over, and Rosetta Rosa stood at the footlights +bowing before the rolling and thunderous storms of applause, her hand +in the hand of Alresca, the Lohengrin. That I have not till this +moment mentioned Alresca, and that I mention him now merely as the +man who happened to hold Rosa's hand, shows with what absolute +sovereignty Rosa had dominated the scene. For as Rosa was among +sopranos, so was Alresca among tenors--the undisputed star. Without +other aid Alresca could fill the opera-house; did he not receive two +hundred and fifty pounds a night? To put him in the same cast as Rosa +was one of Cyril Smart's lavish freaks of expense. + +As these two stood together Rosetta Rosa smiled at him; he gave her a +timid glance and looked away. + +When the clapping had ceased and the curtain hid the passions of the +stage, I turned with a sigh of exhaustion and of pleasure to my +hostess, and I was rather surprised to find that she showed not a +trace of the nervous excitement which had marked her entrance into the +box. She sat there, an excellent imitation of a woman of fashion, +languid, unmoved, apparently a little bored, but finely conscious of +doing the right thing. + +"It's a treat to see any one enjoy anything as you enjoy this music," +she said to me. She spoke well, perhaps rather too carefully, and with +a hint of the cockney accent. + +"It runs in the family, you know, Mrs. Smith," I replied, blushing for +the ingenuousness which had pleased her. + +"Don't call me Mrs. Smith; call me Emmeline, as we are cousins. I +shouldn't at all like it if I mightn't call you Carl. Carl is such a +handsome name, and it suits you. Now, doesn't it, Sully?" + +"Yes, darling," Sullivan answered nonchalantly. He was at the back of +the box, and clearly it was his benevolent desire to give me fair +opportunity of a tête-à-tête with his dark and languorous lady. +Unfortunately, I was quite unpractised in the art of maintaining a +tête-à-tête with dark and languorous ladies. Presently he rose. + +"I must look up Smart," he said, and left us. + +"Sullivan has been telling me about you. What a strange meeting! And +so you are a doctor! You don't know how young you look. Why, I am old +enough to be your mother!" + +"Oh, no, you aren't," I said. At any rate, I knew enough to say that. + +And she smiled. + +"Personally," she went on, "I hate music--loathe it. But it's +Sullivan's trade, and, of course, one must come here." + +She waved a jewelled arm towards the splendid animation of the +auditorium. + +"But surely, Emmeline," I cried protestingly, "you didn't 'loathe' +that first act. I never heard anything like it. Rosa was simply--well, +I can't describe it." + +She gazed at me, and a cloud of melancholy seemed to come into her +eyes. And after a pause she said, in the strangest tone, very quietly: + +"You're in love with her already." + +And her eyes continued to hold mine. + +"Who could help it?" I laughed. + +She leaned towards me, and her left hand hung over the edge of the +box. + +"Women like Rosetta Rosa ought to be killed!" she said, with +astonishing ferocity. Her rich, heavy contralto vibrated through me. +She was excited again, that was evident. The nervous mood had +overtaken her. The long pendent lobes of her ears crimsoned, and her +opulent bosom heaved. I was startled. I was rather more than +startled--I was frightened. I said to myself, "What a peculiar +creature!" + +"Why?" I questioned faintly. + +"Because they are too young, too lovely, too dangerous," she responded +with fierce emphasis. "And as for Rosa in particular--as for Rosa in +particular--if you knew what I knew, what I've seen----" + +"What have you seen?" I was bewildered. I began to wish that Sullivan +had not abandoned me to her. + +"Perhaps I'm wrong," she laughed. + +She laughed, and sat up straight again, and resumed her excellent +imitation of the woman of fashion, while I tried to behave as though I +had found nothing singular in her behavior. + +"You know about our reception?" she asked vivaciously in another +moment, playing with her fan. + +"I'm afraid I don't." + +"Where have you been, Carl?" + +"I've been in Edinburgh," I said, "for my final." + +"Oh!" she said. "Well, it's been paragraphed in all the papers. +Sullivan is giving a reception in the Gold Rooms of the Grand Babylon +Hotel. Of course, it will be largely theatrical,--Sullivan has to mix +a good deal with that class, you know; it's his business,--but there +will be a lot of good people there. You'll come, won't you? It's to +celebrate the five hundredth performance of 'My Queen.' Rosetta Rosa +is coming." + +"I shall be charmed. But I should have thought you wouldn't ask Rosa +after what you've just said." + +"Not ask Rosa! My dear Carl, she simply won't go anywhere. I know for +a fact she declined Lady Casterby's invitation to meet a Serene +Highness. Sir Cyril got her for me. She'll be the star of the show." + +The theatre darkened once more. There were the usual preliminaries, +and the orchestra burst into the prelude of the second act. + +"Have you ever done any crystal-gazing?" Emmeline whispered. + +And some one on the floor of the house hissed for silence. + +I shook my head. + +"You must try." Her voice indicated that she was becoming excited +again. "At my reception there will be a spiritualism room. I'm a +believer, you know." + +I nodded politely, leaning over the front of the box to watch the +conductor. + +Then she set herself to endure the music. + +Immediately the second act was over, Sullivan returned, bringing with +him a short, slight, bald-headed man of about fifty. The two were +just finishing a conversation on some stage matter. + +"Smart, let me introduce to you my cousin, Carl Foster. Carl, this is +Sir Cyril Smart." + +My first feeling was one of surprise that a man so celebrated should +be so insignificant to the sight. Yet as he looked at me I could +somehow feel that here was an intelligence somewhat out of the common. +At first he said little, and that little was said chiefly to my +cousin's wife, but there was a quietude and firmness in his speech +which had their own effect. + +Sir Cyril had small eyes, and small features generally, including +rather a narrow forehead. His nostrils, however, were well curved, and +his thin, straight lips and square chin showed the stiffest +determination. He looked fatigued, weary, and harassed; yet it did not +appear that he complained of his lot; rather accepted it with sardonic +humor. The cares of an opera season and of three other simultaneous +managements weighed on him ponderously, but he supported the burden +with stoicism. + +"What is the matter with Alresca to-night?" Sullivan asked. "Suffering +the pangs of jealousy, I suppose." + +"Alresca," Sir Cyril replied, "is the greatest tenor living, and +to-night he sings like a variety comedian. But it is not jealousy. +There is one thing about Alresca that makes me sometimes think he is +not an artist at all--he is incapable of being jealous. I have known +hundreds of singers, and he is the one solitary bird among them of +that plumage. No, it is not jealousy." + +"Then what is it?" + +"I wish I knew. He asked me to go and dine with him this afternoon. +You know he dines at four o'clock. Of course, I went. What do you +think he wanted me to do? He actually suggested that I should change +the bill to-night! That showed me that something really was the +matter, because he's the most modest and courteous man I have ever +known, and he has a horror of disappointing the public. I asked him if +he was hoarse. No. I asked him if he felt ill. No. But he was +extremely depressed. + +"'I'm quite well,' he said, 'and yet--' Then he stopped. 'And yet +what?' It seemed as if I couldn't drag it out of him. Then all of a +sudden he told me. 'My dear Smart,' he said, 'there is a misfortune +coming to me. I feel it.' That's just what he said--'There's a +misfortune coming to me. I feel it.' He's superstitious. They all are. +Naturally, I set to work to soothe him. I did what I could. I talked +about his liver in the usual way. But it had less than the usual +effect. However, I persuaded him not to force me to change the bill." + +Mrs. Sullivan struck into the conversation. + +"He isn't in love with Rosa, is he?" she demanded brusquely. + +"In love with Rosa? Of course he isn't, my pet!" said Sullivan. + +The wife glared at her husband as if angry, and Sullivan made a comic +gesture of despair with his hands. + +"Is he?" Mrs. Sullivan persisted, waiting for Smart's reply. + +"I never thought of that," said Sir Cyril simply. "No; I should say +not, decidedly not.... He may be, after all. I don't know. But if +he were, that oughtn't to depress him. Even Rosa ought to be flattered +by the admiration of a man like Alresca. Besides, so far as I know, +they've seen very little of each other. They're too expensive to sing +together often. There's only myself and Conried of New York who would +dream of putting them in the same bill. I should say they hadn't sung +together more than two or three times since the death of Lord +Clarenceux; so, even if he has been making love to her, she's scarcely +had time to refuse him--eh?" + +"If he has been making love to Rosa," said Mrs. Sullivan slowly, +"whether she has refused him or not, it's a misfortune for him, that's +all." + +"Oh, you women! you women!" Sullivan smiled. "How fond you are of each +other." + +Mrs. Sullivan disdained to reply to her spouse. + +"And, let me tell you," she added, "he has been making love to her." + +The talk momentarily ceased, and in order to demonstrate that I was +not tongue-tied in the company of these celebrities, I ventured to +inquire what Lord Clarenceux, whose riches and eccentricities had +reached even the Scottish newspapers, had to do with the matter. + +"Lord Clarenceux was secretly engaged to Rosa in Vienna," Sir Cyril +replied. "That was about two and a half years ago. He died shortly +afterwards. It was a terrible shock for her. Indeed, I have always +thought that the shock had something to do with her notorious quarrel +with us. She isn't naturally quarrelsome, so far as I can judge, +though really I have seen very little of her." + +"By the way, what was the real history of that quarrel?" said +Sullivan. "I only know the beginning of it, and I expect Carl doesn't +know even that, do you, Carl?" + +"No," I murmured modestly. "But perhaps it's a State secret." + +"Not in the least," Sir Cyril said, turning to me. "I first heard Rosa +in Genoa--the opera-house there is more of a barn even than this, and +a worse stage than this used to be, if that's possible. She was +nineteen. Of course, I knew instantly that I had met with the chance +of my life. In my time I have discovered eleven stars, but this was a +sun. I engaged her at once, and she appeared here in the following +July. She sang twelve times, and--well, you know the sensation there +was. I had offered her twenty pounds a night in Genoa, and she seemed +mighty enchanted. + +"After her season here I offered her two hundred pounds a night for +the following year; but Lord Clarenceux had met her then, and she +merely said she would think it over. She wouldn't sign a contract. I +was annoyed. My motto is, 'Never be annoyed,' but I was. Next to +herself, she owed everything to me. She went to Vienna to fulfil an +engagement, and Lord Clarenceux after her. I followed. I saw her, and +I laid myself out to arrange terms of peace. + +"I have had difficulties with prime donne before, scores of times. +Yes; I have had experience." He laughed sardonically. "I thought I +knew what to do. Generally a prima donna has either a pet dog or a pet +parrot--sopranos go in for dogs, contraltos seem to prefer parrots. I +have made a study of these agreeable animals, and I have found that +through them their mistresses can be approached when all other avenues +are closed. I can talk doggily to poodles in five languages, and in +the art of administering sugar to the bird I am, I venture to think, +unrivalled. But Rosa had no pets. And after a week's negotiation, I +was compelled to own myself beaten. It was a disadvantage to me that +she wouldn't lose her temper. She was too polite; she really was +grateful for what I had done for her. She gave me no chance to work on +her feelings. But beyond all this there was something strange about +Rosa, something I have never been able to fathom. She isn't a child +like most of 'em. She's as strong-headed as I am myself, every bit!" + +He paused, as if inwardly working at the problem. + +"Well, and how did you make it up?" Sullivan asked briskly. + +(As for me, I felt as if I had come suddenly into the centre of the +great world.) + +"Oh, nothing happened for a time. She sang in Paris and America, and +took her proper place as the first soprano in the world. I did without +her, and managed very well. Then early this spring she sent her agent +to see me, and offered to sing ten times for three thousand pounds. +They can't keep away from London, you know. New York and Chicago are +all very well for money, but if they don't sing in London people ask +'em why. I wanted to jump at the offer, but I pretended not to be +eager. Up till then she had confined herself to French operas; so I +said that London wouldn't stand an exclusively French repertoire from +any one, and would she sing in 'Lohengrin.' She would. I suggested +that she should open with 'Lohengrin,' and she agreed. The price was +stiffish, but I didn't quarrel with that. I never drive bargains. She +is twenty-two now, or twenty-three; in a few more years she will want +five hundred pounds a night, and I shall have to pay it." + +"And how did she meet you?" + +"With just the same cold politeness. And I understand her less than +ever." + +"She isn't English, I suppose?" I put in. + +"English!" Sir Cyril ejaculated. "No one ever heard of a great English +soprano. Unless you count Australia as England, and Australia wouldn't +like that. No. That is another of her mysteries. No one knows where +she emerged from. She speaks English and French with absolute +perfection. Her Italian accent is beautiful. She talks German freely, +but badly. I have heard that she speaks perfect Flemish,--which is +curious,--but I do not know." + +"Well," said Sullivan, nodding his head, "give me the theatrical as +opposed to the operatic star. The theatrical star's bad enough, and +mysterious enough, and awkward enough. But, thank goodness, she isn't +polite--at least, those at the Diana aren't. You can speak your mind +to 'em. And that reminds me, Smart, about that costume of Effie's in +the first act of 'My Queen.' Of course you'll insist--" + +"Don't talk your horrid shop now, Sullivan," his wife said; and +Sullivan didn't. + +The prelude to the third act was played, and the curtain went up on +the bridal chamber of Elsa and Lohengrin. Sir Cyril Smart rose as if +to go, but lingered, eying the stage as a general might eye a +battle-field from a neighboring hill. The music of the two processions +was heard approaching from the distance. Then, to the too familiar +strains of the wedding march, the ladies began to enter on the right, +and the gentlemen on the left. Elsa appeared amid her ladies, but +there was no Lohengrin in the other crowd. The double chorus +proceeded, and then a certain excitement was visible on the stage, and +the conductor made signs with his left hand. + +"Smart, what's wrong? Where's Alresca?" It was Sullivan who spoke. + +"He'll sail in all right," Sir Cyril said calmly. "Don't worry." + +The renowned impresario had advanced nearer to the front of our box, +and was standing immediately behind my chair. My heart was beating +violently with apprehension under my shirt-front. Where was Alresca? +It was surely impossible that he should fail to appear! But he ought +to have been on the stage, and he was not on the stage. I stole a +glance at Sir Cyril's face. It was Napoleonic in its impassivity. + +And I said to myself: + +"He is used to this kind of thing. Naturally slips must happen +sometimes." + +Still, I could not control my excitement. + +Emmeline's hand was convulsively clutching at the velvet-covered +balustrade of the box. + +"It'll be all right," I repeated to myself. + +But when the moment came for the king to bless the bridal pair, and +there was no Lohengrin to bless, even the impassive Sir Cyril seemed +likely to be disturbed, and you could hear murmurs of apprehension +from all parts of the house. The conductor, however, went doggedly on, +evidently hoping for the best. + +At last the end of the procession was leaving the stage, and Elsa was +sitting on the bed alone. Still no Lohengrin. The violins arrived at +the muted chord of B flat, which is Lohengrin's cue. They hung on it +for a second, and then the conductor dropped his baton. A bell rang. +The curtain descended. The lights were turned up, and there was a +swift loosing of tongues in the house. People were pointing to Sir +Cyril in our box. As for him, he seemed to be the only unmoved person +in the audience. + +"That's never occurred before in my time," he said. "Alresca was not +mistaken. Something has happened. I must go." + +But he did not go. And I perceived that, though the calm of his +demeanor was unimpaired, this unprecedented calamity had completely +robbed him of his power of initiative. He could not move. He was +nonplussed. + +The door of the box opened, and an official with a blazing diamond in +his shirt-front entered hurriedly. + +"What is it, Nolan?" + +"There's been an accident to Monsieur Alresca, Sir Cyril, and they +want a doctor." + +It was the chance of a lifetime! I ought to have sprung up and proudly +announced, "I'm a doctor." But did I? No! I was so timid, I was so +unaccustomed to being a doctor, that I dared not for the life of me +utter a word. It was as if I was almost ashamed of being a doctor. I +wonder if my state of mind will be understood. + +"Carl's a doctor," said Sullivan. + +How I blushed! + +"Are you?" said Sir Cyril, suddenly emerging from his condition of +suspended activity. "I never guessed it. Come along with us, will +you?" + +"With pleasure," I answered as briskly as I could. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CRY OF ALRESCA + + +As I left the box in the wake of Sir Cyril and Mr. Nolan, Sullivan +jumped up to follow us, and the last words I heard were from Emmeline. + +"Sullivan, stay here. You shall not go near that woman," she exclaimed +in feverish and appealing tones: excitement had once more overtaken +her. And Sullivan stayed. + +"Berger here?" Sir Cyril asked hurriedly of Nolan. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Send some one for him. I'll get him to take Alresca's part. He'll +have to sing it in French, but that won't matter. We'll make a new +start at the duet." + +"But Rosa?" said Nolan. + +"Rosa! She's not hurt, is she?" + +"No, sir. But she's upset." + +"What the devil is she upset about?" + +"The accident. She's practically useless. We shall never persuade her +to sing again to-night." + +"Oh, damn!" Sir Cyril exclaimed. And then quite quietly: "Well, run +and tell 'em, then. Shove yourself in front of the curtain, my lad, +and make a speech. Say it's nothing serious, but just sufficient to +stop the performance. Apologize, grovel, flatter 'em, appeal to their +generosity--you know." + +"Yes, Sir Cyril." + +And Nolan disappeared on his mission of appeasing the audience. + +We had traversed the flagged corridor. Sir Cyril opened a narrow door +at the end. + +"Follow me," he called out. "This passage is quite dark, but quite +straight." + +It was not a passage; it was a tunnel. I followed the sound of his +footsteps, my hands outstretched to feel a wall on either side. It +seemed a long way, but suddenly we stepped into twilight. There was a +flight of steps which we descended, and at the foot of the steps a +mutilated commissionaire, ornamented with medals, on guard. + +"Where is Monsieur Alresca?" Sir Cyril demanded. + +"Behind the back-cloth, where he fell, sir," answered the +commissionaire, saluting. + +I hurried after Sir Cyril, and found myself amid a most extraordinary +scene of noise and confusion on the immense stage. The entire +personnel of the house seemed to be present: a crowd apparently +consisting of thousands of people, and which really did comprise some +hundreds. Never before had I had such a clear conception of the +elaborate human machinery necessary to the production of even a +comparatively simple lyric work like "Lohengrin." Richly clad pages +and maids of honor, all white and gold and rouge, mingled with +shirt-sleeved carpenters and scene-shifters in a hysterical rabble; +chorus-masters, footmen in livery, loungers in evening dress, girls in +picture hats, members of the orchestra with instruments under their +arms, and even children, added variety to the throng. And, round +about, gigantic "flats" of wood and painted canvas rose to the flies, +where their summits were lost in a maze of ropes and pulleys. Beams of +light, making visible great clouds of dust, shot forth from hidden +sources. Voices came down from the roof, and from far below ascended +the steady pulsation of a dynamo. I was bewildered. + +Sir Cyril pushed ahead, without saying a word, without even +remonstrating when his minions omitted to make way for him. Right at +the back of the stage, and almost in the centre, the crowd was much +thicker. And at last, having penetrated it, we came upon a sight which +I am not likely to forget. Rosa, in all the splendor of the bridal +costume, had passed her arms under Alresca's armpits, and so raised +his head and shoulders against her breast. She was gazing into the +face of the spangled knight, and the tears were falling from her eyes +into his. + +"My poor Alresca! My poor Alresca!" she kept murmuring. + +Pressing on these two were a distinguished group consisting of the +King, the Herald, Ortrud, Telramund, and several more. And Ortrud was +cautiously feeling Alresca's limbs with her jewel-laden fingers. I saw +instantly that Alresca was unconscious. + +"Please put him down, mademoiselle." + +These were the first words that I ever spoke to Rosetta Rosa, and, out +of sheer acute nervousness, I uttered them roughly, in a tone of +surly command. I was astonished at myself. I was astonished at my own +voice. She glanced up at me and hesitated. No doubt she was +unaccustomed to such curt orders. + +"Please put him down at once," I repeated, trying to assume a bland, +calm, professional, authoritative manner, and not in the least +succeeding. "It is highly dangerous to lift an unconscious person from +a recumbent position." + +Why I should have talked like an article in a medical dictionary +instead of like a human being I cannot imagine. + +"This is a doctor--Mr. Carl Foster," Sir Cyril explained smoothly, and +she laid Alresca's head gently on the bare planks of the floor. + +"Will everyone kindly stand aside, and I will examine him." + +No one moved. The King continued his kingly examination of the prone +form. Not a fold of Ortrud's magnificent black robe was disturbed. +Then Sir Cyril translated my request into French and into German, and +these legendary figures of the Middle Ages withdrew a little, fixing +themselves with difficulty into the common multitude that pressed on +them from without. I made them retreat still further. Rosetta Rosa +moved gravely to one side. + +Almost immediately Alresca opened his eyes, and murmured faintly, "My +thigh." + +I knelt down, but not before Rosa had sprung forward at the sound of +his voice, and kneeling close by my side had clasped his hand. I tried +to order her away, but my tongue could not form the words. I could +only look at her mutely, and there must have been an effective appeal +in my eyes, for she got up, nodding an acquiescence, and stood silent +and tense a yard from Alresca's feet. With a violent effort I nerved +myself to perform my work. The voice of Nolan, speaking to the +audience, and then a few sympathetic cheers, came vaguely from the +other side of the big curtain, and then the orchestra began to play +the National Anthem. + +The left thigh was broken near the knee-joint. So much I ascertained +at once. As I manipulated the limb to catch the sound of the crepitus +the injured man screamed, and he was continually in very severe pain. +He did not, however, again lose consciousness. + +"I must have a stretcher, and he must be carried to a room. I can't +do anything here," I said to Sir Cyril. "And you had better send for a +first-rate surgeon. Sir Francis Shorter would do very well--102 +Manchester Square, I think the address is. Tell him it's a broken +thigh. It will be a serious case." + +"Let me send for my doctor--Professor Eugene Churt," Rosa said. "No +one could be more skilful." + +"Pardon me," I protested, "Professor Churt is a physician of great +authority, but he is not a surgeon, and here he would be useless." + +She bowed--humbly, as I thought. + +With such materials as came to hand I bound Alresca's legs together, +making as usual the sound leg fulfil the function of a splint to the +other one, and he was placed on a stretcher. It was my first case, and +it is impossible for me to describe my shyness and awkwardness as the +men who were to carry the stretcher to the dressing-room looked +silently to me for instructions. + +"Now," I said, "take short steps, keep your knees bent, but don't on +any account keep step. As gently as you can--all together--lift." + +Rosa followed the little procession as it slowly passed through the +chaotic anarchy of the stage. Alresca was groaning, his eyes closed. +Suddenly he opened them, and it seemed as though he caught sight of +her for the first time. He lifted his head, and the sweat stood in +drops on his brow. + +"Send her away!" he cried sharply, in an agony which was as much +mental as physical. "She is fatal to me." + +The bearers stopped in alarm at this startling outburst; but I ordered +them forward, and turned to Rosa. She had covered her face with her +hands, and was sobbing. + +"Please go away," I said. "It is very important he should not be +agitated." + +Without quite intending to do so, I touched her on the shoulder. + +"Alresca doesn't mean that!" she stammered. + +Her blue eyes were fixed on me, luminous through her tears, and I +feasted on all the lovely curves of that incomparable oval which was +her face. + +"I am sure he doesn't," I answered. "But you had better go, hadn't +you?" + +"Yes," she said, "I will go." + +"Forgive my urgency," I murmured. Then she drew back and vanished in +the throng. + +In the calm of the untidy dressing-room, with the aid of Alresca's +valet, I made my patient as comfortable as possible on a couch. And +then I had one of the many surprises of my life. The door opened, and +old Toddy entered. No inhabitant of the city of Edinburgh would need +explanations on the subject of Toddy MacWhister. The first surgeon of +Scotland, his figure is familiar from one end of the town to the +other--and even as far as Leith and Portobello. I trembled. And my +reason for trembling was that the celebrated bald expert had quite +recently examined me for my Final in surgery. On that dread occasion I +had made one bad blunder, so ridiculous that Toddy's mood had passed +suddenly from grim ferociousness to wild northern hilarity. I think I +am among the few persons in the world who have seen and heard Toddy +MacWhister laugh. + +I hoped that he would not remember me, but, like many great men, he +had a disconcertingly good memory for faces. + +"Ah!" he said, "I've seen ye before." + +"You have, sir." + +"You are the callant who told me that the medulla oblongata--" + +"Please--" I entreated. + +Perhaps he would not have let me off had not Sir Cyril stood +immediately behind him. The impresario explained that Toddy MacWhister +(the impresario did not so describe him) had been in the audience, and +had offered his services. + +"What is it?" asked Toddy, approaching Alresca. + +"Fracture of the femur." + +"Simple, of course." + +"Yes, sir, but so far as I can judge, of a somewhat peculiar nature. +I've sent round to King's College Hospital for splints and bandages." + +Toddy took off his coat. + +"We sha'n't need ye, Sir Cyril," said he casually. + +And Sir Cyril departed. + +In an hour the limb was set--a masterly display of skill--and, except +to give orders, Toddy had scarcely spoken another word. As he was +washing his hands in a corner of the dressing-room he beckoned to me. + +"How was it caused?" he whispered. + +"No one seems to know, sir." + +"Doesn't matter much, anyway! Let him lie a wee bit, and then get him +home. Ye'll have no trouble with him, but there'll be no more warbling +and cutting capers for him this yet awhile." + +And Toddy, too, went. He had showed not the least curiosity as to +Alresca's personality, and I very much doubt whether he had taken the +trouble to differentiate between the finest tenor in Europe and a +chorus-singer. For Toddy, Alresca was simply an individual who sang +and cut capers. + +I made the necessary dispositions for the transport of Alresca in an +hour's time to his flat in the Devonshire Mansion, and then I sat down +near him. He was white and weak, but perfectly conscious. He had +proved himself to be an admirable patient. Even in the very crisis of +the setting his personal distinction and his remarkable and finished +politeness had suffered no eclipse. And now he lay there, with his +silky mustache disarranged and his hair damp, exactly as I had once +seen him on the couch in the garden by the sea in the third act of +"Tristan," the picture of nobility. He could not move, for the +sufficient reason that a strong splint ran from his armpit to his +ankle, but his arms were free, and he raised his left hand, and +beckoned me with an irresistible gesture to come quite close to him. + +I smiled encouragingly and obeyed. + +"My kind friend," he murmured, "I know not your name." + +His English was not the English of an Englishman, but it was beautiful +in its exotic quaintness. + +"My name is Carl Foster," I said. "It will be better for you not to +talk." + +He made another gesture of protest with that wonderful left hand of +his. + +"Monsieur Foster, I must talk to Mademoiselle Rosa." + +"Impossible," I replied. "It really is essential that you should keep +quiet." + +"Kind friend, grant me this wish. When I have seen her I shall be +better. It will do me much good." + +There was such a desire in his eyes, such a persuasive plaintiveness +in his voice, that, against my judgment, I yielded. + +"Very well," I said. "But I am afraid I can only let you see her for +five minutes." + +The hand waved compliance, and I told the valet to go and inquire for +Rosa. + +"She is here, sir," said the valet on opening the door. I jumped up. +There she was, standing on the door-mat in the narrow passage! Yet I +had been out of the room twice, once to speak to Sir Cyril Smart, and +once to answer an inquiry from my cousin Sullivan, and I had not seen +her. + +She was still in the bridal costume of Elsa, and she seemed to be +waiting for permission to enter. I went outside to her, closing the +door. + +"Sir Cyril would not let me come," she said. "But I have escaped him. +I was just wondering if I dared peep in. How is he?" + +"He is getting on splendidly," I answered. "And he wants to have a +little chat with you." + +"And may he?" + +"If you will promise to be very, very ordinary, and not to excite +him." + +"I promise," she said with earnestness. + +"Remember," I added, "quite a little, tiny chat!" + +She nodded and went in, I following. Upon catching sight of her, +Alresca's face broke into an exquisite, sad smile. Then he gave his +valet a glance, and the valet crept from the room. I, as in +professional duty bound, remained. The most I could do was to retire +as far from the couch, and pretend to busy myself with the rolling up +of spare bandages. + +"My poor Rosa," I heard Alresca begin. + +The girl had dropped to her knees by his side, and taken his hand. + +"How did it happen, Alresca? Tell me." + +"I cannot tell you! I saw--saw something, and I fell, and caught my +leg against some timber, and I don't remember any more." + +"Saw something? What did you see?" + +There was a silence. + +"Were you frightened?" Rosa continued softly. + +Then another silence. + +"Yes," said Alresca at length, "I was frightened." + +"What was it?" + +"I say I cannot tell you. I do not know." + +"You are keeping something from me, Alresca," she exclaimed +passionately. + +I was on the point of interfering in order to bring the colloquy to an +end, but I hesitated. They appeared to have forgotten that I was +there. + +"How so?" said Alresca in a curious whisper. "I have nothing to keep +from you, my dear child." + +"Yes," she said, "you are keeping something from me. This afternoon +you told Sir Cyril that you were expecting a misfortune. Well, the +misfortune has occurred to you. How did you guess that it was coming? +Then, to-night, as they were carrying you away on that stretcher, do +you remember what you said?" + +"What did I say?" + +"You remember, don't you?" Rosa faltered. + +"I remember," he admitted. "But that was nonsense. I didn't know what +I was saying. My poor Rosa, I was delirious. And that is just why I +wished to see you--in order to explain to you that that was nonsense. +You must forget what I said. Remember only that I love you." + +("So Emmeline was right," I reflected.) + +Abruptly Rosa stood up. + +"You must not love me, Alresca," she said in a shaking voice. "You ask +me to forget something; I will try. You, too, must forget +something--your love." + +"But last night," he cried, in accents of an almost intolerable +pathos--"last night, when I hinted--you did not--did not speak like +this, Rosetta." + +I rose. I had surely no alternative but to separate them. If I allowed +the interview to be prolonged the consequences to my patient might be +extremely serious. Yet again I hesitated. It was the sound of Rosa's +sobbing that arrested me. + +Once more she dropped to her knees. + +"Alresca!" she moaned. + +He seized her hand and kissed it. + +And then I came forward, summoning all my courage to assert the +doctor's authority. And in the same instant Alresca's features, which +had been the image of intense joy, wholly changed their expression, +and were transformed into the embodiment of fear. With a look of +frightful terror he pointed with one white hand to the blank wall +opposite. He tried to sit up, but the splint prevented him. Then his +head fell back. + +"It is there!" he moaned. "Fatal! My Rosa--" + +The words died in his mouth, and he swooned. + +As for Rosetta Rosa, I led her from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +ROSA'S SUMMONS + + +Everyone knows the Gold Rooms at the Grand Babylon on the Embankment. +They are immense, splendid, and gorgeous; they possess more gold leaf +to the square inch than any music-hall in London. They were designed +to throw the best possible light on humanity in the mass, to +illuminate effectively not only the shoulders of women, but also the +sombreness of men's attire. Not a tint on their walls that has not +been profoundly studied and mixed and laid with a view to the great +aim. Wherefore, when the electric clusters glow in the ceiling, and +the "after-dinner" band (that unique corporation of British citizens +disguised as wild Hungarians) breathes and pants out its after-dinner +melodies from the raised platform in the main salon, people regard +this coup d'oeil with awe, and feel glad that they are in the dazzling +picture, and even the failures who are there imagine that they have +succeeded. Wherefore, also, the Gold Rooms of the Grand Babylon are +expensive, and only philanthropic societies, plutocrats, and the +Titans of the theatrical world may persuade themselves that they can +afford to engage them. + +It was very late when I arrived at my cousin Sullivan's much +advertised reception. I had wished not to go at all, simply because I +was inexperienced and nervous; but both he and his wife were so +good-natured and so obviously anxious to be friendly, that I felt +bound to appear, if only for a short time. As I stood in the first +room, looking vaguely about me at the lively throng of resplendent +actresses who chattered and smiled so industriously and with such +abundance of gesture to the male acquaintances who surrounded them, I +said to myself that I was singularly out of place there. + +I didn't know a soul, and the stream of arrivals having ceased, +neither Sullivan nor Emmeline was immediately visible. The moving +picture was at once attractive and repellent to me. It became +instantly apparent that the majority of the men and women there had +but a single interest in life, that of centring attention upon +themselves; and their various methods of reaching this desirable end +were curious and wonderful in the extreme. For all practical purposes, +they were still on the boards which they had left but an hour or two +before. It seemed as if they regarded the very orchestra in the light +of a specially contrived accompaniment to their several actions and +movements. As they glanced carelessly at me, I felt that they held me +as a foreigner, as one outside that incredible little world of theirs +which they call "the profession." And so I felt crushed, with a faint +resemblance to a worm. You see, I was young. + +I walked through towards the main salon, and in the doorway between +the two rooms I met a girl of striking appearance, who was followed by +two others. I knew her face well, having seen it often in photograph +shops; it was the face of Marie Deschamps, the popular divette of the +Diana Theatre, the leading lady of Sullivan's long-lived musical +comedy, "My Queen." I needed no second glance to convince me that Miss +Deschamps was a very important personage indeed, and, further, that a +large proportion of her salary of seventy-five pounds a week was +expended in the suits and trappings of triumph. If her dress did not +prove that she was on the topmost bough of the tree, then nothing +could. Though that night is still recent history, times have changed. +Divettes could do more with three hundred a month then than they can +with eight hundred now. + +As we passed she examined me with a curiosity whose charm was its +frankness. Of course, she put me out of countenance, particularly when +she put her hand on my sleeve. Divettes have the right to do these +things. + +"I know who you are," she said, laughing and showing her teeth. "You +are dear old Sully's cousin; he pointed you out to me the other night +when you were at the Diana. Now, don't say you aren't, or I shall look +such a fool; and for goodness' sake don't say you don't know +me--because everyone knows me, and if they don't they ought to." + +I was swept away by the exuberance of her attack, and, blushing +violently, I took the small hand which she offered, and assured her +that I was in fact Sullivan Smith's cousin, and her sincere admirer. + +"That's all right," she said, raising her superb shoulders after a +special manner of her own. "Now you shall take me to Sullivan, and he +shall introduce us. Any friend of dear old Sully's is a friend of +mine. How do you like my new song?" + +"What new song?" I inquired incautiously. + +"Why, 'Who milked the cow?' of course." + +I endeavored to give her to understand that it had made an indelible +impression on me; and with such like converse we went in search of +Sullivan, while everyone turned to observe the unknown shy young man +who was escorting Marie Deschamps. + +"Here he is," my companion said at length, as we neared the orchestra, +"listening to the band. He should have a band, the little dear! +Sullivan, introduce me to your cousin." + +"Charmed--delighted." And Sullivan beamed with pleasure. "Ah, my young +friend," he went on to me, "you know your way about fairly well. But +there! medical students--they're all alike. Well, what do you think of +the show?" + +"Hasn't he done it awfully well, Mr. Foster?" said Miss Deschamps. + +I said that I should rather think he had. + +"Look here," said Sullivan, becoming grave and dropping his voice, +"there are four hundred invitations, and it'll cost me seven hundred +and fifty pounds. But it pays. You know that, don't you, Marie? Look +at the advertisement! And I've got a lot of newspaper chaps here. +It'll be in every paper to-morrow. I reckon I've done this thing on +the right lines. It's only a reception, of course, but let me tell you +I've seen after the refreshments--not snacks--refreshments, mind you! +And there's a smoke-room for the boys, and the wife's got a +spiritualism-room, and there's the show in this room. Some jolly good +people here, too--not all chorus girls and walking gents. Are they, +Marie?" + +"You bet not," the lady replied. + +"Rosetta Rosa's coming, and she won't go quite everywhere--not quite! +By the way, it's about time she did come." He looked at his watch. + +"Ah, Mr. Foster," the divette said, "you must tell me all about that +business. I'm told you were there, and that there was a terrible +scene." + +"What business?" I inquired. + +"At the Opera the other night, when Alresca broke his thigh. Didn't +you go behind and save his life?" + +"I didn't precisely save his life, but I attended to him." + +"They say he is secretly married to Rosa. Is that so?" + +"I really can't say, but I think not." + +"What did she say to him when she went into his dressing-room? I know +all about it, because one of our girls has a sister who's in the Opera +chorus, and her sister saw Rosa go in. I do want to know what she +said, and what he said." + +An impulse seized me to invent a harmless little tale for the +diversion of Marie Deschamps. I was astonished at my own enterprise. I +perceived that I was getting accustomed to the society of greatness. + +"Really?" she exclaimed, when I had finished. + +"I assure you." + +"He's teasing," Sullivan said. + +"Mr. Foster wouldn't do such a thing," she observed, drawing herself +up, and I bowed. + +A man with an eye-glass came and began to talk confidently in +Sullivan's ear, and Sullivan had to leave us. + +"See you later," he smiled. "Keep him out of mischief, Marie. And I +say, Carl, the wife said I was to tell you particularly to go into +her crystal-gazing room. Don't forget." + +"I'll go, too," Miss Deschamps said. "You may take me there now, if +you please. And then I must go down to where the champagne is flowing. +But not with you, not with you, Mr. Foster. There are other gentlemen +here very anxious for the post. Now come along." + +We made our way out of the stir and noise of the grand salon, Marie +Deschamps leaning on my arm in the most friendly and confiding way in +the world, and presently we found ourselves in a much smaller +apartment crowded with whispering seekers after knowledge of the +future. This room was dimly lighted from the ceiling by a single +electric light, whose shade was a queer red Japanese lantern. At the +other end of it were double curtains. These opened just as we entered, +and Emmeline appeared, leading by the hand a man who was laughing +nervously. + +"Your fortune, ladies and gentlemen, your fortune!" she cried +pleasantly. Then she recognized me, and her manner changed, or I +fancied that it did. + +"Ah, Carl, so you've arrived!" she exclaimed, coming forward and +ignoring all her visitors except Marie and myself. + +"Yes, Emmeline, dear," said Marie, "we've come. And, please, I want to +see something in the crystal. How do you do it?" + +Emmeline glanced around. + +"Sullivan said my crystal-gazing would be a failure," she smiled. "But +it isn't, is it? I came in here as soon as I had done receiving, and +I've already had I don't know how many clients. I sha'n't be able to +stop long, you know. The fact is, Sullivan doesn't like me being here +at all. He thinks it not right of the hostess...." + +"But it's perfectly charming of you!" some one put in. + +"Perfectly delicious!" said Marie. + +"Now, who shall I take first?" Emmeline asked, puzzled. + +"Oh, me, of course!" Marie Deschamps replied without a hesitation or a +doubt, though she and I had come in last. And the others acquiesced, +because Marie was on the topmost bough of all. + +"Come along, then," said Emmeline, relieved. + +I made as if to follow them. + +"No, Mr. Foster," said Marie. "You just stay here, and don't listen." + +The two women disappeared behind the portière, and a faint giggle, +soon suppressed, came through the portière from Marie. + +I obeyed her orders, but as I had not the advantage of knowing a +single person in that outer room, I took myself off for a stroll, in +the hope of encountering Rosetta Rosa. Yes, certainly in the hope of +encountering Rosetta Rosa! But in none of the thronged chambers did I +discover her. + +When I came back, the waiting-room for prospective crystal-gazers was +empty, and Emmeline herself was just leaving it. + +"What!" I exclaimed. "All over?" + +"Yes," she said; "Sullivan has sent for me. You see, of course, one +has to mingle with one's guests. Only they're really Sullivan's +guests." + +"And what about me?" I said. "Am I not going to have a look into the +crystal?" + +I had, as a matter of fact, not the slightest interest in her crystal +at that instant. I regarded the crystal as a harmless distraction of +hers, and I was being simply jocular when I made that remark. +Emmeline, however, took it seriously. As her face had changed when +she first saw me in the box at the Opera, and again to-night when she +met me and Marie Deschamps on my arm, so once more it changed now. + +"Do you really want to?" she questioned me, in her thrilling voice. + +My soul said: "It's all rubbish--but suppose there is something in it, +after all?" + +And I said aloud: + +"Yes." + +"Come, then." + +We passed through the room with the red Japanese lantern, and lo! the +next room was perfectly dark save for an oval of white light which +fell slantingly on a black marble table. The effect was rather +disconcerting at first; but the explanation was entirely simple. The +light came from an electric table-lamp (with a black cardboard shade +arranged at an angle) which stood on the table. As my eyes grew +accustomed to the obscurity I discovered two chairs. + +"Sit down," said Emmeline. + +And she and I each took one of the chairs, at opposite sides of the +table. + +Emmeline was magnificently attired. As I looked at her in the dimness +across the table, she drummed her fingers on the marble, and then she +bent her face to glance within the shade of the lamp, and for a second +her long and heavy, yet handsome, features were displayed to the +minutest part in the blinding ray of the lamp, and the next second +they were in obscurity again. It was uncanny. I was impressed; and all +the superstition which, like a snake, lies hidden in the heart of +every man, stirred vaguely and raised its head. + +"Carl--" Emmeline began, and paused. + +The woman indubitably did affect me strangely. Hers was a lonely soul, +an unusual mixture of the absolutely conventional and of something +quite else--something bizarre, disturbing, and inexplicable. I was +conscious of a feeling of sympathy for her. + +"Well?" I murmured. + +"Do you believe in the supernatural?" + +"I neither believe nor disbelieve," I replied, "for I have never met +with anything that might be a manifestation of it. But I may say that +I am not a hard and fast materialist." And I added: "Do you believe in +it?" + +"Of course," she snapped. + +"Then, if you really believe, if it's so serious to you, why do you +make a show of it for triflers?". + +"Ah!" she breathed. "Some of them do make me angry. They like to play +at having dealings with the supernatural. But I thought the crystal +would be such a good thing for Sullivan's reception. It is very +important to Sullivan that this should be a great success--our first +large public reception, you know. Sullivan says we must advertise +ourselves." + +The explanation of her motives was given so naïvely, so simply and +unaffectedly, that it was impossible to take exception to it. + +"Where's the crystal?" I inquired. + +"It is here," she said, and she rolled a glass ball with the +suddenness that had the appearance of magic from the dark portion of +the table's surface into the oval of light. And it was so exactly +spherical, and the table top was so smooth that it would not stay +where it was put, and she had to hold it there with her ringed hand. + +"So that's it," I remarked. + +"Carl," she said, "it is only right I should warn you. Some weeks ago +I saw in the crystal the face of a man whom I did not know. I saw it +again and again--and always the same scene. Then I saw you at the +Opera last week, and Sullivan introduced you as his cousin that he +talks about sometimes. Did you notice that night that I behaved rather +queerly?" + +"Yes." I spoke shortly. + +"You are the man whom I saw in the crystal." + +"Really?" I ejaculated, smiling, or at least trying to smile. "And +what is the scene of which I am part?" + +"You are standing--But no!" + +She abruptly ceased speaking and coughed, clearing her throat, and she +fixed her large eyes on me. Outside I could hear the distant strain of +the orchestra, and the various noises of a great crowd of people. But +this little dark room, with its sharply defined oval of light, was +utterly shut off from the scene of gaiety. I was aware of an +involuntary shiver, and for the life of me I could not keep my gaze +steadily on the face of the tall woman who sat so still, with such +impressiveness, on the other side of the table. I waited for her to +proceed, and after what seemed a long interval she spoke again: + +"You aren't afraid, are you?" she demanded. + +"Of course I'm not." + +"Then you shall look into the crystal and try to see what I saw. I +will not tell you. You shall try to see for yourself. You may succeed, +if I help you. Now, try to free your mind from every thought, and look +earnestly. Look!" + +I drew the globe towards me from under her fingers. + +"Rum!" I murmured to myself. + +Then I strenuously fixed my eyes on the glinting depths of the +crystal, full of strange, shooting fires; but I could see nothing +whatever. + +"No go!" I said. "You'll have to tell me what you saw." + +"Patience. There is time yet. Look again. Take my hand in your right +hand." + +I obeyed, and we sat together in the tense silence. After a few +minutes, the crystal darkened and then slowly cleared. I trembled with +an uneasy anticipation. + +"You see something," she breathed sorrowfully in my ear. + +"Not yet, not yet," I whispered. "But it is coming. Yes, I see +myself, and--and--a woman--a very pretty woman. I am clasping her +hand." + +"Don't you recognize the woman?" Again Emmeline's voice vibrated like +a lamentation in my ear. I did recognize the woman, and the sweat +stood on my brow. + +"It is Rosetta Rosa!" + +"And what else do you see?" my questioner pursued remorselessly. + +"I see a figure behind us," I stammered, "but what figure I cannot +make out. It is threatening me. It is threatening me! It is a horrible +thing. It will kill me! Ah--!" + +I jumped up with a nervous movement. The crystal, left to itself, +rolled off the table to the floor, and fell with a thud unbroken on +the soft carpet. And I could hear the intake of Emmeline's breath. + +At that moment the double portière was pulled apart, and some one +stood there in the red light from the Japanese lantern. + +"Is Mr. Foster here? I want him to come with me," said a voice. And it +was the voice of Rosa. + +Just behind her was Sullivan. + +"I expected you'd be here," laughed Sullivan. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE DAGGER AND THE MAN + + +Rosetta Rosa and I threaded through the crowd towards the Embankment +entrance of the Gold Rooms. She had spoken for a few moments with +Emmeline, who went pale with satisfaction at the candid friendliness +of her tone, and she had chatted quite gaily with Sullivan himself; +and we had all been tremendously impressed by her beauty and fine +grace--I certainly not the least. And then she had asked me, with a +quality of mysteriousness in her voice, to see her to her carriage. + +And, with her arm in mine, it was impossible for me to believe that +she could influence, in any evil way, my future career. That she might +be the cause of danger to my life seemed ridiculous. She was the +incarnation of kindliness and simplicity. She had nothing about her of +the sinister, and further, with all her transcendent beauty and charm, +she was also the incarnation of the matter-of-fact. I am obliged to +say this, though I fear that it may impair for some people the vision +of her loveliness and her unique personality. She was the incarnation +of the matter-of-fact, because she appeared to be invariably quite +unconscious of the supremacy of her talents. She was not weighed down +by them, as many artists of distinction are weighed down. She carried +them lightly, seemingly unaware that they existed. Thus no one could +have guessed that that very night she had left the stage of the Opera +after an extraordinary triumph in her greatest rôle--that of Isolde in +"Tristan." + +And so her presence by my side soothed away almost at once the +excitation and the spiritual disturbance of the scene through which I +had just passed with Emmeline; and I was disposed, if not to laugh at +the whole thing, at any rate to regard it calmly, dispassionately, as +one of the various inexplicable matters with which one meets in a +world absurdly called prosaic. I was sure that no trick had been +played upon me. I was sure that I had actually seen in the crystal +what I had described to Emmeline, and that she, too, had seen it. But +then, I argued, such an experience might be the result of hypnotic +suggestion, or of thought transference, or of some other imperfectly +understood agency.... Rosetta Rosa an instrument of misfortune! No! + +When I looked at her I comprehended how men have stopped at nothing +for the sake of love, and how a woman, if only she be beautiful +enough, may wield a power compared to which the sway of a Tsar, even a +Tsar unhampered by Dumas, is impotence itself. Even at that early +stage I had begun to be a captive to her. But I did not believe that +her rule was malign. + +"Mr. Foster," she said, "I have asked you to see me to my carriage, +but really I want you to do more than that. I want you to go with me +to poor Alresca's. He is progressing satisfactorily, so far as I can +judge, but the dear fellow is thoroughly depressed. I saw him this +afternoon, and he wished, if I met you here to-night, that I should +bring you to him. He has a proposition to make to you, and I hope you +will accept it." + +"I shall accept it, then," I said. + +She pulled out a tiny gold watch, glistening with diamonds. + +"It is half-past one," she said. "We might be there in ten minutes. +You don't mind it being late, I suppose. We singers, you know, have +our own hours." + +In the foyer we had to wait while the carriage was called. I stood +silent, and perhaps abstracted, at her elbow, absorbed in the pride +and happiness of being so close to her, and looking forward with a +tremulous pleasure to the drive through London at her side. She was +dressed in gray, with a large ermine-lined cloak, and she wore no +ornaments except a thin jewelled dagger in her lovely hair. + +All at once I saw that she flushed, and, following the direction of +her eyes, I beheld Sir Cyril Smart, with a startled gaze fixed +immovably on her face. Except the footmen and the attendants attached +to the hotel, there were not half a dozen people in the entrance-hall +at this moment. Sir Cyril was nearly as white as the marble floor. He +made a step forward, and then stood still. She, too, moved towards +him, as it seemed, involuntarily. + +"Good evening, Miss Rosa," he said at length, with a stiff +inclination. She responded, and once more they stared at each other. I +wondered whether they had quarrelled again, or whether both were by +some mischance simultaneously indisposed. Surely they must have +already met during the evening at the Opera! + +Then Rosa, with strange deliberation, put her hand to her hair and +pulled out the jewelled dagger. + +"Sir Cyril," she said, "you seem fascinated by this little weapon. Do +you recognize it?" + +He made no answer, nor moved, but I noticed that his hands were +tightly clenched. + +"You do recognize it, Sir Cyril?" + +At last he nodded. + +"Then take it. The dagger shall be yours. To-night, within the last +minute, I think I have suddenly discovered that, next to myself, you +have the best right to it." + +He opened his lips to speak, but made no sound. + +"See," she said. "It is a real dagger, sharp and pointed." + +Throwing back her cloak with a quick gesture, she was about to prick +the skin of her left arm between the top of her long glove and the +sleeve of her low-cut dress. But Sir Cyril, and I also, jumped to stop +her. + +"Don't do that," I said. "You might hurt yourself." + +She glanced at me, angry for the instant; but her anger dissolved in +an icy smile. + +"Take it, Sir Cyril, to please me." + +Her intonation was decidedly peculiar. + +And Sir Cyril took the dagger. + +"Miss Rosa's carriage," a commissionaire shouted, and, beckoning to +me, the girl moved imperiously down the steps to the courtyard. There +was no longer a smile on her face, which had a musing and withdrawn +expression. Sir Cyril stood stock-still, holding the dagger. What the +surrounding lackeys thought of this singular episode I will not guess. +Indeed, the longer I live, the less I care to meditate upon what +lackeys do think. But that the adventures of their employers provide +them with ample food for thought there can be no doubt. + +Rosa's horses drew us swiftly away from the Grand Babylon Hotel, and +it seemed that she wished to forget or to ignore the remarkable +incident. For some moments she sat silent, her head slightly bent, her +cloak still thrown back, but showing no sign of agitation beyond a +slightly hurried heaving of the bosom. + +I was discreet enough not to break in upon her reflections by any +attempt at conversation, for it seemed to me that what I had just +witnessed had been a sudden and terrible crisis, not only in the life +of Sir Cyril, but also in that of the girl whose loveliness was dimly +revealed to me in the obscurity of the vehicle. + +We had got no further than Trafalgar Square when she aroused herself, +looked at me, and gave a short laugh. + +"I suppose," she remarked, "that a doctor can't cure every disease?" + +"Scarcely," I replied. + +"Not even a young doctor?" she said with comical gravity. + +"Not even a young doctor," I gravely answered. + +Then we both laughed. + +"You must excuse my fun," she said. "I can't help it, especially when +my mind is disturbed." + +"Why do you ask me?" I inquired. "Was it just a general observation +caused by the seriousness of my countenance, or were you thinking of +something in particular?" + +"I was thinking of Alresca," she murmured, "my poor Alresca. He is the +rarest gentleman and the finest artist in Europe, and he is +suffering." + +"Well," I said, "one can't break one's thigh for nothing." + +"It is not his thigh. It is something else." + +"What?" + +She shook her head, to indicate her inability to answer. + +Here I must explain that, on the morning after the accident, I had +taken a hansom to the Devonshire Mansion with the intention of paying +a professional visit to Alresca. I was not altogether certain that I +ought to regard the case as mine, but I went. Immediately before my +hansom, however, there had drawn up another hansom in front of the +portals of the Devonshire, and out of that other hansom had stepped +the famous Toddy MacWhister. Great man as Toddy was, he had an eye on +"saxpences," and it was evident that, in spite of the instructions +which he had given me as to the disposal of Alresca, Toddy was +claiming the patient for his own. I retired. It was the only thing I +could do. Two doctors were not needed, and I did not see myself, a +young man scarcely yet escaped from the fear of examinations, +disputing cases with the redoubtable Toddy. I heard afterwards that he +had prolonged his stay in London in order to attend Alresca. So that +I had not seen the tenor since his accident. + +"What does Monsieur Alresca want to see me about?" I demanded +cautiously. + +"He will tell you," said Rosa, equally cautious. + +A silence followed. + +"Do you think I upset him--that night?" she asked. + +"You wish me to be frank?" + +"If I had thought you would not be frank I would not have asked you. +Do you imagine it is my habit to go about putting awkward questions +like that?" + +"I think you did upset him very much." + +"You think I was wrong?" + +"I do." + +"Perhaps you are right," she admitted. + +I had been bold. A desire took me to be still bolder. She was in the +carriage with me. She was not older than I. And were she Rosetta Rosa, +or a mere miss taken at hazard out of a drawing-room, she was feminine +and I was masculine. In short--Well, I have fits of rashness +sometimes. + +"You say he is depressed," I addressed her firmly. "And I will +venture to inform you that I am not in the least surprised." + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "And why?" + +"After what you said to him that night in the dressing-room. If I had +been in Alresca's place I know that I should be depressed, and very +much depressed, too." + +"You mean--" she faltered. + +"Yes," I said, "I mean that." + +I thought I had gone pretty far, and my heart was beating. I could not +justly have protested had she stopped the carriage and deposited me on +the pavement by the railings of Green Park. But her character was +angelic. She accepted my treatment of her with the most astounding +meekness. + +"You mean," she said, "that he is in love with me, and I chose just +that night to--refuse him." + +I nodded. + +"That is emotional cause enough, isn't it, to account for any +mysterious depression that any man is ever likely to have?" + +"You are mistaken," she said softly. "You don't know Alresca. You +don't know his strength of mind. I can assure you that it is +something more than unreturned love that is destroying him." + +"Destroying him?" + +"Yes, destroying him. Alresca is capable of killing a futile passion. +His soul is too far removed from his body, and even from his mind, to +be seriously influenced by the mistakes and misfortunes of his mind +and body. Do you understand me?" + +"I think so." + +"What is the matter with Alresca is something in his most secret +soul." + +"And you can form no idea of what it is?" + +She made no reply. + +"Doctors certainly can't cure such diseases as that," I said. + +"They can try," said Rosetta Rosa. + +"You wish me to try?" I faced her. + +She inclined her head. + +"Then I will," I said with sudden passionateness, forgetting even that +I was not Alresca's doctor. + +The carriage stopped. In the space of less than a quarter of an hour, +so it seemed to me, we had grown almost intimate--she and I. + +Alresca's man was awaiting us in the portico of the Devonshire, and +without a word he led us to his master. Alresca lay on his back on a +couch in a large and luxuriously littered drawing-room. The pallor of +his face and the soft brilliance of his eyes were infinitely pathetic, +and again he reminded me of the tragic and gloomy third act of +"Tristan." He greeted us kindly in his quiet voice. + +"I have brought the young man," said Rosa, "and now, after I have +inquired about your health, I must go. It is late. Are you better, +Alresca?" + +"I am better now that you are here," he smiled. "But you must not go +yet. It is many days since I heard a note of music. Sing to me before +you go." + +"To-night?" + +"Yes, to-night." + +"What shall I sing?" + +"Anything, so that I hear your voice." + +"I will sing 'Elsa's Dream.' But who will accompany? You know I simply +can't play to my own singing." + +I gathered together all my courage. + +"I'm an awful player," I said, "but I know the whole score of +'Lohengrin.'" + +"How clever of you!" Rosa laughed. "I'm sure you play beautifully." + +Alresca rewarded me with a look, and, trembling, I sat down to the +piano. I was despicably nervous. Before the song was finished I had +lost everything but honor; but I played that accompaniment to the most +marvellous soprano in the world. + +And what singing! Rosa stood close beside me. I caught the golden +voice at its birth. Every vibration, every shade of expression, every +subtlety of feeling was mine; and the experience was unforgettable. +Many times since then have I heard Rosa sing, many times in my hearing +has she excited a vast audience to overwhelming enthusiasm; but never, +to my mind, has she sung so finely as on that night. She was +profoundly moved, she had in Alresca the ideal listener, and she sang +with the magic power of a goddess. It was the summit of her career. + +"There is none like you," Alresca said, and the praise of Alresca +brought the crimson to her cheek. He was probably the one person +living who had the right to praise her, for an artist can only be +properly estimated by his equals. + +"Come to me, Rosa," he murmured, as he took her hand in his and kissed +it. "You are in exquisite voice to-night," he said. + +"Am I?" + +"Yes. You have been excited; and I notice that you always sing best +under excitement." + +"Perhaps," she replied. "The fact is, I have just met--met some one +whom I never expected to meet. That is all. Good night, dear friend." + +"Good night." + +She passed her hand soothingly over his forehead. + +When we were alone Alresca seemed to be overtaken by lassitude. + +"Surely," I said, "it is not by Toddy--I mean Dr. Todhunter +MacWhister's advice that you keep these hours. The clocks are striking +two!" + +"Ah, my friend," he replied wearily, in his precise and rather +elaborate English, "ill or well, I must live as I have been accustomed +to live. For twenty years I have gone to bed promptly at three o'clock +and risen at eleven o'clock. Must I change because of a broken thigh? +In an hour's time, and not before, my people will carry this couch and +its burden to my bedroom. Then I shall pretend to sleep; but I shall +not sleep. Somehow of late the habit of sleep has left me. Hitherto, I +have scorned opiates, which are the refuge of the weak-minded, yet I +fear I may be compelled to ask you for one. There was a time when I +could will myself to sleep. But not now, not now!" + +"I am not your medical adviser," I said, mindful of professional +etiquette, "and I could not think of administering an opiate without +the express permission of Dr. MacWhister." + +"Pardon me," he said, his eyes resting on me with a quiet satisfaction +that touched me to the heart, "but you are my medical adviser, if you +will honor me so far. I have not forgotten your neat hand and skilful +treatment of me at the time of my accident. To-day the little +Scotchman told me that my thigh was progressing quite admirably, and +that all I needed was nursing. I suggested to him that you should +finish the case. He had, in fact, praised your skill. And so, Mr. +Foster, will you be my doctor? I want you to examine me thoroughly, +for, unless I deceive myself, I am suffering from some mysterious +complaint." + +I was enormously, ineffably flattered and delighted, and all the boy +in me wanted to caper around the room and then to fall on Alresca's +neck and dissolve in gratitude to him. But instead of these feats, I +put on a vast seriousness (which must really have been very funny to +behold), and then I thanked Alresca in formal phrases, and then, quite +in the correct professional style, I began to make gentle fun of his +idea of a mysterious complaint, and I asked him for a catalogue of his +symptoms. I perceived that he and Rosa must have previously arranged +that I should be requested to become his doctor. + +"There are no symptoms," he replied, "except a gradual loss of +vitality. But examine me." + +I did so most carefully, testing the main organs, and subjecting him +to a severe cross-examination. + +"Well?" he said, as, after I had finished, I sat down to cogitate. + +"Well, Monsieur Alresca, all I can say is that your fancy is too +lively. That is what you suffer from, an excitable fan--" + +"Stay, my friend," he interrupted me with a firm gesture. "Before you +go any further, let me entreat you to be frank. Without absolute +candor nothing can be done. I think I am a tolerable judge of faces, +and I can read in yours the fact that my condition has puzzled you." + +I paused, taken aback. It had puzzled me. I thought of all that +Rosetta Rosa had said, and I hesitated. Then I made up my mind. + +"I yield," I responded. "You are not an ordinary man, and it was +absurd of me to treat you as one. Absolute candor is, as you say, +essential, and so I'll confess that your case does puzzle me. There is +no organic disease, but there is a quite unaccountable organic +weakness--a weakness which fifty broken thighs would not explain. I +must observe, and endeavor to discover the cause. In the meantime I +have only one piece of advice. You know that in certain cases we have +to tell women patients that a successful issue depends on their own +willpower: I say the same thing to you." + +"Receive my thanks," he said. "You have acted as I hoped. As for the +willpower, that is another matter," and a faint smile crossed his +handsome, melancholy face. + +I rose to leave. It was nearly three o'clock. + +"Give me a few moments longer. I have a favor to ask." + +After speaking these words he closed his eyes, as though to recall the +opening sentences of a carefully prepared speech. + +"I am entirely at your service," I murmured. + +"Mr. Foster," he began, "you are a young man of brilliant +accomplishments, at the commencement of your career. Doubtless you +have made your plans for the immediate future, and I feel quite sure +that those plans do not include any special attendance upon myself, +whom until the other day you had never met. I am a stranger to you, +and on the part of a stranger it would be presumptuous to ask you to +alter your plans. Nevertheless, I am at this moment capable of that +presumption. In my life I have not often made requests, but such +requests as I have made have never been refused. I hope that my good +fortune in this respect may continue. Mr. Foster, I wish to leave +England. I wish to die in my own place--" + +I shrugged my shoulders in protest against the word "die." + +"If you prefer it, I wish to live in my own place. Will you accompany +me as companion? I am convinced that we should suit each other--that I +should derive benefit from your skill and pleasure from your society, +while you--you would tolerate the whims and eccentricities of my +middle age. We need not discuss terms; you would merely name your +fee." + +There was, as a matter of fact, no reason in the world why I should +have agreed to this suggestion of Alresca's. As he himself had said, +we were strangers, and I was under no obligation to him of any kind. + +Yet at once I felt an impulse to accept his proposal. Whence that +impulse sprang I cannot say. Perhaps from the aspect of an adventure +that the affair had. Perhaps from the vague idea that by attaching +myself to Alresca I should be brought again into contact with Rosetta +Rosa. Certainly I admired him immensely. None who knew him could avoid +doing so. Already, indeed, I had for him a feeling akin to affection. + +"I see by your face," he said, "that you are not altogether unwilling. +You accept?" + +"With pleasure;" and I smiled with the pleasure I felt. + +But it seemed to me that I gave the answer independently of my own +volition. The words were uttered almost before I knew. + +"It is very good of you." + +"Not at all," I said. "I have made no plans, and therefore nothing +will be disarranged. Further, I count it an honor; and, moreover, your +'case'--pardon the word--interests me deeply. Where do you wish to +go?" + +"To Bruges, of course." + +He seemed a little surprised that I should ask the question. + +"Bruges," he went on, "that dear and wonderful old city of Flanders, +is the place of my birth. You have visited it?" + +"No," I said, "but I have often heard that it is the most picturesque +city in Europe, and I should like to see it awfully." + +"There is nothing in the world like Bruges," he said. "Bruges the Dead +they call it; a fit spot in which to die." + +"If you talk like that I shall reconsider my decision." + +"Pardon, pardon!" he laughed, suddenly wearing an appearance of +gaiety. "I am happier now. When can we go? To-morrow? Let it be +to-morrow." + +"Impossible," I said. "The idea of a man whose thigh was broken less +than a fortnight since taking a sea voyage to-morrow! Do you know that +under the most favorable circumstances it will be another five or six +weeks before the bone unites, and that even then the greatest care +will be necessary?" + +His gaiety passed. + +"Five more weeks here?" + +"I fear so." + +"But our agreement shall come into operation at once. You will visit +me daily? Rather, you will live here?" + +"If it pleases you. I am sure I shall be charmed to live here." + +"Let the time go quickly--let it fly! Ah, Mr. Foster, you will like +Bruges. It is the most dignified of cities. It has the picturesqueness +of Nuremburg, the waterways of Amsterdam, the squares of Turin, the +monuments of Perugia, the cafés of Florence, and the smells of +Cologne. I have an old house there of the seventeenth century; it is +on the Quai des Augustins." + +"A family affair?" I questioned. + +"No; I bought it only a few years ago from a friend. I fear I cannot +boast of much family. My mother made lace, my father was a +schoolmaster. They are both dead, and I have no relatives." + +Somewhere in the building a clock struck three, and at that instant +there was a tap at the door, and Alresca's valet discreetly entered. + +"Monsieur rang?" + +"No, Alexis. Leave us." + +Comprehending that it was at last Alresca's hour for retiring, I rose +to leave, and called the man back. + +"Good night, dear friend," said Alresca, pressing my hand. "I shall +expect you to-morrow, and in the meantime a room shall be prepared for +you. Au revoir." + +Alexis conducted me to the door. As he opened it he made a civil +remark about the beauty of the night. I glanced at his face. + +"You are English, aren't you?" I asked him. + +"Yes, sir." + +"I only ask because Alexis is such a peculiar name for an Englishman." + +"It is merely a name given to me by Monsieur Alresca when I entered +his service several years ago. My name is John Smedley." + +"Well, Mr. Smedley," I said, putting half a sovereign into his hand, +"I perceive that you are a man of intelligence." + +"Hope so, sir." + +"I am a doctor, and to-morrow, as I dare say you heard, I am coming to +live here with your master in order to attend him medically." + +"Yes, sir." + +"He says he is suffering from some mysterious complaint, Smedley." + +"He told me as much, sir." + +"Do you know what that complaint is?" + +"Haven't the least idea, sir. But he always seems low like, and he +gets lower, especially during the nights. What might the complaint be, +sir?" + +"I wish I could tell you. By the way, haven't you had trained nurses +there?" + +"Yes, sir. The other doctor sent two. But the governor dismissed 'em +yesterday. He told me they worried him. Me and the butler does what's +necessary." + +"You say he is more depressed during the nights--you mean he shows the +effects of that depression in the mornings?" + +"Just so, sir." + +"I am going to be confidential, Smedley. Are you aware if your master +has any secret trouble on his mind, any worry that he reveals to no +one?" + +"No, sir, I am not." + +"Thank you, Smedley. Good night." + +"Good night, sir, and thank you." + +I had obtained no light from Alexis, and I sought in vain for an +explanation of my patient's condition. Of course, it was plausible +enough to argue that his passion for Rosa was at the root of the evil; +but I remembered Rosa's words to me in the carriage, and I was +disposed to agree with them. To me, as to her, it seemed that, though +Alresca was the sort of man to love deeply, he was not the sort of man +to allow an attachment, however profound or unfortunate, to make a +wreck of his existence. No. If Alresca was dying, he was not dying of +love. + +As Alexis had remarked, it was a lovely summer night, and after +quitting the Devonshire I stood idly on the pavement, and gazed about +me in simple enjoyment of the scene. + +The finest trees in Hyde Park towered darkly in front of me, and above +them was spread the star-strewn sky, with a gibbous moon just showing +over the housetops to the left. I could not see a soul, but faintly +from the distance came the tramp of a policeman on his beat. The +hour, to my busy fancy, seemed full of fate. But it was favorable to +meditation, and I thought, and thought, and thought. Was I at the +beginning of an adventure, or would the business, so strangely +initiated, resolve itself into something prosaic and mediocre? I had a +suspicion--indeed, I had a hope--that adventures were in store for me. +Perhaps peril also. For the sinister impression originally made upon +me by that ridiculous crystal-gazing scene into which I had been +entrapped by Emmeline had returned, and do what I would I could not +dismiss it. + +My cousin's wife was sincere, with all her vulgarity and inborn +snobbishness. And that being assumed, how did I stand with regard to +Rosetta Rosa? Was the thing a coincidence, or had I indeed crossed her +path pursuant to some strange decree of Fate--a decree which Emmeline +had divined or guessed or presaged? There was a certain weirdness +about Emmeline that was rather puzzling. + +I had seen Rosa but twice, and her image, to use the old phrase, was +stamped on my heart. True! Yet the heart of any young man who had +talked with Rosa twice would in all probability have been similarly +affected. Rosa was not the ordinary pretty and clever girl. She was +such a creature as grows in this world not often in a century. She was +an angel out of Paradise--an angel who might pass across Europe and +leave behind her a trail of broken hearts to mark the transit. And if +angels could sing as she did, then no wonder that the heavenly choirs +were happy in nothing but song. (You are to remember that it was three +o'clock in the morning.) No, the fact that I was already half in love +with Rosa proved nothing. + +On the other hand, might not the manner in which she and Alresca had +sought me out be held to prove something? Why should such exalted +personages think twice about a mere student of medicine who had had +the good fortune once to make himself useful at a critical juncture? +Surely, I could argue that here was the hand of Fate. + +Rubbish! I was an ass to stand there at that unearthly hour, robbing +myself of sleep in order to pursue such trains of thought. Besides, +supposing that Rosa and myself were, in fact, drawn together by chance +or fate, or whatever you like to call it, had not disaster been +prophesied in that event? It would be best to leave the future alone. +My aim should be to cure Alresca, and then go soberly to Totnes and +join my brother in practice. + +I turned down Oxford Street, whose perspective of gas-lamps stretched +east and west to distances apparent infinite, and as I did so I +suddenly knew that some one was standing by the railings opposite, +under the shadow of the great trees. I had been so sure that I was +alone that this discovery startled me a little, and I began to whistle +tunelessly. + +I could make out no details of the figure, except that it was a man +who stood there, and to satisfy my curiosity I went across to inspect +him. To my astonishment he was very well, though very quietly, +dressed, and had the appearance of being a gentleman of the highest +distinction. His face was clean-shaven, and I noticed the fine, firm +chin, and the clear, unblinking eyes. He stood quite still, and as I +approached looked me full in the face. It was a terrible gaze, and I +do not mind confessing that, secretly, I quailed under it; there was +malice and a dangerous hate in that gaze. Nevertheless I was young, +careless, and enterprising. + +"Can you tell me if I am likely to get a cab at this time of night?" I +asked as lightly as I could. I wanted to hear his voice. + +But he returned no answer, merely gazing at me as before, without a +movement. + +"Strange!" I said, half to myself. "The fellow must be deaf, or mad, +or a foreigner." + +The man smiled slightly, his lips drooping to a sneer. I retreated, +and as I stepped back on the curb my foot touched some small object. I +looked down, and in the dim light, for the dawn was already heralded, +I saw the glitter of jewels. I stooped and picked the thing up. It was +the same little dagger which but a few hours before I had seen Rosa +present with so much formality to Sir Cyril Smart. But there was this +difference--the tiny blade was covered with blood! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ALRESCA'S FATE + + +The house was large, and its beautiful façade fronted a narrow canal. +To say that the spot was picturesque is to say little, for the whole +of Bruges is picturesque. This corner of the Quai des Augustins was +distinguished even in Bruges. The aspect of the mansion, with its wide +entrance and broad courtyard, on which the inner windows looked down +in regular array, was simple and dignified in the highest degree. The +architecture was an entirely admirable specimen of Flemish domestic +work of the best period, and the internal decoration and the furniture +matched to a nicety the exterior. It was in that grave and silent +abode, with Alresca, that I first acquired a taste for bric-â-brac. +Ah! the Dutch marquetry, the French cabinetry, the Belgian brassware, +the curious panellings, the oak-frames, the faience, the silver +candlesticks, the Amsterdam toys in silver, the Antwerp incunables, +and the famous tenth-century illuminated manuscript in half-uncials! +Such trifles abounded, and in that antique atmosphere they had the +quality of exquisite fitness. + +And on the greenish waters of the canal floated several gigantic +swans, with insatiable and endless appetites. We used to feed them +from the dining-room windows, which overhung the canal. + +I was glad to be out of London, and as the days passed my gladness +increased. I had not been pleased with myself in London. As the weeks +followed each other, I had been compelled to admit to myself that the +case of Alresca held mysteries for me, even medical mysteries. During +the first day or two I had thought that I understood it, and I had +despised the sayings of Rosetta Rosa in the carriage, and the +misgivings with which my original examination of Alresca had inspired +me. And then I gradually perceived that, after all, the misgivings had +been justified. The man's thigh made due progress; but the man, slowly +failing, lost interest in the struggle for life. + +Here I might proceed to a technical dissertation upon his physical +state, but it would be useless. A cloud of long words will not cover +ignorance; and I was most emphatically ignorant. At least, such +knowledge as I had obtained was merely of a negative character. All +that I could be sure of was that this was by no means an instance of +mysterious disease. There was no disease, as we understand the term. +In particular, there was no decay of the nerve-centres. Alresca was +well--in good health. What he lacked was the will to live--that +strange and mystic impulse which alone divides us from death. It was, +perhaps, hard on a young G.P. to be confronted by such a medical +conundrum at the very outset of his career; but, then, the Maker of +conundrums seldom considers the age and inexperience of those who are +requested to solve them. + +Yes, this was the first practical proof that had come to me of the +sheer empiricism of the present state of medicine. + +We had lived together--Alresca and I--peaceably, quietly, sadly. He +appeared to have ample means, and the standard of luxury which existed +in his flat was a high one. He was a connoisseur in every department +of art and life, and took care that he was well served. Perhaps it +would be more correct to say that he had once taken care to be well +served, and that the custom primarily established went on by its own +momentum. For he did not exercise even such control as a sick man +might have been expected to exercise. He seemed to be concerned with +nothing, save that occasionally he would exhibit a flickering +curiosity as to the opera season which was drawing to a close. + +Unfortunately, there was little operatic gossip to be curious about. +Rosa had fulfilled her engagement and gone to another capital, and +since her departure the season had, perhaps inevitably, fallen flat. +Of course, the accident to and indisposition of Alresca had also +contributed to this end. And there had been another factor in the +case--a factor which, by the way, constituted the sole item of news +capable of rousing Alresca from his torpor. I refer to the +disappearance of Sir Cyril Smart. + +Soon after my cousin Sullivan's reception, the papers had reported Sir +Cyril to be ill, and then it was stated that he had retired to a +remote Austrian watering-place (name unmentioned) in order to rest and +recuperate. Certain weekly papers of the irresponsible sort gave +publicity to queer rumors--that Sir Cyril had fought a duel and been +wounded, that he had been attacked one night in the streets, even that +he was dead. But these rumors were generally discredited, and +meanwhile the opera season ran its course under the guidance of Sir +Cyril's head man, Mr. Nolan, so famous for his diamond shirt-stud. + +Perhaps I could have thrown some light upon the obscurity which +enveloped the doings of Sir Cyril Smart. But I preferred to remain +inactive. Locked away in my writing-case I kept the jewelled dagger so +mysteriously found by me outside the Devonshire Mansion. + +I had mentioned the incidents of that night to no one, and probably +not a soul on the planet guessed that the young doctor in attendance +upon Alresca had possession of a little toy-weapon which formed a +startling link between two existences supposed to be unconnected save +in the way of business--those of Sir Cyril and Rosetta Rosa. I +hesitated whether to send the dagger to Rosa, and finally decided that +I would wait until I saw her again, if ever that should happen, and +then do as circumstances should dictate. I often wondered whether the +silent man with the fixed gaze, whom I had met in Oxford Street that +night, had handled the dagger, or whether his presence was a mere +coincidence. To my speculations I discovered no answer. + +Then the moment had come when Alresca's thigh was so far mended that, +under special conditions, we could travel, and one evening, after a +journey full of responsibilities for me, we had arrived in Bruges. + +Soon afterwards came a slight alteration. + +Alresca took pleasure in his lovely house, and I was aware of an +improvement in his condition. The torpor was leaving him, and his +spirits grew livelier. Unfortunately, it was difficult to give him +outdoor exercise, since the roughly paved streets made driving +impossible for him, and he was far from being able to walk. After a +time I contrived to hire a large rowing boat, and on fine afternoons +it was our custom to lower him from the quay among the swans into this +somewhat unwieldy craft, so that he might take the air as a Venetian. +The idea tickled him, and our progress along the disused canals was +always a matter of interest to the towns-people, who showed an +unappeasable inquisitiveness concerning their renowned fellow +citizen. + +It was plain to me that he was recovering; that he had lifted himself +out of the circle of that strange influence under which he had nearly +parted with his life. The fact was plain to me, but the explanation of +the fact was not plain. I was as much puzzled by his rise as I had +been puzzled by his descent. But that did not prevent me from trying +to persuade myself that this felicitous change in my patient's state +must be due, after all, to the results of careful dieting, a proper +curriculum of daily existence, supervision of mental tricks and +habits--in short, of all that minute care and solicitude which only a +resident doctor can give to a sick man. + +One evening he was especially alert and gay, and I not less so. We +were in the immense drawing-room, which, like the dining-room, +overlooked the canal. Dinner was finished--we dined at six, the Bruges +hour--and Alresca lay on his invalid's couch, ejecting from his mouth +rings of the fine blue smoke of a Javanese cigar, a box of which I had +found at the tobacco shop kept by two sisters at the corner of the +Grande Place. I stood at the great central window, which was wide +open, and watched the whiteness of the swans moving vaguely over the +surface of the canal in the oncoming twilight. The air was warm and +heavy, and the long, high-pitched whine of the mosquito swarms--sole +pest of the city--had already begun. + +"Alresca," I said, "your days as an invalid are numbered." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"No one who was really an invalid could possibly enjoy that cigar as +you are enjoying it." + +"A good cigar--a glass of good wine," he murmured, savoring the +perfume of the cigar. "What would life be without them?" + +"A few weeks ago, and you would have said: 'What is life even with +them?'" + +"Then you really think I am better?" he smiled. + +"I'm sure of it." + +"As for me," he returned, "I confess it. That has happened which I +thought never would happen. I am once more interested in life. The +wish to live has come back. I am glad to be alive. Carl, your first +case has been a success." + +"No thanks to me," I said. "Beyond seeing that you didn't displace the +broken pieces of your thigh-bone, what have I done? Nothing. No one +knows that better than you do." + +"That's your modesty--your incurable modesty." + +I shook my head, and went to stand by his couch. I was profoundly +aware then, despite all the efforts of my self-conceit to convince +myself to the contrary, that I had effected nothing whatever towards +his recovery, that it had accomplished itself without external aid. +But that did not lessen my intense pleasure in the improvement. By +this time I had a most genuine affection for Alresca. The rare +qualities of the man--his serenity, his sense of justice, his +invariable politeness and consideration, the pureness of his soul--had +captured me completely. I was his friend. Perhaps I was his best +friend in the world. The singular circumstances of our coming together +had helped much to strengthen the tie between us. I glanced down at +him, full of my affection for him, and minded to take advantage of the +rights of that affection for once in a way. + +"Alresca," I said quietly. + +"Well?" + +"What was it?" + +"What was what?" + +I met his gaze. + +"What was that thing that you have fought and driven off? What is the +mystery of it? You know--you must know. Tell me." + +His eyelids fell. + +"Better to leave the past alone," said he. "Granting that I had formed +an idea, I could not put it into proper words. I have tried to do so. +In the expectation of death I wrote down certain matters. But these I +shall now destroy. I am wiser, less morbid. I can perceive that there +are fields of thought of which it is advisable to keep closed the +gates. Do as I do, Carl--forget. Take the credit for my recovery, and +be content with that." + +I felt that he was right, and resumed my position near the window, +humming a tune. + +"In a week you may put your foot to the ground; you will then no +longer have to be carried about like a parcel." I spoke in a casual +tone. + +"Good!" he ejaculated. + +"And then our engagement will come to an end, and you will begin to +sing again." + +"Ah!" he said contemplatively, after a pause, "sing!" + +It seemed as if singing was a different matter. + +"Yes," I repeated, "sing. You must throw yourself into that. It will +be the best of all tonics." + +"Have I not told you that I should never sing again?" + +"Perhaps you have," I replied; "but I don't remember. And even if you +have, as you yourself have just said, you are now wiser, less morbid." + +"True!" he murmured. "Yes, I must sing. They want me at Chicago. I +will go, and while there I will spread abroad the fame of Carl +Foster." + +He smiled gaily, and then his face became meditative and sad. + +"My artistic career has never been far away from tragedy," he said at +length. "It was founded on a tragedy, and not long ago I thought it +would end in one." + +I waited in silence, knowing that if he wished to tell me any private +history, he would begin of his own accord. + +"You are listening, Carl?" + +I nodded. It was growing dusk. + +"You remember I pointed out to you the other day the little house in +the Rue d'Ostende where my parents lived?" + +"Perfectly." + +"That," he proceeded, using that curiously formal and elaborate +English which he must have learned from reading-books, "that was the +scene of the tragedy which made me an artist. I have told you that my +father was a schoolmaster. He was the kindest of men, but he had moods +of frightful severity--moods which subsided as quickly as they arose. +At the age of three, just as I was beginning to talk easily, I became, +for a period, subject to fits; and in one of these I lost the power of +speech. I, Alresca, could make no sound; and for seven years that +tenor whom in the future people were to call 'golden-throated,' and +'world-famous,' and 'unrivalled,' had no voice." He made a deprecatory +gesture. "When I think of it, Carl, I can scarcely believe it--so +strange are the chances of life. I could hear and understand, but I +could not speak. + +"Of course, that was forty years ago, and the system of teaching mutes +to talk was not then invented, or, at any rate, not generally +understood. So I was known and pitied as the poor dumb boy. I took +pleasure in dumb animals, and had for pets a silver-gray cat, a goat, +and a little spaniel. One afternoon--I should be about ten years +old--my father came home from his school and sitting down, laid his +head on the table and began to cry. Seeing him cry, I also began to +cry; I was acutely sensitive. + +"'What is the matter?' asked my good mother. + +"'Alas!' he said, 'I am a murderer!' + +"'Nay, that cannot be,' she replied. + +"'I say it is so,' said my father. 'I have murdered a child--a little +girl. I grumbled at her yesterday. I was annoyed and angry--because +she had done her lessons ill. I sent her home, but instead of going +home she went to the outer canal and drowned herself. They came and +told me this afternoon. Yes, I am a murderer!' + +"I howled, while my mother tried to comfort my father, pointing out +to him that if he had spoken roughly to the child it was done for the +child's good, and that he could not possibly have foreseen the +catastrophe. But her words were in vain. + +"We all went to bed. In the middle of the night I heard my dear +silver-gray cat mewing at the back of the house. She had been locked +out. I rose and went down-stairs to let her in. To do so it was +necessary for me to pass through the kitchen. It was quite dark, and I +knocked against something in the darkness. With an inarticulate +scream, I raced up-stairs again to my parents' bedroom. I seized my +mother by her night-dress and dragged her towards the door. She +stopped only to light a candle, and hand-in-hand we went down-stairs +to the kitchen. The candle threw around its fitful, shuddering glare, +and my mother's eyes followed mine. Some strange thing happened in my +throat. + +"'Mother!' I cried, in a hoarse, uncouth, horrible voice, and, casting +myself against her bosom, I clung convulsively to her. From a hook in +the ceiling beam my father's corpse dangled. He had hanged himself in +the frenzy of his remorse. So my speech came to me again." + +All the man's genius for tragic acting, that genius which had made him +unique in "Tristan" and in "Tannhauser," had been displayed in this +recital; and its solitary auditor was more moved by it than +superficially appeared. Neither of us spoke a word for a few minutes. +Then Alresca, taking aim, threw the end of his cigar out of the +window. + +"Yes," I said at length, "that was tragedy, that was!" + +He proceeded: + +"The critics are always praising me for the emotional qualities in my +singing. Well, I cannot use my voice without thinking of the dreadful +circumstance under which Fate saw fit to restore that which Fate had +taken away." + +And there fell a long silence, and night descended on the canal, and +the swans were nothing now but pale ghosts wandering soundlessly over +the water. + +"Carl," Alresca burst out with a start--he was decidedly in a mood to +be communicative that evening--"have you ever been in love?" + +In the gloom I could just distinguish that he was leaning his head on +his arm. + +"No," I answered; "at least, I think not;" and I wondered if I had +been, if I was, in love. + +"You have that which pleases women, you know, and you will have +chances, plenty of chances. Let me advise you--either fall in love +young or not at all. If you have a disappointment before you are +twenty-five it is nothing. If you have a disappointment after you are +thirty-five, it is--everything." + +He sighed. + +"No, Alresca," I said, surmising that he referred to his own case, +"not everything, surely?" + +"You are right," he replied. "Even then it is not everything. The +human soul is unconquerable, even by love. But, nevertheless, be +warned. Do not drive it late. Ah! Why should I not confess to you, now +that all is over? Carl, you are aware that I have loved deeply. Can +you guess what being in love meant to me? Probably not. I am aging +now, but in my youth I was handsome, and I have had my voice. Women, +the richest, the cleverest, the kindest--they fling themselves at +such as me. There is no vanity in saying so; it is the simple fact. I +might have married a hundred times; I might have been loved a thousand +times. But I remained--as I was. My heart slept like that of a young +girl. I rejected alike the open advances of the bold and the shy, +imperceptible signals of the timid. Women were not for me. In secret I +despised them. I really believe I did. + +"Then--and it is not yet two years ago--I met her whom you know. And +I--I the scorner, fell in love. All my pride, my self-assurance +crumbled into ruin about me, and left me naked to the torment of an +unrequited passion. I could not credit the depth of my misfortune, and +at first it was impossible for me to believe that she was serious in +refusing me. But she had the right. She was an angel, and I only a +man. She was the most beautiful woman in the world." + +"She was--she is," I said. + +He laughed easily. + +"She is," he repeated. "But she is nothing to me. I admire her beauty +and her goodness, that is all. She refused me. Good! At first I +rebelled against my fate, then I accepted it." And he repeated: "Then +I accepted it." + +I might have made some reply to his flattering confidences, but I +heard some one walk quickly across the foot-path outside and through +the wide entrance porch. In another moment the door of the salon was +thrown open, and a figure stood radiant and smiling in the doorway. +The antechamber had already been lighted, and the figure was +silhouetted against the yellow radiance. + +"So you are here, and I have found you, all in the dark!" + +Alresca turned his head. + +"Rosa!" he cried in bewilderment, put out his arms, and then drew them +sharply back again. + +It was Rosetta. She ran towards us, and shook hands with kind +expressions of greeting, and our eyes followed her as she moved about, +striking matches and applying them to candles. Then she took off her +hat and veil. + +"There! I seemed to know the house," she said. "Immediately I had +entered the courtyard I felt that there was a corridor running to the +right, and at the end of that corridor some steps and a landing and a +door, and on the other side of that door a large drawing-room. And +so, without ringing or waiting for the faithful Alexis, I came in." + +"And what brings you to Bruges, dear lady?" asked Alresca. + +"Solicitude for your health, dear sir," she replied, smiling. "At +Bayreuth I met that quaint person, Mrs. Sullivan Smith, who told me +that you were still here with Mr. Foster; and to-day, as I was +travelling from Cologne to Ostend, the idea suddenly occurred to me to +spend one night at Bruges, and make inquiries into your condition--and +that of Mr. Foster. You know the papers have been publishing the most +contradictory accounts." + +"Have they indeed?" laughed Alresca. + +But I could see that he was nervous and not at ease. For myself, I +was, it must be confessed, enchanted to see Rosa again, and so +unexpectedly, and it was amazingly nice of her to include myself in +her inquiries, and yet I divined that it would have been better if she +had never come. I had a sense of some sort of calamity. + +Alresca was flushed. He spoke in short, hurried sentences. Alternately +his tones were passionate and studiously cold. Rosa's lovely +presence, her musical chatter, her gay laughter, filled the room. She +seemed to exhale a delightful and intoxicating atmosphere, which +spread itself through the chamber and enveloped the soul of Alresca. +It was as if he fought against an influence, and then gradually +yielded to the sweetness of it. I observed him closely--for was he not +my patient?--and I guessed that a struggle was passing within him. I +thought of what he had just been saying to me, and I feared lest the +strong will should be scarcely so strong as it had deemed itself. + +"You have dined?" asked Alresca. + +"I have eaten," she said. "One does not dine after a day's +travelling." + +"Won't you have some coffee?" + +She consented to the coffee, which Alexis John Smedley duly brought +in, and presently she was walking lightly to and fro, holding the tiny +white cup in her white hand, and peering at the furniture and +bric-a-brac by the light of several candles. Between whiles she +related to Alresca all the news of their operatic acquaintances--how +this one was married, another stranded in Buenos Ayres, another ill +with jealousy, another ill with a cold, another pursued for debt, and +so on through the diverting category. + +"And Smart?" Alresca queried at length. + +I had been expecting and hoping for this question. + +"Oh, Sir Cyril! I have heard nothing of him. He is not a person that +interests me." + +She shut her lips tight and looked suddenly across in my direction, +and our eyes met, but she made no sign that I could interpret. If she +had known that the little jewelled dagger lay in the room over her +head! + +Her straw hat and thin white veil lay on a settee between two windows. +She picked them up, and began to pull the pins out of the hat. Then +she put the hat down again. + +"I must run away soon, Alresca," she said, bending over him, "but +before I leave I should like to go through the whole house. It seems +such a quaint place. Will you let Mr. Foster show me? He shall not be +away from you long." + +"In the dark?" + +"Why not? We can have candles." + +And so, a heavy silver candlestick in either hand, I presently found +myself preceding Rosa up the wide branching staircase of the house. +We had left the owner with a reading-lamp at the head of his couch, +and a copy of "Madame Bovary" to pass the time. + +We stopped at the first landing to examine a picture. + +"That mysterious complaint that he had, or thought he had, in London +has left him, has it not?" she asked me suddenly, in a low, slightly +apprehensive, confidential tone, moving her head in the direction of +the salon below. + +For some reason I hesitated. + +"He says so," I replied cautiously. "At any rate, he is much better." + +"Yes, I can see that. But he is still in a very nervous condition." + +"Ah," I said, "that is only--only at certain times." + +As we went together from room to room I forgot everything except the +fact of her presence. Never was beauty so powerful as hers; never was +the power of beauty used so artlessly, with such a complete +unconsciousness. I began gloomily to speculate on the chances of her +ultimately marrying Alresca, and a remark from her awoke me from my +abstraction. We were nearing the top of the house. + +"It is all familiar to me, in a way," she said. + +"Why, you said the same down-stairs. Have you been here before?" + +"Never, to my knowledge." + +We were traversing a long, broad passage side by side. Suddenly I +tripped over an unexpected single stair, and nearly fell. Rosa, +however, had allowed for it. + +"I didn't see that step," I said. + +"Nor I," she answered, "but I knew, somehow, that it was there. It is +very strange and uncanny, and I shall insist on an explanation from +Alresca." She gave a forced laugh. + +As I fumbled with the handle of the door she took hold of my hand. + +"Listen!" she said excitedly, "this will be a small room, and over the +mantelpiece is a little round picture of a dog." + +I opened the door with something akin to a thrill. This part of the +house was unfamiliar to me. The room was certainly a small one, but +there was no little round picture over the mantelpiece. It was a +square picture, and rather large, and a sea-piece. + +"You guessed wrong," I said, and I felt thankful. + +"No, no, I am sure." + +She went to the square picture, and lifted it away from the wall. + +"Look!" she said. + +Behind the picture was a round whitish mark on the wall, showing where +another picture had previously hung. + +"Let us go, let us go! I don't like the flicker of these candles," she +murmured, and she seized my arm. + +We returned to the corridor. Her grip of me tightened. + +"Was not that Alresca?" she cried. + +"Where?" + +"At the end of the corridor--there!" + +"I saw no one, and it couldn't have been he, for the simple reason +that he can't walk yet, not to mention climbing three flights of +stairs. You have made yourself nervous." + +We descended to the ground-floor. In the main hall Alresca's +housekeeper, evidently an old acquaintance, greeted Rosa with a +curtsy, and she stopped to speak to the woman. I went on to the salon. + +The aspect of the room is vividly before me now as I write. Most of +the great chamber was in a candle-lit gloom, but the reading-lamp +burnt clearly at the head of the couch, throwing into prominence the +fine profile of Alresca's face. He had fallen asleep, or at any rate +his eyes were closed. The copy of "Madame Bovary" lay on the floor, +and near it a gold pencil-case. Quietly I picked the book up, and saw +on the yellow cover of it some words written in pencil. These were the +words: + +"Carl, I love her. He has come again. This time it is ----" + +I looked long at his calm and noble face, and bent and listened. At +that moment Rosa entered. Concealing the book, I held out my right +hand with a gesture. + +"Softly!" I enjoined her, and my voice broke. + +"Why? What?" + +"He is dead," I said. + +It did not occur to me that I ought to have prepared her. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VIGIL BY THE BIER + + +We looked at each other, Rosa and I, across the couch of Alresca. + +All the vague and terrible apprehensions, disquietudes, misgivings, +which the gradual improvement in Alresca's condition had lulled to +sleep, aroused themselves again in my mind, coming, as it were, boldly +out into the open from the dark, unexplored grottos wherein they had +crouched and hidden. And I went back in memory to those sinister days +in London before I had brought Alresca to Bruges, days over which a +mysterious horror had seemed to brood. + +I felt myself adrift in a sea of frightful suspicions. I remembered +Alresca's delirium on the night of his accident, and his final +hallucination concerning the blank wall in the dressing-room (if +hallucination it was), also on that night. I remembered his outburst +against Rosetta Rosa. I remembered Emmeline Smith's outburst against +Rosetta Rosa. I remembered the vision in the crystal, and Rosa's +sudden and astoundingly apt breaking in upon that vision. I remembered +the scene between Rosa and Sir Cyril Smart, and her almost hysterical +impulse to pierce her own arm with the little jewelled dagger. I +remembered the glint of the dagger which drew my attention to it on +the curb of an Oxford Street pavement afterwards. I remembered the +disappearance of Sir Cyril Smart. I remembered all the inexplicable +circumstances of Alresca's strange decay, and his equally strange +recovery. I remembered that his recovery had coincided with an entire +absence of communication between himself and Rosa.... And then she +comes! And within an hour he is dead! "I love her. He has come again. +This time it is--" How had Alresca meant to finish that sentence? "He +has come again." Who had come again? Was there, then, another man +involved in the enigma of this tragedy? Was it the man I had seen +opposite the Devonshire Mansion on the night when I had found the +dagger? Or was "he" merely an error for "she"? "I love her. She has +come again." That would surely make better sense than what Alresca +had actually written? And he must have been mentally perturbed. Such a +slip was possible. No, no! When a man, even a dying man, is writing a +message which he has torn out of his heart, he does not put "he" for +"she" ... "I love her...." Then, had he misjudged her heart when he +confided in me during the early part of the evening? Or had the sudden +apparition of Rosa created his love anew? Why had she once refused +him? She seemed to be sufficiently fond of him. But she had killed +him. Directly or indirectly she had been the cause of his death. + +And as I looked at her, my profound grief for Alresca made me her +judge. I forgot for the instant the feelings with which she had once +inspired me, and which, indeed, had never died in my soul. + +"How do you explain this?" I demanded of her in a calm and judicial +and yet slightly hostile tone. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "How sad it is! How terribly sad!" + +And her voice was so pure and kind, and her glance so innocent, and +her grief so pitiful, that I dismissed forever any shade of a +suspicion that I might have cherished against her. Although she had +avoided my question, although she had ignored its tone, I knew with +the certainty of absolute knowledge that she had no more concern in +Alresca's death than I had. + +She came forward, and regarded the corpse steadily, and took the +lifeless hand in her hand. But she did not cry. Then she went abruptly +out of the room and out of the house. And for several days I did not +see her. A superb wreath arrived with her card, and that was all. + +But the positive assurance that she was entirely unconnected with the +riddle did nothing to help me to solve it. I had, however, to solve it +for the Belgian authorities, and I did so by giving a certificate that +Alresca had died of "failure of the heart's action." A convenient +phrase, whose convenience imposes perhaps oftener than may be imagined +on persons of an unsuspecting turn of mind! And having accounted for +Alresca's death to the Belgian authorities, I had no leisure (save +during the night) to cogitate much upon the mystery. For I was made +immediately to realize, to an extent to which I had not realized +before, how great a man Alresca was, and how large he bulked in the +world's eye. + +The first announcement of his demise appeared in the "Etoile Belgi," +the well-known Brussels daily, and from the moment of its appearance +letters, telegrams, and callers descended upon Alresca's house in an +unending stream. As his companion I naturally gave the whole of my +attention to his affairs, especially as he seemed to have no relatives +whatever. Correspondents of English, French, and German newspapers +flung themselves upon me in the race for information. They seemed to +scent a mystery, but I made it my business to discourage such an idea. +Nay, I went further, and deliberately stated to them, with a false air +of perfect candor, that there was no foundation of any sort for such +an idea. Had not Alresca been indisposed for months? Had he not died +from failure of the heart's action? There was no reason why I should +have misled these excellent journalists in their search for the +sensational truth, except that I preferred to keep the mystery wholly +to myself. + +Those days after the death recur to me now as a sort of breathless +nightmare, in which, aided by the admirable Alexis, I was forever +despatching messages and uttering polite phrases to people I had never +seen before. + +I had two surprises, one greater and one less. In the first place, the +Anglo-Belgian lawyer whom I had summoned informed me, after Alresca's +papers had been examined and certain effects sealed in the presence of +an official, that my friend had made a will, bearing a date +immediately before our arrival in Bruges, leaving the whole of his +property to me, and appointing me sole executor. I have never +understood why Alresca did this, and I have always thought that it was +a mere kind caprice on his part. + +The second surprise was a visit from the Burgomaster of the city. He +came clothed in his official robes. It was a call of the most rigid +ceremony. Having condoled with me and also complimented me upon my +succession to the dead man's estate, he intimated that the city +desired a public funeral. For a moment I was averse to this, but as I +could advance no argument against it I concurred in the proposal. + +There was a lying-in-state of the body at the cathedral, and the whole +city seemed to go in mourning. On the second day a priest called at +the house on the Quai des Augustins, and said that he had been sent by +the Bishop to ask if I cared to witness the lying-in-state from some +private vantage-ground. I went to the cathedral, and the Bishop +himself escorted me to the organ-loft, whence I could see the silent +crowds move slowly in pairs past Alresca's bier, which lay in the +chancel. It was an impressive sight, and one which I shall not forget. + +On the afternoon of the day preceding the funeral the same priest came +to me again, and I received him in the drawing-room, where I was +writing a letter to Totnes. He was an old man, a very old man, with a +quavering voice, but he would not sit down. + +"It has occurred to the Lord Bishop," he piped, "that monsieur has not +been offered the privilege of watching by the bier." + +The idea startled me, and I was at a loss what to say. + +"The Lord Bishop presents his profound regrets, and will monsieur care +to watch?" + +I saw at once that a refusal would have horrified the ecclesiastic. + +"I shall regard it as an honor," I said. "When?" + +"From midnight to two o'clock," answered the priest. "The later +watches are arranged." + +"It is understood," I said, after a pause. + +And the priest departed, charged with my compliments to the Lord +Bishop. + +I had a horror of the duty which had been thrust upon me. It went +against not merely my inclinations but my instincts. However, there +was only one thing to do, and of course I did it. + +At five minutes to twelve I was knocking at the north door of the +cathedral. A sacristan, who carried in his hand a long lighted taper, +admitted me at once. Save for this taper and four candles which stood +at the four corners of the bier, the vast interior was in darkness. + +The sacristan silently pointed to the chancel, and I walked +hesitatingly across the gloomy intervening space, my footsteps echoing +formidably in the silence. Two young priests stood, one at either side +of the lofty bier. One of them bowed to me, and I took his place. He +disappeared into the ambulatory. The other priest was praying for the +dead, a slight frown on his narrow white brow. His back was +half-turned towards the corpse, and he did not seem to notice me in +any way. + +I folded my arms, and as some relief from the uncanny and troublous +thoughts which ran in my head I looked about me. I could not bring +myself to gaze on the purple cloth which covered the remains of +Alresca. We were alone--the priest, Alresca, and I--and I felt afraid. +In vain I glanced round, in order to reassure myself, at the +stained-glass windows, now illumined by September starlight, at the +beautiful carving of the choir-stalls, at the ugly rococo screen. I +was afraid, and there was no disguising my fear. + +Suddenly the clock chimes of the belfry rang forth with startling +resonance, and twelve o'clock struck upon the stillness. Then followed +upon the bells a solemn and funereal melody. + +"How comes that?" I asked the priest, without stopping to consider +whether I had the right to speak during my vigil. + +"It is the carilloneur," my fellow watcher said, interrupting his +whispered and sibilant devotions, and turning to me, as it seemed, +unwillingly. "Have you not heard it before? Every evening since the +death he has played it at midnight in memory of Alresca." Then he +resumed his office. + +The minutes passed, or rather crawled by, and, if anything, my +uneasiness increased. I suffered all the anxieties and tremors which +those suffer who pass wakeful nights, imagining every conceivable ill, +and victimized by the most dreadful forebodings. Through it all I was +conscious of the cold of the stone floor penetrating my boots and +chilling my feet.... + +The third quarter after one struck, and I began to congratulate myself +that the ordeal by the bier was coming to an end. I looked with a sort +of bravado into the dark, shadowed distances of the fane, and smiled +at my nameless trepidations. And then, as my glance sought to +penetrate the gloom of the great western porch, I grew aware that a +man stood there. I wished to call the attention of the priest to this +man, but I could not--I could not. + +He came very quietly out of the porch, and walked with hushed +footfall up the nave; he mounted the five steps to the chancel; he +approached us; he stood at the foot of the bier; he was within a yard +of me. The priest had his back to him. The man seemed to ignore me; he +looked fixedly at the bier. But I knew him. I knew that fine, hard, +haughty face, that stiff bearing, that implacable eye. It was the man +whom I had seen standing under the trees opposite the Devonshire +Mansion in London. + +For a few moments his countenance showed no emotion. Then the features +broke into an expression of indescribable malice. With gestures of +demoniac triumph he mocked the solemnity of the bier, and showered +upon it every scornful indignity that the human face can convey. + +I admit that I was spellbound with astonishment and horror. I ought to +have seized the author of the infamous sacrilege--I ought, at any +rate, to have called to the priest--but I could do neither. I trembled +before this mysterious man. My frame literally shook. I knew what fear +was. I was a coward. + +At length he turned away, casting at me as he did so one indefinable +look, and with slow dignity passed again down the length of the nave +and disappeared. Then, and not till then, I found my voice and my +courage. I pulled the priest by the sleeve of his cassock. + +"Some one has just been in the cathedral," I said huskily. And I told +him what I had seen. + +"Impossible! Retro me, Sathanas! It was imagination." + +His tone was dry, harsh. + +"No, no," I said eagerly. "I assure you...." + +He smiled incredulously, and repeated the word "Imagination!" + +But I well knew that it was not imagination, that I had actually seen +this man enter and go forth. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE MESSAGE + + +When I returned to Alresca's house--or rather, I should say, to my own +house--after the moving and picturesque ceremony of the funeral, I +found a note from Rosetta Rosa, asking me to call on her at the Hôtel +du Commerce. This was the first news of her that I had had since she +so abruptly quitted the scene of Alresca's death. I set off instantly +for the hotel, and just as I was going I met my Anglo-Belgian lawyer, +who presented to me a large envelope addressed to myself in the +handwriting of Alresca, and marked "private." The lawyer, who had been +engaged in the sorting and examination of an enormous quantity of +miscellaneous papers left by Alresca, informed me that he only +discovered the package that very afternoon. I took the packet, put it +in my pocket, and continued on my way to Rosa. It did not occur to me +at the time, but it occurred to me afterwards, that I was extremely +anxious to see her again. + +Everyone who has been to Bruges knows the Hôtel du Commerce. It is +the Ritz of Bruges, and very well aware of its own importance in the +scheme of things. As I entered the courtyard a waiter came up to me. + +"Excuse me, monsieur, but we have no rooms." + +"Why do you tell me that?" + +"Pardon. I thought monsieur wanted a room. Mademoiselle Rosa, the +great diva, is staying here, and all the English from the Hôtel du +Panier d'Or have left there in order to be in the same hotel with +Mademoiselle Rosa." + +Somewhere behind that mask of professional servility there was a +smile. + +"I do not want a room," I said, "but I want to see Mademoiselle Rosa." + +"Ah! As to that, monsieur, I will inquire." He became stony at once. + +"Stay. Take my card." + +He accepted it, but with an air which implied that everyone left a +card. + +In a moment another servant came forth, breathing apologies, and led +me to Rosa's private sitting-room. As I went in a youngish, dark-eyed, +black-aproned woman, who, I had no doubt, was Rosa's maid, left the +room. + +Rosa and I shook hands in silence, and with a little diffidence. +Wrapped in a soft, black, thin-textured tea-gown, she reclined in an +easy-chair. Her beautiful face was a dead white; her eyes were +dilated, and under them were dark semicircles. + +"You have been ill," I exclaimed, "and I was not told." + +She shrugged her shoulders in denial, and shivered. + +"No," she said shortly. There was a pause. "He is buried?" + +"Yes." + +"Let me hear about it." + +I wished to question her further about her health, but her tone was +almost imperious, and I had a curious fear of offending her. +Nevertheless I reminded myself that I was a doctor, and my concern for +her urged me to be persistent. + +"But surely you have been ill?" I said. + +She tapped her foot. It was the first symptom of nervous impatience +that I had observed in her. + +"Not in body," she replied curtly. "Tell me all about the funeral." + +And I gave her an account of the impressive incidents of the +interment--the stately procession, the grandiose ritual, the symbols +of public grief. She displayed a strange, morbid curiosity as to it +all. + +And then suddenly she rose up from her chair, and I rose also, and she +demanded, as it were pushed by some secret force to the limit of her +endurance: + +"You loved him, didn't you, Mr. Foster?" + +It was not an English phrase; no Englishwoman would have used it. + +"I was tremendously fond of him," I answered. "I should never have +thought that I could have grown so fond of any one in such a short +time. He wasn't merely fine as an artist; he was so fine as a man." + +She nodded. + +"You understood him? You knew all about him? He talked to you openly, +didn't he?" + +"Yes," I said. "He used to tell me all kinds of things." + +"Then explain to me," she cried out, and I saw that tears brimmed in +her eyes, "why did he die when I came?" + +"It was a coincidence," I said lamely. + +Seizing my hands, she actually fell on her knees before me, flashing +into my eyes all the loveliness of her pallid, upturned face. + +"It was not a coincidence!" she passionately sobbed. "Why can't you be +frank with me, and tell me how it is that I have killed him? He said +long ago--do you not remember?--that I was fatal to him. He was +getting better--you yourself said so--till I came, and then he died." + +What could I reply? The girl was uttering the thoughts which had +haunted me for days. + +I tried to smile a reassurance, and raising her as gently as I could, +I led her back to her chair. It was on my part a feeble performance. + +"You are suffering from a nervous crisis," I said, "and I must +prescribe for you. My first prescription is that we do not talk about +Alresca's death." + +I endeavored to be perfectly matter-of-fact in tone, and gradually she +grew calmer. + +"I have not slept since that night," she murmured wearily. "Then you +will not tell me?" + +"What have I to tell you, except that you are ill? Stop a moment. I +have an item of news, after all. Poor Alresca has made me his heir." + +"That was like his kind heart." + +"Yes, indeed. But I can't imagine why he did it!" + +"It was just gratitude," said she. + +"A rare kind of gratitude," I replied. + +"Is no reason given in the will?" + +"Not a word." + +I remembered the packet which I had just received from the lawyer, and +I mentioned it to her. + +"Open it now," she said. "I am interested--if you do not think me too +inquisitive." + +I tore the envelope. It contained another envelope, sealed, and a +letter. I scanned the letter. + +"It is nothing," I said with false casualness, and was returning it to +my pocket. The worst of me is that I have no histrionic instinct; I +cannot act a part. + +"Wait!" she cried sharply, and I hesitated before the appeal in her +tragic voice. "You cannot deceive me, Mr. Foster. It is something. I +entreat you to read to me that letter. Does it not occur to you that I +have the right to demand this from you? Why should he beat about the +bush? You know, and I know that you know, that there is a mystery in +this dreadful death. Be frank with me, my friend. I have suffered much +these last days." + +We looked at each other silently, I with the letter in my hand. Why, +indeed, should I treat her as a child, this woman with the compelling +eyes, the firm, commanding forehead? Why should I pursue the silly +game of pretence? + +"I will read it," I said. "There is, certainly, a mystery in +connection with Alresca's death, and we may be on the eve of solving +it." + +The letter was dated concurrently with Alresca's will--that is to say, +a few days before our arrival in Bruges--and it ran thus: + + "My dear Friend:--It seems to me that I am to die, and from + a strange cause--for I believe I have guessed the cause. The + nature of my guess and all the circumstances I have written + out at length, and the document is in the sealed packet + which accompanies this. My reason for making such a record + is a peculiar one. I should desire that no eye might ever + read that document. But I have an idea that some time or + other the record may be of use to you--possibly soon. You, + Carl, may be the heir of more than my goods. If matters + should so fall out, then break the seal, and read what I + have written. If not, I beg of you, after five years have + elapsed, to destroy the packet unread. I do not care to be + more precise. + + + Always yours, + "Alresca." + +"That is all?" asked Rosa, when I had finished reading it. + +I passed her the letter to read for herself. Her hand shook as she +returned it to me. + +And we both blushed. We were both confused, and each avoided the +glance of the other. The silence between us was difficult to bear. I +broke it. + +"The question is, What am I to do? Alresca is dead. Shall I respect +his wish, or shall I open the packet now? If he could have foreseen +your anxiety, he probably would not have made these conditions. +Besides, who can say that the circumstances he hints at have not +already arisen? Who can say"--I uttered the words with an emphasis the +daring of which astounded even myself--"that I am not already the heir +of more than Alresca's goods?" + +I imagined, after achieving this piece of audacity, that I was +perfectly calm, but within me there must have raged such a tumult of +love and dark foreboding that in reality I could scarcely have known +what I was about. + +Rosa's eyes fixed themselves upon me, but I sustained that gaze. She +stretched forth a hand as if to take the packet. + +"You shall decide," I said. "Am I to open it, or am I not to open it?" + +"Open it," she whispered. "He will forgive us." + +I began to break the seal. + +"No, no!" she screamed, standing up again with clenched hands. "I was +wrong. Leave it, for God's sake! I could not bear to know the truth." + +I, too, sprang up, electrified by that terrible outburst. Grasping +tight the envelope, I walked to and fro in the room, stamping on the +carpet, and wondering all the time (in one part of my brain) why I +should be making such a noise with my feet. At length I faced her. She +had not moved. She stood like a statue, her black tea-gown falling +about her, and her two hands under her white drawn face. + +"It shall be as you wish," I said. "I won't open it." + +And I put the envelope back into my pocket. + +We both sat down. + +"Let us have some tea, eh?" said Rosa. She had resumed her +self-control more quickly than I could. I was unable to answer her +matter-of-fact remark. She rang the bell, and the maid entered with +tea. The girl's features struck me; they showed both wit and cunning. + +"What splendid tea!" I said, when the refection was in progress. We +had both found it convenient to shelter our feelings behind small +talk. "I'd no idea you could get tea like this in Bruges." + +"You can't," Rosa smiled. "I never travel without my own brand. It is +one of Yvette's special cares not to forget it." + +"Your maid?" + +"Yes." + +"She seems not quite the ordinary maid," I ventured. + +"Yvette? No! I should think not. She has served half the sopranos in +Europe--she won't go to contraltos. I possess her because I outbid all +rivals for her services. As a hairdresser she is unequalled. And it's +so much nicer not being forced to call in a coiffeur in every town! It +was she who invented my 'Elsa' coiffure. Perhaps you remember it?" + +"Perfectly. By the way, when do you recommence your engagements?" + +She smiled nervously. "I--I haven't decided." + +Nothing with any particle of significance passed during the remainder +of our interview. Telling her that I was leaving for England the next +day, I bade good-by to Rosa. She did not express the hope of seeing me +again, and for some obscure reason, buried in the mysteries of love's +psychology, I dared not express the hope to her. And so we parted, +with a thousand things unsaid, on a note of ineffectuality, of +suspense, of vague indefiniteness. + +And the next morning I received from her this brief missive, which +threw me into a wild condition of joyous expectancy: "If you could +meet me in the Church of St. Gilles at eleven o'clock this morning, I +should like to have your advice upon a certain matter.--Rosa." + +Seventy-seven years elapsed before eleven o'clock. + +St. Gilles is a large church in a small deserted square at the back of +the town. I waited for Rosa in the western porch, and at five minutes +past the hour she arrived, looking better in health, at once more +composed and vivacious. We sat down in a corner at the far end of one +of the aisles. Except ourselves and a couple of cleaners, there seemed +to be no one in the church. + +"You asked me yesterday about my engagements," she began. + +"Yes," I said, "and I had a reason. As a doctor, I will take leave to +tell you that it is advisable for you to throw yourself into your work +as soon as possible, and as completely as possible." And I remembered +the similar advice which, out of the plenitude of my youthful wisdom, +I had offered to Alresca only a few days before. + +"The fact is that I have signed a contract to sing 'Carmen' at the +Paris Opéra Comique in a fortnight's time. I have never sung the rôle +there before, and I am, or rather I was, very anxious to do so. This +morning I had a telegram from the manager urging me to go to Paris +without delay for the rehearsals." + +"And are you going?" + +"That is the question. I may tell you that one of my objects in +calling on poor Alresca was to consult him about the point. The truth +is, I am threatened with trouble if I appear at the Opéra Comique, +particularly in 'Carmen.' The whole matter is paltry beyond words, but +really I am a little afraid." + +"May I hear the story?" + +"You know Carlotta Deschamps, who always takes Carmen at the Comique?" + +"I've heard her sing." + +"By the way, that is her half-sister, Marie Deschamps, who sings in +your cousin's operas at the London Diana." + +"I have made the acquaintance of Marie--a harmless little thing!" + +"Her half-sister isn't quite so harmless. She is the daughter of a +Spanish mother, while Marie is the daughter of an English mother, a +Cockney woman. As to Carlotta, when I was younger"--oh, the +deliciously aged air with which this creature of twenty-three referred +to her youth--"I was singing at the Opéra Comique in Paris, where +Carlotta was starring, and I had the misfortune to arouse her +jealousy. She is frightfully jealous, and get worse as she gets older. +She swore to me that if I ever dared to appear at the Comique again +she would have me killed. I laughed. I forgot the affair, but it +happens that I never have sung at the Comique since that time. And now +that I am not merely to appear at the Comique, but am going to sing +'Carmen' there, her own particular rôle, Deschamps is furious. I +firmly believe she means harm. Twice she has written to me the most +formidable threats. It seems strange that I should stand in awe of a +woman like Carlotta Deschamps, but so it is. I am half-inclined to +throw up the engagement." + +That a girl of Rosa's spirit should have hesitated for an instant +about fulfilling her engagement showed most plainly, I thought, that +she was not herself. I assured her that her fears were groundless, +that we lived in the nineteenth century, and that Deschamps' fury +would spend itself in nothing worse than threats. In the end she said +she would reconsider the matter. + +"Don't wait to reconsider," I urged, "but set off for Paris at once. +Go to-day. Act. It will do you good." + +"But there are a hundred things to be thought of first," she said, +laughing at my earnestness. + +"For example?" + +"Well, my jewels are with my London bankers." + +"Can't you sing without jewels?" + +"Not in Paris. Who ever heard of such a thing?" + +"You can write to your bankers to send them by registered post." + +"Post! They are worth thousands and thousands of pounds. I ought +really to fetch them, but there would scarcely be time." + +"Let me bring them to you in Paris," I said. "Give me a letter to your +bankers, and I will undertake to deliver the jewels safely into your +hands." + +"I could not dream of putting you to so much trouble." + +The notion of doing something for her had, however, laid hold of me. +At that moment I felt that to serve even as her jewel-carrier would be +for me the supreme happiness in the world. + +"But," I said, "I ask it as a favor." + +"Do you?" She gave me a divine smile, and yielded. + +At her request we did not leave the church together. She preceded me. +I waited a few minutes, and then walked slowly out. Happening to look +back as I passed along the square, I saw a woman's figure which was +familiar to me, and, dominated by a sudden impulse, I returned quickly +on my steps. The woman was Yvette, and she was obviously a little +startled when I approached her. + +"Are you waiting for your mistress?" I said sharply. "Because...." + +She flashed me a look. + +"Did monsieur by any chance imagine that I was waiting for himself?" + +There was a calm insolence about the girl which induced me to retire +from that parley. + +In two hours I was on my way to London. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TRAIN + + +The boat-train was due to leave in ten minutes, and the platform at +Victoria Station (how changed since then!) showed that scene of +discreet and haughty excitement which it was wont to exhibit about +nine o'clock every evening in those days. The weather was wild. It had +been wet all day, and the rain came smashing down, driven by the great +gusts of a genuine westerly gale. Consequently there were fewer +passengers than usual, and those people who by choice or compulsion +had resolved to front the terrors of the Channel passage had a +preoccupied look as they hurried importantly to and fro amid piles of +luggage and groups of loungers on the wind-swept platform beneath the +flickering gas-lamps. But the porters, and the friends engaged in the +ceremony of seeing-off, and the loungers, and the bookstall +clerks--these individuals were not preoccupied by thoughts of intimate +inconveniences before midnight. As for me, I was quite alone with my +thoughts. At least, I began by being alone. + +As I was registering a particularly heavy and overfed portmanteau to +Paris, a young woman put her head close to mine at the window of the +baggage-office. + +"Mr. Foster? I thought it was. My cab set down immediately after +yours, and I have been trying to catch your eye on the platform. Of +course it was no go!" + +The speech was thrown at me in a light, airy tone from a tiny, pert +mouth which glistened red behind a muslin veil. + +"Miss Deschamps!" I exclaimed. + +"Glad you remember my name. As handsome and supercilious as ever, I +observe. I haven't seen you since that night at Sullivan's reception. +Why didn't you call on me one Sunday? You know I asked you to." + +"Did you ask me?" I demanded, secretly flattered in the extremity of +my youthfulness because she had called me supercilious. + +"Well, rather. I'm going to Paris--and in this weather!" + +"I am, too." + +"Then, let's go together, eh?" + +"Delighted. But why have you chosen such a night?" + +"I haven't chosen it. You see, I open to-morrow at the Casino de +Paris for fourteen nights, and I suppose I've got to be there. You +wouldn't believe what they're paying me. The Diana company is touring +in the provinces while the theatre is getting itself decorated. I hate +the provinces. Leeds and Liverpool and Glasgow--fancy dancing there! +And so my half-sister--Carlotta, y'know--got me this engagement, and +I'm going to stay with her. Have you met Carlotta?" + +"No--not yet." I did not add that I had had reason to think a good +deal about her. + +"Well, Carlotta is--Carlotta. A terrific swell, and a bit of a Tartar. +We quarrel every time we meet, which isn't often. She tries to play +the elder sister game on me, and I won't have it. Though she is +elder--very much elder, you now. But I think her worst point is that +she's so frightfully mysterious. You can never tell what she's up to. +Now, a man I met at supper last night told me he thought he had seen +Carlotta in Bloomsbury yesterday. However, I didn't believe that, +because she is expecting me in Paris; we happen to be as thick as +thieves just now, and if she had been in London, she would have looked +me up." + +"Just so," I replied, wondering whether I should endeavor to obtain +from Marie Deschamps information which would be useful to Rosa. + +By the time that the star of the Diana had said goodbye to certain +male acquaintances, and had gone through a complicated dialogue with +her maid on the subject of dress-trunks, the clock pointed almost to +nine, and a porter rushed us--Marie and myself--into an empty +compartment of a composite coach near to the engine. The compartment +was first class, but it evidently belonged to an ancient order of +rolling stock, and the vivacious Marie criticized it with considerable +freedom. The wind howled, positively howled, in the station. + +"I wish I wasn't going," said the lady. "I shall be horribly ill." + +"You probably will," I said, to tease her, idly opening the Globe. "It +seems that the morning steamer from Calais wasn't able to make either +Dover or Folkestone, and has returned to Calais. Imagine the state of +mind of the passengers!" + +"Ugh! Oh, Mr. Foster, what is that case by your side?" + +"It is a jewel-case." + +"What a big one!" + +She did not conceal her desire to see the inside of it, but I felt +that I could not, even to satisfy her charming curiosity, expose the +interior of Rosa's jewel-case in a railway carriage, and so I edged +away from the topic with as much adroitness as I was capable of. + +The pretty girl pouted, and asked me for the Globe, behind which she +buried herself. She kept murmuring aloud extracts from the Globe's +realistic description of the weather, and then she jumped up. + +"I'm not going." + +"Not going?" + +"No. The weather's too awful. These newspaper accounts frighten me." + +"But the Casino de Paris?" + +"A fig for it! They must wait for me, that's all. I'll try again +to-morrow. Will you mind telling the guard to get my boxes out, +there's a dear Mr. Foster, and I'll endeavor to find that maid of +mine?" + +The train was already five minutes late in starting; she delayed it +quite another five minutes, and enjoyed the process. And it was I who +meekly received the objurgations of porters and guard. My reward was a +smile, given with a full sense of its immense value. + +"Good-by, Mr. Foster. Take care of your precious jewel-case." + +I had carried the thing in my hand up and down the platform. I ran to +my carriage, and jumped in breathless as the train whistled. + +"Pleasant journey!" the witch called out, waving her small hand to me. + +I bowed to her from the window, laughing. She was a genial soul, and +the incident had not been without amusement. + +After I had shut the carriage door, and glanced out of the window for +a moment in the approved way, I sank, faintly smiling at the episode, +into my corner, and then I observed with a start that the opposite +corner was occupied. Another traveller had got into the compartment +while I had been coursing about the platform on behalf of Marie, and +that traveller was the mysterious and sinister creature whom I had met +twice before--once in Oxford Street, and once again during the night +watch in the cathedral at Bruges. He must have made up his mind to +travel rather suddenly, for, in spite of the weather, he had neither +overcoat nor umbrella--merely the frock coat and silk hat of +Piccadilly. But there was no spot of rain on him, and no sign of +disarray. + +As I gazed with alarmed eyes into the face of that strange, forbidding +personality, the gaiety of my mood went out like a match in a breeze. +The uncomfortable idea oppressed me that I was being surely caught and +enveloped in a net of adverse circumstances, that I was the +unconscious victim of a deep and terrible conspiracy which proceeded +slowly forward to an inevitable catastrophe. On each of the previous +occasions when this silent and malicious man had crossed my path I had +had the same feeling, but in a less degree, and I had been able to +shake it off almost at once. But now it overcame and conquered me. + +The train thundered across Grosvenor Bridge through the murky weather +on its way to the coast, and a hundred times I cursed it for its lack +of speed. I would have given much to be at the journey's end, and away +from this motionless and inscrutable companion. His eyes were +constantly on my face, and do what I would I could not appear at ease. +I tried to read the paper, I pretended to sleep, I hummed a tune, I +even went so far as to whistle, but my efforts at sang-froid were +ridiculous. The worst of it was that he was aware of my despicable +condition; his changeless cynical smile made that fact obvious to me. + +At last I felt that something must happen. At any rate, the silence of +the man must be broken. And so I gathered together my courage, and +with a preposterous attempt at a friendly smile remarked: + +"Beastly weather we're having. One would scarcely expect it so early +in September." + +It was an inane speech, so commonplace, so entirely foolish. And the +man ignored it absolutely. Only the corners of his lips drooped a +little to express, perhaps, a profounder degree of hate and scorn. + +This made me a little angry. + +"Didn't I see you last in the cathedral at Bruges?" I demanded curtly, +even rudely. + +He laughed. And his laugh really alarmed me. + +The train stopped at that moment at a dark and deserted spot, which +proved to be Sittingbourne. I hesitated, and then, giving up the +struggle, sped out of the compartment, and entered another one lower +down. My new compartment was empty. The sensation of relief was +infinitely soothing. Placing the jewel-case carefully on my knees, I +breathed freely once more, and said to myself that another quarter of +an hour of that detestable presence would have driven me mad. + +I began to think about Rosetta Rosa. As a solace after the +exasperating companionship of that silent person in the other +compartment, I invited from the back of my mind certain thoughts about +Rosetta Rosa which had been modestly waiting for me there for some +little time, and I looked at them fairly, and turned them over, and +viewed them from every side, and derived from them a rather thrilling +joy. The fact is, I was beginning to be in love with Rosa. Nay, I was +actually in love with her. Ever since our first meeting my meditations +had been more or less busy with her image. For a long period, largely +owing to my preoccupation with Alresca, I had dreamed of her but +vaguely. And now, during our interviews at her hotel and in the church +of St. Gilles, she had, in the most innocent way in the world, forged +fetters on me which I had no desire to shake off. + +It was a presumption on my part. I acknowledged frankly that it was a +presumption. I was a young doctor, with nothing to distinguish me from +the ruck of young doctors. And she was--well, she was one of those +rare and radiant beings to whom even monarchs bow, and the whole earth +offers the incense of its homage. + +Which did not in the least alter the fact that I was in love with her. +And, after all, she was just a woman; more, she was a young woman. And +she had consulted me! She had allowed me to be of use to her! And, +months ago in London, had she not permitted me to talk to her with an +extraordinary freedom? Lovely, incomparable, exquisite as she was, she +was nevertheless a girl, and I was sure that she had a girl's heart. + +However, it was a presumption. + +I remembered her legendary engagement to Lord Clarenceux, an +engagement which had interested all Europe. I often thought of that +matter. Had she loved him--really loved him? Or had his love for her +merely flattered her into thinking that she loved him? Would she not +be liable to institute comparisons between myself and that renowned, +wealthy, and gifted nobleman? + +Well, I did not care if she did. Such is the egoism of untried love +that I did not care if she did! And I lapsed into a reverie--a reverie +in which everything went smoothly, everything was for the best in the +best of all possible worlds, and only love and love's requital +existed.... + +Then, in the fraction of a second, as it seemed, there was a grating, +a horrible grind of iron, a bump, a check, and my head was buried in +the cushions of the opposite side of the carriage, and I felt +stunned--not much, but a little. + +"What--what?" I heard myself exclaim. "They must have plumped the +brakes on pretty sudden." + +Then, quite after an interval, it occurred to me that this was a +railway accident--one of those things that one reads of in the papers +with so much calmness. I wondered if I was hurt, and why I could hear +no sound; the silence was absolute--terrifying. + +In a vague, aimless way, I sought for my matchbox, and struck a +light. I had just time to observe that both windows were smashed, and +the floor of the compartment tilted, when the match went out in the +wind. I had heard no noise of breaking glass. + +I stumbled slowly to the door, and tried to open it, but the thing +would not budge. Whereupon I lost my temper. + +"Open, you beast, you beast, you beast!" I cried to the door, kicking +it hard, and yet not feeling the impact. + +Then another thought--a proud one, which served to tranquillize me: "I +am a doctor, and they will want me to attend to the wounded." + +I remembered my flask, and unscrewing the stopper with difficulty, +clutched the mouth with my teeth and drank. After that I was sane and +collected. Now I could hear people tramping on the ground outside, and +see the flash of lanterns. In another moment a porter, whose silver +buttons gleamed in the darkness, was pulling me through the window. + +"Hurt?" + +"No, not I. But if any one else is, I'm a doctor." + +"Here's a doctor, sir," he yelled to a gray-headed man near by. Then +he stood still, wondering what he should do next. I perceived in the +near distance the lights of a station. + +"Is that Dover?" + +"No, sir; Dover Priory. Dover's a mile further on. There was a goods +wagon got derailed on the siding just beyond the home signal, and it +blocked the down line, and the driver of the express ran right into +it, although the signal was against him--ran right into it, 'e did." + +Other people were crawling out of the carriages now, and suddenly +there seemed to be scores of spectators, and much shouting and running +about. The engine lay on its side, partly overhanging a wrecked wagon. +Immense clouds of steam issued from it, hissing above the roar of the +wind. The tender was twisted like a patent hairpin in the middle. The +first coach, a luggage-van, stood upright, and seemed scarcely +damaged. The second coach, the small, old-fashioned vehicle which +happily I had abandoned at Sittingbourne, was smashed out of +resemblance to a coach. The third one, from which I had just emerged, +looked fairly healthy, and the remaining three had not even left the +rails. + +All ran to the smashed coach. + +"There were two passengers in that coach," said the guard, who, having +been at the rear of the train, was unharmed. + +"Are you counting me?" I asked. "Because I changed carriages at +Sittingbourne." + +"Praise God for that, sir!" he answered. "There's only one, then--a +tall, severe-looking gent--in the first-class compartment." + +Was it joy or sorrow that I felt at the thought of that man buried +somewhere in the shapeless mass of wood and iron? It certainly was not +unmixed sorrow. On the contrary, I had a distinct feeling of elation +at the thought that I was probably rid forever of this haunter of my +peace, this menacing and mysterious existence which (if instinctive +foreboding was to be trusted) had been about to cross and thwart and +blast my own. + +The men hammered and heaved and chopped and sawed, and while they were +in the midst of the work some one took me by the sleeve and asked me +to go and attend to the engine-driver and stoker, who were being +carried into a waiting-room at the station. It is symptomatic of the +extraordinary confusion which reigns in these affairs that till that +moment the question of the fate of the men in charge of the train had +not even entered my mind, though I had of course noticed that the +engine was overturned. In the waiting-room it was discovered that two +local doctors had already arrived. I preferred to leave the +engine-driver to them. He was unconscious as he lay on a table. The +stoker, by his side, kept murmuring in a sort of delirium: + +"Bill, 'e was all dazed like--'e was all dazed like. I told him the +signal wasn't off. I shouted to him. But 'e was all dazed like." + +I returned to the train full of a horrible desire to see with my own +eyes a certain corpse. Bit by bit the breakdown gang had removed the +whole of the centre part of the shattered carriage. I thrust myself +into the group, and--we all looked at each other. Nobody, alive or +dead, was to be found. + +"He, too, must have got out at Sittingbourne," I said at length. + +"Ay!" said the guard. + +My heard swam, dizzy with dark imaginings and unspeakable suspicions. +"He has escaped; he is alive!" I muttered savagely, hopelessly. It was +as if a doom had closed inevitably over me. But if my thoughts had +been legible and I had been asked to explain this attitude of mine +towards a person who had never spoken to me, whom I had seen but +thrice, and whose identity was utterly unknown, I could not have done +so. I had no reasons. It was intuition. + +Abruptly I straightened myself, and surveying the men and the +background of ruin lighted by the fitful gleams of lanterns and the +pale glitter of a moon half-hidden by flying clouds, I shouted out: + +"I want a cab. I have to catch the Calais boat. Will somebody please +direct me!" + +No one appeared even to hear me. The mental phenomena which accompany +a railway accident, even a minor one such as this, are of the most +singular description. I felt that I was growing angry again. I had a +grievance because not a soul there seemed to care whether I caught the +Calais boat or not. That, under the unusual circumstances, the steamer +would probably wait did not occur to me. Nor did I perceive that there +was no real necessity for me to catch the steamer. I might just as +well have spent the night at the Lord Warden, and proceeded on my +journey in the morning. But no! I must hurry away instantly! + +Then I thought of the jewel-box. + +"Where's my jewel-box?" I demanded vehemently from the guard, as +though he had stolen it. + +He turned to me. + +"What's that you're carrying?" he replied. + +All the time I had been carrying the jewel-box. At the moment of the +collision I must have instinctively clutched it, and my grasp had not +slackened. I had carried it to the waiting-room and back without +knowing that I was doing so! + +This sobered me once more. But I would not stay on the scene. I was +still obsessed by the desire to catch the steamer. And abruptly I set +off walking down the line. I left the crowd and the confusion and the +ruin, and hastened away bearing the box. + +I think that I must have had no notion of time, and very little notion +of space. For I arrived at the harbour without the least recollection +of the details of my journey thither. I had no memory of having been +accosted by any official of the railway, or even of having encountered +any person at all. Fortunately it had ceased to rain, and the wind, +though still strong, was falling rapidly. + +Except for a gatekeeper, the bleak, exposed pier had the air of being +deserted. The lights of the town flickered in the distance, and above +them rose dimly the gaunt outlines of the fortified hills. In front +was the intemperate and restless sea. I felt that I was at the +extremity of England, and on the verge of unguessed things. Now, I had +traversed about half the length of the lonely pier, which seems to +curve right out into the unknown, when I saw a woman approaching me in +the opposite direction. My faculties were fatigued with the crowded +sensations of that evening, and I took no notice of her. Even when she +stopped to peer into my face I thought nothing of it, and put her +gently aside, supposing her to be some dubious character of the night +hours. But she insisted on speaking to me. + +"You are Carl Foster," she said abruptly. The voice was harsh, +trembling, excited, yet distinguished. + +"Suppose I am?" I answered wearily. How tired I was! + +"I advise you not to go to Paris." + +I began to arouse my wits, and I became aware that the woman was +speaking with a strong French accent. I searched her face, but she +wore a thick veil, and in the gloom of the pier I could only make out +that she had striking features, and was probably some forty years of +age. I stared at her in silence. + +"I advise you not to go to Paris," she repeated. + +"Who are you?" + +"Never mind. Take my advice." + +"Why? Shall I be robbed?" + +"Robbed!" she exclaimed, as if that was a new idea to her. "Yes," she +said hurriedly. "Those jewels might be stolen." + +"How do you know that I have jewels?" + +"Ah! I--I saw the case." + +"Don't trouble yourself, madam; I shall take particular care not to be +robbed. But may I ask how you have got hold of my name?" + +I had vague ideas of an ingenious plan for robbing me, the particulars +of which this woman was ready to reveal for a consideration. + +She ignored my question. + +"Listen!" she said quickly. "You are going to meet a lady in Paris. Is +it not so?" + +"I must really--" + +"Take advice. Move no further in that affair." + +I attempted to pass her, but she held me by the sleeve. She went on +with emphasis: + +"Rosetta Rosa will never be allowed to sing in 'Carmen' at the Opéra +Comique. Do you understand?" + +"Great Scott!" I said, "I believe you must be Carlotta Deschamps." + +It was a half-humorous inspiration on my part, but the remark produced +an immediate effect on the woman, for she walked away with a highly +theatrical scowl and toss of the head. I recalled what Marie Deschamps +had said in the train about her stepsister, and also my suspicion that +Rosa's maid was not entirely faithful to her mistress--spied on her, +in fact; and putting the two things together, it occurred to me that +this strange lady might actually be Carlotta. + +Many women of the stage acquire a habitual staginess and +theatricality, and it was quite conceivable that Carlotta had +relations with Yvette, and that, ridden by the old jealousy which had +been aroused through the announcement of Rosa's return to the Opéra +Comique, she was setting herself in an indefinite, clumsy, stealthy, +and melodramatic manner to prevent Rosa's appearance in "Carmen." + +No doubt she had been informed of Rosa's conference with me in the +church of St. Gilles, and, impelled by some vague, obscure motive, had +travelled to London to discover me, and having succeeded, was +determined by some means to prevent me from getting into touch with +Rosa in Paris. So I conjectured roughly, and subsequent events +indicated that I was not too far wrong. + +I laughed. The notion of the middle-aged prima donna going about in +waste places at dead of night to work mischief against a rival was +indubitably comic. I would make a facetious narrative of the meeting +for the amusement of Rosa at breakfast to-morrow in Paris. Then, +feeling all at once at the end of my physical powers, I continued my +way, and descended the steps to the Calais boat. + +All was excitement there. Had I heard of the railway accident? Yes, I +had. I had been in it. Instantly I was surrounded by individuals who +raked me fore and aft with questions. I could not endure it; my +nervous energy, I realized, was exhausted, and having given a brief +outline of the disaster, I fled down the saloon stairs. + +My sole desire was to rest; the need of unconsciousness, of +forgetfulness, was imperious upon me; I had had too many experiences +during the last few hours. I stretched myself on the saloon cushions, +making a pillow of the jewel-box. + +"Shall we start soon?" I murmured to a steward. + +"Yes, sir, in another five minutes. Weather's moderating, sir." + +Other passengers were in the saloon, and more followed. As this would +be the first steamer to leave Dover that day, there was a good number +of voyagers on board, in spite of adverse conditions. I heard people +talking, and the splash of waves against the vessel's sides, and then +I went to sleep. Nothing could have kept me awake. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE STEAMER + + +I awoke with a start, and with wavering eyes looked at the saloon +clock. I had slept for one hour only, but it appeared to me that I was +quite refreshed. My mind was strangely clear, every sense +preternaturally alert. I began to wonder what had aroused me. Suddenly +the ship shuddered through the very heart of her, and I knew that it +was this shuddering, which must have occurred before, that had wakened +me. + +"Good God! We're sinking!" a man cried. He was in the next berth to +me, and he sat up, staring wildly. + +"Rubbish!" I answered. + +The electric lights went out, and we were left with the miserable +illumination of one little swinging oil-lamp. Immediately the score or +so persons in the saloon were afoot and rushing about, grasping their +goods and chattels. The awful shuddering of the ship continued. +Scarcely a word was spoken. + +A man flew, or rather, tumbled, down the saloon stairs, shouting: +"Where's my wife? Where's my wife?" No one took the slightest notice +of him, nor did he seem to expect any answer. Even in the +semi-darkness of the single lamp I distinctly saw that with both hands +he was tearing handfuls of hair from his head. I had heard the phrase +"tearing one's hair" some thousands of time in my life, but never till +that moment had I witnessed the action itself. Somehow it made an +impression on me. The man raced round the saloon still shouting, and +raced away again up-stairs and out of sight. Everyone followed him +pell-mell, helter-skelter, and almost in a second I found myself +alone. I put on my overcoat, and my mackintosh over that, and seizing +Rosa's jewel-box, I followed the crowd. + +As I emerged on deck a Bengal light flared red and dazzling on the +bridge, and I saw some sailors trying to lower a boat from its davits. +Then I knew that the man who had cried "We're sinking!" even if he was +not speaking the exact truth, had at any rate some grounds for his +assertion. + +A rather pretty girl, pale with agitation, seized me by the +buttonhole. + +"Where are we going?" she questioned earnestly. + +"Don't know, madam," I replied; and then a young man dragged her off +by the arm. + +"Come this way, Lottie," I heard him say to her, "and keep calm." + +I was left staring at the place where the girl's head had been. Then +the head of an old man filled that place. I saw his mouth and all his +features working in frantic endeavor to speak to me, but he could not +articulate. I stepped aside; I could not bear to look at him. + +"Carl," I said to myself, "you are undoubtedly somewhat alarmed, but +you are not in such an absolutely azure funk as that old chap. Pull +yourself together." + +Of what followed immediately I have no recollection. I knew vaguely +that the ship rolled and had a serious list to starboard, that orders +were being hoarsely shouted from the bridge, that the moon was shining +fitfully, that the sea was black and choppy; I also seemed to catch +the singing of a hymn somewhere on the forward deck. I suppose I knew +that I existed. But that was all. I had no exact knowledge of what I +myself was doing. There was a hiatus in my consciousness of myself. + +The proof of this is that, after a lapse of time, I suddenly +discovered that I had smoked half-way through a cigarette, and that I +was at the bows of the steamer. For a million sovereigns I could not +explain under what circumstances I had moved from one end of the ship +to the other, nor how I had come to light that cigarette. Such is the +curious effect of perturbation. + +But the perturbation had now passed from me, just as mysteriously as +it had overtaken me. I was cool and calm. I felt inquisitive, and I +asked several people what had happened. But none seemed to know. In +fact, they scarcely heard me, and answered wildly, as if in delirium. +It seemed strange that anything could have occurred on so small a +vessel without the precise details being common property. Yet so it +was, and those who have been in an accident at sea will support me +when I say that the ignorance on the part of the passengers of the +events actually in progress is not the least astounding nor the least +disconcerting item in such an affair. It was the psychology of the +railway accident repeated. + +I began to observe. The weather was a little murky, but beyond doubt +still improving. The lights of the French coast could clearly be seen. +The ship rolled in a short sea; her engines had stopped; she still had +the formidable list to starboard; the captain was on the bridge, +leaning over, and with his hands round his mouth was giving orders to +an officer below. The sailors were still struggling to lower the boat +from the davits. The passengers stood about, aimless, perhaps +terror-struck, but now for the most part quiet and self-contained. +Some of them had life-belts. That was the sum of my observations. + +A rocket streamed upwards into the sky, and another and another, then +one caught the rigging, and, deflected, whizzed down again within a +few feet of my head, and dropped on deck, spluttering in a silly, +futile way. I threw the end of my cigarette at it to see whether that +might help it along. + +"So this is a shipwreck," I ejaculated. "And I'm in it. I've got +myself safely off the railway only to fall into the sea. What a d----d +shame!" + +Queerly enough, I had ceased to puzzle myself with trying to discover +how the disaster had been brought about. I honestly made up my mind +that we were sinking, and that was sufficient. + +"What cursed ill-luck!" I murmured philosophically. + +I thought of Rosa, with whom I was to have breakfasted on the morrow, +whose jewels I was carrying, whose behest it had been my pleasure to +obey. At that moment she seemed to me in my mind's eye more beautiful, +of a more exquisite charm, than ever before. "Am I going to lose her?" +I murmured. And then: "What a sensation there'll be in the papers if +this ship does go down!" My brain flitted from point to point in a +quick agitation. I decided suddenly that the captain and crew must be +a set of nincompoops, who had lost their heads, and, not knowing what +to do, were unserenely doing nothing. And quite as suddenly I reversed +my decision, and reflected that no doubt the captain was doing +precisely the correct thing, and that the crew were loyal and +disciplined. + +Then my mind returned to Rosa. What would she say, what would she +feel, when she learnt that I had been drowned in the Channel? Would +she experience a grief merely platonic, or had she indeed a +profounder feeling towards me? Drowned! Who said drowned? There were +the boats, if they could be launched, and, moreover, I could swim. I +considered what I should do at the moment the ship foundered--for I +still felt she would founder. I was the blackest of pessimists. I said +to myself that I would spring as far as I could into the sea, not only +to avoid the sucking in of the vessel, but to get clear of the other +passengers. + +Suppose that a passenger who could not swim should by any chance seize +me in the water, how should I act? This was a conundrum. I could not +save another and myself, too. I said I would leave that delicate point +till the time came, but in my heart I knew that I should beat off such +a person with all the savagery of despair--unless it happened to be a +woman. I felt that I could not repulse a drowning woman, even if to +help her for a few minutes meant death for both of us. + +How insignificant seemed everything else--everything outside the ship +and the sea and our perilous plight! The death of Alresca, the +jealousy of Carlotta Deschamps, the plot (if there was one) against +Rosa--what were these matters to me? But Rosa was something. She was +more than something; she was all. A lovely, tantalizing vision of her +appeared to float before my eyes. + +I peered over the port rail to see whether we were in fact gradually +sinking. The heaving water looked a long way off, and the idea of this +raised my spirits for an instant. But only for an instant. The +apparent inactivity of those in charge annoyed while it saddened me. +They were not even sending up rockets now, nor burning Bengal lights. +I had no patience left to ask more questions. A mood of disgust seized +me. If the captain himself had stood by my side waiting to reply to +requests for information, I doubt if I should have spoken. I felt like +the spectator who is compelled to witness a tragedy which both wounds +and bores him. I was obsessed by my own ill-luck and the stupidity of +the rest of mankind. I was particularly annoyed by the spasmodic +hymn-singing that went on in various parts of the deck. + +The man who had burst into the saloon shouting "Where is my wife?" +reappeared from somewhere, and standing near to me started to undress +hastily. I watched him. He had taken off his coat, waistcoat, and +boots, when a quiet, amused voice said: "I shouldn't do that if I were +you. It's rather chilly, you know. Besides, think of the ladies." + +Without a word he began with equal celerity to reassume his clothes. I +turned to the speaker. It was the youth who had dragged the girl away +from me when I first came up on deck. She was on his arm, and had a +rug over her head. Both were perfectly self-possessed. The serenity of +the young man's face particularly struck me. I was not to be out-done. + +"Have a cigarette?" I said. + +"Thanks." + +"Do you happen to know what all this business is?" I asked him. + +"It's a collision," he said. "We were struck on the port paddle-box. +That saved us for the moment." + +"How did it occur?" + +"Don't know." + +"And where's the ship that struck us?" + +"Oh, somewhere over there--two or three miles away." He pointed +vaguely to the northeast. "You see, half the paddle-wheel was knocked +off, and when that sank, of course the port side rose out of the +water. I believe those paddle-wheels weigh a deuce of a lot." + +"Are we going to sink?" + +"Don't know. Can tell you more in half an hour. I've got two +life-belts hidden under a seat. They're rather a nuisance to carry +about. You're shivering, Lottie. We must take some more exercise. See +you later, sir." + +And the two went off again. The girl had not looked at me, nor I at +her. She did not seem to be interested in our conversation. As for her +companion, he restored my pride in my race. + +I began to whistle. Suddenly the whistle died on my lips. Standing +exactly opposite to me, on the starboard side, was the mysterious +being whom I had last seen in the railway carriage at Sittingbourne. +He was, as usual, imperturbable, sardonic, terrifying. His face, which +chanced to be lighted by the rays of a deck lantern, had the pallor +and the immobility of marble, and the dark eyes held me under their +hypnotic gaze. + +Again I had the sensation of being victimized by a conspiracy of which +this implacable man was the head. I endured once more the mental +tortures which I had suffered in the railway carriage, and now, as +then, I felt helpless and bewildered. It seemed to me that his +existence overshadowed mine, and that in some way he was connected +with the death of Alresca. Possibly there was a plot, in which the +part played by the jealousy of Carlotta Deschamps was only a minor +one. Possibly I had unwittingly stepped into a net of subtle intrigue, +of the extent of whose boundaries and ramifications I had not the +slightest idea. Like one set in the blackness of an unfamiliar +chamber, I feared to step forward or backward lest I might encounter +some unknown horror. + +It may be argued that I must have been in a highly nervous condition +in order to be affected in such a manner by the mere sight of a man--a +man who had never addressed to me a single word of conversation. +Perhaps so. Yet up to that period of my life my temperament and habit +of mind had been calm, unimpressionable, and if I may say so, not +specially absurd. + +What need to inquire how the man had got on board that ship--how he +had escaped death in the railway accident--how he had eluded my sight +at Dover Priory? There he stood. Evidently he had purposed to pursue +me to Paris, and little things like railway collisions were +insufficient to deter him. I surmised that he must have quitted the +compartment at Sittingbourne immediately after me, meaning to follow +me, but that the starting of the train had prevented him from entering +the same compartment as I entered. According to this theory, he must +have jumped into another compartment lower down the train as the train +was moving, and left it when the collision occurred, keeping his eye +on me all the time, but not coming forward. He must even have walked +after me down the line from Dover Priory to the pier. + +However, a shipwreck was a more serious affair than a railway +accident. And if the ship were indeed doomed, it would puzzle even him +to emerge with his life. He might seize me in the water, and from +simple hate drag me to destruction,--yes, that was just what he would +do,--but he would have a difficulty in saving himself. Such were my +wild and fevered notions! + +On the starboard bow I saw the dim bulk and the masthead lights of a +steamer approaching us. The other passengers had observed it, too, +and there was a buzz of anticipation on the slanting deck. Only the +inimical man opposite to me seemed to ignore the stir. He did not even +turn round to look at the object which had aroused the general +excitement. His eyes never left me. + +The vessel came nearer, till we could discern clearly the outline of +her, and a black figure on her bridge. She was not more than a hundred +yards away when the beat of her engines stopped. She hailed us. We +waited for the answering call from our own captain, but there was no +reply. Twice again she hailed us, and was answered only by silence. + +"Why don't our people reply?" an old lady asked, who came up to me at +that moment, breathing heavily. + +"Because they are d----d fools," I said roughly. She was a most +respectable and prim old lady; yet I could not resist shocking her +ears by an impropriety. + +The other ship moved away into the night. + +Was I in a dream? Was this a pantomime shipwreck? Then it occurred to +me that the captain was so sure of being ultimately able to help +himself that he preferred from motives of economy to decline +assistance which would involve a heavy salvage claim. + +My self-possessed young man came along again in the course of his +peregrinations, the girl whom he called Lottie still on his arm. He +stopped for a chat. + +"Most curious thing!" he began. + +"What now?" + +"Well, I found out about the collision." + +"How did it occur?" + +"In this way. The captain was on duty on the bridge, with the +steersman at the wheel. It was thickish weather then, much thicker +than it is now--in fact, there'll soon be no breeze left, and look at +the stars! Suddenly the lookout man shouted that there was a sail on +the weather bow, and it must have been pretty close, too. The captain +ordered the man at the wheel to put the boat to port--I don't know the +exact phraseology of the thing--so that we could pass the other ship +on our starboard side. Instead of doing that, the triple idiot shoved +us to starboard as hard as he could, and before the captain could do +anything, we were struck on the port paddle. The steersman had sent us +right into the other ship. If he had wanted specially to land us into +a good smash-up, he could scarcely have done it better. A good thing +we got caught on the paddle; otherwise we should have been cut clean +in two. As it was, the other boat recoiled and fell away." + +"Was she damaged?" + +"Probably not." + +"How does the man at the wheel explain his action?" + +"Well, that's the curious part. I was just coming to that. Naturally +he's in a great state of terror just now, but he can just talk. He +swears that when the captain gave his order a third person ran up the +steps leading to the bridge, and so frightened him that he was sort of +dazed, and did exactly the wrong thing." + +"A queer tale!" + +"I should think so. But he sticks to it. He even says that this highly +mysterious third person made him do the wrong thing. But that's +absolute tommy-rot." + +"The man must be mad." + +"I should have said he had been drunk, but there doesn't seem to be +any trace of that. Anyhow, he sees visions, and I maintain that the +Chatham and Dover people oughtn't to have their boats steered by men +who see visions, eh?" + +"I agree with you. I suppose we aren't now in any real danger?" + +"I should hardly think so. We might have been. It was pure luck that +we happened to get struck on the paddle-box, and also it was pure luck +that the sea has gone down so rapidly. With a list like this, a really +lively cross-sea would soon have settled us." + +We were silent for a few moments. The girl looked idly round the ship, +and her eyes encountered the figure of the mysterious man. She seemed +to shiver. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed under her breath, "what a terrible face that man +has!" + +"Where?" said her friend. + +"Over there. And how is it he's wearing a silk hat--here?" + +His glance followed hers, but my follower had turned abruptly round, +and in a moment was moving quickly to the after-part of the ship. He +passed behind the smoke-stack, and was lost to our view. + +"The back of him looks pretty stiff," the young man said. "I wonder if +he's the chap that alarmed the man at the wheel." + +I laughed, and at the same time I accidentally dropped Rosa's +jewel-case, which had never left my hand. I picked it up hurriedly. + +"You seem attached to that case," the young man said, smiling. "If we +had foundered, should you have let it go, or tried to swim ashore with +it?" + +"The question is doubtful," I replied, returning his smile. In +shipwrecks one soon becomes intimate with strangers. + +"If I mistake not, it is a jewel-case." + +"It is a jewel-case." + +He nodded with a moralizing air, as if reflecting upon the sordid love +of property which will make a man carry a jewel-case about with him +when the next moment he might find himself in the sea. At least, that +was my interpretation of the nodding. Then the brother and sister--for +such I afterwards discovered they were--left me to take care of my +jewel-case alone. + +Why had I dropped the jewel-case? Was it because I was startled by the +jocular remark which identified the mysterious man with the person who +had disturbed the steersman? That remark was made in mere jest. Yet I +could not help thinking that it contained the truth. Nay, I knew that +it was true; I knew by instinct. And being true, what facts were +logically to be deduced from it? What aim had this mysterious man in +compelling, by his strange influences, the innocent sailor to guide +the ship towards destruction--the ship in which I happened to be a +passenger?... And then there was the railway accident. The stoker had +said that the engine-driver had been dazed--like the steersman. But +no. There are avenues of conjecture from which the mind shrinks. I +could not follow up that train of thought. + +Happily, I did not see my enemy again--at least, during that journey. +And my mind was diverted, for the dawn came--the beautiful September +dawn. Never have I greeted the sun with deeper joy, and I fancy that +my sentiments were shared by everyone on board the vessel. As the +light spread over the leaden waters, and the coast of France was +silhouetted against the sky, the passengers seemed to understand that +danger was over, and that we had been through peril, and escaped. Some +threw themselves upon their knees, and prayed with an ecstasy of +thankfulness. Others re-commenced their hymning. Others laughed +rather hysterically, and began to talk at a prodigious rate. A few, +like myself, stood silent and apparently unmoved. + +Then the engines began to beat. There was a frightful clatter of +scrap-iron and wood in the port paddle-box, and they stopped +immediately, whereupon we noticed that the list of the vessel was +somewhat more marked than before. The remainder of the port paddle +had, in fact, fallen away into the water. The hymn-singers ceased +their melodies, absorbed in anticipating what would happen next. At +last, after many orders and goings to and fro, the engines started +again, this time, of course, the starboard paddle, deeply immersed, +moved by itself. We progressed with infinite slowness, and in a most +peculiar manner, but we did progress, and that was the main thing. The +passengers cheered heartily. + +We appeared to go in curves, but each curve brought us nearer to +Calais. As we approached that haven of refuge, it seemed as if every +steamer and smack of Calais was coming out to meet us. The steamers +whistled, the owners of smacks bawled and shouted. They desired to +assist; for were we not disabled, and would not the English railway +company pay well for help so gallantly rendered? Our captain, +however, made no sign, and, like a wounded, sullen animal, from whom +its companions timidly keep a respectful distance, we at length +entered Calais harbor, and by dint of much seamanship and polyglottic +swearing brought up safely at the quay. + +Then it was that one fully perceived, with a feeling of shame, how +night had magnified the seriousness of the adventure; how it had been +nothing, after all; how it would not fill more than half a column in +the newspapers; how the officers of the ship must have despised the +excited foolishness of passengers who would not listen to reasonable, +commonplace explanations. + +The boat was evacuated in the twinkling of an eye. I have never seen a +Channel steamer so quickly empty itself. It was as though the people +were stricken by a sudden impulse to dash away from the poor craft at +any cost. At the Customs, amid all the turmoil and bustle, I saw +neither my young friend and his sister, nor my enemy, who so far had +clung to me on my journey. + +I learned that a train would start in about a quarter of an hour. I +had some coffee and a roll at the buffet. While I was consuming that +trifling refection the young man and his sister joined me. The girl +was taciturn as before, but her brother talked cheerfully as he sipped +chocolate; he told me that his name was Watts, and he introduced his +sister. He had a pleasant but rather weak face, and as for his manner +and bearing, I could not decide in my own mind whether he was a +gentleman or a buyer from some London drapery warehouse on his way to +the city of modes. He gave no information as to his profession or +business, and as I had not even returned his confidence by revealing +my name, this was not to be wondered at. + +"Are you going on to Paris?" he said presently. + +"Yes; and the sooner I get there the better I shall be pleased." + +"Exactly," he smiled. "I am going, too. I have crossed the Channel +many times, but I have never before had such an experience as last +night's." + +Then we began to compare notes of previous voyages, until a railway +official entered the buffet with a raucous, "Voyageurs pour Paris, en +voiture." + +There was only one first-class carriage, and into this I immediately +jumped, and secured a corner. Mr. Watts followed me, and took the +other corner of the same seat. Miss Watts remained on the platform. It +was a corridor carriage, and the corridor happened to be on the far +side from the platform. Mr. Watts went out to explore the corridor. I +arranged myself in my seat, placed the jewel-case by my side, and my +mackintosh over my knees. Miss Watts stood idly in front of the +carriage door, tapping the platform with her umbrella. + +"You do not accompany your brother, then?" I ventured. + +"No. I'm staying in Calais, where I have an--an engagement." She +smiled plaintively at me. + +Mr. Watts came back into the compartment, and, standing on the step, +said good-by to his sister, and embraced her. She kissed him +affectionately. Then, having closed the carriage door, he stolidly +resumed his seat, which was on the other side away from the door. We +had the compartment to ourselves. + +"A nice girl," I reflected. + +The train whistled, and a porter ran along to put the catches on all +the doors. + +"Good-by; we're off," I said to Miss Watts. + +"Monsieur," she said, and her face seemed to flush in the cold morning +light,--"monsieur." Was she, then, French, to address me like that? + +She made a gesture as if she would say something to me of importance, +and I put my head out of the window. + +"May I ask you to keep an eye on my brother?" she whispered. + +"In what way?" I asked, somewhat astonished. + +The train began to move, and she walked to keep level with me. + +"Do not let him drink at any of the railway buffets on the journey; he +will be met at the Gare du Nord. He is addicted--" + +"But how can I stop him if he wants to--" + +She had an appealing look, and she was running now to keep pace with +the train. + +"Ah, do what you can, sir. I ask it as a favor. Pardon the request +from a perfect stranger." + +I nodded acquiescence, and, waving a farewell to the poor girl, sank +back into my seat. "This is a nice commission!" I thought. + +Mr. Watts was no longer in his corner. Also my jewel-case was gone. + +"A deliberate plant!" I exclaimed; and I could not help admiring the +cleverness with which it had been carried out. + +I rushed into the corridor, and looked through every compartment; but +Mr. Watts, whom I was to keep from drunkenness, had utterly departed. +Then I made for the handle of the communication cord. It had been +neatly cut off. The train was now travelling at a good speed, and the +first stop would be Amiens. I was too ashamed of my simplicity to give +the news of my loss to the other passengers in the carriage. + +"Very smart indeed!" I murmured, sitting down, and I smiled--for, +after all, I could afford to smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A CHAT WITH ROSA + + +"And when I sat down it was gone, and the precious Mr. Watts had also +vanished." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Rosa. That was all she said. It is impossible to deny +that she was startled, that she was aghast. I, however, maintained a +splendid equanimity. + +We were sitting in the salon of her flat at the Place de la Concorde +end of the Rue de Rivoli. We had finished lunch, and she had offered +me a cigarette. I had had a bath, and changed my attire, and eaten a +meal cooked by a Frenchman, and I felt renewed. I had sunned myself in +the society of Rosetta Rosa for an hour, and I felt soothed. I forgot +all the discomforts and misgivings of the voyage. It was nothing to +me, as I looked at this beautiful girl, that within the last +twenty-four hours I had twice been in danger of losing my life. What +to me was the mysterious man with the haunting face of implacable +hate? What to me were the words of the woman who had stopped me on the +pier at Dover? Nothing! A thousand times less than nothing! I loved, +and I was in the sympathetic presence of her whom I loved. + +I had waited till lunch was over to tell Rosa of the sad climax of my +adventures. + +"Yes," I repeated, "I was never more completely done in my life. The +woman conspirator took me in absolutely." + +"What did you do then?" + +"Well, I wired to Calais immediately we got to Amiens, and told the +police, and did all the things one usually does do when one has been +robbed. Also, since arriving in Paris, I have been to the police +here." + +"Do they hold out any hope of recovery?" + +"I'm afraid they are not sanguine. You see, the pair had a good start, +and I expect they belong to one of the leading gangs of jewel thieves +in Europe. The entire business must have been carefully planned. +Probably I was shadowed from the moment I left your bankers'." + +"It's unfortunate." + +"Yes, indeed. I felt sure that you would attach some importance to +the jewel-case. So I have instructed the police to do their utmost." + +She seemed taken aback by the lightness of my tone. + +"My friend, those jewels were few, but they were valuable. They were +worth--I don't know what they were worth. There was a necklace that +must have cost fifteen thousand pounds." + +"Yes--the jewels." + +"Well! Is it not the jewels that are missing?" + +"Dear lady," I said, "I aspire to be thought a man of the world--it is +a failing of youth; but, then, I am young. As a man of the world, I +cogitated a pretty good long time before I set out for Paris with your +jewels." + +"You felt there was a danger of robbery?" + +"Exactly." + +"And you were not mistaken." There was irony in her voice. + +"True! But let me proceed. A man of the world would see at once that a +jewel-case was an object to attract the eyes of those who live by +their wits." + +"I should imagine so." + +"Therefore, as a man of the world, I endeavored to devise a scheme of +safeguarding my little cargo." + +"And you--" + +"I devised one." + +"What was it?" + +"I took all the jewels out of the case, and put them into my various +pockets; and I carried the case to divert attention from those +pockets." + +She looked at me, her face at first all perplexity; gradually the +light broke upon her. + +"Simple, wasn't it?" I murmured. + +"Then the jewels are not stolen?" + +"Certainly not. The jewels are in my pockets. If you recollect, I said +it was the jewel-case that was stolen." + +I began to smile. + +"Mr. Foster," she said, smiling too, "I am extremely angry." + +"Forgive the joke," I entreated. "Perhaps it is a bad one--but I hope +not a very bad one, because very bad jokes are inexcusable. And here +are your jewels." + +I put on the expression of a peccant but hopeful schoolboy, as I +emptied one pocket after another of the scintillating treasures. The +jewels lay, a gorgeous heap, on her lap. The necklace which she had +particularly mentioned was of pearls. There were also rubies and +emeralds, upon which she seemed to set special store, and a brooch in +the form of a butterfly, which she said was made expressly for her by +Lalique. But not a diamond in the collection! It appeared that she +regarded diamonds as some men regard champagne--as a commodity not +appealing to the very finest taste. + +"I didn't think you were so mischievous," she laughed, frowning. + +To transfer the jewels to her possession I had drawn my chair up to +hers, and we were close together, face to face. + +"Ah!" I replied, content, unimaginably happy. "You don't know me yet. +I'm a terrible fellow." + +"Think of my state of mind during the last fifteen minutes." + +"Yes, but think of the joy which you now experience. It is I who have +given you that joy--the joy of losing and gaining all that in a +quarter of an hour." + +She picked up the necklace, and as she gazed at the stones her glance +had a rapt expression, as though she were gazing through their depths +into the past. + +"Mr. Foster," she said at length, without ceasing to look at the +pearls, "I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are in Paris. Shall +you stay till I have appeared at the Opéra Comique?" + +"I was hoping to, and if you say you would like me to--" + +"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I do." And she looked up. + +Her lovely eyes had a suspicion of moisture. The blood rushed through +my head, and I could feel its turbulent throb-throb across the temples +and at my heart. + +I was in heaven, and residence in heaven makes one bold. + +"You really would like me to stay?" I almost whispered, in a tone that +was equivalent to a declaration. + +Her eyes met mine in silence for a few instants, and then she said, +with a touch of melancholy: + +"In all my life I've only had two friends--I mean since my mother's +death; and you are the third." + +"Is that all?" + +"You don't know what a life like mine is," she went on, with feeling. +"I'm only a prima donna, you know. People think that because I can +make as much money in three hours as a milliner's girl can make in +three years, and because I'm always in the midst of luxuries, and +because I have whims and caprices, and because my face has certain +curves in it, and because men get jealous with each other about +kissing my hand, that therefore I've got all I want." + +"Certain curves!" I burst out. "Why, you're the most beautiful +creature I ever saw!" + +"There!" she cried. "That's just how they all talk. I do hate it." + +"Do you?" I said. "Then I'll never call you beautiful again. But I +should have thought you were fairly happy." + +"I'm happy when I'm singing well," she answered--"only then. I like +singing. I like to see an audience moved. I must sing. Singing is my +life. But do you know what that means? That means that I belong to the +public, and so I can't hide myself. That means that I am +always--always--surrounded by 'admirers.'" + +"Well?" + +"Well, I don't like them. I don't like any of them. And I don't like +them in the mass. Why can't I just sing, and then belong simply to +myself? They are for ever there, my 'admirers.' Men of wealth, men of +talent, men of adventure, men of wits--all devoted, all respectful, +all ready to marry me. Some honorable, according to the accepted +standard, others probably dishonorable. And there is not one but whose +real desire is to own me. I know them. Love! In my world, peculiar in +that world in which I live, there is no such thing as love--only a +showy imitation. Yes, they think they love me. 'When we are married +you will not sing any more; you will be mine then,' says one. That is +what he imagines is love. And others would have me for the gold-mine +that is in my throat. I can read their greed in their faces." + +Her candid bitterness surprised as much as it charmed me. + +"Aren't you a little hard on them?" I ventured. + +"Now, am I?" she retorted. "Don't be a hypocrite. Am I?" + +I said nothing. + +"You know perfectly well I'm not," she answered for me. + +"But I admire you," I said. + +"You're different," she replied. "You don't belong to my world. That's +what pleases me in you. You haven't got that silly air of always being +ready to lay down your life for me. You didn't come in this morning +with a bunch of expensive orchids, and beg that I should deign to +accept them." She pointed to various bouquets in the room. "You just +came in and shook hands, and asked me how I was." + +"I never thought of bringing any flowers," I said awkwardly. + +"Just so. That's the point. That's what I like. If there is one thing +that I can't tolerate, and that I have to tolerate, it's 'attentions,' +especially from people who copy their deportment from Russian +Archdukes." + +"There are Archdukes?" + +"Why! the air is thick with them. Why do men think that a woman is +flattered by their ridiculous 'attentions?' If they knew how sometimes +I can scarcely keep from laughing! There are moments when I would +give anything to be back again in the days when I knew no one more +distinguished than a concierge. There was more sincerity at my +disposal then." + +"But surely all distinguished people are not insincere?" + +"They are insincere to opera singers who happen to be young, +beautiful, and rich, which is my sad case. The ways of the people who +flutter round a theatre are not my ways. I was brought up simply, as +you were in your Devonshire home. I hate to spend my life as if it was +one long diplomatic reception. Ugh!" + +She clenched her hands, and one of the threads of the necklace gave +way, and the pearls scattered themselves over her lap. + +"There! That necklace was given to me by one of my friends!" She +paused. + +"Yes?" I said tentatively. + +"He is dead now. You have heard--everyone knows--that I was once +engaged to Lord Clarenceux. He was a friend. He loved me--he died--my +friends have a habit of dying. Alresca died." + +The conversation halted. I wondered whether I might speak of Lord +Clarenceux, or whether to do so would be an indiscretion. She began +to collect the pearls. + +"Yes," she repeated softly, "he was a friend." + +I drew a strange satisfaction from the fact that, though she had said +frankly that he loved her, she had not even hinted that she loved him. + +"Lord Clarenceux must have been a great man," I said. + +"That is exactly what he was," she answered with a vague enthusiasm. +"And a great nobleman too! So different from the others. I wish I +could describe him to you, but I cannot. He was immensely rich--he +looked on me as a pauper. He had the finest houses, the finest +judgment in the world. When he wanted anything he got it, no matter +what the cost. All dealers knew that, and any one who had 'the best' +to sell knew that in Lord Clarenceux he would find a purchaser. He +carried things with a high hand. I never knew another man so +determined, or one who could be more stern or more exquisitely kind. +He knew every sort of society, and yet he had never married. He fell +in love with me, and offered me his hand. I declined--I was afraid of +him. He said he would shoot himself. And he would have done it; so I +accepted. I should have ended by loving him. For he wished me to love +him, and he always had his way. He was a man, and he held the same +view of my world that I myself hold. Mr. Foster, you must think I'm in +a very chattering mood." + +I protested with a gesture. + +"Lord Clarenceux died. And I am alone. I was terribly lonely after his +death. I missed his jealousy." + +"He was jealous?" + +"He was the most jealous man, I think, who ever lived. His jealousy +escorted me everywhere like a guard of soldiers. Yet I liked him even +for that. He was genuine; so sincere, so masterful with it. In all +matters his methods were drastic. If he had been alive I should not be +tormented by the absurd fears which I now allow to get the better of +me." + +"Fears! About what?" + +"To be frank, about my debut at the Opéra Comique. I can imagine," she +smiled, "how he would have dealt with that situation." + +"You are afraid of something?" + +"Yes." + +"What is it?" + +"I don't know. I merely fear.... There is Carlotta Deschamps." + +"Miss Rosa, a few minutes ago you called me your friend." My voice was +emotional; I felt it. + +"I did, because you are. I have no claim on you, but you have been +very good to me." + +"You have the best claim on me. Will you rely on me?" + +We looked at each other. + +"I will," she said. I stood before her, and she took my hand. + +"You say you fear. I hope your fears are groundless--candidly, I can't +see how they can be otherwise. But suppose anything should happen. +Well, I shall be at your service." + +At that moment some one knocked and entered. It was Yvette. She +avoided my glance. + +"Madame will take her egg-and-milk before going to rehearsal?" + +"Yes, Yvette. Bring it to me here, please." + +"You have a rehearsal to-day?" I asked. "I hope I'm not detaining +you." + +"Not at all. The call is for three o'clock. This is the second one, +and they fixed the hour to suit me. It is really my first rehearsal, +because at the previous one I was too hoarse to sing a note." + +I rose to go. + +"Wouldn't you like to come with me to the theatre?" she said with an +adorable accent of invitation. + +My good fortune staggered me. + +After she had taken her egg-and-milk we set out. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +EGG-AND-MILK + + +I was intensely conscious of her beauty as I sat by her side in the +swiftly rolling victoria. And I was conscious of other qualities in +her too--of her homeliness, her good-fellowship, her trustfulness. The +fact that she was one of the most famous personalities in Europe did +not, after our talk, in the least disturb my pleasing dreams of a +possible future. It was, nevertheless, specially forced upon me, for +as we drove along the Rue de Rivoli, past the interminable façades of +the Louvre, and the big shops, and so into the meaner quarter of the +markets--the Opéra Comique was then situated in its temporary home in +the Place du Châtelet--numberless wayfarers showed by their demeanor +of curiosity that Rosetta Rosa was known to them. They were much more +polite than English people would have been, but they did not hide +their interest in us. + +The jewels had been locked away in a safe, except one gorgeous emerald +brooch which she was wearing at her neck. + +"It appears," I said, "that in Paris one must not even attend +rehearsals without jewels." + +She laughed. + +"You think I have a passion for jewels, and you despise me for it." + +"By no means. Nobody has a better right to wear precious stones than +yourself." + +"Can you guess why I wear them?" + +"Not because they make you look prettier, for that's impossible." + +"Will you please remember that I like you because you are not in the +habit of making speeches." + +"I beg pardon. I won't offend again. Well, then, I will confess that I +don't know why you wear jewels. There must be a Puritan strain in my +character, for I cannot enter into the desire for jewels. I say this +merely because you have practically invited me to be brutal." + +Now that I recall that conversation I realize how gentle she was +towards my crude and callous notions concerning personal adornment. + +"Yet you went to England in order to fetch my jewels." + +"No, I went to England in order to be of use to a lady. But tell +me--why do you wear jewels off the stage?" + +"Simply because, having them, I have a sort of feeling that they ought +to be used. It seems a waste to keep them hidden in a strong box, and +I never could tolerate waste. Really, I scarcely care more for jewels, +as jewels, than you do yourself." + +"Still, for a person who doesn't care for them, you seem to have a +fair quantity of them." + +"Ah! But many were given to me--and the rest I bought when I was +young, or soon afterwards. Besides, they are part of my stock in +trade." + +"When you were young!" I repeated, smiling. "How long is that since?" + +"Ages." + +I coughed. + +"It is seven years since I was young," she said, "and I was sixteen at +the time." + +"You are positively venerable, then; and since you are, I must be +too." + +"I am much older than you are," she said; "not in years, but in life. +You don't feel old." + +"And do you?" + +"Frightfully." + +"What brings it on?" + +"Oh! Experience--and other things. It is the soul which grows old." + +"But you have been happy?" + +"Never--never in my life, except when I was singing, have I been +happy. Have you been happy?" + +"Yes," I said, "once or twice." + +"When you were a boy?" + +"No, since I have become a man. Just--just recently." + +"People fancy they are happy," she murmured. + +"Isn't that the same thing as being happy?" + +"Perhaps." Then suddenly changing the subject: "You haven't told me +about your journey. Just a bare statement that there was a delay on +the railway and another delay on the steamer. Don't you think you +ought to fill in the details?" + +So I filled them in; but I said nothing about my mysterious enemy who +had accompanied me, and who after strangely disappearing and +reappearing had disappeared again; nor about the woman whom I had met +on the Admiralty Pier. I wondered when he might reappear once more. +There was no proper reason why I should not have told Rosa about these +persons, but some instinctive feeling, some timidity of spirit, +prevented me from doing so. + +"How thrilling! Were you frightened on the steamer?" she asked. + +"Yes," I admitted frankly. + +"You may not think it," she said, "but I should not have been +frightened. I have never been frightened at Death." + +"But have you ever been near him?" + +"Who knows?" she answered thoughtfully. + +We were at the stage-door of the theatre. The olive-liveried footman +dismounted, and gravely opened the door of the carriage. I got out, +and gave my hand to Rosa, and we entered the theatre. + +In an instant she had become the prima donna. The curious little +officials of the theatre bowed before her, and with prodigious smiles +waved us forward to the stage. The stage-manager, a small, fat man +with white hair, was drilling the chorus. As soon as he caught sight +of us he dismissed the short-skirted girls and the fatigued-looking +men, and skipped towards us. The orchestra suddenly ceased. Everyone +was quiet. The star had come. + +"Good day, mademoiselle. You are here to the moment." + +Rosa and the régisseur talked rapidly together, and presently the +conductor of the orchestra stepped from his raised chair on to the +stage, and with a stately inclination to Rosa joined in the +conversation. As for me, I looked about, and was stared at. So far as +I could see there was not much difference between an English stage and +a French stage, viewed at close quarters, except that the French +variety possesses perhaps more officials and a more bureaucratic air. +I gazed into the cold, gloomy auditorium, so bare of decoration, and +decided that in England such an auditorium would not be tolerated. + +After much further chatter the conductor bowed again, and returned to +his seat. Rosa beckoned to me, and I was introduced to the +stage-manager. + +"Allow me to present to you Mr. Foster, one of my friends." + +Rosa coughed, and I noticed that her voice was slightly hoarse. + +"You have taken cold during the drive," I said, pouring into the sea +of French a little stream of English. + +"Oh, no. It is nothing; it will pass off in a minute." + +The stage-manager escorted me to a chair near a grand piano which +stood in the wings. Then some male artists, evidently people of +importance, appeared out of the darkness at the back of the stage. +Rosa took off her hat and gloves, and placed them on the grand piano. +I observed that she was flushed, and I put it down to the natural +excitement of the artist about to begin work. The orchestra sounded +resonantly in the empty theatre, and, under the yellow glare of +unshaded electricity, the rehearsal of "Carmen" began at the point +where Carmen makes her first entry. + +As Rosa came to the centre of the stage from the wings she staggered. +One would have thought she was drunk. At her cue, instead of +commencing to sing, she threw up her hands, and with an appealing +glance at me sank down to the floor. I rushed to her, and immediately +the entire personnel of the theatre was in a state of the liveliest +excitement. I thought of a similar scene in London not many months +before. But the poor girl was perfectly conscious, and even +self-possessed. + +"Water!" she murmured. "I shall die of thirst if you don't give me +some water to drink at once." + +There appeared to be no water within the theatre, but at last some one +appeared with a carafe and glass. She drank two glassfuls, and then +dropped the glass, which broke on the floor. + +"I am not well," she said; "I feel so hot, and there is that +hoarseness in my throat. Mr. Foster, you must take me home. The +rehearsal will have to be postponed again; I am sorry. It's very +queer." + +She stood up with my assistance, looking wildly about her, but +appealing to no one but myself. + +"It is queer," I said, supporting her. + +"Mademoiselle was ill in the same way last time," several sympathetic +voices cried out, and some of the women caressed her gently. + +"Let me get home," she said, half-shouting, and she clung to me. "My +hat--my gloves--quick!" + +"Yes, yes," I said; "I will get a fiacre." + +"Why not my victoria?" she questioned imperiously. + +"Because you must go in a closed carriage," I said firmly. + +"Mademoiselle will accept my brougham?" + +A tall dark man had come forward. He was the Escamillo. She thanked +him with a look. Some woman threw a cloak over Rosa's shoulders, and, +the baritone on one side of her and myself on the other, we left the +theatre. It seemed scarcely a moment since she had entered it +confident and proud. + +During the drive back to her flat I did not speak, but I examined her +narrowly. Her skin was dry and burning, and on her forehead there was +a slight rash. Her lips were dry, and she continually made the motion +of swallowing. Her eyes sparkled, and they seemed to stand out from +her head. Also she still bitterly complained of thirst. She wanted, +indeed, to stop the carriage and have something to drink at the Café +de l'Univers, but I absolutely declined to permit such a proceeding, +and in a few minutes we were at her flat. The attack was passing away. +She mounted the stairs without much difficulty. + +"You must go to bed," I said. We were in the salon. "In a few hours +you will be better." + +"I will ring for Yvette." + +"No," I said, "you will not ring for Yvette. I want Yvette myself. +Have you no other servant who can assist you?" + +"Yes. But why not Yvette?" + +"You can question me to-morrow. Please obey me now. I am your doctor. +I will ring the bell. Yvette will come, and you will at once go out of +the room, find another servant, and retire to bed. You can do that? +You are not faint?" + +"No, I can do it; but it is very queer." + +I rang the bell. + +"You have said that before, and I say, 'It is queer; queerer than you +imagine.' One thing I must ask you before you go. When you had the +attack in the theatre did you see things double?" + +"Yes," she answered. "But how did you know? I felt as though I was +intoxicated; but I had taken nothing whatever." + +"Excuse me, you had taken egg-and-milk. Here is the glass out of which +you drank it." I picked up the glass, which had been left on the +table, and which still contained about a spoonful of egg-and-milk. + +Yvette entered in response to my summons. + +"Mademoiselle has returned soon," the girl began lightly. + +"Yes." + +The two women looked at each other. I hastened to the door, and held +it open for Rosa to pass out. She did so. I closed the door, and put +my back against it. The glass I still held in my hand. + +"Now, Yvette, I want to ask you a few questions." + +She stood before me, pretty even in her plain black frock and black +apron, and folded her hands. Her face showed no emotion whatever. + +"Yes, monsieur, but mademoiselle will need me." + +"Mademoiselle will not need you. She will never need you again." + +"Monsieur says?" + +"You see this glass. What did you put in it?" + +"The cook put egg-and-milk into it." + +"I ask what you put in it?" + +"I, monsieur? Nothing." + +"You are lying, my girl. Your mistress has been poisoned." + +"I swear--" + +"I should advise you not to swear. You have twice attempted to poison +your mistress. Why did you do it?" + +"But this is absurd." + +"Does your mistress use eyedrops when she sings at the Opéra?" + +"Eyedrops?" + +"You know what I mean. A lotion which you drop into the eye in order +to dilate the pupil." + +"My mistress never uses eyedrops." + +"Does Madame Carlotta Deschamps use eyedrops?" + +It was a courageous move on my part, but it had its effect. She was +startled. + +"I--I don't know, monsieur." + +"I ask because eyedrops contain atropine, and mademoiselle is +suffering from a slight, a very slight, attack of atropine poisoning. +The dose must have been very nicely gauged; it was just enough to +produce a temporary hoarseness and discomfort. I needn't tell such a +clever girl as you that atropine acts first on the throat. It has +clearly been some one's intention to prevent mademoiselle from singing +at rehearsals, and from appearing in Paris in 'Carmen.'" + +Yvette drew herself up, her nostrils quivering. She had turned +decidedly pale. + +"Monsieur insults me by his suspicions. I must go." + +"You won't go just immediately. I may tell you further that I have +analyzed the contents of this glass, and have found traces of +atropine." + +I had done no such thing, but that was a detail. + +"Also, I have sent for the police." + +This, too, was an imaginative statement. + +Yvette approached me suddenly, and flung her arms round my neck. I had +just time to put the glass on the seat of a chair and seize her hands. + +"No," I said, "you will neither spill that glass nor break it." + +She dropped at my feet weeping. + +"Have pity on me, monsieur!" She looked up at me through her tears, +and the pose was distinctly effective. "It was Madame Deschamps who +asked me to do it. I used to be with her before I came to +mademoiselle. She gave me the bottle, but I didn't know it was +poison--I swear I didn't!" + +"What did you take it to be, then? Jam? Two grains of atropine will +cause death." + +For answer she clung to my knees. I released myself, and moved away a +few steps. She jumped up, and made a dash for the door, but I happened +to have locked it. + +"Where is Madame Deschamps?" I asked. + +"She returns to Paris to-morrow. Monsieur will let me go. I was only a +tool." + +"I will consider that matter, Yvette," I said. "In my opinion you are +a thoroughly wicked girl, and I wouldn't trust you any further than I +could see you. For the present, you will have an opportunity to +meditate over your misdoings." I left the room, and locked the door on +the outside. + +Impossible to disguise the fact that I was enormously pleased with +myself--with my sharpness, my smartness, my penetration, my success. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE PORTRAIT + + +For the next hour or two I wandered about Rosa's flat like an +irresolute and bewildered spirit. I wished to act, yet without Rosa I +scarcely liked to do so. That some sort of a plot existed--whether +serious or trivial was no matter--there could be little doubt, and +there could be little doubt also that Carlotta Deschamps was at the +root of it. + +Several half-formed schemes flitted through my head, but none of them +seemed to be sufficiently clever. I had the idea of going to see +Carlotta Deschamps in order to warn her. Then I thought the warning +might perhaps be sent through her sister Marie, who was doubtless in +Paris, and who would probably be able to control Carlotta. I had not +got Carlotta's address, but I might get it by going to the Casino de +Paris, and asking Marie for it. Perhaps Marie, suspicious, might +refuse the address. Had she not said that she and Carlotta were as +thick as thieves? Moreover, assuming that I could see Carlotta, what +should I say to her? How should I begin? Then it occurred to me that +the shortest way with such an affair was to go directly to the police, +as I had already threatened Yvette; but the appearance of the police +would mean publicity, scandal, and other things unpleasant for Rosa. +So it fell out that I maintained a discreet inactivity. + +Towards nightfall I went into the street to breathe the fresh air. A +man was patrolling the pavement in a somewhat peculiar manner. I +returned indoors, and after half an hour reconnoitred once more. The +man was on the opposite side of the road, with his eyes on the windows +of the salon. When he caught sight of me he walked slowly away. He +might have been signalling to Yvette, who was still under lock and +key, but this possibility did not disturb me, as escape was out of the +question for her. + +I went back to the flat, and a servant met me in the hall with a +message that mademoiselle was now quite recovered, and would like to +see me in her boudoir. I hurried to her. A fire was burning on the +hearth, and before this were two lounge chairs. Rosa occupied one, and +she motioned me to the other. Attired in a peignoir of pure white, and +still a little languorous after the attack, she looked the enchanting +perfection of beauty and grace. But in her eyes, which were unduly +bright, there shone an apprehension, the expectancy of the unknown. + +"I am better," she said, with a faint smile. "Feel my pulse." + +I held her wrist and took out my watch, but I forgot to count, and I +forgot to note the seconds. I was gazing at her. It seemed absurd to +contemplate the possibility of ever being able to call her my own. + +"Am I not better?" + +"Yes, yes," I said; "the pulse is--the pulse is--you are much better." + +Then I pushed my chair a little further from the fire, and recollected +that there were several things to be said and done. + +"I expected the attack would pass very quickly," I said. + +"Then you know what I have been suffering from," she said, turning her +chair rapidly half-round towards me. + +"I do," I answered, with emphasis. + +"What is it?" + +I was silent. + +"Well," she said, "tell me what it is." She laughed, but her voice was +low and anxious. + +"I am just wondering whether I shall tell you." + +"Stuff!" she exclaimed proudly. "Am I a child?" + +"You are a woman, and should be shielded from the sharp edges of +life." + +"Ah!" she murmured "Not all men have thought so. And I wish you +wouldn't talk like that." + +"Nevertheless, I think like that," I said. "And I'm really anxious to +save you from unnecessary annoyance." + +"Then I insist that you shall tell me," she replied inconsequently. "I +will not have you adopt that attitude towards me. Do you understand? I +won't have it! I'm not a Dresden shepherdess, and I won't be treated +like one--at any rate, by you. So there!" + +I was in the seventh heaven of felicity. + +"If you will have it, you have been poisoned." + +I told her of my suspicions, and how they had been confirmed by +Yvette's avowal. She shivered, and then stood up and came towards me. + +"Do you mean to say that Carlotta Deschamps and my own maid have +conspired together to poison me simply because I am going to sing in a +certain piece at a certain theatre? It's impossible!" + +"But it is true. Deschamps may not have wished to kill you; she merely +wanted to prevent you from singing, but she ran a serious risk of +murder, and she must have known it." + +Rosa began to sob, and I led her back to her chair. + +"I ought not to have told you to-night," I said. "But we should +communicate with the police, and I wanted your authority before doing +so." + +She dried her eyes, but her frame still shook. + +"I will sing 'Carmen,'" she said passionately. + +"Of course you will. We must get these two arrested, and you shall +have proper protection." + +"Police? No! We will have no police." + +"You object to the scandal? I had thought of that." + +"It is not that I object to the scandal. I despise Deschamps and +Yvette too much to take the slightest notice of either of them. I +could not have believed that women would so treat another woman." She +hid her face in her hands. + +"But is it not your duty--" I began. + +"Mr. Foster, please, please don't argue. I am incapable of prosecuting +these creatures. You say Yvette is locked up in the salon. Go to her, +and tell her to depart. Tell her that I shall do nothing, that I do +not hate her, that I bear her no ill-will, that I simply ignore her. +And let her carry the same message to Carlotta Deschamps." + +"Suppose there should be a further plot?" + +"There can't be. Knowing that this one is discovered, they will never +dare.... And even if they tried again in some other way, I would +sooner walk in danger all my life than acknowledge the existence of +such creatures. Will you go at once?" + +"As you wish;" and I went out. + +"Mr. Foster." + +She called me back. Taking my hand with a gesture half-caressing, she +raised her face to mine. Our eyes met, and in hers was a gentle, +trustful appeal, a pathetic and entrancing wistfulness, which sent a +sudden thrill through me. Her clasp of my fingers tightened ever so +little. + +"I haven't thanked you in words," she said, "for all you have done for +me, and are doing. But you know I'm grateful, don't you?" + +I could feel the tears coming into my eyes. + +"It is nothing, absolutely nothing," I muttered, and hurried from the +room. + +At first, in the salon, I could not see Yvette, though the electric +light had been turned on, no doubt by herself. Then there was a +movement of one of the window-curtains, and she appeared from behind +it. + +"Oh, it is you," she said calmly, with a cold smile. She had +completely recovered her self-possession, so much was evident; and +apparently she was determined to play the game to the end, accepting +defeat with an air of ironical and gay indifference. Yvette was by no +means an ordinary woman. Her face was at once sinister and attractive, +with lines of strength about it; she moved with a certain distinction; +she had brains and various abilities; and I imagined her to have been +capable of some large action, a first-class sin or a really dramatic +self-sacrifice--she would have been ready for either. But of her +origin I am to this day as ignorant as of her ultimate fate. + +A current of air told me that a window was open. + +"I noticed a suspicious-looking man outside just now," I said. "Is he +one of your confederates? Have you been communicating with him?" + +She sat down in an armchair, leaned backwards, and began to hum an +air--la, la, la. + +"Answer me. Come!" + +"And if I decline?" + +"You will do well to behave yourself," I said; and, going to the +window, I closed it, and slipped the catch. + +"I hope the gendarmes will be here soon," she murmured amiably; "I am +rather tired of waiting." She affected to stifle a yawn. + +"Yvette," I said, "you know as well as I do that you have committed a +serious crime. Tell me all about Deschamps' jealousy of your mistress; +make a full confession, and I will see what can be done for you." + +She put her thin lips together. + +"No," she replied in a sharp staccato. "I have done what I have done, +and I will answer only the juge d'instruction." + +"Better think twice." + +"Never. It is a trick you wish to play on me." + +"Very well." I went to the door, and opened it wide. "You are free to +go." + +"To go?" + +"It is your mistress's wish." + +"She will not send me to prison?" + +"She scorns to do anything whatever." + +For a moment the girl looked puzzled, and then: + +"Ah! it is a bad pleasantry; the gendarmes are on the stairs." + +I shrugged my shoulders, and at length she tripped quietly out of the +room. I heard her run down-stairs. Then, to my astonishment, the +footfalls approached again, and Yvette re-entered the room and closed +the door. + +"I see it is not a bad pleasantry," she began, with her back to the +door. "Mademoiselle is a great lady, and I have always known that; she +is an artist; she has soul--so have I. What you could not force from +me, neither you nor any man, I will tell you of my own free will. You +want to hear of Deschamps?" + +I nodded, half-admiring her--perhaps more than half. + +"She is a woman to fear. I have told you I used to be her maid before +I came to mademoiselle, and even I was always afraid of her. But I +liked her. We understood each other, Deschamps and I. Mademoiselle +imagines that Deschamps became jealous of her because of a certain +affair that happened at the Opéra Comique several years ago--a mere +quarrel of artists, of which I have seen many. That was partly the +cause, but there was something else. Deschamps used to think that Lord +Clarenceux was in love with her--with her! As a fact, he was not; but +she used to think so, and when Lord Clarenceux first began to pay +attention to mademoiselle, then it was that the jealousy of Deschamps +really sprang up. Ah! I have heard Deschamps swear to--But that is +nothing. She never forgave mademoiselle for being betrothed to Lord +Clarenceux. When he died, she laughed; but her hatred of mademoiselle +was unchanged. It smouldered, only it was very hot underneath. And I +can understand--Lord Clarenceux was so handsome and so rich, the most +fine stern man I ever saw. He used to give me hundred-franc notes." + +"Never mind the notes. Why has Deschamps' jealousy revived so suddenly +just recently?" + +"Why? Because mademoiselle would come back to the Opéra Comique. +Deschamps could not suffer that. And when she heard it was to be so, +she wrote to me--to me!--and asked if it was true that mademoiselle +was to appear as Carmen. Then she came to see me--me--and I was +obliged to tell her it was true, and she was frightfully angry, and +then she began to cry--oh, her despair! She said she knew a way to +stop mademoiselle from singing, and she begged me to help her, and I +said I would." + +"You were willing to betray your mistress?" + +"Deschamps swore it would do no real harm. Do I not tell you that +Deschamps and I always liked each other? We were old friends. I +sympathized with her; she is growing old." + +"How much did she promise to pay you?" + +"Not a sou--not a centime. I swear it." The girl stamped her foot and +threw up her head, reddening with the earnestness of her disclaimer. +"What I did, I did from love; and I thought it would not harm +mademoiselle, really." + +"Nevertheless you might have killed your mistress." + +"Alas!" + +"Answer me this: Now that your attempt has failed, what will Deschamps +do? Will she stop, or will she try something else?" + +Yvette shook her head slowly. + +"I do not know. She is dangerous. Sometimes she is like a mad woman. +You must take care. For myself, I will never see her again." + +"You give your word on that?" + +"I have said it. There is nothing more to tell you. So, adieu. Say to +mademoiselle that I have repented." + +She opened the door, and as she did so her eye seemed by chance to +catch a small picture which hung by the side of the hearth. My back +was to the fireplace, and I did not trouble to follow her glance. + +"Ah," she murmured reflectively, "he was the most fine stern man ... +and he gave me hundred-franc notes." + +Then she was gone. We never saw nor heard of Yvette again. + +Out of curiosity, I turned to look at the picture which must have +caught her eye. It was a little photograph, framed in black, and hung +by itself on the wall; in the ordinary way one would scarcely have +noticed it. I went close up to it. My heart gave a jump, and I seemed +to perspire. The photograph was a portrait of the man who, since my +acquaintance with Rosa, had haunted my footsteps--the mysterious and +implacable person whom I had seen first opposite the Devonshire +Mansion, then in the cathedral at Bruges during my vigil by the corpse +of Alresca, then in the train which was wrecked, and finally in the +Channel steamer which came near to sinking. Across the lower part of +it ran the signature, in large, stiff characters, "Clarenceux." + +So Lord Clarenceux was not dead, though everyone thought him so. Here +was a mystery more disturbing than anything which had gone before. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE VILLA + + +It seemed to be my duty to tell Rosa, of course with all possible +circumspection, that, despite a general impression to the contrary, +Lord Clarenceux was still alive. His lordship's reasons for effacing +himself, and so completely deceiving his friends and the world, I +naturally could not divine; but I knew that such things had happened +before, and also I gathered that he was a man who would hesitate at no +caprice, however extravagant, once it had suggested itself to him as +expedient for the satisfaction of his singular nature. + +A light broke in upon me: Alresca must have been aware that Lord +Clarenceux was alive. That must have been part of Alresca's secret, +but only part. I felt somehow that I was on the verge of some tragical +discovery which might vitally affect not only my own existence, but +that of others. + +I saw Rosa on the morning after my interview with Yvette. She was in +perfect health and moderately good spirits, and she invited me to dine +with her that evening. "I will tell her after dinner," I said to +myself. The project of telling her seemed more difficult as it +approached. She said that she had arranged by telephone for another +rehearsal at the Opéra Comique at three o'clock, but she did not +invite me to accompany her. I spent the afternoon at the Sorbonne, +where I had some acquaintances, and after calling at my hotel, the +little Hôtel de Portugal in the Rue Croix des Petits Champs, to dress, +I drove in a fiacre to the Rue de Rivoli. I had carefully considered +how best in conversation I might lead Rosa to the subject of Lord +Clarenceux, and had arranged a little plan. Decidedly I did not +anticipate the interview with unmixed pleasure; but, as I have said, I +felt bound to inform her that her former lover's death was a fiction. +My suit might be doomed thereby to failure,--I had no right to expect +otherwise,--but if it should succeed and I had kept silence on this +point, I should have played the part of a--well, of a man "of three +letters." + +"Mademoiselle is not at home," said the servant. + +"Not at home! But I am dining with her, my friend." + +"Mademoiselle has been called away suddenly, and she has left a note +for monsieur. Will monsieur give himself the trouble to come into the +salon?" + +The note ran thus: + + "Dear Friend:--A thousand excuses! But the enclosed will + explain. I felt that I must go--and go instantly. She might + die before I arrived. Will you call early to-morrow? + + "Your grateful + "Rosa" + +And this was the enclosure, written in French: + + "VILLA DES HORTENSIAS, + "RUE THIERS, PANTIN, PARIS. + + "Mademoiselle:--I am dying. I have wronged you deeply, and I + dare not die without your forgiveness. Prove to me that you + have a great heart by coming to my bedside and telling me + that you accept my repentance. The bearer will conduct you. + + "Carlotta Deschamps." + +"What time did mademoiselle leave?" I inquired. + +"Less than a quarter of an hour ago," was the reply. + +"Who brought the note to her?" + +"A man, monsieur. Mademoiselle accompanied him in a cab." + +With a velocity which must have startled the grave and leisurely +servant, I precipitated myself out of the house and back into the +fiacre, which happily had not gone away. I told the cabman to drive to +my hotel at his best speed. + +To me Deschamps' letter was in the highest degree suspicious. Rosa, of +course, with the simplicity of a heart incapable of any baseness, had +accepted it in perfect faith. But I remembered the words of Yvette, +uttered in all solemnity: "She is dangerous; you must take care." +Further, I observed that the handwriting of this strange and dramatic +missive was remarkably firm and regular for a dying woman, and that +the composition showed a certain calculated effectiveness. I feared a +lure. Instinctively I knew Deschamps to be one of those women who, +driven by the goad of passionate feeling, will proceed to any length, +content to postpone reflection till afterwards--when the irremediable +has happened. + +By chance I was slightly acquainted with the remote and sinister +suburb where lay the Villa des Hortensias. I knew that at night it +possessed a peculiar reputation, and my surmise was that Rosa had been +decoyed thither with some evil intent. + +Arrived at my hotel, I unearthed my revolver and put it in my pocket. +Nothing might occur; on the other hand, everything might occur, and it +was only prudent to be prepared. Dwelling on this thought, I also took +the little jewelled dagger which Rosa had given to Sir Cyril Smart at +the historic reception of my Cousin Sullivan's. + +In the hall of the hotel I looked at the plan of Paris. Certainly +Pantin seemed to be a very long way off. The route to it from the +centre of the city--that is to say, the Place de l'Opéra--followed the +Rue Lafayette, which is the longest straight thoroughfare in Paris, +and then the Rue d'Allemagne, which is a continuation, in the same +direct line, of the Rue Lafayette. The suburb lay without the +fortifications. The Rue Thiers--every Parisian suburb has its Rue +Thiers--was about half a mile past the barrier, on the right. + +I asked the aged woman who fulfils the functions of hall-porter at the +Hôtel de Portugal whether a cab would take me to Pantin. + +"Pantin," she repeated, as she might have said "Timbuctoo." And she +called the proprietor. The proprietor also said "Pantin" as he might +have said "Timbuctoo," and advised me to take the steam-tram which +starts from behind the Opéra, to let that carry me as far as it would, +and then, arrived in those distant regions, either to find a cab or to +walk the remainder of the distance. + +So, armed, I issued forth, and drove to the tram, and placed myself on +the top of the tram. And the tram, after much tooting of horns, set +out. + +Through kilometre after kilometre of gaslit clattering monotony that +immense and deafening conveyance took me. There were cafés everywhere, +thickly strewn on both sides of the way--at first large and lofty and +richly decorated, with vast glazed façades, and manned by waiters in +black and white, then gradually growing smaller and less busy. The +black and white waiters gave place to men in blouses, and men in +blouses gave place to women and girls--short, fat women and girls who +gossiped among themselves and to customers. Once we passed a café +quite deserted save for the waiter and the waitress, who sat, head on +arms, side by side, over a table asleep. + +Then the tram stopped finally, having covered about three miles. There +was no sign of a cab. I proceeded on foot. The shops got smaller and +dingier; they were filled, apparently, by the families of the +proprietors. At length I crossed over a canal--the dreadful quarter of +La Villette--and here the street widened out to an immense width, and +it was silent and forlorn under the gas-lamps. I hurried under railway +bridges, and I saw in the distance great shunting-yards looking grim +in their blue hazes of electric light. Then came the city barrier and +the octroi, and still the street stretched in front of me, darker now, +more mischievous, more obscure. I was in Pantin. + +At last I descried the white and blue sign of the Rue Thiers. I stood +alone in the shadow of high, forbidding houses. All seemed strange and +fearsome. Certainly this might still be called Paris, but it was not +the Paris known to Englishmen; it was the Paris of Zola, and Zola in a +Balzacian mood. + +I turned into the Rue Thiers, and at once the high, forbidding houses +ceased, and small detached villas--such as are to be found in +thousands round the shabby skirts of Paris--took their place. The +Villa des Hortensias, clearly labelled, was nearly at the far end of +the funereal street. It was rather larger than its fellows, and +comprised three stories, with a small garden in front and a vast +grille with a big bell, such as Parisians love when they have passed +the confines of the city, and have dispensed with the security of a +concierge. The grille was ajar. I entered the garden, having made sure +that the bell would not sound. The façade of the house showed no light +whatever. A double stone stairway of four steps led to the front door. +I went up the steps, and was about to knock, when the idea flashed +across my mind: "Suppose that Deschamps is really dying, how am I to +explain my presence here? I am not the guardian of Rosa, and she may +resent being tracked across Paris by a young man with no claim to +watch her actions." + +Nevertheless, in an expedition of this nature one must accept risks, +and therefore I knocked gently. There was no reply to the summons, and +I was cogitating upon my next move when, happening to press against +the door with my hand, I discovered that it was not latched. Without +weighing consequences, I quietly opened it, and with infinite caution +stepped into the hall, and pushed the door to. I did not latch it, +lest I might need to make a sudden exit--unfamiliar knobs and springs +are apt to be troublesome when one is in a hurry. + +I was now fairly in the house, but the darkness was blacker than the +pit, and I did not care to strike a match. I felt my way along by the +wall till I came to a door on the left; it was locked. A little +further was another door, also locked. I listened intently, for I +fancied I could hear a faint murmur of voices, but I was not sure. +Then I startled myself by stepping on nothing--I was at the head of a +flight of stone steps; down below I could distinguish an almost +imperceptible glimmer of light. + +"I'm in for it. Here goes!" I reflected, and I crept down the steps +one by one, and in due course reached the bottom. To the left was a +doorway, through which came the glimmer of light. Passing through the +doorway, I came into a room with a stone floor. The light, which was +no stronger than the very earliest intimation of a winter's dawn, +seemed to issue in a most unusual way from the far corner of this +apartment near the ceiling. I directed my course towards it, and in +the transit made violent contact with some metallic object, which +proved to be an upright iron shaft, perhaps three inches in diameter, +running from floor to ceiling. + +"Surely," I thought, "this is the queerest room I was ever in." + +Circumnavigating the pillar, I reached the desired corner, and stood +under the feeble source of light. I could see now that in this corner +the ceiling was higher than elsewhere, and that the light shone dimly +from a perpendicular pane of glass which joined the two levels of the +ceiling. I also saw that there was a ledge about two feet from the +floor, upon which a man would stand in order to look through the +pane. + +I climbed on to the ledge, and I looked. To my astonishment, I had a +full view of a large apartment, my head being even with the floor of +that apartment. Lying on a couch was a woman--the woman who had +accosted me on Dover Pier--Carlotta Deschamps, in fact. By her side, +facing her in a chair, was Rosetta Rosa. I could hear nothing, but by +the movement of their lips I knew that these two were talking. Rosa's +face was full of pity; as for Deschamps, her coarse features were +inscrutable. She had a certain pallor, but it was impossible to judge +whether she was ill or well. + +I had scarcely begun to observe the two women when I caught the sound +of footsteps on the stone stair. The footsteps approached; they +entered the room where I was. I made no sound. Without any hesitation +the footsteps arrived at my corner, and a pair of hands touched my +legs. Then I knew it was time to act. Jumping down from the ledge, I +clasped the intruder by the head, and we rolled over together, +struggling. But he was a short man, apparently stiff in the limbs, and +in ten seconds or thereabouts I had him flat on his back, and my hand +at his throat. + +"Don't move," I advised him. + +In that faint light I could not see him, so I struck a match, and held +it over the man's face. We gazed at each other, breathing heavily. + +"Good God!" the man exclaimed. + +It was Sir Cyril Smart. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SHEATH OF THE DAGGER + + +That was one of those supremely trying moments which occur, I suppose, +once or twice in the lives of most men, when events demand to be fully +explained while time will on no account permit of the explanation. I +felt that I must know at once the reason and purpose of Sir Cyril's +presence with me in the underground chamber, and that I could do +nothing further until I had such knowledge. And yet I also felt that +explanations must inevitably wait until the scene enacting above us +was over. I stood for a second silent, irresolute. The match went out. + +"Are you here to protect her?" whispered Sir Cyril. + +"Yes, if she is in danger. I will tell you afterwards about things. +And you?" + +"I was passing through Paris, and I heard that Deschamps was +threatening Rosa. Everyone is talking of it, and I heard of the +scene at the rehearsal, and I began to guess.... I know Deschamps +well. I was afraid for Rosa. Then this morning I met Yvette, Rosa's +maid--she's an old acquaintance of mine--and she told me everything. I +have many friends in Paris, and I learnt to-night that Deschamps had +sent for Rosa. So I have come up to interfere. They are up-stairs, are +they not? Let us watch." + +"You know the house, then?" + +"I have been here before, to one of Deschamps' celebrated suppers. She +showed me all over it then. It is one of the strangest houses round +about Paris--and that's saying something. The inside was rebuilt by a +Russian count who wanted to do the Louis Quinze revelry business over +again. He died, and Deschamps bought the place. She often stays here +quite alone." + +I was putting all the questions. Sir Cyril seemed not to be very +curious concerning the origin of my presence. + +"What is Rosa to you?" I queried with emphasis. + +"What is she to you?" he returned quickly. + +"To me she is everything," I said. + +"And to me, my young friend!" + +I could not, of course, see Sir Cyril's face, but the tone of his +reply impressed and silenced me. I was mystified--and yet I felt glad +that he was there. Both of us forgot to be surprised at the +peculiarity of the scene. It appeared quite natural that he should +have supervened so dramatically at precisely the correct moment, and I +asked him for no more information. He evidently did know the place, +for he crept immediately to the ledge, and looked into the room above. +I followed, and stood by his side. The two women were still talking. + +"Can't we get into the room, or do something?" I murmured. + +"Not yet. How do we know that Deschamps means harm? Let us wait. Have +you a weapon?" + +Sir Cyril spoke as one in command, and I accepted the assumption of +authority. + +"Yes," I said; "I've got a revolver, and a little dagger." + +"Who knows what may happen? Give me one of them--give me the dagger, +if you like." + +I passed it to him in the darkness. Astounding as it may seem, I am +prepared solemnly to assert that at that moment I had forgotten the +history of the dagger, and Sir Cyril's connection with it. + +I was just going to ask of what use weapons could be, situated as we +were, when I saw Deschamps with a sudden movement jump up from her +bed, her eyes blazing. With an involuntary cry in my throat I hammered +the glass in front of us with the butt of my revolver, but it was at +least an inch thick, and did not even splinter. Sir Cyril sprang from +the ledge instantly. Meanwhile Rosa, the change of whose features +showed that she divined the shameful trick played upon her, stood up, +half-indignant, half-terrified. Deschamps was no more dying than I +was; her eyes burned with the lust of homicide, and with uplifted +twitching hands she advanced like a tiger, and Rosa retreated before +her to the middle of the room. + +Then there was the click of a spring, and a square of the centre of +the floor, with Rosa standing upon it, swiftly descended into the room +where we were. The thing was as startling as a stage illusion; yes, a +thousand-fold more startling than any trick I ever saw. I may state +here, what I learnt afterwards, that the room above was originally a +dining-room, and the arrangement of the trap had been designed to +cause a table to disappear and reappear as tables were wont to do at +the notorious banquets of King Louis in the Petit Trianon. The glass +observatory enabled the kitchen attendants to watch the progress of +the meals. Sir Cyril knew of the contrivance, and, rushing to the +upright pillar, had worked it most opportunely. + +The kitchen, as I may now call it, was illuminated with light from the +room above. I hastened to Rosa, who on seeing Sir Cyril and myself +gave a little cry, and fell forward fainting. She was a brave girl, +but one may have too many astonishments. I caught her, and laid her +gently on the floor. Meanwhile Deschamps (the dying Deschamps!) stood +on the edge of the upper floor, stamping and shouting in a high fever +of foiled revenge. She was mad. When I say that she was mad, I mean +that she was merely and simply insane. I could perceive it instantly, +and I foresaw that we should have trouble with her. + +Without the slightest warning, she jumped down into the midst of us. +The distance was a good ten feet, but with a lunatic's luck she did +not hurt herself. She faced Sir Cyril, shaking in every limb with +passion, and he, calm, determined, unhurried, raised his dagger to +defend himself against this terrible lioness should the need arise. + +But as he lifted the weapon his eye fell on it; he saw what it was; he +had not observed it before, since we had been in darkness. And as he +looked his composure seemed to desert him. He paled, and his hand +trembled and hung loosely. The mad woman, seizing her chance, snatched +the dagger from him, and like a flash of lightning drove it into his +left breast. Sir Cyril sank down, the dagger sticking out from his +light overcoat. + +The deed was over before I could move. I sprang forward. Deschamps +laughed, and turned to me. I closed with her. She scratched and bit, +and she was by no means a weak woman. At first I feared that in her +fury she would overpower me. At length, however, I managed to master +her; but her strength was far from exhausted, and she would not yield. +She was mad; time was passing. I could not afford to be nice in my +methods, so I contrived to stun her, and proceeded to tie her hands +with my handkerchief. Then, panting, I stood up to survey the floor. + +I may be forgiven, perhaps, if at that frightful crisis I was not +perfectly cool, and could not decide on the instant upon the wisest +course of action to pursue. Sir Cyril was insensible, and a little +circle of blood was forming round the dagger; Deschamps was +insensible, with a dark bruise on her forehead, inflicted during our +struggle; Rosa was insensible--I presumed from excess of emotion at +the sudden fright. + +I gazed at the three prone forms, pondering over my handiwork and that +of Chance. What should be the next step? Save for my own breathing, +there was a deathlike silence. The light from the empty room above +rained down upon us through the trap, illuminating the still faces +with its yellow glare. Was any other person in the house? From what +Sir Cyril had said, and from my own surmises, I thought not. Whatever +people Deschamps might have employed to carry messages, she had +doubtless dismissed them. She and Rosa had been alone in the building. +I can understand now that there was something peculiarly attractive to +the diseased imagination of Deschamps in the prospect of inviting her +victim to the snare, and working vengeance upon a rival unaided, +unseen, solitary in that echoing and deserted mansion. I was horribly +perplexed. It struck me that I ought to be gloomily sorrowful, but I +was not. At the bottom of my soul I felt happy, for Rosa was saved. + +It was Rosa who first recovered consciousness, and her movement in +sitting up recalled me to my duty. I ran to Sir Cyril, and, kneeling +down so as to screen his body from her sight, I drew the dagger from +its sheath, and began hastily, with such implements as I could +contrive on the spur of the moment, to attend to his wound. + +"What has happened?" Rosa inquired feebly. + +I considered my reply, and then, without turning towards her, I spoke +in a slow, matter-of-fact voice. + +"Listen carefully to what I say. There has been a plot to--to do you +injury. But you are not hurt. You are, in fact, quite well--don't +imagine anything else. Sir Cyril Smart is here; he's hurt; Deschamps +has wounded him. Deschamps is harmless for the moment, but she may +recover and break out again. So I can't leave to get help. You must +go. You have fainted, but I am sure you can walk quite well. Go up the +stairs here, and walk along the hall till you come to the front door; +it is not fastened. Go out into the street, and bring back two +gendarmes--two, mind--and a cab, if you can. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, but how--" + +"Now, please go at once!" I insisted grimly and coldly. "We can talk +afterwards. Just do as you're told." + +Cowed by the roughness of my tone, she rose and went. I heard her +light, hesitating step pass through the hall, and so out of the house. + +In a few minutes I had done all that could be done for Sir Cyril, as +he lay there. The wound was deep, having regard to the small size of +the dagger, and I could only partially stop the extravasation of +blood, which was profuse. I doubted if he would recover. It was not +long, however, before he regained his senses. He spoke, and I remember +vividly now how pathetic to me was the wagging of his short gray beard +as his jaw moved. + +"Foster," he said--"your name is Foster, isn't it? Where did you find +that dagger?" + +"You must keep quiet," I said. "I have sent for assistance." + +"Don't be a fool, man. You know I'm done for. Tell me how you got the +dagger." + +So I told him. + +"Ah!" he murmured. "It's my luck!" he sighed. Then in little detached +sentences, with many pauses, he began to relate a history of what +happened after Rosa and I had left him on the night of Sullivan's +reception. Much of it was incomprehensible to me; sometimes I could +not make out the words. But it seemed that he had followed us in his +carriage, had somehow met Rosa again, and then, in a sudden frenzy of +remorse, had attempted to kill himself with the dagger in the street. +His reason for this I did not gather. His coachman and footman had +taken him home, and the affair had been kept quiet. + +Remorse for what? I burned to ask a hundred questions, but, fearing to +excite him, I shut my lips. + +"You are in love with her?" he asked. + +I nodded. It was a reply as abrupt as his demand. At that moment +Deschamps laughed quietly behind me. I turned round quickly, but she +lay still; though she had come to, the fire in her eyes was quenched, +and I anticipated no immediate difficulty with her. + +"I knew that night that you were in love with her," Sir Cyril +continued. "Has she told you about--about me?" + +"No," I said. + +"I have done her a wrong, Foster--her and another. But she will tell +you. I can't talk now. I'm going--going. Tell her that I died in +trying to protect her; say that--Foster--say--" He relapsed into +unconsciousness. + +I heard firm, rapid steps in the hall, and in another instant the +representatives of French law had taken charge of the house. Rosa +followed them in. She looked wistfully at Sir Cyril, and then, +flinging herself down by his side, burst into wild tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE THING IN THE CHAIR + + +On the following night I sat once more in the salon of Rosa's flat. +She had had Sir Cyril removed thither. He was dying; I had done my +best, but his case was quite hopeless, and at Rosa's urgent entreaty I +had at last left her alone by his bedside. + +I need not recount all the rush of incidents that had happened since +the tragedy at the Villa des Hortensias on the previous evening. Most +people will remember the tremendous sensation caused by the judicial +inquiry--an inquiry which ended in the tragical Deschamps being +incarcerated in the Charenton Asylum. For aught I know, the poor +woman, once one of the foremost figures in the gaudy world of +theatrical Paris, is still there consuming her heart with a futile +hate. + +Rosa would never refer in any way to the interview between Deschamps +and herself; it was as if she had hidden the memory of it in some +secret chamber of her soul, which nothing could induce her to open +again. But there can be no doubt that Deschamps had intended to murder +her, and, indeed, would have murdered her had it not been for the +marvellously opportune arrival of Sir Cyril. With the door of the room +locked as it was, I should assuredly have been condemned, lacking Sir +Cyril's special knowledge of the house, to the anguish of witnessing a +frightful crime without being able to succor the victim. To this day I +can scarcely think of that possibility and remain calm. + +As for Sir Cyril's dramatic appearance in the villa, when I had learnt +all the facts, that was perhaps less extraordinary than it had seemed +to me from our hasty dialogue in the underground kitchen of Deschamps' +house. Although neither Rosa nor I was aware of it, operatic circles +had been full of gossip concerning Deschamps' anger and jealousy, of +which she made no secret. One or two artists of the Opéra Comique had +decided to interfere, or at any rate seriously to warn Rosa, when Sir +Cyril arrived, on his way to London from the German watering-place +where he had been staying. All Paris knew Sir Cyril, and Sir Cyril +knew all Paris; he was made acquainted with the facts directly, and +the matter was left to him. A man of singular resolution, originality, +and courage, he had gone straight to the Rue Thiers, having caught a +rumor, doubtless started by the indiscreet Deschamps herself, that +Rosa would be decoyed there. The rest was mere good fortune. + +In regard to the mysterious connection between Sir Cyril and Rosa, I +had at present no clue to it; nor had there been much opportunity for +conversation between Rosa and myself. We had not even spoken to each +other alone, and, moreover, I was uncertain whether she would care to +enlighten me on that particular matter; assuredly I had no right to +ask her to do so. Further, I was far more interested in another, and +to me vastly more important, question, the question of Lord Clarenceux +and his supposed death. + +I was gloomily meditating upon the tangle of events, when the door of +the salon opened, and Rosa entered. She walked stiffly to a chair, +and, sitting down opposite to me, looked into my face with hard, +glittering eyes. For a few moments she did not speak, and I could not +break the silence. Then I saw the tears slowly welling up, and I was +glad for that. She was intensely moved, and less agonizing experiences +than she had gone through might easily have led to brain fever in a +woman of her highly emotional temperament. + +"Why don't you leave me, Mr. Foster?" she cried passionately, and +there were sobs in her voice. "Why don't you leave me, and never see +me again?" + +"Leave you?" I said softly. "Why?" + +"Because I am cursed. Throughout my life I have been cursed; and the +curse clings, and it falls on those who come near me." + +She gave way to hysterical tears; her head bent till it was almost on +her knees. I went to her, and gently raised it, and put a cushion at +the back of the chair. She grew calmer. + +"If you are cursed, I will be cursed," I said, gazing straight at her, +and then I sat down again. + +The sobbing gradually ceased. She dried her eyes. + +"He is dead," she said shortly. + +I made no response; I had none to make. + +"You do not say anything," she murmured. + +"I am sorry. Sir Cyril was the right sort." + +"He was my father," she said. + +"Your father!" I repeated. No revelation could have more profoundly +astonished me. + +"Yes," she firmly repeated. + +We both paused. + +"I thought you had lost both parents," I said at length, rather +lamely. + +"Till lately I thought so too. Listen. I will tell you the tale of all +my life. Not until to-night have I been able to put it together, and +fill in the blanks." + +And this is what she told me: + +"My father was travelling through Europe. He had money, and of course +he met with adventures. One of his adventures was my mother. She lived +among the vines near Avignon, in Southern France; her uncle was a +small grape-grower. She belonged absolutely to the people, but she was +extremely beautiful. I'm not exaggerating; she was. She was one of +those women that believe everything, and my father fell in love with +her. He married her properly at Avignon. They travelled together +through France and Italy, and then to Belgium. Then, in something less +than a year, I was born. She gave herself up to me entirely. She was +not clever; she had no social talents and no ambitions. No, she +certainly had not much brain; but to balance that she had a heart--so +large that it completely enveloped my father and me. + +"After three years he had had enough of my mother. He got restive. He +was ambitious. He wanted to shine in London, where he was known, and +where his family had made traditions in the theatrical world. But he +felt that my mother wouldn't--wouldn't be suitable for London. Fancy +the absurdity of a man trying to make a name in London when hampered +by a wife who was practically of the peasant class! He simply left +her. Oh, it was no common case of desertion. He used his influence +over my mother to make her consent. She did consent. It broke her +heart, but hers was the sort of love that suffers, so she let him go. +He arranged to allow her a reasonable income. + +"I can just remember a man who must have been my father. I was three +years old when he left us. Till then we had lived in a large house in +an old city. Can't you guess what house that was? Of course you can. +Yes, it was the house at Bruges where Alresca died. We gave up that +house, my mother and I, and went to live in Italy. Then my father sold +the house to Alresca. I only knew that to-day. You may guess my +childish recollections of Bruges aren't very distinct. It was part of +the understanding that my mother should change her name, and at Pisa +she was known as Madame Montigny. That was the only surname of hers +that I ever knew. + +"As I grew older, my mother told me fairy-tales to account for the +absence of my father. She died when I was sixteen, and before she died +she told me the truth. She begged me to promise to go to him, and said +that I should be happy with him. But I would not promise. I was +sixteen then, and very proud. What my mother had told me made me hate +and despise my father. I left my dead mother's side hating him; I had +a loathing for him which words couldn't express. She had omitted to +tell me his real name; I never asked her, and I was glad not to know +it. In speaking of him, of course she always said 'your father', 'your +father', and she died before she got quite to the end of her story. I +buried my mother, and then I was determined to disappear. My father +might search, but he should never find me. The thought that he would +search and search, and be unhappy for the rest of his life because he +couldn't find me, gave me a kind of joy. So I left Pisa, and I took +with me nothing but the few hundred lire which my mother had by her, +and the toy dagger--my father's gift--which she had always worn in her +hair. + +"I knew that I had a voice. Everyone said that, and my mother had had +it trained up to a certain point. I knew that I could make a +reputation. I adopted the name of Rosetta Rosa, and I set to work. +Others have suffered worse things than I suffered. I made my way. Sir +Cyril Smart, the great English impresario, heard me at Genoa, and +offered me an engagement in London. Then my fortune was made. You know +that story--everyone knows it. + +"Why did I not guess at once that he was my father? I cannot tell. And +not having guessed it at once, why should I ever have guessed it? I +cannot tell. The suspicion stole over me gradually. Let me say that I +always was conscious of a peculiar feeling towards Sir Cyril Smart, +partly antagonistic, yet not wholly so--a feeling I could never +understand. Then suddenly I knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that +Sir Cyril was my father, and in the same moment he knew that I was his +daughter. You were there; you saw us in the portico of the +reception-rooms at that London hotel. I caught him staring at the +dagger in my hair just as if he was staring at a snake--I had not worn +it for some time--and the knowledge of his identity swept over me like +a--like a big wave. I hated him more than ever. + +"That night, it seems, he followed us in his carriage to Alresca's +flat. When I came out of the flat he was waiting. He spoke. I won't +tell you what he said, and I won't tell you what I said. But I was +very curt and very cruel." Her voice trembled. "I got into my +carriage. My God! how cruel I was! To-night he--my father--has told me +that he tried to kill himself with my mother's dagger, there on the +pavement. I had driven him to suicide." + +She stopped. "Do you blame me?" she murmured. + +"I do not blame you," I said. "But he is dead, and death ends all +things." + +"You are right," she said. "And he loved me at the last. I know that. +And he saved my life--you and he. He has atoned--atoned for his +conduct to my poor mother. He died with my kiss on his lips." + +And now the tears came into my eyes. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed, and the pathos of her ringing tones was +intolerable to me. "You may well weep for me." Then with abrupt change +she laughed. "Don't you agree that I am cursed? Am I not cursed? Say +it! say it!" + +"I will not say it," I answered. "Why should you be cursed? What do +you mean?" + +"I do not know what I mean, but I know what I feel. Look back at my +life. My mother died, deserted. My father has died, killed by a mad +woman. My dear friend Alresca died--who knows how? Clarenceux--he too +died." + +"Stay!" I almost shouted, springing up, and the suddenness of my +excitement intimidated her. "How do you know that Lord Clarenceux is +dead?" + +I stood before her, trembling with apprehension for the effect of the +disclosure I was about to make. She was puzzled and alarmed by the +violent change in me, but she controlled herself. + +"How do I know?" she repeated with strange mildness. + +"Yes, how do you know? Did you see him die?" + +I had a wild desire to glance over my shoulder at the portrait. + +"No, my friend. But I saw him after he was dead. He died suddenly in +Vienna. Don't let us talk about that." + +"Aha!" I laughed incredulously, and then, swiftly driven forward by an +overpowering impulse, I dropped on my knees and seized her hands with +a convulsive grasp. "Rosa! Rosa!"--my voice nearly broke--"you must +know that I love you. Say that you love me--that you would love me +whether Clarenceux were dead or alive." + +An infinite tenderness shone in her face. She put out her hand, and to +calm me stroked my hair. + +"Carl!" she whispered. + +It was enough. I got up. I did not kiss her. + +A servant entered, and said that some one from the theatre had called +to see mademoiselle on urgent business. Excusing herself, Rosa went +out. I held open the door for her, and closed it slowly with a sigh of +incredible relief. Then I turned back into the room. I was content to +be alone for a little while. + +Great God! The chair which Rosa had but that instant left was not +empty. Occupying it was a figure--the figure of the man whose portrait +hung on the wall--the figure of the man who had haunted me ever since +I met Rosa--the figure of Lord Clarenceux, whom Rosa had seen dead. + +At last, oh, powers of hell, I knew you! The inmost mystery stood +clear. In one blinding flash of comprehension I felt the fullness of +my calamity. This man that I had seen was not a man, but a malign and +jealous spirit--using his spectral influences to crush the mortals +bold enough to love the woman whom he had loved on earth. The death of +Alresca, the unaccountable appearances in the cathedral, in the train, +on the steamer--everything was explained. And before that coldly +sneering, triumphant face, which bore the look of life, and which I +yet knew to be impalpable, I shook with the terrified ague of a +culprit. + +A minute or a thousand years might have passed. Then Rosa returned. In +an instant the apparition had vanished. But by her pallid, drawn face +and her gray lips I knew that she had seen it. Truly she was cursed, +and I with her! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE MENACE + + +From the moment of my avowal to Rosa it seemed that the evil spirit of +the dead Lord Clarenceux had assumed an ineffable dominion over me. I +cannot properly describe it; I cannot describe it all. I may only say +that I felt I had suddenly become the subject of a tyrant who would +punish me if I persisted in any course of conduct to which he +objected. I knew what fear was--the most terrible of all fears--the +fear of that which we cannot understand. The inmost and central throne +of my soul was commanded by this implacable ghost, this ghost which +did not speak, but which conveyed its ideas by means of a single +glance, a single sneer. + +It was strange that I should be aware at once what was required of me, +and the reasons for these requirements. Till that night I had never +guessed the nature of the thing which for so many weeks had been +warning me; I had not even guessed that I was being warned; I had +taken for a man that which was not a man. Yet now, in an instant of +time, all was clear down to the smallest details. From the primal hour +when a liking for Rosa had arisen in my breast, the ghost of Lord +Clarenceux, always hovering uneasily near to its former love, had +showed itself to me. + +The figure opposite the Devonshire Mansion--that was the first +warning. With regard to the second appearance, in the cathedral of +Bruges, I surmised that that only indirectly affected myself. +Primarily it was the celebration of a fiendish triumph over one who +had preceded me in daring to love Rosetta Rosa, but doubtless also it +was meant in a subsidiary degree as a second warning to the youth who +followed in Alresca's footsteps. Then there were the two appearances +during my journey from London to Paris with Rosa's jewels--in the +train and on the steamer. Matters by that time had become more +serious. I was genuinely in love, and the ghost's anger was quickened. +The train was wrecked and the steamer might have been sunk, and I +could not help thinking that the ghost, in some ineffectual way, had +been instrumental in both these disasters. The engine-driver, who said +he was "dazed," and the steersman, who attributed his mistake at the +wheel to the interference of some unknown outsider--were not these +things an indication that my dreadful suspicion was well grounded? And +if so, to what frightful malignity did they not point! Here was a +spirit, which in order to appease the pangs of a supernatural +jealousy, was ready to use its immaterial powers to destroy scores of +people against whom it could not possibly have any grudge. The most +fanatical anarchism is not worse than this. + +Those attempts had failed. But now the aspect of affairs was changed. +The ghost of Lord Clarenceux had more power over me now--I felt that +acutely; and I explained it by the fact that I was in the near +neighborhood of Rosa. It was only when she was near that the jealous +hate of this spectre exercised its full efficacy. + +In such wise did I reason the matter out to myself. But reasoning was +quite unnecessary. I knew by a sure instinct. All the dark thoughts +of the ghost had passed into my brain, and if they had been +transcribed in words of fire and burnt upon my retina, I could not +have been more certain of their exact import. + +As I sat in my room at the hotel that night I speculated morosely upon +my plight and upon the future. Had a man ever been so situated before? +Well, probably so. We go about in a world where secret influences are +continually at work for us or against us, and we do not suspect their +existence, because we have no imagination. For it needs imagination to +perceive the truth--that is why the greatest poets are always the +greatest teachers. + +As for you who are disposed to smile at the idea of a live man crushed +(figuratively) under the heel of a ghost, I beg you to look back upon +your own experience, and count up the happenings which have struck you +as mysterious. You will be astonished at their number. But nothing is +so mysterious that it is incapable of explanation, did we but know +enough. I, by a singular mischance, was put in the way of the nameless +knowledge which explains all. At any rate, I was made acquainted with +some trifle of it. I had strayed on the seashore of the unknown, and +picked up a pebble. I had a glimpse of that other world which +permeates and exists side by side with and permeates our own. + +Just now I used the phrase "under the heel of a ghost," and I used it +advisedly. It indicates pretty well my mental condition. I was cowed, +mastered. The ghost of Clarenceux, driven to extremities by the brief +scene of tenderness which had passed in Rosa's drawing-room, had +determined by his own fell method to end the relations between Rosa +and myself. And his method was to assume a complete sway over me, the +object of his hatred. + +How did he exercise that sway? Can I answer? I cannot. How does one +man influence another? Not by electric wires or chemical apparatus, +but by those secret channels through which intelligence meets +intelligence. All I know is that I felt his sinister authority. During +life Clarenceux, according to every account, had been masterful, +imperious, commanding; and he carried these attributes with him beyond +the grave. His was a stronger personality than mine, and I could not +hide from myself the assurance that in the struggle of will against +will I should not be the conqueror. + +Not that anything had occurred, even the smallest thing! Upon +perceiving Rosa the apparition, as I have said, vanished. We did not +say much to each other, Rosa and I; we could not--we were afraid. I +went to my hotel; I sat in my room alone; I saw no ghost. But I was +aware, I was aware of the doom which impended over me. And already, +indeed, I experienced the curious sensation of the ebbing of +volitional power; I thought even that I was losing my interest in +life. My sensations were dulled. It began to appear to me unimportant +whether I lived or died. Only I knew that in either case I should love +Rosa. My love was independent of my will, and therefore the ghost of +Clarenceux, do what it might, could not tear it from me. I might die, +I might suffer mental tortures inconceivable, but I should continue to +love. In this idea lay my only consolation. + +I remained motionless in my chair for hours, and then--it was soon +after the clocks struck four--I sprang up, and searched among my +papers for Alresca's letter, the seal of which, according to his +desire, was still intact. The letter had been in my mind for a long +time. I knew well that the moment for opening it had come, that the +circumstances to which Alresca had referred in his covering letter had +veritably happened. But somehow, till that instant, I had not been +able to find courage to read the communication. As I opened it I +glanced out of the window. The first sign of dawn was in the sky. I +felt a little easier. + +Here is what I read: + + "My dear Carl Foster:--When you read this the words I am + about to write will have acquired the sanction which belongs + to the utterances of those who have passed away. Give them, + therefore, the most serious consideration. + + "If you are not already in love with Rosetta Rosa you soon + will be. I, too, as you know, have loved her. Let me tell you + some of the things which happened to me. + + "From the moment when that love first sprang up in my heart I + began to be haunted by--I will not say what; you know without + being told, for whoever loves Rosa will be haunted as I was, + as I am. Rosa has been loved once for all, and with a passion + so intense that it has survived the grave. For months I + disregarded the visitations, relying on the strength of my + own soul. I misjudged myself, or, rather, I underestimated my + adversary--the great man who in life had loved Rosa. I + proposed to Rosa, and she refused me. But that did not quench + my love. My love grew; I encouraged it; and it was against + the mere fact of my love that the warnings were directed. + + "You remember the accident on the stage which led to our + meeting. That accident was caused by sheer terror--the terror + of an apparition more awful than any that had gone before. + + "Still I persisted--I persisted in my hopeless love. Then + followed that unnamed malady which in vain you are seeking to + cure, a malady which was accompanied by innumerable and + terrifying phenomena. The malady was one of the mind; it + robbed me of the desire to live. More than that, it made life + intolerable. At last I surrendered. I believe I am a brave + man, but it is the privilege of the brave man to surrender + without losing honor to an adversary who has proved his + superiority. Yes, I surrendered. I cast out love in order + that I might live for my art. + + "But I was too late. I had pushed too far the enmity of this + spectral and unrelenting foe, and it would not accept my + surrender. I have dashed the image of Rosa from my heart, and + I have done it to no purpose. I am dying. And so I write this + for you, lest you should go unwarned to the same doom. + + "The love of Rosa is worth dying for, if you can win it. (I + could not even win it.) You will have to choose between Love + and Life. I do not counsel you either way. But I urge you to + choose. I urge you either to defy your foe utterly and to the + death, or to submit before submission is useless. + + "Alresca." + +I sat staring at the paper long after I had finished reading it, +thinking about poor Alresca. There was a date to it, and this date +showed that it was written a few days before his mysterious disease +took a turn for the better. + +The communication accordingly needs some explanation. It seems to me +that Alresca was mistaken. His foe was not so implacable as Alresca +imagined. Alresca having surrendered in the struggle between them, the +ghost of Lord Clarenceux hesitated, and then ultimately withdrew its +hateful influence, and Alresca recovered. Then Rosa came again into +his existence that evening at Bruges. Alresca, scornful of +consequences, let his passion burst once more into flame, and the +ghost instantly, in a flash of anger, worked its retribution. + +Day came, and during the whole of that day I pondered upon a phrase in +Alresca's letter, "You will have to choose between love and life." But +I could not choose. Love is the greatest thing in life; one may, +however, question whether it should be counted greater than life +itself. I tried to argue the question calmly, dispassionately. As if +such questions may be argued! I could not give up my love; I could not +give up my life; that was how all my calm, dispassionate arguments +ended. At one moment I was repeating, "The love of Rosa is worth dying +for;" at the next I was busy with the high and dear ambitions of which +I had so often dreamed. Were these to be sacrificed? Moreover, what +use would Rosa's love be to me when I was dead? And what use would my +life be to me without my love for her? + +A hundred times I tried to laugh, and said to myself that I was the +victim of fancy, that I should see nothing further of this prodigious +apparition; that, in short, my brain had been overtaxed by recent +events, and I had suffered from delusions. Vain and conventional +self-deceptions! At the bottom of my soul lay always the secret and +profound conviction that I was doomed, cursed, caught in the toils of +a relentless foe who was armed with all the strange terrors of the +unknown; a foe whose onslaughts it was absolutely impossible for me to +parry. + +As the hours passed a yearning to see Rosa, to be near her, came upon +me. I fought against it, fearing I know not what as the immediate +consequence. I wished to temporize, or, at any rate, to decide upon a +definite course of conduct before I saw her again. But towards evening +I felt that I should yield to the impulse to behold her. I said to +myself, as though I needed some excuse, that she would have a great +deal of trouble with the arrangements for Sir Cyril's funeral, and +that I ought to offer my assistance; that, indeed, I ought to have +offered my assistance early in the day. + +I presented myself after dinner. She was dressed in black, and her +manner was nervous, flurried, ill at ease. We shook hands very +formally, and then could find nothing to say to each other. Had she, +with a woman's instinct, guessed, from that instant's view of the +thing in the chair last night, all that was involved for me in our +love? If not all, she had guessed most of it. She had guessed that the +powerful spirit of Lord Clarenceux was inimical, fatally inimical, to +me. None knew better than herself the terrible strength of his +jealousy. I wondered what were her thoughts, her secret desires. + +At length she began to speak of commonplace matters. + +"Guess who has called," she said, with a little smile. + +"I give it up," I said, with a smile as artificial as her own. + +"Mrs. Sullivan Smith. She and Sullivan Smith are on their way home +from Bayreuth; they are at the Hôtel du Rhin. She wanted to know all +about what happened in the Rue Thiers, and to save trouble I told +her. She stayed a long time. There have been a lot of callers. I am +very tired. I--I expected you earlier. But you are not listening." + +I was not. I was debating whether or not to show her Alresca's letter. +I decided to do so, and I handed it to her there and then. + +"Read that," I murmured. + +She read it in silence, and then looked at me. Her tender eyes were +filled with tears. I cast away all my resolutions of prudence, of +wariness, before that gaze. Seizing her in my arms, I kissed her again +and again. + +"I have always suspected--what--what Alresca says," she murmured. + +"But you love me?" I cried passionately. + +"Do you need to be told, my poor Carl?" she replied, with the most +exquisite melancholy. + +"Then I'll defy hell itself!" I said. + +She hung passive in my embrace. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE STRUGGLE + + +When I got back to my little sitting-room at the Hôtel de Portugal, I +experienced a certain timid hesitation in opening the door. For +several seconds I stood before it, the key in the lock, afraid to +enter. I wanted to rush out again, to walk the streets all night; it +was raining, but I thought that anything would be preferable to the +inside of my sitting-room. Then I felt that, whatever the cost, I must +go in; and, twisting the key, I pushed heavily at the door, and +entered, touching as I did so the electric switch. In the chair which +stood before the writing-table in the middle of the room sat the +figure of Lord Clarenceux. + +Yes, my tormentor was indeed waiting. I had defied him, and we were +about to try a fall. As for me, I may say that my heart sank, sick +with an ineffable fear. The figure did not move as I went in; its back +was towards me. At the other end of the room was the doorway which +led to the small bedroom, little more than an alcove, and the gaze of +the apparition was fixed on this doorway. + +I closed the outer door behind me, and locked it, and then I stood +still. In the looking-glass over the mantelpiece I saw a drawn, pale, +agitated face in which all the trouble of the world seemed to reside; +it was my own face. I was alone in the room with the ghost--the ghost +which, jealous of my love for the woman it had loved, meant to revenge +itself by my death. + +A ghost, did I say? To look at it, no one would have taken it for an +apparition. No wonder that till the previous evening I had never +suspected it to be other than a man. It was dressed in black; it had +the very aspect of life. I could follow the creases in the frock coat, +the direction of the nap of the silk hat which it wore in my room. How +well by this time I knew that faultless black coat and that impeccable +hat! Yet it seemed that I could not examine them too closely. I +pierced them with the intensity of my fascinated glance. Yes, I +pierced them, for showing faintly through the coat I could discern the +outline of the table which should have been hidden by the man's +figure, and through the hat I could see the handle of the French +window. + +As I stood motionless there, solitary under the glow of the electric +light with this fearful visitor, I began to wish that it would move. I +wanted to face it--to meet its gaze with my gaze, eye to eye, and will +against will. The battle between us must start at once, I thought, if +I was to have any chance of victory, for moment by moment I could feel +my resolution, my manliness, my mere physical courage, slipping away. + +But the apparition did not stir. Impassive, remorseless, sinister, it +was content to wait, well aware that all suspense was in its favor. +Then I said to myself that I would cross the room, and so attain my +object. I made a step--and drew back, frightened by the sound of a +creaking board. Absurd! But it was quite a minute before I dared to +make another step. I had meant to walk straight across to the other +door, passing in my course close by the occupied chair. I did not do +so; I kept round by the wall, creeping on tiptoe and my eye never +leaving the figure in the chair. I did this in spite of myself, and +the manner of my action was the first hint of an ultimate defeat. + +At length I stood in the doorway leading to the bedroom. I could feel +the perspiration on my forehead and at the back of my neck. I fronted +the inscrutable white face of the thing which had once been Lord +Clarenceux, the lover of Rosetta Rosa; I met its awful eyes, dark, +invidious, fateful. Ah, those eyes! Even in my terror I could read in +them all the history, all the characteristics, of Lord Clarenceux. +They were the eyes of one capable at once of the highest and of the +lowest. Mingled with their hardness was a melting softness, with their +cruelty a large benevolence, with their hate a pitying tenderness, +with their spirituality a hellish turpitude. They were the eyes of two +opposite men, and as I gazed into them they reconciled for me the +conflicting accounts of Lord Clarenceux which I had heard from +different people. + +But as far as I was concerned that night the eyes held nothing but +cruelty and disaster; though I could detect in them the other +qualities, those qualities were not for me. We faced each other, the +apparition and I, and the struggle, silent and bitter as the grave, +began. Neither of us moved. My arms were folded easily, but my nails +pressed in the palms of my clenched hands. My teeth were set, my lips +tight together, my glance unswerving. By sheer strength of endeavor I +cast aside all my forebodings of defeat, and in my heart I said with +the profoundest conviction that I would love Rosa though the seven +seas and all the continents gave up their dead to frighten me. + +So we remained, for how long I do not know. It may have been hours; it +may have been only minutes; I cannot tell. Then gradually there came +over me a feeling that the ghost in the chair was growing larger. The +ghastly inhuman sneer on his thin widening lips assaulted me like a +giant's malediction. And the light in the room seemed to become more +brilliant, till it was almost blinding with the dazzle of its +whiteness. This went on for a time, and once more I pulled myself +together, collected my scattering senses, and seized again the courage +and determination which had nearly slipped from me. + +But I knew that I must get away, out of sight of this moveless and +diabolic figure, which did not speak, but which made known its +commands by means of its eyes alone. "Resign her!" the eyes said. +"Tear your love for her out of your heart! Swear that you will never +see her again--or I will ruin you utterly, not only now, but forever +more!" + +And though I trembled, my eyes answered "No." + +For some reason which I cannot at all explain, I suddenly took off my +overcoat, and, drawing aside the screen which ran across the corner of +the room at my right hand, forming a primitive sort of wardrobe, I +hung it on one of the hooks. I had to feel with my fingers for the +hook, because I kept my gaze on the figure. + +"I will go into the bedroom," I said. + +And I half-turned to pass through the doorway. Then I stopped. If I +did so, the eyes of the ghost would be upon my back, and I felt that I +could only withstand that glance by meeting it. To have it on my +back!... Doubtless I was going mad. However, I went backwards through +the doorway, and then rapidly stepped out of sight of the apparition, +and sat down upon the bed. + +Useless! I must return. The mere idea of the empty sitting-room--empty +with the ghost in it--filled me with a new and stranger fear. Horrible +happenings might occur in that room, and I must be there to see them! +Moreover, the ghost's gaze must not fall on nothing; that would be too +appalling (without doubt I was mad); its gaze must meet something, +otherwise it would travel out into space further and further till it +had left all the stars and waggled aimless in the ether: the notion of +such a calamity was unbearable. Besides, I was hungry for that gaze; +my eyes desired those eyes; if that glance did not press against them, +they would burst from my head and roll on the floor, and I should be +compelled to go down on my hands and knees and grope in search for +them. No, no, I must return to the sitting-room. And I returned. + +The gaze met me in the doorway. And now there was something novel in +it--an added terror, a more intolerable menace, a silent imprecation +so frightful that no human being could suffer it. I sank to the +ground, and as I did so I shrieked, but it was an unheard shriek, +sounding only within the brain. And in reply to that unheard shriek I +heard the unheard voice of the ghost crying, "Yield!" + +I would not yield. Crushed, maddened, tortured by a worse than any +physical torture, I would not yield. But I wanted to die. I felt that +death would be sweet and utterly desirable. And so thinking, I faded +into a kind of coma, or rather a state which was just short of coma. I +had not lost consciousness, but I was conscious of nothing but the +gaze. + +"Good-by, Rosa," I whispered. "I'm beaten, but my love has not been +conquered." + +The next thing I remembered was the paleness of the dawn at the +window. The apparition had vanished for that night, and I was alive. +But I knew that I had touched the skirts of death; I knew that after +another such night I should die. + +The morning chocolate arrived, and by force of habit I consumed it. I +felt no interest in any earthly thing; my sole sensation was a dread +of the coming night, which all too soon would be upon me. For several +hours I sat, pale and nerveless, in my room, despising myself for a +weakness and a fear which I could not possibly avoid. I was no longer +my own master; I was the slave, the shrinking chattel of a ghost, and +the thought of my condition was a degradation unspeakable. + +During the afternoon a ray of hope flashed upon me. Mrs. Sullivan +Smith was at the Hôtel du Rhin, so Rosa had said; I would call on +her. I remembered her strange demeanor to me on the occasion of our +first meeting, and afterwards at the reception. It seemed clear to me +now that she must have known something. Perhaps she might help me. + +I found her in a garish apartment too full of Louis Philippe +furniture, robed in a crimson tea-gown, and apparently doing nothing +whatever. She had the calm quiescence of a Spanish woman. Yet when she +saw me her eyes burned with a sudden dark excitement. + +"Carl," she said, with the most staggering abruptness, "you are +dying." + +"How do you know?" I said morosely. "Do I look it?" + +"Yet the crystal warned you!" she returned, with apparent but not real +inconsequence. + +"I want you to tell me," I said eagerly, and with no further pretence. +"You must have known something then, when you made me look in the +crystal. What did you know--and how?" + +She sat a moment in thought, stately, half-languid, mysterious. + +"First," she said, "let me hear all that has happened. Then I will +tell you." + +"Is Sullivan about?" I asked. I felt that if I was to speak I must not +be interrupted by that good-natured worldling. + +"Sullivan," she said a little scornfully, with gentle contempt, "is +learning French billiards. You are perfectly safe." She understood. + +Then I told her without the least reservation all that had happened to +me, and especially my experiences of the previous night. When I had +finished she looked at me with her large sombre eyes, which were full +of pity, but not of hope. I waited for her words. + +"Now, listen," she said. "You shall hear. I was with Lord Clarenceux +when he died." + +"You!" I exclaimed. "In Vienna! But even Rosa was not with him. How--" + +"Patience! And do not interrupt me with questions. I am giving away a +secret which carries with it my--my reputation. Long before my +marriage I had known Lord Clarenceux. He knew many women; I was one of +them. That affair ended. I married Sullivan. + +"I happened to be in Vienna at the time Lord Clarenceux was taken with +brain fever. I was performing at a music-hall on the Prater. There was +a great rage then for English singers in Vienna. I knew he was alone. +I remembered certain things that had passed between us, and I went to +him. I helped to nurse him. He was engaged to Rosa, but Rosa was far +away, and could not come immediately. He grew worse. The doctors said +one day that he must die. That night I was by his bedside. He got +suddenly up out of bed. I could not stop him: he had the strength of +delirium. He went into his dressing-room, and dressed himself fully, +even to his hat, without any assistance. + +"'Where are you going?' I said to him. + +"'I am going to her,' he said. 'These cursed doctors say I shall die. +But I sha'n't. I want her. Why hasn't she come? I must go and find +her.' + +"Then he fell across the bed exhausted. He was dying. I had rung for +help, but no one had come, and I ran out of the room to call on the +landing. When I came back he was sitting up in bed, all dressed, and +still with his hat on. It was the last flicker of his strength. His +eyes glittered. He began to speak. How he stared at me! I shall never +forget it! + +"'I am dying!' he said hoarsely. 'They were right, after all. I shall +lose her. I would sell my soul to keep her, yet death takes me from +her. She is young and beautiful, and will live many years. But I have +loved her, and where I have loved let others beware. I shall never be +far from her, and if another man should dare to cast eyes on her I +will curse him. The heat of my jealousy shall blast his very soul. He, +too, shall die. Rosa was mine in life, and she shall be mine in death. +My spirit will watch over her, for no man ever loved a woman as I +loved Rosa.' Those were his very words, Carl. Soon afterwards he +died." + +She recited Clarenceux's last phrases with such genuine emotion that I +could almost hear Clarenceux himself saying them. I felt sure that she +had remembered them precisely, and that Clarenceux would, indeed, have +employed just such terms. + +"And you believe," I murmured, after a long pause, during which I +fitted the remarkable narration in with my experiences, and found that +it tallied--"you believe that Lord Clarenceux could keep his word +after death?" + +"I believe!" she said simply. + +"Then there is no hope for me, Emmeline?" + +She looked at me vaguely, absently, without speaking, and shook her +head. Her lustrous eyes filled with tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE INTERCESSION + + +Just as I was walking away from the hotel I perceived Rosa's victoria +drawing up before the portico. She saw me. We exchanged a long look--a +look charged with anxious questionings. Then she beckoned to me, and +I, as it were suddenly waking from a trance, raised my hat, and went +to her. + +"Get in," she said, without further greeting. "We will drive to the +Arc de Triomphe and back. I was going to call on Mrs. Sullivan +Smith,--just a visit of etiquette,--but I will postpone that." + +Her manner was constrained, as it had been on the previous day, but I +could see that she was striving hard to be natural. For myself, I did +not speak. I felt nervous, even irritable, in my love for her. +Gradually, however, her presence soothed me, slackened the tension of +my system, and I was able to find a faint pleasure in the beauty of +the September afternoon, and of the girl by my side, in the smooth +movement of the carriage, and the general gaiety and color of the +broad tree-lined Champs Elysées. + +"Why do you ask me to drive with you?" I asked her at length, abruptly +yet suavely. Amid the noise of the traffic we could converse with the +utmost privacy. + +"Because I have something to say to you," she answered, looking +straight in front of her. + +"Before you say it, one question occurs to me. You are dressed in +black; you are in mourning for Sir Cyril, your father, who is not even +buried. And yet you told me just now that you were paying a mere visit +of etiquette to my cousin Emmeline. Is it usual in Paris for ladies in +mourning to go out paying calls? But perhaps you had a special object +in calling on Emmeline." + +"I had," she replied at once with dignity, "and I did not wish you to +know." + +"What was it?" + +"Really, Mr. Foster--" + +"'Mr. Foster!'" + +"Yes; I won't call you Carl any more. I have made a mistake, and it +is as well you should hear of it now. I can't love you. I have +misunderstood my feelings. What I feel for you is gratitude, not love. +I want you to forget me." + +She was pale and restless. + +"Rosa!" I exclaimed warningly. + +"Yes," she continued urgently and feverishly, "forget me. I may seem +cruel, but it is best there should be no beating about the bush. I +can't love you." + +"Rosa!" I repeated. + +"Go back to London," she went on. "You have ambitions. Fulfil them. +Work at your profession. Above all, don't think of me. And always +remember that though I am very grateful to you, I cannot love +you--never!" + +"That isn't true, Rosa!" I said quietly. "You have invited me into +this carriage simply to lie to me. But you are an indifferent liar--it +is not your forte. My dear child, do you imagine that I cannot see +through your poor little plan? Mrs. Sullivan Smith has been talking to +you, and it has occurred to you that if you cast me off, the anger of +that--that thing may be appeased, and I may be saved from the fate +that overtook Alresca. You were calling on Emmeline to ask her advice +finally, as she appears to be mixed up in this affair. Then, on seeing +me, you decided all of a sudden to take your courage in both hands, +and dismiss me at once. It was heroic of you, Rosa; it was a splendid +sacrifice of your self-respect. But it can't be. Nothing is going to +disturb my love. If I die under some mysterious influence, then I die; +but I shall die loving you, and I shall die absolutely certain that +you love me." + +Her breast heaved, and under the carriage rug her hand found mine and +clasped it. We did not look at each other. In a thick voice I called +to the coachman to stop. I got out, and the vehicle passed on. If I +had stayed with her, I should have wept in sight of the whole street. + +I ate no dinner that evening, but spent the hours in wandering up and +down the long verdurous alleys in the neighborhood of the Arc de +Triomphe. I was sure of Rosa's love, and that thought gave me a +certain invigoration. But to be sure of a woman's love when that love +means torture and death to you is not a complete and perfect +happiness. No, my heart was full of bitterness and despair, and my +mind invaded by a miserable weakness. I pitied myself, and at the +same time I scorned myself. After all, the ghost had no actual power +over me; a ghost cannot stab, cannot throttle, cannot shoot. A ghost +can only act upon the mind, and if the mind is feeble enough to allow +itself to be influenced by an intangible illusion, then-- + +But how futile were such arguments! Whatever the power might be, the +fact that the ghost had indeed a power over me was indisputable. All +day I had felt the spectral sword of it suspended above my head. My +timid footsteps lingering on the way to the hotel sufficiently proved +its power. The experiences of the previous night might be merely +subjective--conceptions of the imagination--but they were no less +real, no less fatal to me on that account. + +Once I had an idea of not going to the hotel that night at all. But of +what use could such an avoidance be? The apparition was bound by no +fetters to that terrible sitting-room of mine. I might be put to the +ordeal anywhere, even here in the thoroughfares of the city, and upon +the whole I preferred to return to my lodging. Nay, I was the victim +of a positive desire for that scene of my torture. + +I returned. It was eleven o'clock. The apparition awaited me. But this +time it was not seated in the chair. It stood with its back to the +window, and its gaze met mine as I entered the room. I did not close +the door, and my eyes never left its face. The sneer on its thin lips +was bitterer, more devilishly triumphant, than before. Erect, +motionless, and inexorable, the ghost stood there, and it seemed to +say: "What is the use of leaving the door open? You dare not escape. +You cannot keep away from me. To-night you shall die of sheer terror." + +With a wild audacity I sat down in the very chair which it had +occupied, and drummed my fingers on the writing-table. Then I took off +my hat, and with elaborate aim pitched it on to a neighboring sofa. I +was making a rare pretence of carelessness. But moment by moment, +exactly as before, my courage and resolution oozed out of me, drawn +away by that mystic presence. + +Once I got up filled with a brilliant notion. I would approach the +apparition; I would try to touch it. Could I but do so, it would +vanish; I felt convinced it would vanish. I got up, as I say, but I +did not approach the ghost. I was unable to move forward, held by a +nameless dread. I dropped limply back into the chair. The phenomena of +the first night repeated themselves, but more intensely, with a more +frightful torture. Once again I sought relief from the agony of that +gaze by retreating into the bedroom; once again I was compelled by the +same indescribable fear to return, and once again I fell down, smitten +by a new and more awful menace, a kind of incredible blasphemy which +no human thought can convey. + +And now the ghost moved mysteriously and ominously towards me. With an +instinct of defence, cowed as I was upon the floor, I raised my hand +to ward it off. Useless attempt! It came near and nearer, +imperceptibly moving. + +"Let me die in peace," I said within my brain. + +But it would not. Not only must I die, but in order to die I must +traverse all the hideous tortures of the soul which that lost spirit +had learnt in its dire wanderings. + +The ghost stood over me, impending like a doom. Then it suddenly +looked towards the door, startled, and the door swung on its hinges. A +girl entered--a girl dressed in black, her shoulders and bosom +gleaming white against the dark attire, a young girl with the +heavenliest face on this earth. Casting herself on her knees before +the apparition, she raised to that dreadful spectre her countenance +transfigured by the ecstasy of a sublime appeal. It was Rosa. + +Can I describe what followed? Not adequately, only by imperfect hints. +These two faced each other, Rosa and the apparition. She uttered no +word. But I, in my stupor, knew that she was interceding with the +spectre for my life. Her lovely eyes spoke to it of its old love, its +old magnanimity, and in the name of that love and that magnanimity +called upon it to renounce the horrible vengeance of which I was the +victim. + +For long the spectre gazed with stern and formidable impassivity upon +the girl. I trembled, all hope and all despair, for the issue. She +would not be vanquished. Her love was stronger than its hate; her love +knew not the name of fear. For a thousand nights, so it seemed, the +two remained thus, at grips, as it were, in a death-struggle. Then +with a reluctant gesture of abdication the ghost waved a hand; its +terrible features softened into a consent, and slowly it faded away. + +As I lay there Rosa bent over me, and put her arms round my neck, and +I could feel on my face the caress of her hair, and the warm baptism +of her tears--tears of joy. + + * * * * * + +I raised her gently. I laid her on the sofa, and with a calm, blissful +expectancy awaited the moment when her eyes should open. Ah! I may not +set down here the sensation of relief which spread through my being as I +realized with every separate brain-cell that I was no longer a victim, +the doomed slave of an evil and implacable power, but a free man--free +to live, free to love, exempt from the atrocious influences of the +nether sphere. I saw that ever since the first encounter in Oxford +Street my existence had been under a shadow, dark and malign and always +deepening, and that this shadow was now magically dissipated in the +exquisite dawn of a new day. And I gave thanks, not only to Fate, but to +the divine girl who in one of those inspirations accorded only to +genius had conceived the method of my enfranchisement, and so nobly +carried it out. + +Her eyelids wavered, and she looked at me. + +"It is gone?" she murmured. + +"Yes," I said, "the curse is lifted." + +She smiled, and only our ardent glances spoke. + + * * * * * + +"How came you to think of it?" I asked. + +"I was sitting in my room after dinner, thinking and thinking. And +suddenly I could see this room, and you, and the spectre, as plainly +as I see you now. I felt your terror; I knew every thought that was +passing in your brain, the anguish of it! And then, and then, an idea +struck me. I had never appealed in vain to Lord Clarenceux in +life--why should I not appeal now? I threw a wrap over my shoulders +and ran out. I didn't take a cab, I ran--all the way. I scarcely knew +what I was doing, only that I had to save you. Oh, Carl, you are +free!" + +"Through you," I said. + +She kissed me, and her kiss had at once the pure passion of a girl and +the satisfied solicitude of a mother. + +"Take me home!" she whispered. + +Outside the hotel an open carriage happened to be standing. I hailed +the driver, and we got in. The night was beautifully fine and mild. In +the narrow lane of sky left by the high roofs of the street the stars +shone and twinkled with what was to me a new meaning. For I was once +more in accord with the universe. I and Life were at peace again. + +"Don't let us go straight home," said Rosa, as the driver turned +towards us for instructions. "It seems to me that a drive through +Paris would be very enjoyable to-night." + +And so we told the man to proceed along the quays as far as he could, +and then through the Champs Elysées to the Bois de Boulogne. The Seine +slept by its deserted parapets like a silver snake, and only the low +rumble of the steam-car from Versailles disturbed its slumber. The +million lights of the gas-lamps, stretching away now and then into the +endless vistas of the boulevards, spoke to me of the delicious +companionship of humanity, from which I had so nearly been snatched +away. And the glorious girl by my side--what of her companionship? Ah, +that was more than a companionship; it was a perfect intercourse which +we shared. No two human beings ever understood one another more +absolutely, more profoundly, than did Rosa and myself, for we had been +through the valley and through the flood together. And so it happened +that we did not trouble much with conversation. It was our souls, not +our mouths which talked--talked softly and mysteriously in the +gracious stillness and obscurity of that Paris night. I learnt many +things during that drive--the depth of her love, the height of her +courage, the ecstasy of her bliss. And she, too, she must have learnt +many things from me--the warmth of my gratitude to her, a warmth which +was only exceeded by the transcendent fire of my affection. + +Presently we had left the borders of the drowsy Seine, which is so +busy by day, so strangely silent by night. We crossed the immense +Place de la Concorde. Once again we were rolling smoothly along the +Champs Elysées. Only a few hours before we had driven through this +very avenue, Rosa and I, but with what different feelings from those +which possessed us now! How serene and quiet it was! Occasionally a +smooth-gliding carriage, or a bicyclist flitting by with a Chinese +lantern at the head of his machine--that was all. As we approached +the summit of the hill where the Arc de Triomphe is, a new phenomenon +awaited us. The moon rose--a lovely azure crescent over the houses, +and its faint mild rays were like a benediction upon us. Then we had +turned to the left, and were in the Bois de Boulogne. We stopped the +carriage under the trees, which met overhead; the delicatest breeze +stirred the branches to a crooning murmur. All around was solitude and +a sort of hushed expectation. Suddenly Rosa put her hand into mine, +and with a simultaneous impulse we got out of the carriage and +strolled along a by-path. + +"Carl," she said, "I have a secret for you. But you must tell no one." +She laughed mischievously. + +"What is it?" I answered, calmly smiling. + +"It is that I love you," and she buried her face against my shoulder. + +"Tell me that again," I said, "and again and again." + +And so under the tall rustling trees we exchanged vows--vows made more +sacred by the bitterness of our experience. And then at last, much to +the driver's satisfaction, we returned to the carriage, and were +driven back to the Rue de Rivoli. I gave the man a twenty-franc +piece; certainly the hour was unconscionably late. + +I bade good night, a reluctant good night, to Rosa at the entrance to +her flat. + +"Dearest girl," I said, "let us go to England to-morrow. You are +almost English, you know; soon you will be the wife of an Englishman, +and there is no place like London." + +"True," she answered. "There is no place like London. We'll go. The +Opéra Comique will manage without me. And I will accept no more +engagements for a very, very long time. Money doesn't matter. You have +enough, and I--oh, Carl, I've got stacks and piles of it. It's so +easy, if you have a certain sort of throat like mine, to make more +money than you can spend." + +"Yes," I said. "We will have a holiday, after we are married, and that +will be in a fortnight's time. We will go to Devonshire, where the +heather is. But, my child, you will be wanting to sing again soon. It +is your life." + +"No," she replied, "you are my life, aren't you?" And, after a pause: +"But perhaps singing is part of my life, too. Yes, I shall sing." + +Then I left her for that night, and walked slowly back to my hotel. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ghost, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST *** + +***** This file should be named 17176-8.txt or 17176-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/7/17176/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ghost + A Modern Fantasy + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: November 28, 2005 [EBook #17176] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>THE GHOST</h1> + +<h3>A Modern Fantasy</h3> + +<p> </p> +<h3> </h3> +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>ARNOLD BENNETT</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF "THE OLD WIVES' TALES," "CLAYHANGER," +ETC., ETC.</h4> + +<p class="center"><img src="images/image_01.jpg" alt="Decorative Image" width="150" height="191" /></p> + +<h3> </h3> +<h3> </h3> +<h3>BOSTON</h3> +<h4>SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY</h4> +<h3>1911</h3> + +<p class="center"> </p> +<p class="center"> </p> +<p class="center"> </p> +<p class="center">Copyright, 1907</p> +<p class="center">By <span class="smcap">Herbert B. Turner & Co.</span></p> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1911</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Small, Maynard & Company +(incorporated)</span></p> + + + + + + +<h2> </h2> +<h2> </h2> +<h2> </h2> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td> </td> + <td> CHAPTER</td><td class="tocpg">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td> </td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">I.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_GHOST">My Splendid Cousin</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">II.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">At The Opera</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_15"> 15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">III.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">The Cry of Alresca</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_37"> 37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">IV.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Rosa's Summons</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">V.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">The Dagger and the Man</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">VI.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Alresca's Fate</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">VII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">The Vigil by the Bier</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_122">122</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">VIII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The Message</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_134">134</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">IX.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">The Train</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">X.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">The Steamer</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_172">172</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XI.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">A Chat with Rosa</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_196">196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Egg-and-milk</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_210">210</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XIII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">The Portrait</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_224">224</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XIV.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">The Villa</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XV.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">The Sheath of the Dagger</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XVI.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">The Thing in the Chair</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_260">260</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XVII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">The Menace</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XVIII.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">The Struggle</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocch">XIX.</td> + <td> </td> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">The Intercession</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"> <a href="#Page_298">298</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>THE GHOST</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_GHOST" id="THE_GHOST"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>MY SPLENDID COUSIN</h3> + + +<p>I am eight years older now. It had never occurred to me that I am +advancing in life and experience until, in setting myself to recall +the various details of the affair, I suddenly remembered my timid +confusion before the haughty mien of the clerk at Keith Prowse's.</p> + +<p>I had asked him:</p> + +<p>"Have you any amphitheatre seats for the Opera to-night?"</p> + +<p>He did not reply. He merely put his lips together and waved his hand +slowly from side to side.</p> + +<p>Not perceiving, in my simplicity, that he was thus expressing a +sublime pity for the ignorance which my demand implied, I innocently +proceeded:</p> + +<p>"Nor balcony?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>This time he condescended to speak.</p> + +<p>"Noth—ing, sir."</p> + +<p>Then I understood that what he meant was: "Poor fool! why don't you +ask for the moon?"</p> + +<p>I blushed. Yes, I blushed before the clerk at Keith Prowse's, and +turned to leave the shop. I suppose he thought that as a Christian it +was his duty to enlighten my pitiable darkness.</p> + +<p>"It's the first Rosa night to-night," he said with august affability. +"I had a couple of stalls this morning, but I've just sold them over +the telephone for six pound ten."</p> + +<p>He smiled. His smile crushed me. I know better now. I know that clerks +in box-offices, with their correct neckties and their air of +continually doing wonders over the telephone, are not, after all, the +grand masters of the operatic world. I know that that manner of theirs +is merely a part of their attire, like their cravats; that they are +not really responsible for the popularity of great sopranos; and that +they probably go home at nights to Fulham by the white omnibus, or to +Hammersmith by the red one—and not in broughams.</p> + +<p>"I see," I observed, carrying my crushed remains out into the street. +Impossible to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>conceal the fact that I had recently arrived from +Edinburgh as raw as a ploughboy!</p> + +<p>If you had seen me standing irresolute on the pavement, tapping my +stick of Irish bog-oak idly against the curbstone, you would have +seen a slim youth, rather nattily dressed (I think), with a shadow of +brown on his upper lip, and a curl escaping from under his hat, and +the hat just a little towards the back of his head, and a pretty good +chin, and the pride of life in his ingenuous eye. Quite unaware that +he was immature! Quite unaware that the supple curves of his limbs had +an almost feminine grace that made older fellows feel paternal! Quite +unaware that he had everything to learn, and that all his troubles lay +before him! Actually fancying himself a man because he had just taken +his medical degree....</p> + +<p>The June sun shone gently radiant in a blue sky, and above the roofs +milky-bosomed clouds were floating in a light wind. The town was +bright, fresh, alert, as London can be during the season, and the +joyousness of the busy streets echoed the joyousness of my heart (for +I had already, with the elasticity of my years, recovered from the +reverse inflicted on me by Keith Prowse's clerk). On the opposite side +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>of the street were the rich premises of a well-known theatrical club, +whose weekly entertainments had recently acquired fame. I was, I +recollect, proud of knowing the identity of the building—it was one +of the few things I did know in London—and I was observing with +interest the wondrous livery of the two menials motionless behind the +glass of its portals, when a tandem equipage drew up in front of the +pile, and the menials darted out, in their white gloves, to prove that +they were alive and to justify their existence.</p> + +<p>It was an amazingly complete turnout, and it well deserved all the +attention it attracted, which was considerable. The horses were +capricious, highly polished grays, perhaps a trifle undersized, but +with such an action as is not to be bought for less than twenty-five +guineas a hoof; the harness was silver-mounted; the dog-cart itself a +creation of beauty and nice poise; the groom a pink and priceless +perfection. But the crown and summit of the work was the driver—a +youngish gentleman who, from the gloss of his peculiarly shaped collar +to the buttons of his diminutive boots, exuded an atmosphere of +expense. His gloves, his scarf-pin, his watch-chain, his mustache, his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>eye-glass, the crease in his nether garments, the cut of his +coat-tails, the curves of his hat—all uttered with one accord the +final word of fashion, left nothing else to be said. The correctness +of Keith Prowse's clerk was as naught to his correctness. He looked as +if he had emerged immaculate from the outfitter's boudoir, an +achievement the pride of Bond Street.</p> + +<p>As this marvellous creature stood up and prepared to alight from the +vehicle, he chanced to turn his eye-glass in my direction. He scanned +me carelessly, glanced away, and scanned me again with a less detached +stare. And I, on my part, felt the awakening of a memory.</p> + +<p>"That's my cousin Sullivan," I said to myself. "I wonder if he wants +to be friends."</p> + +<p>Our eyes coquetted. I put one foot into the roadway, withdrew it, +restored it to the roadway, and then crossed the street.</p> + +<p>It was indeed the celebrated Sullivan Smith, composer of those so +successful musical comedies, "The Japanese Cat," "The Arabian Girl," +and "My Queen." And he condescended to recognize me! His gestures +indicated, in fact, a warm desire to be cousinly. I reached him. The +moment was historic. While the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>groom held the wheeler's head, and the +twin menials assisted with dignified inactivity, we shook hands.</p> + +<p>"How long is it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Fifteen years—about," I answered, feeling deliciously old.</p> + +<p>"Remember I punched your head?"</p> + +<p>"Rather!" (Somehow I was proud that he had punched my head.)</p> + +<p>"No credit to me," he added magnanimously, "seeing I was years older +than you and a foot or so taller. By the way, Carl, how old did you +say you were?"</p> + +<p>He regarded me as a sixth-form boy might regard a fourth-form boy.</p> + +<p>"I didn't say I was any age," I replied. "But I'm twenty-three."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you're quite old enough to have a drink. Come into the +club and partake of a gin-and-angostura, old man. I'll clear all this +away."</p> + +<p>He pointed to the equipage, the horses, and the groom, and with an +apparently magic word whispered into the groom's ear he did in fact +clear them away. They rattled and jingled off in the direction of +Leicester Square, while <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>Sullivan muttered observations on the groom's +driving.</p> + +<p>"Don't imagine I make a practice of tooling tandems down to my club," +said Sullivan. "I don't. I brought the thing along to-day because I've +sold it complete to Lottie Cass. You know her, of course?"</p> + +<p>"I don't."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow," he went on after this check, "I've sold her the entire +bag of tricks. What do you think I'm going to buy?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"A motor-car, old man!"</p> + +<p>In those days the person who bought a motor-car was deemed a fearless +adventurer of romantic tendencies. And Sullivan so deemed himself. The +very word "motor-car" then had a strange and thrilling romantic sound +with it.</p> + +<p>"The deuce you are!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I am," said he, happy in having impressed me. He took my arm as +though we had been intimate for a thousand years, and led me +fearlessly past the swelling menials within the gate to the club +smoking-room, and put me into a grandfather's chair of pale heliotrope +plush in front of an onyx table, and put himself into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>another +grandfather's chair of heliotrope plush. And in the cushioned quietude +of the smoking-room, where light-shod acolytes served +gin-and-angostura as if serving gin-and-angostura had been a religious +rite, Sullivan went through an extraordinary process of unchaining +himself. His form seemed to be crossed and re-crossed with +chains—gold chains. At the end of one gold chain was a gold +cigarette-case, from which he produced gold-tipped cigarettes. At the +end of another was a gold matchbox. At the end of another, which he +may or may not have drawn out by mistake, were all sorts of +things—knives, keys, mirrors, and pencils. A singular ceremony! But I +was now in the world of gold.</p> + +<p>And then smoke ascended from the gold-tipped cigarettes as incense +from censers, and Sullivan lifted his tinted glass of +gin-and-angostura, and I, perceiving that such actions were expected +of one in a theatrical club, responsively lifted mine, and the glasses +collided, and Sullivan said:</p> + +<p>"Here's to the end of the great family quarrel."</p> + +<p>"I'm with you," said I.</p> + +<p>And we sipped.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>My father had quarrelled with his mother in an epoch when even musical +comedies were unknown, and the quarrel had spread, as family quarrels +do, like a fire or the measles. The punching of my head by Sullivan in +the extinct past had been one of its earliest consequences.</p> + +<p>"May the earth lie lightly on them!" said Sullivan.</p> + +<p>He was referring to the originators of the altercation. The tone in +which he uttered this wish pleased me—it was so gentle. It hinted +that there was more in Sullivan than met the eye, though a great deal +met the eye. I liked him. He awed me, and he also seemed to me +somewhat ridiculous in his excessive pomp. But I liked him.</p> + +<p>The next instant we were talking about Sullivan Smith. How he +contrived to switch the conversation suddenly into that channel I +cannot imagine. Some people have a gift of conjuring with +conversations. They are almost always frankly and openly interested in +themselves, as Sullivan was interested in himself. You may seek to +foil them; you may even violently wrench the conversation into other +directions. But every effort will be useless. They will beat you. You +had much better lean <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>back in your chair and enjoy their legerdemain.</p> + +<p>In about two minutes Sullivan was in the very midst of his career.</p> + +<p>"I never went in for high art, you know. All rot! I found I could +write melodies that people liked and remembered." (He was so used to +reading interviews with himself in popular weeklies that he had caught +the formalistic phraseology, and he was ready apparently to mistake +even his cousin for an interviewer. But I liked him.) "And I could get +rather classy effects out of an orchestra. And so I kept on. I didn't +try to be Wagner. I just stuck to Sullivan Smith. And, my boy, let me +tell you it's only five years since 'The Japanese Cat' was produced, +and I'm only twenty-seven, my boy! And now, who is there that doesn't +know me?" He put his elbows on the onyx. "Privately, between cousins, +you know, I made seven thousand quid last year, and spent half that. I +live on half my income; always have done; always shall. Good +principle! I'm a man of business, I am, Carl Foster. Give the public +what they want, and save half your income—that's the ticket. Look at +me. I've got to act the duke; it pays, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>so I do it. I am a duke. I get +twopence apiece royalty on my photographs. That's what you'll never +reach up to, not if you're the biggest doctor in the world." He +laughed. "By the way, how's Jem getting along? Still practising at +Totnes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said.</p> + +<p>"Doing well?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! So—so! You see, we haven't got seven thousand a year, but we've +got five hundred each, and Jem's more interested in hunting than in +doctoring. He wants me to go into partnership with him. But I don't +see myself."</p> + +<p>"Ambitious, eh, like I was? Got your degree in Edinburgh?"</p> + +<p>I nodded, but modestly disclaimed being ambitious like he was.</p> + +<p>"And your sister Lilian?"</p> + +<p>"She's keeping house for Jem."</p> + +<p>"Pretty girl, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said doubtfully. "Sings well, too."</p> + +<p>"So you cultivate music down there?"</p> + +<p>"Rather!" I said. "That is, Lilian does, and I do when I'm with her. +We're pretty mad on it. I was dead set on hearing Rosetta Rosa in +'Lohengrin' to-night, but there isn't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>a seat to be had. I suppose I +shall push myself into the gallery."</p> + +<p>"No, you won't," Sullivan put in sharply. "I've got a box. There'll be +a chair for you. You'll see my wife. I should never have dreamt of +going. Wagner bores me, though I must say I've got a few tips from +him. But when we heard what a rush there was for seats Emmeline +thought we ought to go, and I never cross her if I can help it. I made +Smart give us a box."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted to come," I said. "There's only one Smart, I +suppose? You mean Sir Cyril?"</p> + +<p>"The same, my boy. Lessee of the Opera, lessee of the Diana, lessee of +the Folly, lessee of the Ottoman. If any one knows the color of his +cheques I reckon it's me. He made me—that I will say; but I made him, +too. Queer fellow! Awfully cute of him to get elected to the County +Council. It was through him I met my wife. Did you ever see Emmeline +when she was Sissie Vox?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I didn't."</p> + +<p>"You missed a treat, old man. There was no one to touch her in boys' +parts in burlesque. A dashed fine woman she is—though <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>I say it, +dashed fine!" He seemed to reflect a moment. "She's a spiritualist. I +wish she wasn't. Spiritualism gets on her nerves. I've no use for it +myself, but it's her life. It gives her fancies. She got some sort of +a silly notion—don't tell her I said this, Carlie—about Rosetta +Rosa. Says she's unlucky—Rosa, I mean. Wanted me to warn Smart +against engaging her. Me! Imagine it! Why, Rosa will be the making of +this opera season! She's getting a terrific salary, Smart told me."</p> + +<p>"It's awfully decent of you to offer me a seat," I began to thank him.</p> + +<p>"Stuff!" he said. "Cost me nothing." A clock struck softly. +"Christopher! it's half-past twelve, and I'm due at the Diana at +twelve. We're rehearsing, you know."</p> + +<p>We went out of the club arm in arm, Sullivan toying with his +eye-glass.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'll toddle round to-night, eh? Just ask for my box. You'll +find they'll look after you. So long!"</p> + +<p>He walked off.</p> + +<p>"I say," he cried, returning hastily on his steps, and lowering his +voice, "when you meet my wife, don't say anything about her +theat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>rical career. She don't like it. She's a great lady now. See?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course!" I agreed.</p> + +<p>He slapped me on the back and departed.</p> + +<p>It is easy to laugh at Sullivan. I could see that even then—perhaps +more clearly then than now. But I insist that he was lovable. He had +little directly to do with my immense adventure, but without him it +could not have happened. And so I place him in the forefront of the +narrative.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>AT THE OPERA</h3> + + +<p>It was with a certain nervousness that I mentioned Sullivan's name to +the gentleman at the receipt of tickets—a sort of transcendantly fine +version of Keith Prowse's clerk—but Sullivan had not exaggerated his +own importance. They did look after me. They looked after me with such +respectful diligence that I might have been excused for supposing that +they had mistaken me for the Shah of Persia in disguise. I was +introduced into Sullivan's box with every circumstance of pomp. The +box was empty. Naturally I had arrived there first. I sat down, and +watched the enormous house fill, but not until I had glanced into the +mirror that hung on the crimson partition of the box to make sure that +my appearance did no discredit to Sullivan and the great lady, his +wife.</p> + +<p>At eight o'clock, when the conductor ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>peared at his desk to an +accompaniment of applauding taps from the musicians, the house was +nearly full. The four tiers sent forth a sparkle of diamonds, of silk, +and of white arms and shoulders which rivalled the glitter of the vast +crystal chandelier. The wide floor of serried stalls (those stalls of +which one pair at least had gone for six pound ten) added their more +sombre brilliance to the show, while far above, stretching away +indefinitely to the very furthest roof, was the gallery (where but for +Sullivan I should have been), a mass of black spotted with white +faces.</p> + +<p>Excitement was in the air: the expectation of seeing once again +Rosetta Rosa, the girl with the golden throat, the mere girl who, two +years ago, had in one brief month captured London, and who now, after +a period of petulance, had decided to recapture London. On ordinary +nights, for the inhabitants of boxes, the Opera is a social +observance, an exhibition of jewels, something between an F.O. +reception and a conversazione with music in the distance. But to-night +the habitués confessed a genuine interest in the stage itself, +abandoning their rôle of players. Dozens of times since then have I +been to the Opera, and never have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>I witnessed the candid enthusiasm +of that night. If London can be naïve, it was naïve then.</p> + +<p>The conductor raised his baton. The orchestra ceased its tuning. The +lights were lowered. Silence and stillness enwrapped the auditorium. +And the quivering violins sighed out the first chords of the +"Lohengrin" overture. For me, then, there existed nothing save the +voluptuous music, to which I abandoned myself as to the fascination of +a dream. But not for long. Just as the curtain rose, the door behind +me gave a click, and Sullivan entered in all his magnificence. I +jumped up. On his arm in the semi-darkness I discerned a tall, +olive-pale woman, with large handsome features of Jewish cast, and +large, liquid black eyes. She wore a dead-white gown, and over this a +gorgeous cloak of purple and mauve.</p> + +<p>"Emmeline, this is Carl," Sullivan whispered.</p> + +<p>She smiled faintly, giving me her finger-tips, and then she suddenly +took a step forward as if the better to examine my face. Her strange +eyes met mine. She gave a little indefinable unnecessary "Ah!" and +sank down into a chair, loosing my hand swiftly. I was going <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>to say +that she loosed my hand as if it had been the tail of a snake that she +had picked up in mistake for something else. But that would leave the +impression that her gesture was melodramatic, which it was not. Only +there was in her demeanor a touch of the bizarre, ever so slight; yes, +so slight that I could not be sure that I had not imagined it.</p> + +<p>"The wife's a bit overwrought," Sullivan murmured in my ear. "Nerves, +you know. Women are like that. Wait till you're married. Take no +notice. She'll be all right soon."</p> + +<p>I nodded and sat down. In a moment the music had resumed its sway over +me.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget my first sight of Rosetta Rosa as, robed with the +modesty which the character of Elsa demands, she appeared on the stage +to answer the accusation of Ortrud. For some moments she hesitated in +the background, and then timidly, yet with what grandeur of mien, +advanced towards the king. I knew then, as I know now, that hers was a +loveliness of that imperious, absolute, dazzling kind which banishes +from the hearts of men all moral conceptions, all considerations of +right and wrong, and leaves therein nothing but worship and desire. +Her acting, as she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>replied by gesture to the question of the king, +was perfect in its realization of the simplicity of Elsa. Nevertheless +I, at any rate, as I searched her features through the lorgnon that +Mrs. Sullivan had silently handed to me, could descry beneath the +actress the girl—the spoilt and splendid child of Good Fortune, who +in the very spring of youth had tasted the joy of sovereign power, +that unique and terrible dominion over mankind which belongs to beauty +alone.</p> + +<p>Such a face as hers once seen is engraved eternally on the memory of +its generation. And yet when, in a mood of lyrical and rapt ecstasy, +she began her opening song, "In Lichter Waffen Scheine," her face was +upon the instant forgotten. She became a Voice—pure, miraculous, +all-compelling; and the listeners seemed to hold breath while the +matchless melody wove round them its persuasive spell.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The first act was over, and Rosetta Rosa stood at the footlights +bowing before the rolling and thunderous storms of applause, her hand +in the hand of Alresca, the Lohengrin. That I have not till this +moment mentioned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>Alresca, and that I mention him now merely as the +man who happened to hold Rosa's hand, shows with what absolute +sovereignty Rosa had dominated the scene. For as Rosa was among +sopranos, so was Alresca among tenors—the undisputed star. Without +other aid Alresca could fill the opera-house; did he not receive two +hundred and fifty pounds a night? To put him in the same cast as Rosa +was one of Cyril Smart's lavish freaks of expense.</p> + +<p>As these two stood together Rosetta Rosa smiled at him; he gave her a +timid glance and looked away.</p> + +<p>When the clapping had ceased and the curtain hid the passions of the +stage, I turned with a sigh of exhaustion and of pleasure to my +hostess, and I was rather surprised to find that she showed not a +trace of the nervous excitement which had marked her entrance into the +box. She sat there, an excellent imitation of a woman of fashion, +languid, unmoved, apparently a little bored, but finely conscious of +doing the right thing.</p> + +<p>"It's a treat to see any one enjoy anything as you enjoy this music," +she said to me. She spoke well, perhaps rather too carefully, and with +a hint of the cockney accent.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It runs in the family, you know, Mrs. Smith," I replied, blushing for +the ingenuousness which had pleased her.</p> + +<p>"Don't call me Mrs. Smith; call me Emmeline, as we are cousins. I +shouldn't at all like it if I mightn't call you Carl. Carl is such a +handsome name, and it suits you. Now, doesn't it, Sully?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling," Sullivan answered nonchalantly. He was at the back of +the box, and clearly it was his benevolent desire to give me fair +opportunity of a tête-à-tête with his dark and languorous lady. +Unfortunately, I was quite unpractised in the art of maintaining a +tête-à-tête with dark and languorous ladies. Presently he rose.</p> + +<p>"I must look up Smart," he said, and left us.</p> + +<p>"Sullivan has been telling me about you. What a strange meeting! And +so you are a doctor! You don't know how young you look. Why, I am old +enough to be your mother!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you aren't," I said. At any rate, I knew enough to say that.</p> + +<p>And she smiled.</p> + +<p>"Personally," she went on, "I hate music—loathe it. But it's +Sullivan's trade, and, of course, one must come here."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>She waved a jewelled arm towards the splendid animation of the +auditorium.</p> + +<p>"But surely, Emmeline," I cried protestingly, "you didn't 'loathe' +that first act. I never heard anything like it. Rosa was simply—well, +I can't describe it."</p> + +<p>She gazed at me, and a cloud of melancholy seemed to come into her +eyes. And after a pause she said, in the strangest tone, very quietly:</p> + +<p>"You're in love with her already."</p> + +<p>And her eyes continued to hold mine.</p> + +<p>"Who could help it?" I laughed.</p> + +<p>She leaned towards me, and her left hand hung over the edge of the +box.</p> + +<p>"Women like Rosetta Rosa ought to be killed!" she said, with +astonishing ferocity. Her rich, heavy contralto vibrated through me. +She was excited again, that was evident. The nervous mood had +overtaken her. The long pendent lobes of her ears crimsoned, and her +opulent bosom heaved. I was startled. I was rather more than +startled—I was frightened. I said to myself, "What a peculiar +creature!"</p> + +<p>"Why?" I questioned faintly.</p> + +<p>"Because they are too young, too lovely, too dangerous," she responded +with fierce em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>phasis. "And as for Rosa in particular—as for Rosa in +particular—if you knew what I knew, what I've seen——"</p> + +<p>"What have you seen?" I was bewildered. I began to wish that Sullivan +had not abandoned me to her.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'm wrong," she laughed.</p> + +<p>She laughed, and sat up straight again, and resumed her excellent +imitation of the woman of fashion, while I tried to behave as though I +had found nothing singular in her behavior.</p> + +<p>"You know about our reception?" she asked vivaciously in another +moment, playing with her fan.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I don't."</p> + +<p>"Where have you been, Carl?"</p> + +<p>"I've been in Edinburgh," I said, "for my final."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said. "Well, it's been paragraphed in all the papers. +Sullivan is giving a reception in the Gold Rooms of the Grand Babylon +Hotel. Of course, it will be largely theatrical,—Sullivan has to mix +a good deal with that class, you know; it's his business,—but there +will be a lot of good people there. You'll come, won't you? It's to +celebrate the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>five hundredth performance of 'My Queen.' Rosetta Rosa +is coming."</p> + +<p>"I shall be charmed. But I should have thought you wouldn't ask Rosa +after what you've just said."</p> + +<p>"Not ask Rosa! My dear Carl, she simply won't go anywhere. I know for +a fact she declined Lady Casterby's invitation to meet a Serene +Highness. Sir Cyril got her for me. She'll be the star of the show."</p> + +<p>The theatre darkened once more. There were the usual preliminaries, +and the orchestra burst into the prelude of the second act.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever done any crystal-gazing?" Emmeline whispered.</p> + +<p>And some one on the floor of the house hissed for silence.</p> + +<p>I shook my head.</p> + +<p>"You must try." Her voice indicated that she was becoming excited +again. "At my reception there will be a spiritualism room. I'm a +believer, you know."</p> + +<p>I nodded politely, leaning over the front of the box to watch the +conductor.</p> + +<p>Then she set herself to endure the music.</p> + +<p>Immediately the second act was over, Sullivan returned, bringing with +him a short, slight, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>bald-headed man of about fifty. The two were +just finishing a conversation on some stage matter.</p> + +<p>"Smart, let me introduce to you my cousin, Carl Foster. Carl, this is +Sir Cyril Smart."</p> + +<p>My first feeling was one of surprise that a man so celebrated should +be so insignificant to the sight. Yet as he looked at me I could +somehow feel that here was an intelligence somewhat out of the common. +At first he said little, and that little was said chiefly to my +cousin's wife, but there was a quietude and firmness in his speech +which had their own effect.</p> + +<p>Sir Cyril had small eyes, and small features generally, including +rather a narrow forehead. His nostrils, however, were well curved, and +his thin, straight lips and square chin showed the stiffest +determination. He looked fatigued, weary, and harassed; yet it did not +appear that he complained of his lot; rather accepted it with sardonic +humor. The cares of an opera season and of three other simultaneous +managements weighed on him ponderously, but he supported the burden +with stoicism.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with Alresca to-night?" Sullivan asked. "Suffering +the pangs of jealousy, I suppose."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + + +<p>"Alresca," Sir Cyril replied, "is the greatest tenor living, and +to-night he sings like a variety comedian. But it is not jealousy. +There is one thing about Alresca that makes me sometimes think he is +not an artist at all—he is incapable of being jealous. I have known +hundreds of singers, and he is the one solitary bird among them of +that plumage. No, it is not jealousy."</p> + +<p>"Then what is it?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew. He asked me to go and dine with him this afternoon. +You know he dines at four o'clock. Of course, I went. What do you +think he wanted me to do? He actually suggested that I should change +the bill to-night! That showed me that something really was the +matter, because he's the most modest and courteous man I have ever +known, and he has a horror of disappointing the public. I asked him if +he was hoarse. No. I asked him if he felt ill. No. But he was +extremely depressed.</p> + +<p>"'I'm quite well,' he said, 'and yet—' Then he stopped. 'And yet +what?' It seemed as if I couldn't drag it out of him. Then all of a +sudden he told me. 'My dear Smart,' he said, 'there is a misfortune +coming to me. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>feel it.' That's just what he said—'There's a +misfortune coming to me. I feel it.' He's superstitious. They all are. +Naturally, I set to work to soothe him. I did what I could. I talked +about his liver in the usual way. But it had less than the usual +effect. However, I persuaded him not to force me to change the bill."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sullivan struck into the conversation.</p> + +<p>"He isn't in love with Rosa, is he?" she demanded brusquely.</p> + +<p>"In love with Rosa? Of course he isn't, my pet!" said Sullivan.</p> + +<p>The wife glared at her husband as if angry, and Sullivan made a comic +gesture of despair with his hands.</p> + +<p>"Is he?" Mrs. Sullivan persisted, waiting for Smart's reply.</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that," said Sir Cyril simply. "No; I should say +not, decidedly not.... He may be, after all. I don't know. But if +he were, that oughtn't to depress him. Even Rosa ought to be flattered +by the admiration of a man like Alresca. Besides, so far as I know, +they've seen very little of each other. They're too expensive to sing +together often. There's only myself and Conried of New York who would +dream of putting them in the same <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>bill. I should say they hadn't sung +together more than two or three times since the death of Lord +Clarenceux; so, even if he has been making love to her, she's scarcely +had time to refuse him—eh?"</p> + +<p>"If he has been making love to Rosa," said Mrs. Sullivan slowly, +"whether she has refused him or not, it's a misfortune for him, that's +all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you women! you women!" Sullivan smiled. "How fond you are of each +other."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sullivan disdained to reply to her spouse.</p> + +<p>"And, let me tell you," she added, "he has been making love to her."</p> + +<p>The talk momentarily ceased, and in order to demonstrate that I was +not tongue-tied in the company of these celebrities, I ventured to +inquire what Lord Clarenceux, whose riches and eccentricities had +reached even the Scottish newspapers, had to do with the matter.</p> + +<p>"Lord Clarenceux was secretly engaged to Rosa in Vienna," Sir Cyril +replied. "That was about two and a half years ago. He died shortly +afterwards. It was a terrible shock for her. Indeed, I have always +thought that the shock had something to do with her notorious quarrel +with us. She isn't naturally quarrel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>some, so far as I can judge, +though really I have seen very little of her."</p> + +<p>"By the way, what was the real history of that quarrel?" said +Sullivan. "I only know the beginning of it, and I expect Carl doesn't +know even that, do you, Carl?"</p> + +<p>"No," I murmured modestly. "But perhaps it's a State secret."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," Sir Cyril said, turning to me. "I first heard Rosa +in Genoa—the opera-house there is more of a barn even than this, and +a worse stage than this used to be, if that's possible. She was +nineteen. Of course, I knew instantly that I had met with the chance +of my life. In my time I have discovered eleven stars, but this was a +sun. I engaged her at once, and she appeared here in the following +July. She sang twelve times, and—well, you know the sensation there +was. I had offered her twenty pounds a night in Genoa, and she seemed +mighty enchanted.</p> + +<p>"After her season here I offered her two hundred pounds a night for +the following year; but Lord Clarenceux had met her then, and she +merely said she would think it over. She wouldn't sign a contract. I +was annoyed. My motto is, 'Never be annoyed,' but I was. Next <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>to +herself, she owed everything to me. She went to Vienna to fulfil an +engagement, and Lord Clarenceux after her. I followed. I saw her, and +I laid myself out to arrange terms of peace.</p> + +<p>"I have had difficulties with prime donne before, scores of times. +Yes; I have had experience." He laughed sardonically. "I thought I +knew what to do. Generally a prima donna has either a pet dog or a pet +parrot—sopranos go in for dogs, contraltos seem to prefer parrots. I +have made a study of these agreeable animals, and I have found that +through them their mistresses can be approached when all other avenues +are closed. I can talk doggily to poodles in five languages, and in +the art of administering sugar to the bird I am, I venture to think, +unrivalled. But Rosa had no pets. And after a week's negotiation, I +was compelled to own myself beaten. It was a disadvantage to me that +she wouldn't lose her temper. She was too polite; she really was +grateful for what I had done for her. She gave me no chance to work on +her feelings. But beyond all this there was something strange about +Rosa, something I have never been able to fathom. She isn't a child +like <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>most of 'em. She's as strong-headed as I am myself, every bit!"</p> + +<p>He paused, as if inwardly working at the problem.</p> + +<p>"Well, and how did you make it up?" Sullivan asked briskly.</p> + +<p>(As for me, I felt as if I had come suddenly into the centre of the +great world.)</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing happened for a time. She sang in Paris and America, and +took her proper place as the first soprano in the world. I did without +her, and managed very well. Then early this spring she sent her agent +to see me, and offered to sing ten times for three thousand pounds. +They can't keep away from London, you know. New York and Chicago are +all very well for money, but if they don't sing in London people ask +'em why. I wanted to jump at the offer, but I pretended not to be +eager. Up till then she had confined herself to French operas; so I +said that London wouldn't stand an exclusively French repertoire from +any one, and would she sing in 'Lohengrin.' She would. I suggested +that she should open with 'Lohengrin,' and she agreed. The price was +stiffish, but I didn't quarrel with that. I never drive bargains. She +is twenty-two now, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>or twenty-three; in a few more years she will want +five hundred pounds a night, and I shall have to pay it."</p> + +<p>"And how did she meet you?"</p> + +<p>"With just the same cold politeness. And I understand her less than +ever."</p> + +<p>"She isn't English, I suppose?" I put in.</p> + +<p>"English!" Sir Cyril ejaculated. "No one ever heard of a great English +soprano. Unless you count Australia as England, and Australia wouldn't +like that. No. That is another of her mysteries. No one knows where +she emerged from. She speaks English and French with absolute +perfection. Her Italian accent is beautiful. She talks German freely, +but badly. I have heard that she speaks perfect Flemish,—which is +curious,—but I do not know."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sullivan, nodding his head, "give me the theatrical as +opposed to the operatic star. The theatrical star's bad enough, and +mysterious enough, and awkward enough. But, thank goodness, she isn't +polite—at least, those at the Diana aren't. You can speak your mind +to 'em. And that reminds me, Smart, about that costume of Effie's in +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>first act of 'My Queen.' Of course you'll insist—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk your horrid shop now, Sullivan," his wife said; and +Sullivan didn't.</p> + +<p>The prelude to the third act was played, and the curtain went up on +the bridal chamber of Elsa and Lohengrin. Sir Cyril Smart rose as if +to go, but lingered, eying the stage as a general might eye a +battle-field from a neighboring hill. The music of the two processions +was heard approaching from the distance. Then, to the too familiar +strains of the wedding march, the ladies began to enter on the right, +and the gentlemen on the left. Elsa appeared amid her ladies, but +there was no Lohengrin in the other crowd. The double chorus +proceeded, and then a certain excitement was visible on the stage, and +the conductor made signs with his left hand.</p> + +<p>"Smart, what's wrong? Where's Alresca?" It was Sullivan who spoke.</p> + +<p>"He'll sail in all right," Sir Cyril said calmly. "Don't worry."</p> + +<p>The renowned impresario had advanced nearer to the front of our box, +and was standing immediately behind my chair. My heart was beating +violently with apprehension under <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>my shirt-front. Where was Alresca? +It was surely impossible that he should fail to appear! But he ought +to have been on the stage, and he was not on the stage. I stole a +glance at Sir Cyril's face. It was Napoleonic in its impassivity.</p> + +<p>And I said to myself:</p> + +<p>"He is used to this kind of thing. Naturally slips must happen +sometimes."</p> + +<p>Still, I could not control my excitement.</p> + +<p>Emmeline's hand was convulsively clutching at the velvet-covered +balustrade of the box.</p> + +<p>"It'll be all right," I repeated to myself.</p> + +<p>But when the moment came for the king to bless the bridal pair, and +there was no Lohengrin to bless, even the impassive Sir Cyril seemed +likely to be disturbed, and you could hear murmurs of apprehension +from all parts of the house. The conductor, however, went doggedly on, +evidently hoping for the best.</p> + +<p>At last the end of the procession was leaving the stage, and Elsa was +sitting on the bed alone. Still no Lohengrin. The violins arrived at +the muted chord of B flat, which is Lohengrin's cue. They hung on it +for a second, and then the conductor dropped his baton. A bell rang. +The curtain descended. The lights <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>were turned up, and there was a +swift loosing of tongues in the house. People were pointing to Sir +Cyril in our box. As for him, he seemed to be the only unmoved person +in the audience.</p> + +<p>"That's never occurred before in my time," he said. "Alresca was not +mistaken. Something has happened. I must go."</p> + +<p>But he did not go. And I perceived that, though the calm of his +demeanor was unimpaired, this unprecedented calamity had completely +robbed him of his power of initiative. He could not move. He was +nonplussed.</p> + +<p>The door of the box opened, and an official with a blazing diamond in +his shirt-front entered hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Nolan?"</p> + +<p>"There's been an accident to Monsieur Alresca, Sir Cyril, and they +want a doctor."</p> + +<p>It was the chance of a lifetime! I ought to have sprung up and proudly +announced, "I'm a doctor." But did I? No! I was so timid, I was so +unaccustomed to being a doctor, that I dared not for the life of me +utter a word. It was as if I was almost ashamed of being a doctor. I +wonder if my state of mind will be understood.</p> + +<p>"Carl's a doctor," said Sullivan.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>How I blushed!</p> + +<p>"Are you?" said Sir Cyril, suddenly emerging from his condition of +suspended activity. "I never guessed it. Come along with us, will +you?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure," I answered as briskly as I could.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE CRY OF ALRESCA</h3> + + +<p>As I left the box in the wake of Sir Cyril and Mr. Nolan, Sullivan +jumped up to follow us, and the last words I heard were from Emmeline.</p> + +<p>"Sullivan, stay here. You shall not go near that woman," she exclaimed +in feverish and appealing tones: excitement had once more overtaken +her. And Sullivan stayed.</p> + +<p>"Berger here?" Sir Cyril asked hurriedly of Nolan.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Send some one for him. I'll get him to take Alresca's part. He'll +have to sing it in French, but that won't matter. We'll make a new +start at the duet."</p> + +<p>"But Rosa?" said Nolan.</p> + +<p>"Rosa! She's not hurt, is she?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. But she's upset."</p> + +<p>"What the devil is she upset about?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The accident. She's practically useless. We shall never persuade her +to sing again to-night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, damn!" Sir Cyril exclaimed. And then quite quietly: "Well, run +and tell 'em, then. Shove yourself in front of the curtain, my lad, +and make a speech. Say it's nothing serious, but just sufficient to +stop the performance. Apologize, grovel, flatter 'em, appeal to their +generosity—you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Cyril."</p> + +<p>And Nolan disappeared on his mission of appeasing the audience.</p> + +<p>We had traversed the flagged corridor. Sir Cyril opened a narrow door +at the end.</p> + +<p>"Follow me," he called out. "This passage is quite dark, but quite +straight."</p> + +<p>It was not a passage; it was a tunnel. I followed the sound of his +footsteps, my hands outstretched to feel a wall on either side. It +seemed a long way, but suddenly we stepped into twilight. There was a +flight of steps which we descended, and at the foot of the steps a +mutilated commissionaire, ornamented with medals, on guard.</p> + +<p>"Where is Monsieur Alresca?" Sir Cyril demanded.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Behind the back-cloth, where he fell, sir," answered the +commissionaire, saluting.</p> + +<p>I hurried after Sir Cyril, and found myself amid a most extraordinary +scene of noise and confusion on the immense stage. The entire +personnel of the house seemed to be present: a crowd apparently +consisting of thousands of people, and which really did comprise some +hundreds. Never before had I had such a clear conception of the +elaborate human machinery necessary to the production of even a +comparatively simple lyric work like "Lohengrin." Richly clad pages +and maids of honor, all white and gold and rouge, mingled with +shirt-sleeved carpenters and scene-shifters in a hysterical rabble; +chorus-masters, footmen in livery, loungers in evening dress, girls in +picture hats, members of the orchestra with instruments under their +arms, and even children, added variety to the throng. And, round +about, gigantic "flats" of wood and painted canvas rose to the flies, +where their summits were lost in a maze of ropes and pulleys. Beams of +light, making visible great clouds of dust, shot forth from hidden +sources. Voices came down from the roof, and from far <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>below ascended +the steady pulsation of a dynamo. I was bewildered.</p> + +<p>Sir Cyril pushed ahead, without saying a word, without even +remonstrating when his minions omitted to make way for him. Right at +the back of the stage, and almost in the centre, the crowd was much +thicker. And at last, having penetrated it, we came upon a sight which +I am not likely to forget. Rosa, in all the splendor of the bridal +costume, had passed her arms under Alresca's armpits, and so raised +his head and shoulders against her breast. She was gazing into the +face of the spangled knight, and the tears were falling from her eyes +into his.</p> + +<p>"My poor Alresca! My poor Alresca!" she kept murmuring.</p> + +<p>Pressing on these two were a distinguished group consisting of the +King, the Herald, Ortrud, Telramund, and several more. And Ortrud was +cautiously feeling Alresca's limbs with her jewel-laden fingers. I saw +instantly that Alresca was unconscious.</p> + +<p>"Please put him down, mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>These were the first words that I ever spoke to Rosetta Rosa, and, out +of sheer acute nervousness, I uttered them roughly, in a tone of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>surly command. I was astonished at myself. I was astonished at my own +voice. She glanced up at me and hesitated. No doubt she was +unaccustomed to such curt orders.</p> + +<p>"Please put him down at once," I repeated, trying to assume a bland, +calm, professional, authoritative manner, and not in the least +succeeding. "It is highly dangerous to lift an unconscious person from +a recumbent position."</p> + +<p>Why I should have talked like an article in a medical dictionary +instead of like a human being I cannot imagine.</p> + +<p>"This is a doctor—Mr. Carl Foster," Sir Cyril explained smoothly, and +she laid Alresca's head gently on the bare planks of the floor.</p> + +<p>"Will everyone kindly stand aside, and I will examine him."</p> + +<p>No one moved. The King continued his kingly examination of the prone +form. Not a fold of Ortrud's magnificent black robe was disturbed. +Then Sir Cyril translated my request into French and into German, and +these legendary figures of the Middle Ages withdrew a little, fixing +themselves with difficulty into the common multitude that pressed on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>them from without. I made them retreat still further. Rosetta Rosa +moved gravely to one side.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately Alresca opened his eyes, and murmured faintly, "My +thigh."</p> + +<p>I knelt down, but not before Rosa had sprung forward at the sound of +his voice, and kneeling close by my side had clasped his hand. I tried +to order her away, but my tongue could not form the words. I could +only look at her mutely, and there must have been an effective appeal +in my eyes, for she got up, nodding an acquiescence, and stood silent +and tense a yard from Alresca's feet. With a violent effort I nerved +myself to perform my work. The voice of Nolan, speaking to the +audience, and then a few sympathetic cheers, came vaguely from the +other side of the big curtain, and then the orchestra began to play +the National Anthem.</p> + +<p>The left thigh was broken near the knee-joint. So much I ascertained +at once. As I manipulated the limb to catch the sound of the crepitus +the injured man screamed, and he was continually in very severe pain. +He did not, however, again lose consciousness.</p> + +<p>"I must have a stretcher, and he must be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>carried to a room. I can't +do anything here," I said to Sir Cyril. "And you had better send for a +first-rate surgeon. Sir Francis Shorter would do very well—102 +Manchester Square, I think the address is. Tell him it's a broken +thigh. It will be a serious case."</p> + +<p>"Let me send for my doctor—Professor Eugene Churt," Rosa said. "No +one could be more skilful."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," I protested, "Professor Churt is a physician of great +authority, but he is not a surgeon, and here he would be useless."</p> + +<p>She bowed—humbly, as I thought.</p> + +<p>With such materials as came to hand I bound Alresca's legs together, +making as usual the sound leg fulfil the function of a splint to the +other one, and he was placed on a stretcher. It was my first case, and +it is impossible for me to describe my shyness and awkwardness as the +men who were to carry the stretcher to the dressing-room looked +silently to me for instructions.</p> + +<p>"Now," I said, "take short steps, keep your knees bent, but don't on +any account keep step. As gently as you can—all together—lift."</p> + +<p>Rosa followed the little procession as it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>slowly passed through the +chaotic anarchy of the stage. Alresca was groaning, his eyes closed. +Suddenly he opened them, and it seemed as though he caught sight of +her for the first time. He lifted his head, and the sweat stood in +drops on his brow.</p> + +<p>"Send her away!" he cried sharply, in an agony which was as much +mental as physical. "She is fatal to me."</p> + +<p>The bearers stopped in alarm at this startling outburst; but I ordered +them forward, and turned to Rosa. She had covered her face with her +hands, and was sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Please go away," I said. "It is very important he should not be +agitated."</p> + +<p>Without quite intending to do so, I touched her on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Alresca doesn't mean that!" she stammered.</p> + +<p>Her blue eyes were fixed on me, luminous through her tears, and I +feasted on all the lovely curves of that incomparable oval which was +her face.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he doesn't," I answered. "But you had better go, hadn't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I will go."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Forgive my urgency," I murmured. Then she drew back and vanished in +the throng.</p> + +<p>In the calm of the untidy dressing-room, with the aid of Alresca's +valet, I made my patient as comfortable as possible on a couch. And +then I had one of the many surprises of my life. The door opened, and +old Toddy entered. No inhabitant of the city of Edinburgh would need +explanations on the subject of Toddy MacWhister. The first surgeon of +Scotland, his figure is familiar from one end of the town to the +other—and even as far as Leith and Portobello. I trembled. And my +reason for trembling was that the celebrated bald expert had quite +recently examined me for my Final in surgery. On that dread occasion I +had made one bad blunder, so ridiculous that Toddy's mood had passed +suddenly from grim ferociousness to wild northern hilarity. I think I +am among the few persons in the world who have seen and heard Toddy +MacWhister laugh.</p> + +<p>I hoped that he would not remember me, but, like many great men, he +had a disconcertingly good memory for faces.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said, "I've seen ye before."</p> + +<p>"You have, sir."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are the callant who told me that the medulla oblongata—"</p> + +<p>"Please—" I entreated.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he would not have let me off had not Sir Cyril stood +immediately behind him. The impresario explained that Toddy MacWhister +(the impresario did not so describe him) had been in the audience, and +had offered his services.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Toddy, approaching Alresca.</p> + +<p>"Fracture of the femur."</p> + +<p>"Simple, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, but so far as I can judge, of a somewhat peculiar nature. +I've sent round to King's College Hospital for splints and bandages."</p> + +<p>Toddy took off his coat.</p> + +<p>"We sha'n't need ye, Sir Cyril," said he casually.</p> + +<p>And Sir Cyril departed.</p> + +<p>In an hour the limb was set—a masterly display of skill—and, except +to give orders, Toddy had scarcely spoken another word. As he was +washing his hands in a corner of the dressing-room he beckoned to me.</p> + +<p>"How was it caused?" he whispered.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No one seems to know, sir."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't matter much, anyway! Let him lie a wee bit, and then get him +home. Ye'll have no trouble with him, but there'll be no more warbling +and cutting capers for him this yet awhile."</p> + +<p>And Toddy, too, went. He had showed not the least curiosity as to +Alresca's personality, and I very much doubt whether he had taken the +trouble to differentiate between the finest tenor in Europe and a +chorus-singer. For Toddy, Alresca was simply an individual who sang +and cut capers.</p> + +<p>I made the necessary dispositions for the transport of Alresca in an +hour's time to his flat in the Devonshire Mansion, and then I sat down +near him. He was white and weak, but perfectly conscious. He had +proved himself to be an admirable patient. Even in the very crisis of +the setting his personal distinction and his remarkable and finished +politeness had suffered no eclipse. And now he lay there, with his +silky mustache disarranged and his hair damp, exactly as I had once +seen him on the couch in the garden by the sea in the third act of +"Tristan," the picture of nobility. He could not move, for the +sufficient reason that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>a strong splint ran from his armpit to his +ankle, but his arms were free, and he raised his left hand, and +beckoned me with an irresistible gesture to come quite close to him.</p> + +<p>I smiled encouragingly and obeyed.</p> + +<p>"My kind friend," he murmured, "I know not your name."</p> + +<p>His English was not the English of an Englishman, but it was beautiful +in its exotic quaintness.</p> + +<p>"My name is Carl Foster," I said. "It will be better for you not to +talk."</p> + +<p>He made another gesture of protest with that wonderful left hand of +his.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Foster, I must talk to Mademoiselle Rosa."</p> + +<p>"Impossible," I replied. "It really is essential that you should keep +quiet."</p> + +<p>"Kind friend, grant me this wish. When I have seen her I shall be +better. It will do me much good."</p> + +<p>There was such a desire in his eyes, such a persuasive plaintiveness +in his voice, that, against my judgment, I yielded.</p> + +<p>"Very well," I said. "But I am afraid I can only let you see her for +five minutes."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>The hand waved compliance, and I told the valet to go and inquire for +Rosa.</p> + +<p>"She is here, sir," said the valet on opening the door. I jumped up. +There she was, standing on the door-mat in the narrow passage! Yet I +had been out of the room twice, once to speak to Sir Cyril Smart, and +once to answer an inquiry from my cousin Sullivan, and I had not seen +her.</p> + +<p>She was still in the bridal costume of Elsa, and she seemed to be +waiting for permission to enter. I went outside to her, closing the +door.</p> + +<p>"Sir Cyril would not let me come," she said. "But I have escaped him. +I was just wondering if I dared peep in. How is he?"</p> + +<p>"He is getting on splendidly," I answered. "And he wants to have a +little chat with you."</p> + +<p>"And may he?"</p> + +<p>"If you will promise to be very, very ordinary, and not to excite +him."</p> + +<p>"I promise," she said with earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Remember," I added, "quite a little, tiny chat!"</p> + +<p>She nodded and went in, I following. Upon catching sight of her, +Alresca's face broke into an exquisite, sad smile. Then he gave his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>valet a glance, and the valet crept from the room. I, as in +professional duty bound, remained. The most I could do was to retire +as far from the couch, and pretend to busy myself with the rolling up +of spare bandages.</p> + +<p>"My poor Rosa," I heard Alresca begin.</p> + +<p>The girl had dropped to her knees by his side, and taken his hand.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen, Alresca? Tell me."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you! I saw—saw something, and I fell, and caught my +leg against some timber, and I don't remember any more."</p> + +<p>"Saw something? What did you see?"</p> + +<p>There was a silence.</p> + +<p>"Were you frightened?" Rosa continued softly.</p> + +<p>Then another silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Alresca at length, "I was frightened."</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"I say I cannot tell you. I do not know."</p> + +<p>"You are keeping something from me, Alresca," she exclaimed +passionately.</p> + +<p>I was on the point of interfering in order to bring the colloquy to an +end, but I hesitated. They appeared to have forgotten that I was +there.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How so?" said Alresca in a curious whisper. "I have nothing to keep +from you, my dear child."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "you are keeping something from me. This afternoon +you told Sir Cyril that you were expecting a misfortune. Well, the +misfortune has occurred to you. How did you guess that it was coming? +Then, to-night, as they were carrying you away on that stretcher, do +you remember what you said?"</p> + +<p>"What did I say?"</p> + +<p>"You remember, don't you?" Rosa faltered.</p> + +<p>"I remember," he admitted. "But that was nonsense. I didn't know what +I was saying. My poor Rosa, I was delirious. And that is just why I +wished to see you—in order to explain to you that that was nonsense. +You must forget what I said. Remember only that I love you."</p> + +<p>("So Emmeline was right," I reflected.)</p> + +<p>Abruptly Rosa stood up.</p> + +<p>"You must not love me, Alresca," she said in a shaking voice. "You ask +me to forget something; I will try. You, too, must forget +something—your love."</p> + +<p>"But last night," he cried, in accents of an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>almost intolerable +pathos—"last night, when I hinted—you did not—did not speak like +this, Rosetta."</p> + +<p>I rose. I had surely no alternative but to separate them. If I allowed +the interview to be prolonged the consequences to my patient might be +extremely serious. Yet again I hesitated. It was the sound of Rosa's +sobbing that arrested me.</p> + +<p>Once more she dropped to her knees.</p> + +<p>"Alresca!" she moaned.</p> + +<p>He seized her hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p>And then I came forward, summoning all my courage to assert the +doctor's authority. And in the same instant Alresca's features, which +had been the image of intense joy, wholly changed their expression, +and were transformed into the embodiment of fear. With a look of +frightful terror he pointed with one white hand to the blank wall +opposite. He tried to sit up, but the splint prevented him. Then his +head fell back.</p> + +<p>"It is there!" he moaned. "Fatal! My Rosa—"</p> + +<p>The words died in his mouth, and he swooned.</p> + +<p>As for Rosetta Rosa, I led her from the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>ROSA'S SUMMONS</h3> + + +<p>Everyone knows the Gold Rooms at the Grand Babylon on the Embankment. +They are immense, splendid, and gorgeous; they possess more gold leaf +to the square inch than any music-hall in London. They were designed +to throw the best possible light on humanity in the mass, to +illuminate effectively not only the shoulders of women, but also the +sombreness of men's attire. Not a tint on their walls that has not +been profoundly studied and mixed and laid with a view to the great +aim. Wherefore, when the electric clusters glow in the ceiling, and +the "after-dinner" band (that unique corporation of British citizens +disguised as wild Hungarians) breathes and pants out its after-dinner +melodies from the raised platform in the main salon, people regard +this coup d'oeil with awe, and feel glad that they are in the dazzling +picture, and even the failures who are there <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>imagine that they have +succeeded. Wherefore, also, the Gold Rooms of the Grand Babylon are +expensive, and only philanthropic societies, plutocrats, and the +Titans of the theatrical world may persuade themselves that they can +afford to engage them.</p> + +<p>It was very late when I arrived at my cousin Sullivan's much +advertised reception. I had wished not to go at all, simply because I +was inexperienced and nervous; but both he and his wife were so +good-natured and so obviously anxious to be friendly, that I felt +bound to appear, if only for a short time. As I stood in the first +room, looking vaguely about me at the lively throng of resplendent +actresses who chattered and smiled so industriously and with such +abundance of gesture to the male acquaintances who surrounded them, I +said to myself that I was singularly out of place there.</p> + +<p>I didn't know a soul, and the stream of arrivals having ceased, +neither Sullivan nor Emmeline was immediately visible. The moving +picture was at once attractive and repellent to me. It became +instantly apparent that the majority of the men and women there had +but a single interest in life, that of centring attention upon +themselves; and their various meth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>ods of reaching this desirable end +were curious and wonderful in the extreme. For all practical purposes, +they were still on the boards which they had left but an hour or two +before. It seemed as if they regarded the very orchestra in the light +of a specially contrived accompaniment to their several actions and +movements. As they glanced carelessly at me, I felt that they held me +as a foreigner, as one outside that incredible little world of theirs +which they call "the profession." And so I felt crushed, with a faint +resemblance to a worm. You see, I was young.</p> + +<p>I walked through towards the main salon, and in the doorway between +the two rooms I met a girl of striking appearance, who was followed by +two others. I knew her face well, having seen it often in photograph +shops; it was the face of Marie Deschamps, the popular divette of the +Diana Theatre, the leading lady of Sullivan's long-lived musical +comedy, "My Queen." I needed no second glance to convince me that Miss +Deschamps was a very important personage indeed, and, further, that a +large proportion of her salary of seventy-five pounds a week was +expended in the suits and trappings of triumph. If her dress did <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>not +prove that she was on the topmost bough of the tree, then nothing +could. Though that night is still recent history, times have changed. +Divettes could do more with three hundred a month then than they can +with eight hundred now.</p> + +<p>As we passed she examined me with a curiosity whose charm was its +frankness. Of course, she put me out of countenance, particularly when +she put her hand on my sleeve. Divettes have the right to do these +things.</p> + +<p>"I know who you are," she said, laughing and showing her teeth. "You +are dear old Sully's cousin; he pointed you out to me the other night +when you were at the Diana. Now, don't say you aren't, or I shall look +such a fool; and for goodness' sake don't say you don't know +me—because everyone knows me, and if they don't they ought to."</p> + +<p>I was swept away by the exuberance of her attack, and, blushing +violently, I took the small hand which she offered, and assured her +that I was in fact Sullivan Smith's cousin, and her sincere admirer.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," she said, raising her superb shoulders after a +special manner of her own. "Now you shall take me to Sulli<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>van, and he +shall introduce us. Any friend of dear old Sully's is a friend of +mine. How do you like my new song?"</p> + +<p>"What new song?" I inquired incautiously.</p> + +<p>"Why, 'Who milked the cow?' of course."</p> + +<p>I endeavored to give her to understand that it had made an indelible +impression on me; and with such like converse we went in search of +Sullivan, while everyone turned to observe the unknown shy young man +who was escorting Marie Deschamps.</p> + +<p>"Here he is," my companion said at length, as we neared the orchestra, +"listening to the band. He should have a band, the little dear! +Sullivan, introduce me to your cousin."</p> + +<p>"Charmed—delighted." And Sullivan beamed with pleasure. "Ah, my young +friend," he went on to me, "you know your way about fairly well. But +there! medical students—they're all alike. Well, what do you think of +the show?"</p> + +<p>"Hasn't he done it awfully well, Mr. Foster?" said Miss Deschamps.</p> + +<p>I said that I should rather think he had.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Sullivan, becoming grave and dropping his voice, +"there are four hundred invitations, and it'll cost me seven hun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>dred +and fifty pounds. But it pays. You know that, don't you, Marie? Look +at the advertisement! And I've got a lot of newspaper chaps here. +It'll be in every paper to-morrow. I reckon I've done this thing on +the right lines. It's only a reception, of course, but let me tell you +I've seen after the refreshments—not snacks—refreshments, mind you! +And there's a smoke-room for the boys, and the wife's got a +spiritualism-room, and there's the show in this room. Some jolly good +people here, too—not all chorus girls and walking gents. Are they, +Marie?"</p> + +<p>"You bet not," the lady replied.</p> + +<p>"Rosetta Rosa's coming, and she won't go quite everywhere—not quite! +By the way, it's about time she did come." He looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Foster," the divette said, "you must tell me all about that +business. I'm told you were there, and that there was a terrible +scene."</p> + +<p>"What business?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"At the Opera the other night, when Alresca broke his thigh. Didn't +you go behind and save his life?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I didn't precisely save his life, but I attended to him."</p> + +<p>"They say he is secretly married to Rosa. Is that so?"</p> + +<p>"I really can't say, but I think not."</p> + +<p>"What did she say to him when she went into his dressing-room? I know +all about it, because one of our girls has a sister who's in the Opera +chorus, and her sister saw Rosa go in. I do want to know what she +said, and what he said."</p> + +<p>An impulse seized me to invent a harmless little tale for the +diversion of Marie Deschamps. I was astonished at my own enterprise. I +perceived that I was getting accustomed to the society of greatness.</p> + +<p>"Really?" she exclaimed, when I had finished.</p> + +<p>"I assure you."</p> + +<p>"He's teasing," Sullivan said.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Foster wouldn't do such a thing," she observed, drawing herself +up, and I bowed.</p> + +<p>A man with an eye-glass came and began to talk confidently in +Sullivan's ear, and Sullivan had to leave us.</p> + +<p>"See you later," he smiled. "Keep him out of mischief, Marie. And I +say, Carl, the wife <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>said I was to tell you particularly to go into +her crystal-gazing room. Don't forget."</p> + +<p>"I'll go, too," Miss Deschamps said. "You may take me there now, if +you please. And then I must go down to where the champagne is flowing. +But not with you, not with you, Mr. Foster. There are other gentlemen +here very anxious for the post. Now come along."</p> + +<p>We made our way out of the stir and noise of the grand salon, Marie +Deschamps leaning on my arm in the most friendly and confiding way in +the world, and presently we found ourselves in a much smaller +apartment crowded with whispering seekers after knowledge of the +future. This room was dimly lighted from the ceiling by a single +electric light, whose shade was a queer red Japanese lantern. At the +other end of it were double curtains. These opened just as we entered, +and Emmeline appeared, leading by the hand a man who was laughing +nervously.</p> + +<p>"Your fortune, ladies and gentlemen, your fortune!" she cried +pleasantly. Then she recognized me, and her manner changed, or I +fancied that it did.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Carl, so you've arrived!" she ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>claimed, coming forward and +ignoring all her visitors except Marie and myself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Emmeline, dear," said Marie, "we've come. And, please, I want to +see something in the crystal. How do you do it?"</p> + +<p>Emmeline glanced around.</p> + +<p>"Sullivan said my crystal-gazing would be a failure," she smiled. "But +it isn't, is it? I came in here as soon as I had done receiving, and +I've already had I don't know how many clients. I sha'n't be able to +stop long, you know. The fact is, Sullivan doesn't like me being here +at all. He thinks it not right of the hostess...."</p> + +<p>"But it's perfectly charming of you!" some one put in.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly delicious!" said Marie.</p> + +<p>"Now, who shall I take first?" Emmeline asked, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, me, of course!" Marie Deschamps replied without a hesitation or a +doubt, though she and I had come in last. And the others acquiesced, +because Marie was on the topmost bough of all.</p> + +<p>"Come along, then," said Emmeline, relieved.</p> + +<p>I made as if to follow them.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Foster," said Marie. "You just stay here, and don't listen."</p> + +<p>The two women disappeared behind the portière, and a faint giggle, +soon suppressed, came through the portière from Marie.</p> + +<p>I obeyed her orders, but as I had not the advantage of knowing a +single person in that outer room, I took myself off for a stroll, in +the hope of encountering Rosetta Rosa. Yes, certainly in the hope of +encountering Rosetta Rosa! But in none of the thronged chambers did I +discover her.</p> + +<p>When I came back, the waiting-room for prospective crystal-gazers was +empty, and Emmeline herself was just leaving it.</p> + +<p>"What!" I exclaimed. "All over?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said; "Sullivan has sent for me. You see, of course, one +has to mingle with one's guests. Only they're really Sullivan's +guests."</p> + +<p>"And what about me?" I said. "Am I not going to have a look into the +crystal?"</p> + +<p>I had, as a matter of fact, not the slightest interest in her crystal +at that instant. I regarded the crystal as a harmless distraction of +hers, and I was being simply jocular when I made that remark. +Emmeline, however, took <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>it seriously. As her face had changed when +she first saw me in the box at the Opera, and again to-night when she +met me and Marie Deschamps on my arm, so once more it changed now.</p> + +<p>"Do you really want to?" she questioned me, in her thrilling voice.</p> + +<p>My soul said: "It's all rubbish—but suppose there is something in it, +after all?"</p> + +<p>And I said aloud:</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Come, then."</p> + +<p>We passed through the room with the red Japanese lantern, and lo! the +next room was perfectly dark save for an oval of white light which +fell slantingly on a black marble table. The effect was rather +disconcerting at first; but the explanation was entirely simple. The +light came from an electric table-lamp (with a black cardboard shade +arranged at an angle) which stood on the table. As my eyes grew +accustomed to the obscurity I discovered two chairs.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," said Emmeline.</p> + +<p>And she and I each took one of the chairs, at opposite sides of the +table.</p> + +<p>Emmeline was magnificently attired. As I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>looked at her in the dimness +across the table, she drummed her fingers on the marble, and then she +bent her face to glance within the shade of the lamp, and for a second +her long and heavy, yet handsome, features were displayed to the +minutest part in the blinding ray of the lamp, and the next second +they were in obscurity again. It was uncanny. I was impressed; and all +the superstition which, like a snake, lies hidden in the heart of +every man, stirred vaguely and raised its head.</p> + +<p>"Carl—" Emmeline began, and paused.</p> + +<p>The woman indubitably did affect me strangely. Hers was a lonely soul, +an unusual mixture of the absolutely conventional and of something +quite else—something bizarre, disturbing, and inexplicable. I was +conscious of a feeling of sympathy for her.</p> + +<p>"Well?" I murmured.</p> + +<p>"Do you believe in the supernatural?"</p> + +<p>"I neither believe nor disbelieve," I replied, "for I have never met +with anything that might be a manifestation of it. But I may say that +I am not a hard and fast materialist." And I added: "Do you believe in +it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," she snapped.</p> + +<p>"Then, if you really believe, if it's so seri<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>ous to you, why do you +make a show of it for triflers?".</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she breathed. "Some of them do make me angry. They like to play +at having dealings with the supernatural. But I thought the crystal +would be such a good thing for Sullivan's reception. It is very +important to Sullivan that this should be a great success—our first +large public reception, you know. Sullivan says we must advertise +ourselves."</p> + +<p>The explanation of her motives was given so naïvely, so simply and +unaffectedly, that it was impossible to take exception to it.</p> + +<p>"Where's the crystal?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"It is here," she said, and she rolled a glass ball with the +suddenness that had the appearance of magic from the dark portion of +the table's surface into the oval of light. And it was so exactly +spherical, and the table top was so smooth that it would not stay +where it was put, and she had to hold it there with her ringed hand.</p> + +<p>"So that's it," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Carl," she said, "it is only right I should warn you. Some weeks ago +I saw in the crystal the face of a man whom I did not know. I saw it +again and again—and always the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>same scene. Then I saw you at the +Opera last week, and Sullivan introduced you as his cousin that he +talks about sometimes. Did you notice that night that I behaved rather +queerly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." I spoke shortly.</p> + +<p>"You are the man whom I saw in the crystal."</p> + +<p>"Really?" I ejaculated, smiling, or at least trying to smile. "And +what is the scene of which I am part?"</p> + +<p>"You are standing—But no!"</p> + +<p>She abruptly ceased speaking and coughed, clearing her throat, and she +fixed her large eyes on me. Outside I could hear the distant strain of +the orchestra, and the various noises of a great crowd of people. But +this little dark room, with its sharply defined oval of light, was +utterly shut off from the scene of gaiety. I was aware of an +involuntary shiver, and for the life of me I could not keep my gaze +steadily on the face of the tall woman who sat so still, with such +impressiveness, on the other side of the table. I waited for her to +proceed, and after what seemed a long interval she spoke again:</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You aren't afraid, are you?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm not."</p> + +<p>"Then you shall look into the crystal and try to see what I saw. I +will not tell you. You shall try to see for yourself. You may succeed, +if I help you. Now, try to free your mind from every thought, and look +earnestly. Look!"</p> + +<p>I drew the globe towards me from under her fingers.</p> + +<p>"Rum!" I murmured to myself.</p> + +<p>Then I strenuously fixed my eyes on the glinting depths of the +crystal, full of strange, shooting fires; but I could see nothing +whatever.</p> + +<p>"No go!" I said. "You'll have to tell me what you saw."</p> + +<p>"Patience. There is time yet. Look again. Take my hand in your right +hand."</p> + +<p>I obeyed, and we sat together in the tense silence. After a few +minutes, the crystal darkened and then slowly cleared. I trembled with +an uneasy anticipation.</p> + +<p>"You see something," she breathed sorrowfully in my ear.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, not yet," I whispered. "But it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>is coming. Yes, I see +myself, and—and—a woman—a very pretty woman. I am clasping her +hand."</p> + +<p>"Don't you recognize the woman?" Again Emmeline's voice vibrated like +a lamentation in my ear. I did recognize the woman, and the sweat +stood on my brow.</p> + +<p>"It is Rosetta Rosa!"</p> + +<p>"And what else do you see?" my questioner pursued remorselessly.</p> + +<p>"I see a figure behind us," I stammered, "but what figure I cannot +make out. It is threatening me. It is threatening me! It is a horrible +thing. It will kill me! Ah—!"</p> + +<p>I jumped up with a nervous movement. The crystal, left to itself, +rolled off the table to the floor, and fell with a thud unbroken on +the soft carpet. And I could hear the intake of Emmeline's breath.</p> + +<p>At that moment the double portière was pulled apart, and some one +stood there in the red light from the Japanese lantern.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Foster here? I want him to come with me," said a voice. And it +was the voice of Rosa.</p> + +<p>Just behind her was Sullivan.</p> + +<p>"I expected you'd be here," laughed Sullivan.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE DAGGER AND THE MAN</h3> + + +<p>Rosetta Rosa and I threaded through the crowd towards the Embankment +entrance of the Gold Rooms. She had spoken for a few moments with +Emmeline, who went pale with satisfaction at the candid friendliness +of her tone, and she had chatted quite gaily with Sullivan himself; +and we had all been tremendously impressed by her beauty and fine +grace—I certainly not the least. And then she had asked me, with a +quality of mysteriousness in her voice, to see her to her carriage.</p> + +<p>And, with her arm in mine, it was impossible for me to believe that +she could influence, in any evil way, my future career. That she might +be the cause of danger to my life seemed ridiculous. She was the +incarnation of kindliness and simplicity. She had nothing about her of +the sinister, and further, with all her transcendent beauty and charm, +she was also the incarnation of the matter-of-fact. I am <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>obliged to +say this, though I fear that it may impair for some people the vision +of her loveliness and her unique personality. She was the incarnation +of the matter-of-fact, because she appeared to be invariably quite +unconscious of the supremacy of her talents. She was not weighed down +by them, as many artists of distinction are weighed down. She carried +them lightly, seemingly unaware that they existed. Thus no one could +have guessed that that very night she had left the stage of the Opera +after an extraordinary triumph in her greatest rôle—that of Isolde in +"Tristan."</p> + +<p>And so her presence by my side soothed away almost at once the +excitation and the spiritual disturbance of the scene through which I +had just passed with Emmeline; and I was disposed, if not to laugh at +the whole thing, at any rate to regard it calmly, dispassionately, as +one of the various inexplicable matters with which one meets in a +world absurdly called prosaic. I was sure that no trick had been +played upon me. I was sure that I had actually seen in the crystal +what I had described to Emmeline, and that she, too, had seen it. But +then, I argued, such an experi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>ence might be the result of hypnotic +suggestion, or of thought transference, or of some other imperfectly +understood agency.... Rosetta Rosa an instrument of misfortune! No!</p> + +<p>When I looked at her I comprehended how men have stopped at nothing +for the sake of love, and how a woman, if only she be beautiful +enough, may wield a power compared to which the sway of a Tsar, even a +Tsar unhampered by Dumas, is impotence itself. Even at that early +stage I had begun to be a captive to her. But I did not believe that +her rule was malign.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Foster," she said, "I have asked you to see me to my carriage, +but really I want you to do more than that. I want you to go with me +to poor Alresca's. He is progressing satisfactorily, so far as I can +judge, but the dear fellow is thoroughly depressed. I saw him this +afternoon, and he wished, if I met you here to-night, that I should +bring you to him. He has a proposition to make to you, and I hope you +will accept it."</p> + +<p>"I shall accept it, then," I said.</p> + +<p>She pulled out a tiny gold watch, glistening with diamonds.</p> + +<p>"It is half-past one," she said. "We might <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>be there in ten minutes. +You don't mind it being late, I suppose. We singers, you know, have +our own hours."</p> + +<p>In the foyer we had to wait while the carriage was called. I stood +silent, and perhaps abstracted, at her elbow, absorbed in the pride +and happiness of being so close to her, and looking forward with a +tremulous pleasure to the drive through London at her side. She was +dressed in gray, with a large ermine-lined cloak, and she wore no +ornaments except a thin jewelled dagger in her lovely hair.</p> + +<p>All at once I saw that she flushed, and, following the direction of +her eyes, I beheld Sir Cyril Smart, with a startled gaze fixed +immovably on her face. Except the footmen and the attendants attached +to the hotel, there were not half a dozen people in the entrance-hall +at this moment. Sir Cyril was nearly as white as the marble floor. He +made a step forward, and then stood still. She, too, moved towards +him, as it seemed, involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Miss Rosa," he said at length, with a stiff +inclination. She responded, and once more they stared at each other. I +wondered whether they had quarrelled again, or whether both were by +some mischance <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>simultaneously indisposed. Surely they must have +already met during the evening at the Opera!</p> + +<p>Then Rosa, with strange deliberation, put her hand to her hair and +pulled out the jewelled dagger.</p> + +<p>"Sir Cyril," she said, "you seem fascinated by this little weapon. Do +you recognize it?"</p> + +<p>He made no answer, nor moved, but I noticed that his hands were +tightly clenched.</p> + +<p>"You do recognize it, Sir Cyril?"</p> + +<p>At last he nodded.</p> + +<p>"Then take it. The dagger shall be yours. To-night, within the last +minute, I think I have suddenly discovered that, next to myself, you +have the best right to it."</p> + +<p>He opened his lips to speak, but made no sound.</p> + +<p>"See," she said. "It is a real dagger, sharp and pointed."</p> + +<p>Throwing back her cloak with a quick gesture, she was about to prick +the skin of her left arm between the top of her long glove and the +sleeve of her low-cut dress. But Sir Cyril, and I also, jumped to stop +her.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that," I said. "You might hurt yourself."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>She glanced at me, angry for the instant; but her anger dissolved in +an icy smile.</p> + +<p>"Take it, Sir Cyril, to please me."</p> + +<p>Her intonation was decidedly peculiar.</p> + +<p>And Sir Cyril took the dagger.</p> + +<p>"Miss Rosa's carriage," a commissionaire shouted, and, beckoning to +me, the girl moved imperiously down the steps to the courtyard. There +was no longer a smile on her face, which had a musing and withdrawn +expression. Sir Cyril stood stock-still, holding the dagger. What the +surrounding lackeys thought of this singular episode I will not guess. +Indeed, the longer I live, the less I care to meditate upon what +lackeys do think. But that the adventures of their employers provide +them with ample food for thought there can be no doubt.</p> + +<p>Rosa's horses drew us swiftly away from the Grand Babylon Hotel, and +it seemed that she wished to forget or to ignore the remarkable +incident. For some moments she sat silent, her head slightly bent, her +cloak still thrown back, but showing no sign of agitation beyond a +slightly hurried heaving of the bosom.</p> + +<p>I was discreet enough not to break in upon her reflections by any +attempt at conversation, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>for it seemed to me that what I had just +witnessed had been a sudden and terrible crisis, not only in the life +of Sir Cyril, but also in that of the girl whose loveliness was dimly +revealed to me in the obscurity of the vehicle.</p> + +<p>We had got no further than Trafalgar Square when she aroused herself, +looked at me, and gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," she remarked, "that a doctor can't cure every disease?"</p> + +<p>"Scarcely," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Not even a young doctor?" she said with comical gravity.</p> + +<p>"Not even a young doctor," I gravely answered.</p> + +<p>Then we both laughed.</p> + +<p>"You must excuse my fun," she said. "I can't help it, especially when +my mind is disturbed."</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask me?" I inquired. "Was it just a general observation +caused by the seriousness of my countenance, or were you thinking of +something in particular?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of Alresca," she murmured, "my poor Alresca. He is the +rarest gentleman and the finest artist in Europe, and he is +suffering."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," I said, "one can't break one's thigh for nothing."</p> + +<p>"It is not his thigh. It is something else."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head, to indicate her inability to answer.</p> + +<p>Here I must explain that, on the morning after the accident, I had +taken a hansom to the Devonshire Mansion with the intention of paying +a professional visit to Alresca. I was not altogether certain that I +ought to regard the case as mine, but I went. Immediately before my +hansom, however, there had drawn up another hansom in front of the +portals of the Devonshire, and out of that other hansom had stepped +the famous Toddy MacWhister. Great man as Toddy was, he had an eye on +"saxpences," and it was evident that, in spite of the instructions +which he had given me as to the disposal of Alresca, Toddy was +claiming the patient for his own. I retired. It was the only thing I +could do. Two doctors were not needed, and I did not see myself, a +young man scarcely yet escaped from the fear of examinations, +disputing cases with the redoubtable Toddy. I heard afterwards that he +had prolonged his stay in London in order to at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>tend Alresca. So that +I had not seen the tenor since his accident.</p> + +<p>"What does Monsieur Alresca want to see me about?" I demanded +cautiously.</p> + +<p>"He will tell you," said Rosa, equally cautious.</p> + +<p>A silence followed.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I upset him—that night?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You wish me to be frank?"</p> + +<p>"If I had thought you would not be frank I would not have asked you. +Do you imagine it is my habit to go about putting awkward questions +like that?"</p> + +<p>"I think you did upset him very much."</p> + +<p>"You think I was wrong?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right," she admitted.</p> + +<p>I had been bold. A desire took me to be still bolder. She was in the +carriage with me. She was not older than I. And were she Rosetta Rosa, +or a mere miss taken at hazard out of a drawing-room, she was feminine +and I was masculine. In short—Well, I have fits of rashness +sometimes.</p> + +<p>"You say he is depressed," I addressed her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>firmly. "And I will +venture to inform you that I am not in the least surprised."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed. "And why?"</p> + +<p>"After what you said to him that night in the dressing-room. If I had +been in Alresca's place I know that I should be depressed, and very +much depressed, too."</p> + +<p>"You mean—" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "I mean that."</p> + +<p>I thought I had gone pretty far, and my heart was beating. I could not +justly have protested had she stopped the carriage and deposited me on +the pavement by the railings of Green Park. But her character was +angelic. She accepted my treatment of her with the most astounding +meekness.</p> + +<p>"You mean," she said, "that he is in love with me, and I chose just +that night to—refuse him."</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"That is emotional cause enough, isn't it, to account for any +mysterious depression that any man is ever likely to have?"</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," she said softly. "You don't know Alresca. You +don't know his strength of mind. I can assure you that it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>is +something more than unreturned love that is destroying him."</p> + +<p>"Destroying him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, destroying him. Alresca is capable of killing a futile passion. +His soul is too far removed from his body, and even from his mind, to +be seriously influenced by the mistakes and misfortunes of his mind +and body. Do you understand me?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with Alresca is something in his most secret +soul."</p> + +<p>"And you can form no idea of what it is?"</p> + +<p>She made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Doctors certainly can't cure such diseases as that," I said.</p> + +<p>"They can try," said Rosetta Rosa.</p> + +<p>"You wish me to try?" I faced her.</p> + +<p>She inclined her head.</p> + +<p>"Then I will," I said with sudden passionateness, forgetting even that +I was not Alresca's doctor.</p> + +<p>The carriage stopped. In the space of less than a quarter of an hour, +so it seemed to me, we had grown almost intimate—she and I.</p> + +<p>Alresca's man was awaiting us in the por<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>tico of the Devonshire, and +without a word he led us to his master. Alresca lay on his back on a +couch in a large and luxuriously littered drawing-room. The pallor of +his face and the soft brilliance of his eyes were infinitely pathetic, +and again he reminded me of the tragic and gloomy third act of +"Tristan." He greeted us kindly in his quiet voice.</p> + +<p>"I have brought the young man," said Rosa, "and now, after I have +inquired about your health, I must go. It is late. Are you better, +Alresca?"</p> + +<p>"I am better now that you are here," he smiled. "But you must not go +yet. It is many days since I heard a note of music. Sing to me before +you go."</p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to-night."</p> + +<p>"What shall I sing?"</p> + +<p>"Anything, so that I hear your voice."</p> + +<p>"I will sing 'Elsa's Dream.' But who will accompany? You know I simply +can't play to my own singing."</p> + +<p>I gathered together all my courage.</p> + +<p>"I'm an awful player," I said, "but I know the whole score of +'Lohengrin.'"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How clever of you!" Rosa laughed. "I'm sure you play beautifully."</p> + +<p>Alresca rewarded me with a look, and, trembling, I sat down to the +piano. I was despicably nervous. Before the song was finished I had +lost everything but honor; but I played that accompaniment to the most +marvellous soprano in the world.</p> + +<p>And what singing! Rosa stood close beside me. I caught the golden +voice at its birth. Every vibration, every shade of expression, every +subtlety of feeling was mine; and the experience was unforgettable. +Many times since then have I heard Rosa sing, many times in my hearing +has she excited a vast audience to overwhelming enthusiasm; but never, +to my mind, has she sung so finely as on that night. She was +profoundly moved, she had in Alresca the ideal listener, and she sang +with the magic power of a goddess. It was the summit of her career.</p> + +<p>"There is none like you," Alresca said, and the praise of Alresca +brought the crimson to her cheek. He was probably the one person +living who had the right to praise her, for an artist can only be +properly estimated by his equals.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come to me, Rosa," he murmured, as he took her hand in his and kissed +it. "You are in exquisite voice to-night," he said.</p> + +<p>"Am I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You have been excited; and I notice that you always sing best +under excitement."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she replied. "The fact is, I have just met—met some one +whom I never expected to meet. That is all. Good night, dear friend."</p> + +<p>"Good night."</p> + +<p>She passed her hand soothingly over his forehead.</p> + +<p>When we were alone Alresca seemed to be overtaken by lassitude.</p> + +<p>"Surely," I said, "it is not by Toddy—I mean Dr. Todhunter +MacWhister's advice that you keep these hours. The clocks are striking +two!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, my friend," he replied wearily, in his precise and rather +elaborate English, "ill or well, I must live as I have been accustomed +to live. For twenty years I have gone to bed promptly at three o'clock +and risen at eleven o'clock. Must I change because of a broken thigh? +In an hour's time, and not before, my people will carry this couch and +its burden to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>my bedroom. Then I shall pretend to sleep; but I shall +not sleep. Somehow of late the habit of sleep has left me. Hitherto, I +have scorned opiates, which are the refuge of the weak-minded, yet I +fear I may be compelled to ask you for one. There was a time when I +could will myself to sleep. But not now, not now!"</p> + +<p>"I am not your medical adviser," I said, mindful of professional +etiquette, "and I could not think of administering an opiate without +the express permission of Dr. MacWhister."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," he said, his eyes resting on me with a quiet satisfaction +that touched me to the heart, "but you are my medical adviser, if you +will honor me so far. I have not forgotten your neat hand and skilful +treatment of me at the time of my accident. To-day the little +Scotchman told me that my thigh was progressing quite admirably, and +that all I needed was nursing. I suggested to him that you should +finish the case. He had, in fact, praised your skill. And so, Mr. +Foster, will you be my doctor? I want you to examine me thoroughly, +for, unless I deceive myself, I am suffering from some mysterious +complaint."</p> + +<p>I was enormously, ineffably flattered and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>delighted, and all the boy +in me wanted to caper around the room and then to fall on Alresca's +neck and dissolve in gratitude to him. But instead of these feats, I +put on a vast seriousness (which must really have been very funny to +behold), and then I thanked Alresca in formal phrases, and then, quite +in the correct professional style, I began to make gentle fun of his +idea of a mysterious complaint, and I asked him for a catalogue of his +symptoms. I perceived that he and Rosa must have previously arranged +that I should be requested to become his doctor.</p> + +<p>"There are no symptoms," he replied, "except a gradual loss of +vitality. But examine me."</p> + +<p>I did so most carefully, testing the main organs, and subjecting him +to a severe cross-examination.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said, as, after I had finished, I sat down to cogitate.</p> + +<p>"Well, Monsieur Alresca, all I can say is that your fancy is too +lively. That is what you suffer from, an excitable fan—"</p> + +<p>"Stay, my friend," he interrupted me with a firm gesture. "Before you +go any further, let me entreat you to be frank. Without abso<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>lute +candor nothing can be done. I think I am a tolerable judge of faces, +and I can read in yours the fact that my condition has puzzled you."</p> + +<p>I paused, taken aback. It had puzzled me. I thought of all that +Rosetta Rosa had said, and I hesitated. Then I made up my mind.</p> + +<p>"I yield," I responded. "You are not an ordinary man, and it was +absurd of me to treat you as one. Absolute candor is, as you say, +essential, and so I'll confess that your case does puzzle me. There is +no organic disease, but there is a quite unaccountable organic +weakness—a weakness which fifty broken thighs would not explain. I +must observe, and endeavor to discover the cause. In the meantime I +have only one piece of advice. You know that in certain cases we have +to tell women patients that a successful issue depends on their own +willpower: I say the same thing to you."</p> + +<p>"Receive my thanks," he said. "You have acted as I hoped. As for the +willpower, that is another matter," and a faint smile crossed his +handsome, melancholy face.</p> + +<p>I rose to leave. It was nearly three o'clock.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Give me a few moments longer. I have a favor to ask."</p> + +<p>After speaking these words he closed his eyes, as though to recall the +opening sentences of a carefully prepared speech.</p> + +<p>"I am entirely at your service," I murmured.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Foster," he began, "you are a young man of brilliant +accomplishments, at the commencement of your career. Doubtless you +have made your plans for the immediate future, and I feel quite sure +that those plans do not include any special attendance upon myself, +whom until the other day you had never met. I am a stranger to you, +and on the part of a stranger it would be presumptuous to ask you to +alter your plans. Nevertheless, I am at this moment capable of that +presumption. In my life I have not often made requests, but such +requests as I have made have never been refused. I hope that my good +fortune in this respect may continue. Mr. Foster, I wish to leave +England. I wish to die in my own place—"</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders in protest against the word "die."</p> + +<p>"If you prefer it, I wish to live in my own <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>place. Will you accompany +me as companion? I am convinced that we should suit each other—that I +should derive benefit from your skill and pleasure from your society, +while you—you would tolerate the whims and eccentricities of my +middle age. We need not discuss terms; you would merely name your +fee."</p> + +<p>There was, as a matter of fact, no reason in the world why I should +have agreed to this suggestion of Alresca's. As he himself had said, +we were strangers, and I was under no obligation to him of any kind.</p> + +<p>Yet at once I felt an impulse to accept his proposal. Whence that +impulse sprang I cannot say. Perhaps from the aspect of an adventure +that the affair had. Perhaps from the vague idea that by attaching +myself to Alresca I should be brought again into contact with Rosetta +Rosa. Certainly I admired him immensely. None who knew him could avoid +doing so. Already, indeed, I had for him a feeling akin to affection.</p> + +<p>"I see by your face," he said, "that you are not altogether unwilling. +You accept?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure;" and I smiled with the pleasure I felt.</p> + +<p>But it seemed to me that I gave the answer <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>independently of my own +volition. The words were uttered almost before I knew.</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," I said. "I have made no plans, and therefore nothing +will be disarranged. Further, I count it an honor; and, moreover, your +'case'—pardon the word—interests me deeply. Where do you wish to +go?"</p> + +<p>"To Bruges, of course."</p> + +<p>He seemed a little surprised that I should ask the question.</p> + +<p>"Bruges," he went on, "that dear and wonderful old city of Flanders, +is the place of my birth. You have visited it?"</p> + +<p>"No," I said, "but I have often heard that it is the most picturesque +city in Europe, and I should like to see it awfully."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing in the world like Bruges," he said. "Bruges the Dead +they call it; a fit spot in which to die."</p> + +<p>"If you talk like that I shall reconsider my decision."</p> + +<p>"Pardon, pardon!" he laughed, suddenly wearing an appearance of +gaiety. "I am happier now. When can we go? To-morrow? Let it be +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Impossible," I said. "The idea of a man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>whose thigh was broken less +than a fortnight since taking a sea voyage to-morrow! Do you know that +under the most favorable circumstances it will be another five or six +weeks before the bone unites, and that even then the greatest care +will be necessary?"</p> + +<p>His gaiety passed.</p> + +<p>"Five more weeks here?"</p> + +<p>"I fear so."</p> + +<p>"But our agreement shall come into operation at once. You will visit +me daily? Rather, you will live here?"</p> + +<p>"If it pleases you. I am sure I shall be charmed to live here."</p> + +<p>"Let the time go quickly—let it fly! Ah, Mr. Foster, you will like +Bruges. It is the most dignified of cities. It has the picturesqueness +of Nuremburg, the waterways of Amsterdam, the squares of Turin, the +monuments of Perugia, the cafés of Florence, and the smells of +Cologne. I have an old house there of the seventeenth century; it is +on the Quai des Augustins."</p> + +<p>"A family affair?" I questioned.</p> + +<p>"No; I bought it only a few years ago from a friend. I fear I cannot +boast of much family. My mother made lace, my father was a +school<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>master. They are both dead, and I have no relatives."</p> + +<p>Somewhere in the building a clock struck three, and at that instant +there was a tap at the door, and Alresca's valet discreetly entered.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur rang?"</p> + +<p>"No, Alexis. Leave us."</p> + +<p>Comprehending that it was at last Alresca's hour for retiring, I rose +to leave, and called the man back.</p> + +<p>"Good night, dear friend," said Alresca, pressing my hand. "I shall +expect you to-morrow, and in the meantime a room shall be prepared for +you. Au revoir."</p> + +<p>Alexis conducted me to the door. As he opened it he made a civil +remark about the beauty of the night. I glanced at his face.</p> + +<p>"You are English, aren't you?" I asked him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I only ask because Alexis is such a peculiar name for an Englishman."</p> + +<p>"It is merely a name given to me by Monsieur Alresca when I entered +his service several years ago. My name is John Smedley."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Smedley," I said, putting half a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>sovereign into his hand, +"I perceive that you are a man of intelligence."</p> + +<p>"Hope so, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am a doctor, and to-morrow, as I dare say you heard, I am coming to +live here with your master in order to attend him medically."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"He says he is suffering from some mysterious complaint, Smedley."</p> + +<p>"He told me as much, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what that complaint is?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't the least idea, sir. But he always seems low like, and he +gets lower, especially during the nights. What might the complaint be, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could tell you. By the way, haven't you had trained nurses +there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. The other doctor sent two. But the governor dismissed 'em +yesterday. He told me they worried him. Me and the butler does what's +necessary."</p> + +<p>"You say he is more depressed during the nights—you mean he shows the +effects of that depression in the mornings?"</p> + +<p>"Just so, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am going to be confidential, Smedley. Are you aware if your master +has any secret <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>trouble on his mind, any worry that he reveals to no +one?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I am not."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Smedley. Good night."</p> + +<p>"Good night, sir, and thank you."</p> + +<p>I had obtained no light from Alexis, and I sought in vain for an +explanation of my patient's condition. Of course, it was plausible +enough to argue that his passion for Rosa was at the root of the evil; +but I remembered Rosa's words to me in the carriage, and I was +disposed to agree with them. To me, as to her, it seemed that, though +Alresca was the sort of man to love deeply, he was not the sort of man +to allow an attachment, however profound or unfortunate, to make a +wreck of his existence. No. If Alresca was dying, he was not dying of +love.</p> + +<p>As Alexis had remarked, it was a lovely summer night, and after +quitting the Devonshire I stood idly on the pavement, and gazed about +me in simple enjoyment of the scene.</p> + +<p>The finest trees in Hyde Park towered darkly in front of me, and above +them was spread the star-strewn sky, with a gibbous moon just showing +over the housetops to the left. I could not see a soul, but faintly +from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>the distance came the tramp of a policeman on his beat. The +hour, to my busy fancy, seemed full of fate. But it was favorable to +meditation, and I thought, and thought, and thought. Was I at the +beginning of an adventure, or would the business, so strangely +initiated, resolve itself into something prosaic and mediocre? I had a +suspicion—indeed, I had a hope—that adventures were in store for me. +Perhaps peril also. For the sinister impression originally made upon +me by that ridiculous crystal-gazing scene into which I had been +entrapped by Emmeline had returned, and do what I would I could not +dismiss it.</p> + +<p>My cousin's wife was sincere, with all her vulgarity and inborn +snobbishness. And that being assumed, how did I stand with regard to +Rosetta Rosa? Was the thing a coincidence, or had I indeed crossed her +path pursuant to some strange decree of Fate—a decree which Emmeline +had divined or guessed or presaged? There was a certain weirdness +about Emmeline that was rather puzzling.</p> + +<p>I had seen Rosa but twice, and her image, to use the old phrase, was +stamped on my heart. True! Yet the heart of any young man who had +talked with Rosa twice would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>in all probability have been similarly +affected. Rosa was not the ordinary pretty and clever girl. She was +such a creature as grows in this world not often in a century. She was +an angel out of Paradise—an angel who might pass across Europe and +leave behind her a trail of broken hearts to mark the transit. And if +angels could sing as she did, then no wonder that the heavenly choirs +were happy in nothing but song. (You are to remember that it was three +o'clock in the morning.) No, the fact that I was already half in love +with Rosa proved nothing.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, might not the manner in which she and Alresca had +sought me out be held to prove something? Why should such exalted +personages think twice about a mere student of medicine who had had +the good fortune once to make himself useful at a critical juncture? +Surely, I could argue that here was the hand of Fate.</p> + +<p>Rubbish! I was an ass to stand there at that unearthly hour, robbing +myself of sleep in order to pursue such trains of thought. Besides, +supposing that Rosa and myself were, in fact, drawn together by chance +or fate, or whatever you like to call it, had not disaster <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>been +prophesied in that event? It would be best to leave the future alone. +My aim should be to cure Alresca, and then go soberly to Totnes and +join my brother in practice.</p> + +<p>I turned down Oxford Street, whose perspective of gas-lamps stretched +east and west to distances apparent infinite, and as I did so I +suddenly knew that some one was standing by the railings opposite, +under the shadow of the great trees. I had been so sure that I was +alone that this discovery startled me a little, and I began to whistle +tunelessly.</p> + +<p>I could make out no details of the figure, except that it was a man +who stood there, and to satisfy my curiosity I went across to inspect +him. To my astonishment he was very well, though very quietly, +dressed, and had the appearance of being a gentleman of the highest +distinction. His face was clean-shaven, and I noticed the fine, firm +chin, and the clear, unblinking eyes. He stood quite still, and as I +approached looked me full in the face. It was a terrible gaze, and I +do not mind confessing that, secretly, I quailed under it; there was +malice and a dangerous hate in that gaze. Nevertheless I was young, +careless, and enterprising.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Can you tell me if I am likely to get a cab at this time of night?" I +asked as lightly as I could. I wanted to hear his voice.</p> + +<p>But he returned no answer, merely gazing at me as before, without a +movement.</p> + +<p>"Strange!" I said, half to myself. "The fellow must be deaf, or mad, +or a foreigner."</p> + +<p>The man smiled slightly, his lips drooping to a sneer. I retreated, +and as I stepped back on the curb my foot touched some small object. I +looked down, and in the dim light, for the dawn was already heralded, +I saw the glitter of jewels. I stooped and picked the thing up. It was +the same little dagger which but a few hours before I had seen Rosa +present with so much formality to Sir Cyril Smart. But there was this +difference—the tiny blade was covered with blood!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>ALRESCA'S FATE</h3> + + +<p>The house was large, and its beautiful façade fronted a narrow canal. +To say that the spot was picturesque is to say little, for the whole +of Bruges is picturesque. This corner of the Quai des Augustins was +distinguished even in Bruges. The aspect of the mansion, with its wide +entrance and broad courtyard, on which the inner windows looked down +in regular array, was simple and dignified in the highest degree. The +architecture was an entirely admirable specimen of Flemish domestic +work of the best period, and the internal decoration and the furniture +matched to a nicety the exterior. It was in that grave and silent +abode, with Alresca, that I first acquired a taste for bric-â-brac. +Ah! the Dutch marquetry, the French cabinetry, the Belgian brassware, +the curious panellings, the oak-frames, the faience, the silver +candlesticks, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>Amsterdam toys in silver, the Antwerp incunables, +and the famous tenth-century illuminated manuscript in half-uncials! +Such trifles abounded, and in that antique atmosphere they had the +quality of exquisite fitness.</p> + +<p>And on the greenish waters of the canal floated several gigantic +swans, with insatiable and endless appetites. We used to feed them +from the dining-room windows, which overhung the canal.</p> + +<p>I was glad to be out of London, and as the days passed my gladness +increased. I had not been pleased with myself in London. As the weeks +followed each other, I had been compelled to admit to myself that the +case of Alresca held mysteries for me, even medical mysteries. During +the first day or two I had thought that I understood it, and I had +despised the sayings of Rosetta Rosa in the carriage, and the +misgivings with which my original examination of Alresca had inspired +me. And then I gradually perceived that, after all, the misgivings had +been justified. The man's thigh made due progress; but the man, slowly +failing, lost interest in the struggle for life.</p> + +<p>Here I might proceed to a technical disser<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>tation upon his physical +state, but it would be useless. A cloud of long words will not cover +ignorance; and I was most emphatically ignorant. At least, such +knowledge as I had obtained was merely of a negative character. All +that I could be sure of was that this was by no means an instance of +mysterious disease. There was no disease, as we understand the term. +In particular, there was no decay of the nerve-centres. Alresca was +well—in good health. What he lacked was the will to live—that +strange and mystic impulse which alone divides us from death. It was, +perhaps, hard on a young G.P. to be confronted by such a medical +conundrum at the very outset of his career; but, then, the Maker of +conundrums seldom considers the age and inexperience of those who are +requested to solve them.</p> + +<p>Yes, this was the first practical proof that had come to me of the +sheer empiricism of the present state of medicine.</p> + +<p>We had lived together—Alresca and I—peaceably, quietly, sadly. He +appeared to have ample means, and the standard of luxury which existed +in his flat was a high one. He was a connoisseur in every department +of art and life, and took care that he was well served. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>Perhaps it +would be more correct to say that he had once taken care to be well +served, and that the custom primarily established went on by its own +momentum. For he did not exercise even such control as a sick man +might have been expected to exercise. He seemed to be concerned with +nothing, save that occasionally he would exhibit a flickering +curiosity as to the opera season which was drawing to a close.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, there was little operatic gossip to be curious about. +Rosa had fulfilled her engagement and gone to another capital, and +since her departure the season had, perhaps inevitably, fallen flat. +Of course, the accident to and indisposition of Alresca had also +contributed to this end. And there had been another factor in the +case—a factor which, by the way, constituted the sole item of news +capable of rousing Alresca from his torpor. I refer to the +disappearance of Sir Cyril Smart.</p> + +<p>Soon after my cousin Sullivan's reception, the papers had reported Sir +Cyril to be ill, and then it was stated that he had retired to a +remote Austrian watering-place (name unmentioned) in order to rest and +recuperate. Certain weekly papers of the irresponsible sort <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>gave +publicity to queer rumors—that Sir Cyril had fought a duel and been +wounded, that he had been attacked one night in the streets, even that +he was dead. But these rumors were generally discredited, and +meanwhile the opera season ran its course under the guidance of Sir +Cyril's head man, Mr. Nolan, so famous for his diamond shirt-stud.</p> + +<p>Perhaps I could have thrown some light upon the obscurity which +enveloped the doings of Sir Cyril Smart. But I preferred to remain +inactive. Locked away in my writing-case I kept the jewelled dagger so +mysteriously found by me outside the Devonshire Mansion.</p> + +<p>I had mentioned the incidents of that night to no one, and probably +not a soul on the planet guessed that the young doctor in attendance +upon Alresca had possession of a little toy-weapon which formed a +startling link between two existences supposed to be unconnected save +in the way of business—those of Sir Cyril and Rosetta Rosa. I +hesitated whether to send the dagger to Rosa, and finally decided that +I would wait until I saw her again, if ever that should happen, and +then do as circumstances should dictate. I often <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>wondered whether the +silent man with the fixed gaze, whom I had met in Oxford Street that +night, had handled the dagger, or whether his presence was a mere +coincidence. To my speculations I discovered no answer.</p> + +<p>Then the moment had come when Alresca's thigh was so far mended that, +under special conditions, we could travel, and one evening, after a +journey full of responsibilities for me, we had arrived in Bruges.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards came a slight alteration.</p> + +<p>Alresca took pleasure in his lovely house, and I was aware of an +improvement in his condition. The torpor was leaving him, and his +spirits grew livelier. Unfortunately, it was difficult to give him +outdoor exercise, since the roughly paved streets made driving +impossible for him, and he was far from being able to walk. After a +time I contrived to hire a large rowing boat, and on fine afternoons +it was our custom to lower him from the quay among the swans into this +somewhat unwieldy craft, so that he might take the air as a Venetian. +The idea tickled him, and our progress along the disused canals was +always a matter of interest to the towns-people, who showed an +unappeasable inquis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>itiveness concerning their renowned fellow +citizen.</p> + +<p>It was plain to me that he was recovering; that he had lifted himself +out of the circle of that strange influence under which he had nearly +parted with his life. The fact was plain to me, but the explanation of +the fact was not plain. I was as much puzzled by his rise as I had +been puzzled by his descent. But that did not prevent me from trying +to persuade myself that this felicitous change in my patient's state +must be due, after all, to the results of careful dieting, a proper +curriculum of daily existence, supervision of mental tricks and +habits—in short, of all that minute care and solicitude which only a +resident doctor can give to a sick man.</p> + +<p>One evening he was especially alert and gay, and I not less so. We +were in the immense drawing-room, which, like the dining-room, +overlooked the canal. Dinner was finished—we dined at six, the Bruges +hour—and Alresca lay on his invalid's couch, ejecting from his mouth +rings of the fine blue smoke of a Javanese cigar, a box of which I had +found at the tobacco shop kept by two sisters at the corner of the +Grande Place. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>stood at the great central window, which was wide +open, and watched the whiteness of the swans moving vaguely over the +surface of the canal in the oncoming twilight. The air was warm and +heavy, and the long, high-pitched whine of the mosquito swarms—sole +pest of the city—had already begun.</p> + +<p>"Alresca," I said, "your days as an invalid are numbered."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> + +<p>"No one who was really an invalid could possibly enjoy that cigar as +you are enjoying it."</p> + +<p>"A good cigar—a glass of good wine," he murmured, savoring the +perfume of the cigar. "What would life be without them?"</p> + +<p>"A few weeks ago, and you would have said: 'What is life even with +them?'"</p> + +<p>"Then you really think I am better?" he smiled.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it."</p> + +<p>"As for me," he returned, "I confess it. That has happened which I +thought never would happen. I am once more interested in life. The +wish to live has come back. I am glad to be alive. Carl, your first +case has been a success."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No thanks to me," I said. "Beyond seeing that you didn't displace the +broken pieces of your thigh-bone, what have I done? Nothing. No one +knows that better than you do."</p> + +<p>"That's your modesty—your incurable modesty."</p> + +<p>I shook my head, and went to stand by his couch. I was profoundly +aware then, despite all the efforts of my self-conceit to convince +myself to the contrary, that I had effected nothing whatever towards +his recovery, that it had accomplished itself without external aid. +But that did not lessen my intense pleasure in the improvement. By +this time I had a most genuine affection for Alresca. The rare +qualities of the man—his serenity, his sense of justice, his +invariable politeness and consideration, the pureness of his soul—had +captured me completely. I was his friend. Perhaps I was his best +friend in the world. The singular circumstances of our coming together +had helped much to strengthen the tie between us. I glanced down at +him, full of my affection for him, and minded to take advantage of the +rights of that affection for once in a way.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Alresca," I said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"What was what?"</p> + +<p>I met his gaze.</p> + +<p>"What was that thing that you have fought and driven off? What is the +mystery of it? You know—you must know. Tell me."</p> + +<p>His eyelids fell.</p> + +<p>"Better to leave the past alone," said he. "Granting that I had formed +an idea, I could not put it into proper words. I have tried to do so. +In the expectation of death I wrote down certain matters. But these I +shall now destroy. I am wiser, less morbid. I can perceive that there +are fields of thought of which it is advisable to keep closed the +gates. Do as I do, Carl—forget. Take the credit for my recovery, and +be content with that."</p> + +<p>I felt that he was right, and resumed my position near the window, +humming a tune.</p> + +<p>"In a week you may put your foot to the ground; you will then no +longer have to be carried about like a parcel." I spoke in a casual +tone.</p> + +<p>"Good!" he ejaculated.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And then our engagement will come to an end, and you will begin to +sing again."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said contemplatively, after a pause, "sing!"</p> + +<p>It seemed as if singing was a different matter.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I repeated, "sing. You must throw yourself into that. It will +be the best of all tonics."</p> + +<p>"Have I not told you that I should never sing again?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you have," I replied; "but I don't remember. And even if you +have, as you yourself have just said, you are now wiser, less morbid."</p> + +<p>"True!" he murmured. "Yes, I must sing. They want me at Chicago. I +will go, and while there I will spread abroad the fame of Carl +Foster."</p> + +<p>He smiled gaily, and then his face became meditative and sad.</p> + +<p>"My artistic career has never been far away from tragedy," he said at +length. "It was founded on a tragedy, and not long ago I thought it +would end in one."</p> + +<p>I waited in silence, knowing that if he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>wished to tell me any private +history, he would begin of his own accord.</p> + +<p>"You are listening, Carl?"</p> + +<p>I nodded. It was growing dusk.</p> + +<p>"You remember I pointed out to you the other day the little house in +the Rue d'Ostende where my parents lived?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>"That," he proceeded, using that curiously formal and elaborate +English which he must have learned from reading-books, "that was the +scene of the tragedy which made me an artist. I have told you that my +father was a schoolmaster. He was the kindest of men, but he had moods +of frightful severity—moods which subsided as quickly as they arose. +At the age of three, just as I was beginning to talk easily, I became, +for a period, subject to fits; and in one of these I lost the power of +speech. I, Alresca, could make no sound; and for seven years that +tenor whom in the future people were to call 'golden-throated,' and +'world-famous,' and 'unrivalled,' had no voice." He made a deprecatory +gesture. "When I think of it, Carl, I can scarcely believe it—so +strange are the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>chances of life. I could hear and understand, but I +could not speak.</p> + +<p>"Of course, that was forty years ago, and the system of teaching mutes +to talk was not then invented, or, at any rate, not generally +understood. So I was known and pitied as the poor dumb boy. I took +pleasure in dumb animals, and had for pets a silver-gray cat, a goat, +and a little spaniel. One afternoon—I should be about ten years +old—my father came home from his school and sitting down, laid his +head on the table and began to cry. Seeing him cry, I also began to +cry; I was acutely sensitive.</p> + +<p>"'What is the matter?' asked my good mother.</p> + +<p>"'Alas!' he said, 'I am a murderer!'</p> + +<p>"'Nay, that cannot be,' she replied.</p> + +<p>"'I say it is so,' said my father. 'I have murdered a child—a little +girl. I grumbled at her yesterday. I was annoyed and angry—because +she had done her lessons ill. I sent her home, but instead of going +home she went to the outer canal and drowned herself. They came and +told me this afternoon. Yes, I am a murderer!'</p> + +<p>"I howled, while my mother tried to com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>fort my father, pointing out +to him that if he had spoken roughly to the child it was done for the +child's good, and that he could not possibly have foreseen the +catastrophe. But her words were in vain.</p> + +<p>"We all went to bed. In the middle of the night I heard my dear +silver-gray cat mewing at the back of the house. She had been locked +out. I rose and went down-stairs to let her in. To do so it was +necessary for me to pass through the kitchen. It was quite dark, and I +knocked against something in the darkness. With an inarticulate +scream, I raced up-stairs again to my parents' bedroom. I seized my +mother by her night-dress and dragged her towards the door. She +stopped only to light a candle, and hand-in-hand we went down-stairs +to the kitchen. The candle threw around its fitful, shuddering glare, +and my mother's eyes followed mine. Some strange thing happened in my +throat.</p> + +<p>"'Mother!' I cried, in a hoarse, uncouth, horrible voice, and, casting +myself against her bosom, I clung convulsively to her. From a hook in +the ceiling beam my father's corpse dangled. He had hanged himself in +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>frenzy of his remorse. So my speech came to me again."</p> + +<p>All the man's genius for tragic acting, that genius which had made him +unique in "Tristan" and in "Tannhauser," had been displayed in this +recital; and its solitary auditor was more moved by it than +superficially appeared. Neither of us spoke a word for a few minutes. +Then Alresca, taking aim, threw the end of his cigar out of the +window.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said at length, "that was tragedy, that was!"</p> + +<p>He proceeded:</p> + +<p>"The critics are always praising me for the emotional qualities in my +singing. Well, I cannot use my voice without thinking of the dreadful +circumstance under which Fate saw fit to restore that which Fate had +taken away."</p> + +<p>And there fell a long silence, and night descended on the canal, and +the swans were nothing now but pale ghosts wandering soundlessly over +the water.</p> + +<p>"Carl," Alresca burst out with a start—he was decidedly in a mood to +be communicative that evening—"have you ever been in love?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the gloom I could just distinguish that he was leaning his head on +his arm.</p> + +<p>"No," I answered; "at least, I think not;" and I wondered if I had +been, if I was, in love.</p> + +<p>"You have that which pleases women, you know, and you will have +chances, plenty of chances. Let me advise you—either fall in love +young or not at all. If you have a disappointment before you are +twenty-five it is nothing. If you have a disappointment after you are +thirty-five, it is—everything."</p> + +<p>He sighed.</p> + +<p>"No, Alresca," I said, surmising that he referred to his own case, +"not everything, surely?"</p> + +<p>"You are right," he replied. "Even then it is not everything. The +human soul is unconquerable, even by love. But, nevertheless, be +warned. Do not drive it late. Ah! Why should I not confess to you, now +that all is over? Carl, you are aware that I have loved deeply. Can +you guess what being in love meant to me? Probably not. I am aging +now, but in my youth I was handsome, and I have had my voice. Women, +the richest, the cleverest, the kindest—they fling themselves <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>at +such as me. There is no vanity in saying so; it is the simple fact. I +might have married a hundred times; I might have been loved a thousand +times. But I remained—as I was. My heart slept like that of a young +girl. I rejected alike the open advances of the bold and the shy, +imperceptible signals of the timid. Women were not for me. In secret I +despised them. I really believe I did.</p> + +<p>"Then—and it is not yet two years ago—I met her whom you know. And +I—I the scorner, fell in love. All my pride, my self-assurance +crumbled into ruin about me, and left me naked to the torment of an +unrequited passion. I could not credit the depth of my misfortune, and +at first it was impossible for me to believe that she was serious in +refusing me. But she had the right. She was an angel, and I only a +man. She was the most beautiful woman in the world."</p> + +<p>"She was—she is," I said.</p> + +<p>He laughed easily.</p> + +<p>"She is," he repeated. "But she is nothing to me. I admire her beauty +and her goodness, that is all. She refused me. Good! At first I +rebelled against my fate, then I ac<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>cepted it." And he repeated: "Then +I accepted it."</p> + +<p>I might have made some reply to his flattering confidences, but I +heard some one walk quickly across the foot-path outside and through +the wide entrance porch. In another moment the door of the salon was +thrown open, and a figure stood radiant and smiling in the doorway. +The antechamber had already been lighted, and the figure was +silhouetted against the yellow radiance.</p> + +<p>"So you are here, and I have found you, all in the dark!"</p> + +<p>Alresca turned his head.</p> + +<p>"Rosa!" he cried in bewilderment, put out his arms, and then drew them +sharply back again.</p> + +<p>It was Rosetta. She ran towards us, and shook hands with kind +expressions of greeting, and our eyes followed her as she moved about, +striking matches and applying them to candles. Then she took off her +hat and veil.</p> + +<p>"There! I seemed to know the house," she said. "Immediately I had +entered the courtyard I felt that there was a corridor running to the +right, and at the end of that corridor some steps and a landing and a +door, and on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>the other side of that door a large drawing-room. And +so, without ringing or waiting for the faithful Alexis, I came in."</p> + +<p>"And what brings you to Bruges, dear lady?" asked Alresca.</p> + +<p>"Solicitude for your health, dear sir," she replied, smiling. "At +Bayreuth I met that quaint person, Mrs. Sullivan Smith, who told me +that you were still here with Mr. Foster; and to-day, as I was +travelling from Cologne to Ostend, the idea suddenly occurred to me to +spend one night at Bruges, and make inquiries into your condition—and +that of Mr. Foster. You know the papers have been publishing the most +contradictory accounts."</p> + +<p>"Have they indeed?" laughed Alresca.</p> + +<p>But I could see that he was nervous and not at ease. For myself, I +was, it must be confessed, enchanted to see Rosa again, and so +unexpectedly, and it was amazingly nice of her to include myself in +her inquiries, and yet I divined that it would have been better if she +had never come. I had a sense of some sort of calamity.</p> + +<p>Alresca was flushed. He spoke in short, hurried sentences. Alternately +his tones were passionate and studiously cold. Rosa's lovely +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>presence, her musical chatter, her gay laughter, filled the room. She +seemed to exhale a delightful and intoxicating atmosphere, which +spread itself through the chamber and enveloped the soul of Alresca. +It was as if he fought against an influence, and then gradually +yielded to the sweetness of it. I observed him closely—for was he not +my patient?—and I guessed that a struggle was passing within him. I +thought of what he had just been saying to me, and I feared lest the +strong will should be scarcely so strong as it had deemed itself.</p> + +<p>"You have dined?" asked Alresca.</p> + +<p>"I have eaten," she said. "One does not dine after a day's +travelling."</p> + +<p>"Won't you have some coffee?"</p> + +<p>She consented to the coffee, which Alexis John Smedley duly brought +in, and presently she was walking lightly to and fro, holding the tiny +white cup in her white hand, and peering at the furniture and +bric-a-brac by the light of several candles. Between whiles she +related to Alresca all the news of their operatic acquaintances—how +this one was married, another stranded in Buenos Ayres, another ill +with jealousy, another ill with a cold, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>another pursued for debt, and +so on through the diverting category.</p> + +<p>"And Smart?" Alresca queried at length.</p> + +<p>I had been expecting and hoping for this question.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sir Cyril! I have heard nothing of him. He is not a person that +interests me."</p> + +<p>She shut her lips tight and looked suddenly across in my direction, +and our eyes met, but she made no sign that I could interpret. If she +had known that the little jewelled dagger lay in the room over her +head!</p> + +<p>Her straw hat and thin white veil lay on a settee between two windows. +She picked them up, and began to pull the pins out of the hat. Then +she put the hat down again.</p> + +<p>"I must run away soon, Alresca," she said, bending over him, "but +before I leave I should like to go through the whole house. It seems +such a quaint place. Will you let Mr. Foster show me? He shall not be +away from you long."</p> + +<p>"In the dark?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? We can have candles."</p> + +<p>And so, a heavy silver candlestick in either hand, I presently found +myself preceding Rosa up the wide branching staircase of the house. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>We had left the owner with a reading-lamp at the head of his couch, +and a copy of "Madame Bovary" to pass the time.</p> + +<p>We stopped at the first landing to examine a picture.</p> + +<p>"That mysterious complaint that he had, or thought he had, in London +has left him, has it not?" she asked me suddenly, in a low, slightly +apprehensive, confidential tone, moving her head in the direction of +the salon below.</p> + +<p>For some reason I hesitated.</p> + +<p>"He says so," I replied cautiously. "At any rate, he is much better."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can see that. But he is still in a very nervous condition."</p> + +<p>"Ah," I said, "that is only—only at certain times."</p> + +<p>As we went together from room to room I forgot everything except the +fact of her presence. Never was beauty so powerful as hers; never was +the power of beauty used so artlessly, with such a complete +unconsciousness. I began gloomily to speculate on the chances of her +ultimately marrying Alresca, and a remark from her awoke me from my +abstraction. We were nearing the top of the house.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is all familiar to me, in a way," she said.</p> + +<p>"Why, you said the same down-stairs. Have you been here before?"</p> + +<p>"Never, to my knowledge."</p> + +<p>We were traversing a long, broad passage side by side. Suddenly I +tripped over an unexpected single stair, and nearly fell. Rosa, +however, had allowed for it.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see that step," I said.</p> + +<p>"Nor I," she answered, "but I knew, somehow, that it was there. It is +very strange and uncanny, and I shall insist on an explanation from +Alresca." She gave a forced laugh.</p> + +<p>As I fumbled with the handle of the door she took hold of my hand.</p> + +<p>"Listen!" she said excitedly, "this will be a small room, and over the +mantelpiece is a little round picture of a dog."</p> + +<p>I opened the door with something akin to a thrill. This part of the +house was unfamiliar to me. The room was certainly a small one, but +there was no little round picture over the mantelpiece. It was a +square picture, and rather large, and a sea-piece.</p> + +<p>"You guessed wrong," I said, and I felt thankful.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, no, I am sure."</p> + +<p>She went to the square picture, and lifted it away from the wall.</p> + +<p>"Look!" she said.</p> + +<p>Behind the picture was a round whitish mark on the wall, showing where +another picture had previously hung.</p> + +<p>"Let us go, let us go! I don't like the flicker of these candles," she +murmured, and she seized my arm.</p> + +<p>We returned to the corridor. Her grip of me tightened.</p> + +<p>"Was not that Alresca?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"At the end of the corridor—there!"</p> + +<p>"I saw no one, and it couldn't have been he, for the simple reason +that he can't walk yet, not to mention climbing three flights of +stairs. You have made yourself nervous."</p> + +<p>We descended to the ground-floor. In the main hall Alresca's +housekeeper, evidently an old acquaintance, greeted Rosa with a +curtsy, and she stopped to speak to the woman. I went on to the salon.</p> + +<p>The aspect of the room is vividly before me now as I write. Most of +the great chamber was in a candle-lit gloom, but the reading-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>lamp +burnt clearly at the head of the couch, throwing into prominence the +fine profile of Alresca's face. He had fallen asleep, or at any rate +his eyes were closed. The copy of "Madame Bovary" lay on the floor, +and near it a gold pencil-case. Quietly I picked the book up, and saw +on the yellow cover of it some words written in pencil. These were the +words:</p> + +<p>"Carl, I love her. He has come again. This time it is——"</p> + +<p>I looked long at his calm and noble face, and bent and listened. At +that moment Rosa entered. Concealing the book, I held out my right +hand with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"Softly!" I enjoined her, and my voice broke.</p> + +<p>"Why? What?"</p> + +<p>"He is dead," I said.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to me that I ought to have prepared her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE VIGIL BY THE BIER</h3> + + +<p>We looked at each other, Rosa and I, across the couch of Alresca.</p> + +<p>All the vague and terrible apprehensions, disquietudes, misgivings, +which the gradual improvement in Alresca's condition had lulled to +sleep, aroused themselves again in my mind, coming, as it were, boldly +out into the open from the dark, unexplored grottos wherein they had +crouched and hidden. And I went back in memory to those sinister days +in London before I had brought Alresca to Bruges, days over which a +mysterious horror had seemed to brood.</p> + +<p>I felt myself adrift in a sea of frightful suspicions. I remembered +Alresca's delirium on the night of his accident, and his final +hallucination concerning the blank wall in the dressing-room (if +hallucination it was), also on that night. I remembered his outburst +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>against Rosetta Rosa. I remembered Emmeline Smith's outburst against +Rosetta Rosa. I remembered the vision in the crystal, and Rosa's +sudden and astoundingly apt breaking in upon that vision. I remembered +the scene between Rosa and Sir Cyril Smart, and her almost hysterical +impulse to pierce her own arm with the little jewelled dagger. I +remembered the glint of the dagger which drew my attention to it on +the curb of an Oxford Street pavement afterwards. I remembered the +disappearance of Sir Cyril Smart. I remembered all the inexplicable +circumstances of Alresca's strange decay, and his equally strange +recovery. I remembered that his recovery had coincided with an entire +absence of communication between himself and Rosa.... And then she +comes! And within an hour he is dead! "I love her. He has come again. +This time it is—" How had Alresca meant to finish that sentence? "He +has come again." Who had come again? Was there, then, another man +involved in the enigma of this tragedy? Was it the man I had seen +opposite the Devonshire Mansion on the night when I had found the +dagger? Or was "he" merely an error for "she"? "I love her. She has +come <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>again." That would surely make better sense than what Alresca +had actually written? And he must have been mentally perturbed. Such a +slip was possible. No, no! When a man, even a dying man, is writing a +message which he has torn out of his heart, he does not put "he" for +"she" ... "I love her...." Then, had he misjudged her heart when he +confided in me during the early part of the evening? Or had the sudden +apparition of Rosa created his love anew? Why had she once refused +him? She seemed to be sufficiently fond of him. But she had killed +him. Directly or indirectly she had been the cause of his death.</p> + +<p>And as I looked at her, my profound grief for Alresca made me her +judge. I forgot for the instant the feelings with which she had once +inspired me, and which, indeed, had never died in my soul.</p> + +<p>"How do you explain this?" I demanded of her in a calm and judicial +and yet slightly hostile tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed. "How sad it is! How terribly sad!"</p> + +<p>And her voice was so pure and kind, and her glance so innocent, and +her grief so pitiful, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>that I dismissed forever any shade of a +suspicion that I might have cherished against her. Although she had +avoided my question, although she had ignored its tone, I knew with +the certainty of absolute knowledge that she had no more concern in +Alresca's death than I had.</p> + +<p>She came forward, and regarded the corpse steadily, and took the +lifeless hand in her hand. But she did not cry. Then she went abruptly +out of the room and out of the house. And for several days I did not +see her. A superb wreath arrived with her card, and that was all.</p> + +<p>But the positive assurance that she was entirely unconnected with the +riddle did nothing to help me to solve it. I had, however, to solve it +for the Belgian authorities, and I did so by giving a certificate that +Alresca had died of "failure of the heart's action." A convenient +phrase, whose convenience imposes perhaps oftener than may be imagined +on persons of an unsuspecting turn of mind! And having accounted for +Alresca's death to the Belgian authorities, I had no leisure (save +during the night) to cogitate much upon the mystery. For I was made +immediately to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>realize, to an extent to which I had not realized +before, how great a man Alresca was, and how large he bulked in the +world's eye.</p> + +<p>The first announcement of his demise appeared in the "Etoile Belgi," +the well-known Brussels daily, and from the moment of its appearance +letters, telegrams, and callers descended upon Alresca's house in an +unending stream. As his companion I naturally gave the whole of my +attention to his affairs, especially as he seemed to have no relatives +whatever. Correspondents of English, French, and German newspapers +flung themselves upon me in the race for information. They seemed to +scent a mystery, but I made it my business to discourage such an idea. +Nay, I went further, and deliberately stated to them, with a false air +of perfect candor, that there was no foundation of any sort for such +an idea. Had not Alresca been indisposed for months? Had he not died +from failure of the heart's action? There was no reason why I should +have misled these excellent journalists in their search for the +sensational truth, except that I preferred to keep the mystery wholly +to myself.</p> + +<p>Those days after the death recur to me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>now as a sort of breathless +nightmare, in which, aided by the admirable Alexis, I was forever +despatching messages and uttering polite phrases to people I had never +seen before.</p> + +<p>I had two surprises, one greater and one less. In the first place, the +Anglo-Belgian lawyer whom I had summoned informed me, after Alresca's +papers had been examined and certain effects sealed in the presence of +an official, that my friend had made a will, bearing a date +immediately before our arrival in Bruges, leaving the whole of his +property to me, and appointing me sole executor. I have never +understood why Alresca did this, and I have always thought that it was +a mere kind caprice on his part.</p> + +<p>The second surprise was a visit from the Burgomaster of the city. He +came clothed in his official robes. It was a call of the most rigid +ceremony. Having condoled with me and also complimented me upon my +succession to the dead man's estate, he intimated that the city +desired a public funeral. For a moment I was averse to this, but as I +could advance no argument against it I concurred in the proposal.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a lying-in-state of the body at the cathedral, and the whole +city seemed to go in mourning. On the second day a priest called at +the house on the Quai des Augustins, and said that he had been sent by +the Bishop to ask if I cared to witness the lying-in-state from some +private vantage-ground. I went to the cathedral, and the Bishop +himself escorted me to the organ-loft, whence I could see the silent +crowds move slowly in pairs past Alresca's bier, which lay in the +chancel. It was an impressive sight, and one which I shall not forget.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of the day preceding the funeral the same priest came +to me again, and I received him in the drawing-room, where I was +writing a letter to Totnes. He was an old man, a very old man, with a +quavering voice, but he would not sit down.</p> + +<p>"It has occurred to the Lord Bishop," he piped, "that monsieur has not +been offered the privilege of watching by the bier."</p> + +<p>The idea startled me, and I was at a loss what to say.</p> + +<p>"The Lord Bishop presents his profound regrets, and will monsieur care +to watch?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + +<p>I saw at once that a refusal would have horrified the ecclesiastic.</p> + +<p>"I shall regard it as an honor," I said. "When?"</p> + +<p>"From midnight to two o'clock," answered the priest. "The later +watches are arranged."</p> + +<p>"It is understood," I said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>And the priest departed, charged with my compliments to the Lord +Bishop.</p> + +<p>I had a horror of the duty which had been thrust upon me. It went +against not merely my inclinations but my instincts. However, there +was only one thing to do, and of course I did it.</p> + +<p>At five minutes to twelve I was knocking at the north door of the +cathedral. A sacristan, who carried in his hand a long lighted taper, +admitted me at once. Save for this taper and four candles which stood +at the four corners of the bier, the vast interior was in darkness.</p> + +<p>The sacristan silently pointed to the chancel, and I walked +hesitatingly across the gloomy intervening space, my footsteps echoing +formidably in the silence. Two young priests stood, one at either side +of the lofty bier. One of them bowed to me, and I took <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>his place. He +disappeared into the ambulatory. The other priest was praying for the +dead, a slight frown on his narrow white brow. His back was +half-turned towards the corpse, and he did not seem to notice me in +any way.</p> + +<p>I folded my arms, and as some relief from the uncanny and troublous +thoughts which ran in my head I looked about me. I could not bring +myself to gaze on the purple cloth which covered the remains of +Alresca. We were alone—the priest, Alresca, and I—and I felt afraid. +In vain I glanced round, in order to reassure myself, at the +stained-glass windows, now illumined by September starlight, at the +beautiful carving of the choir-stalls, at the ugly rococo screen. I +was afraid, and there was no disguising my fear.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the clock chimes of the belfry rang forth with startling +resonance, and twelve o'clock struck upon the stillness. Then followed +upon the bells a solemn and funereal melody.</p> + +<p>"How comes that?" I asked the priest, without stopping to consider +whether I had the right to speak during my vigil.</p> + +<p>"It is the carilloneur," my fellow watcher <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>said, interrupting his +whispered and sibilant devotions, and turning to me, as it seemed, +unwillingly. "Have you not heard it before? Every evening since the +death he has played it at midnight in memory of Alresca." Then he +resumed his office.</p> + +<p>The minutes passed, or rather crawled by, and, if anything, my +uneasiness increased. I suffered all the anxieties and tremors which +those suffer who pass wakeful nights, imagining every conceivable ill, +and victimized by the most dreadful forebodings. Through it all I was +conscious of the cold of the stone floor penetrating my boots and +chilling my feet....</p> + +<p>The third quarter after one struck, and I began to congratulate myself +that the ordeal by the bier was coming to an end. I looked with a sort +of bravado into the dark, shadowed distances of the fane, and smiled +at my nameless trepidations. And then, as my glance sought to +penetrate the gloom of the great western porch, I grew aware that a +man stood there. I wished to call the attention of the priest to this +man, but I could not—I could not.</p> + +<p>He came very quietly out of the porch, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>walked with hushed +footfall up the nave; he mounted the five steps to the chancel; he +approached us; he stood at the foot of the bier; he was within a yard +of me. The priest had his back to him. The man seemed to ignore me; he +looked fixedly at the bier. But I knew him. I knew that fine, hard, +haughty face, that stiff bearing, that implacable eye. It was the man +whom I had seen standing under the trees opposite the Devonshire +Mansion in London.</p> + +<p>For a few moments his countenance showed no emotion. Then the features +broke into an expression of indescribable malice. With gestures of +demoniac triumph he mocked the solemnity of the bier, and showered +upon it every scornful indignity that the human face can convey.</p> + +<p>I admit that I was spellbound with astonishment and horror. I ought to +have seized the author of the infamous sacrilege—I ought, at any +rate, to have called to the priest—but I could do neither. I trembled +before this mysterious man. My frame literally shook. I knew what fear +was. I was a coward.</p> + +<p>At length he turned away, casting at me as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>he did so one indefinable +look, and with slow dignity passed again down the length of the nave +and disappeared. Then, and not till then, I found my voice and my +courage. I pulled the priest by the sleeve of his cassock.</p> + +<p>"Some one has just been in the cathedral," I said huskily. And I told +him what I had seen.</p> + +<p>"Impossible! Retro me, Sathanas! It was imagination."</p> + +<p>His tone was dry, harsh.</p> + +<p>"No, no," I said eagerly. "I assure you...."</p> + +<p>He smiled incredulously, and repeated the word "Imagination!"</p> + +<p>But I well knew that it was not imagination, that I had actually seen +this man enter and go forth.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE MESSAGE</h3> + + +<p>When I returned to Alresca's house—or rather, I should say, to my own +house—after the moving and picturesque ceremony of the funeral, I +found a note from Rosetta Rosa, asking me to call on her at the Hôtel +du Commerce. This was the first news of her that I had had since she +so abruptly quitted the scene of Alresca's death. I set off instantly +for the hotel, and just as I was going I met my Anglo-Belgian lawyer, +who presented to me a large envelope addressed to myself in the +handwriting of Alresca, and marked "private." The lawyer, who had been +engaged in the sorting and examination of an enormous quantity of +miscellaneous papers left by Alresca, informed me that he only +discovered the package that very afternoon. I took the packet, put it +in my pocket, and continued on my way to Rosa. It did not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>occur to me +at the time, but it occurred to me afterwards, that I was extremely +anxious to see her again.</p> + +<p>Everyone who has been to Bruges knows the Hôtel du Commerce. It is +the Ritz of Bruges, and very well aware of its own importance in the +scheme of things. As I entered the courtyard a waiter came up to me.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, monsieur, but we have no rooms."</p> + +<p>"Why do you tell me that?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon. I thought monsieur wanted a room. Mademoiselle Rosa, the +great diva, is staying here, and all the English from the Hôtel du +Panier d'Or have left there in order to be in the same hotel with +Mademoiselle Rosa."</p> + +<p>Somewhere behind that mask of professional servility there was a +smile.</p> + +<p>"I do not want a room," I said, "but I want to see Mademoiselle Rosa."</p> + +<p>"Ah! As to that, monsieur, I will inquire." He became stony at once.</p> + +<p>"Stay. Take my card."</p> + +<p>He accepted it, but with an air which implied that everyone left a +card.</p> + +<p>In a moment another servant came forth, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>breathing apologies, and led +me to Rosa's private sitting-room. As I went in a youngish, dark-eyed, +black-aproned woman, who, I had no doubt, was Rosa's maid, left the +room.</p> + +<p>Rosa and I shook hands in silence, and with a little diffidence. +Wrapped in a soft, black, thin-textured tea-gown, she reclined in an +easy-chair. Her beautiful face was a dead white; her eyes were +dilated, and under them were dark semicircles.</p> + +<p>"You have been ill," I exclaimed, "and I was not told."</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders in denial, and shivered.</p> + +<p>"No," she said shortly. There was a pause. "He is buried?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Let me hear about it."</p> + +<p>I wished to question her further about her health, but her tone was +almost imperious, and I had a curious fear of offending her. +Nevertheless I reminded myself that I was a doctor, and my concern for +her urged me to be persistent.</p> + +<p>"But surely you have been ill?" I said.</p> + +<p>She tapped her foot. It was the first symp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>tom of nervous impatience +that I had observed in her.</p> + +<p>"Not in body," she replied curtly. "Tell me all about the funeral."</p> + +<p>And I gave her an account of the impressive incidents of the +interment—the stately procession, the grandiose ritual, the symbols +of public grief. She displayed a strange, morbid curiosity as to it +all.</p> + +<p>And then suddenly she rose up from her chair, and I rose also, and she +demanded, as it were pushed by some secret force to the limit of her +endurance:</p> + +<p>"You loved him, didn't you, Mr. Foster?"</p> + +<p>It was not an English phrase; no Englishwoman would have used it.</p> + +<p>"I was tremendously fond of him," I answered. "I should never have +thought that I could have grown so fond of any one in such a short +time. He wasn't merely fine as an artist; he was so fine as a man."</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"You understood him? You knew all about him? He talked to you openly, +didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said. "He used to tell me all kinds of things."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then explain to me," she cried out, and I saw that tears brimmed in +her eyes, "why did he die when I came?"</p> + +<p>"It was a coincidence," I said lamely.</p> + +<p>Seizing my hands, she actually fell on her knees before me, flashing +into my eyes all the loveliness of her pallid, upturned face.</p> + +<p>"It was not a coincidence!" she passionately sobbed. "Why can't you be +frank with me, and tell me how it is that I have killed him? He said +long ago—do you not remember?—that I was fatal to him. He was +getting better—you yourself said so—till I came, and then he died."</p> + +<p>What could I reply? The girl was uttering the thoughts which had +haunted me for days.</p> + +<p>I tried to smile a reassurance, and raising her as gently as I could, +I led her back to her chair. It was on my part a feeble performance.</p> + +<p>"You are suffering from a nervous crisis," I said, "and I must +prescribe for you. My first prescription is that we do not talk about +Alresca's death."</p> + +<p>I endeavored to be perfectly matter-of-fact in tone, and gradually she +grew calmer.</p> + +<p>"I have not slept since that night," she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>murmured wearily. "Then you +will not tell me?"</p> + +<p>"What have I to tell you, except that you are ill? Stop a moment. I +have an item of news, after all. Poor Alresca has made me his heir."</p> + +<p>"That was like his kind heart."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. But I can't imagine why he did it!"</p> + +<p>"It was just gratitude," said she.</p> + +<p>"A rare kind of gratitude," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Is no reason given in the will?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word."</p> + +<p>I remembered the packet which I had just received from the lawyer, and +I mentioned it to her.</p> + +<p>"Open it now," she said. "I am interested—if you do not think me too +inquisitive."</p> + +<p>I tore the envelope. It contained another envelope, sealed, and a +letter. I scanned the letter.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," I said with false casualness, and was returning it to +my pocket. The worst of me is that I have no histrionic instinct; I +cannot act a part.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" she cried sharply, and I hesitated before the appeal in her +tragic voice. "You <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>cannot deceive me, Mr. Foster. It is something. I +entreat you to read to me that letter. Does it not occur to you that I +have the right to demand this from you? Why should he beat about the +bush? You know, and I know that you know, that there is a mystery in +this dreadful death. Be frank with me, my friend. I have suffered much +these last days."</p> + +<p>We looked at each other silently, I with the letter in my hand. Why, +indeed, should I treat her as a child, this woman with the compelling +eyes, the firm, commanding forehead? Why should I pursue the silly +game of pretence?</p> + +<p>"I will read it," I said. "There is, certainly, a mystery in +connection with Alresca's death, and we may be on the eve of solving +it."</p> + +<p>The letter was dated concurrently with Alresca's will—that is to say, +a few days before our arrival in Bruges—and it ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"My dear Friend:—It seems to me that I am to die, and from +a strange cause—for I believe I have guessed the cause. The +nature of my guess and all the circumstances I have written +out at length, and the document <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>is in the sealed packet +which accompanies this. My reason for making such a record +is a peculiar one. I should desire that no eye might ever +read that document. But I have an idea that some time or +other the record may be of use to you—possibly soon. You, +Carl, may be the heir of more than my goods. If matters +should so fall out, then break the seal, and read what I +have written. If not, I beg of you, after five years have +elapsed, to destroy the packet unread. I do not care to be +more precise.</p> + +<p class="quotsig"> +Always yours,<br /> +"Alresca."<br /> +</p> + +</div> + +<p>"That is all?" asked Rosa, when I had finished reading it.</p> + +<p>I passed her the letter to read for herself. Her hand shook as she +returned it to me.</p> + +<p>And we both blushed. We were both confused, and each avoided the +glance of the other. The silence between us was difficult to bear. I +broke it.</p> + +<p>"The question is, What am I to do? Alresca is dead. Shall I respect +his wish, or shall I open the packet now? If he could have foreseen +your anxiety, he probably would not have made these conditions. +Be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>sides, who can say that the circumstances he hints at have not +already arisen? Who can say"—I uttered the words with an emphasis the +daring of which astounded even myself—"that I am not already the heir +of more than Alresca's goods?"</p> + +<p>I imagined, after achieving this piece of audacity, that I was +perfectly calm, but within me there must have raged such a tumult of +love and dark foreboding that in reality I could scarcely have known +what I was about.</p> + +<p>Rosa's eyes fixed themselves upon me, but I sustained that gaze. She +stretched forth a hand as if to take the packet.</p> + +<p>"You shall decide," I said. "Am I to open it, or am I not to open it?"</p> + +<p>"Open it," she whispered. "He will forgive us."</p> + +<p>I began to break the seal.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she screamed, standing up again with clenched hands. "I was +wrong. Leave it, for God's sake! I could not bear to know the truth."</p> + +<p>I, too, sprang up, electrified by that terrible outburst. Grasping +tight the envelope, I walked to and fro in the room, stamping on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>the +carpet, and wondering all the time (in one part of my brain) why I +should be making such a noise with my feet. At length I faced her. She +had not moved. She stood like a statue, her black tea-gown falling +about her, and her two hands under her white drawn face.</p> + +<p>"It shall be as you wish," I said. "I won't open it."</p> + +<p>And I put the envelope back into my pocket.</p> + +<p>We both sat down.</p> + +<p>"Let us have some tea, eh?" said Rosa. She had resumed her +self-control more quickly than I could. I was unable to answer her +matter-of-fact remark. She rang the bell, and the maid entered with +tea. The girl's features struck me; they showed both wit and cunning.</p> + +<p>"What splendid tea!" I said, when the refection was in progress. We +had both found it convenient to shelter our feelings behind small +talk. "I'd no idea you could get tea like this in Bruges."</p> + +<p>"You can't," Rosa smiled. "I never travel without my own brand. It is +one of Yvette's special cares not to forget it."</p> + +<p>"Your maid?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"She seems not quite the ordinary maid," I ventured.</p> + +<p>"Yvette? No! I should think not. She has served half the sopranos in +Europe—she won't go to contraltos. I possess her because I outbid all +rivals for her services. As a hairdresser she is unequalled. And it's +so much nicer not being forced to call in a coiffeur in every town! It +was she who invented my 'Elsa' coiffure. Perhaps you remember it?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly. By the way, when do you recommence your engagements?"</p> + +<p>She smiled nervously. "I—I haven't decided."</p> + +<p>Nothing with any particle of significance passed during the remainder +of our interview. Telling her that I was leaving for England the next +day, I bade good-by to Rosa. She did not express the hope of seeing me +again, and for some obscure reason, buried in the mysteries of love's +psychology, I dared not express the hope to her. And so we parted, +with a thousand things unsaid, on a note of ineffectuality, of +suspense, of vague indefiniteness.</p> + +<p>And the next morning I received from her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>this brief missive, which +threw me into a wild condition of joyous expectancy: "If you could +meet me in the Church of St. Gilles at eleven o'clock this morning, I +should like to have your advice upon a certain matter. +—Rosa."</p> + +<p>Seventy-seven years elapsed before eleven o'clock.</p> + +<p>St. Gilles is a large church in a small deserted square at the back of +the town. I waited for Rosa in the western porch, and at five minutes +past the hour she arrived, looking better in health, at once more +composed and vivacious. We sat down in a corner at the far end of one +of the aisles. Except ourselves and a couple of cleaners, there seemed +to be no one in the church.</p> + +<p>"You asked me yesterday about my engagements," she began.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "and I had a reason. As a doctor, I will take leave to +tell you that it is advisable for you to throw yourself into your work +as soon as possible, and as completely as possible." And I remembered +the similar advice which, out of the plenitude of my youthful wisdom, +I had offered to Alresca only a few days before.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The fact is that I have signed a contract to sing 'Carmen' at the +Paris Opéra Comique in a fortnight's time. I have never sung the rôle +there before, and I am, or rather I was, very anxious to do so. This +morning I had a telegram from the manager urging me to go to Paris +without delay for the rehearsals."</p> + +<p>"And are you going?"</p> + +<p>"That is the question. I may tell you that one of my objects in +calling on poor Alresca was to consult him about the point. The truth +is, I am threatened with trouble if I appear at the Opéra Comique, +particularly in 'Carmen.' The whole matter is paltry beyond words, but +really I am a little afraid."</p> + +<p>"May I hear the story?"</p> + +<p>"You know Carlotta Deschamps, who always takes Carmen at the Comique?"</p> + +<p>"I've heard her sing."</p> + +<p>"By the way, that is her half-sister, Marie Deschamps, who sings in +your cousin's operas at the London Diana."</p> + +<p>"I have made the acquaintance of Marie—a harmless little thing!"</p> + +<p>"Her half-sister isn't quite so harmless. She is the daughter of a +Spanish mother, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>while Marie is the daughter of an English mother, a +Cockney woman. As to Carlotta, when I was younger"—oh, the +deliciously aged air with which this creature of twenty-three referred +to her youth—"I was singing at the Opéra Comique in Paris, where +Carlotta was starring, and I had the misfortune to arouse her +jealousy. She is frightfully jealous, and get worse as she gets older. +She swore to me that if I ever dared to appear at the Comique again +she would have me killed. I laughed. I forgot the affair, but it +happens that I never have sung at the Comique since that time. And now +that I am not merely to appear at the Comique, but am going to sing +'Carmen' there, her own particular rôle, Deschamps is furious. I +firmly believe she means harm. Twice she has written to me the most +formidable threats. It seems strange that I should stand in awe of a +woman like Carlotta Deschamps, but so it is. I am half-inclined to +throw up the engagement."</p> + +<p>That a girl of Rosa's spirit should have hesitated for an instant +about fulfilling her engagement showed most plainly, I thought, that +she was not herself. I assured her that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>her fears were groundless, +that we lived in the nineteenth century, and that Deschamps' fury +would spend itself in nothing worse than threats. In the end she said +she would reconsider the matter.</p> + +<p>"Don't wait to reconsider," I urged, "but set off for Paris at once. +Go to-day. Act. It will do you good."</p> + +<p>"But there are a hundred things to be thought of first," she said, +laughing at my earnestness.</p> + +<p>"For example?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my jewels are with my London bankers."</p> + +<p>"Can't you sing without jewels?"</p> + +<p>"Not in Paris. Who ever heard of such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"You can write to your bankers to send them by registered post."</p> + +<p>"Post! They are worth thousands and thousands of pounds. I ought +really to fetch them, but there would scarcely be time."</p> + +<p>"Let me bring them to you in Paris," I said. "Give me a letter to your +bankers, and I will undertake to deliver the jewels safely into your +hands."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I could not dream of putting you to so much trouble."</p> + +<p>The notion of doing something for her had, however, laid hold of me. +At that moment I felt that to serve even as her jewel-carrier would be +for me the supreme happiness in the world.</p> + +<p>"But," I said, "I ask it as a favor."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" She gave me a divine smile, and yielded.</p> + +<p>At her request we did not leave the church together. She preceded me. +I waited a few minutes, and then walked slowly out. Happening to look +back as I passed along the square, I saw a woman's figure which was +familiar to me, and, dominated by a sudden impulse, I returned quickly +on my steps. The woman was Yvette, and she was obviously a little +startled when I approached her.</p> + +<p>"Are you waiting for your mistress?" I said sharply. "Because...."</p> + +<p>She flashed me a look.</p> + +<p>"Did monsieur by any chance imagine that I was waiting for himself?"</p> + +<p>There was a calm insolence about the girl which induced me to retire +from that parley.</p> + +<p>In two hours I was on my way to London.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE TRAIN</h3> + + +<p>The boat-train was due to leave in ten minutes, and the platform at +Victoria Station (how changed since then!) showed that scene of +discreet and haughty excitement which it was wont to exhibit about +nine o'clock every evening in those days. The weather was wild. It had +been wet all day, and the rain came smashing down, driven by the great +gusts of a genuine westerly gale. Consequently there were fewer +passengers than usual, and those people who by choice or compulsion +had resolved to front the terrors of the Channel passage had a +preoccupied look as they hurried importantly to and fro amid piles of +luggage and groups of loungers on the wind-swept platform beneath the +flickering gas-lamps. But the porters, and the friends engaged in the +ceremony of seeing-off, and the loungers, and the bookstall +clerks—these individuals were not preoccupied by thoughts of intimate +incon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>veniences before midnight. As for me, I was quite alone with my +thoughts. At least, I began by being alone.</p> + +<p>As I was registering a particularly heavy and overfed portmanteau to +Paris, a young woman put her head close to mine at the window of the +baggage-office.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Foster? I thought it was. My cab set down immediately after +yours, and I have been trying to catch your eye on the platform. Of +course it was no go!"</p> + +<p>The speech was thrown at me in a light, airy tone from a tiny, pert +mouth which glistened red behind a muslin veil.</p> + +<p>"Miss Deschamps!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Glad you remember my name. As handsome and supercilious as ever, I +observe. I haven't seen you since that night at Sullivan's reception. +Why didn't you call on me one Sunday? You know I asked you to."</p> + +<p>"Did you ask me?" I demanded, secretly flattered in the extremity of +my youthfulness because she had called me supercilious.</p> + +<p>"Well, rather. I'm going to Paris—and in this weather!"</p> + +<p>"I am, too."</p> + +<p>"Then, let's go together, eh?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Delighted. But why have you chosen such a night?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't chosen it. You see, I open to-morrow at the Casino de +Paris for fourteen nights, and I suppose I've got to be there. You +wouldn't believe what they're paying me. The Diana company is touring +in the provinces while the theatre is getting itself decorated. I hate +the provinces. Leeds and Liverpool and Glasgow—fancy dancing there! +And so my half-sister—Carlotta, y'know—got me this engagement, and +I'm going to stay with her. Have you met Carlotta?"</p> + +<p>"No—not yet." I did not add that I had had reason to think a good +deal about her.</p> + +<p>"Well, Carlotta is—Carlotta. A terrific swell, and a bit of a Tartar. +We quarrel every time we meet, which isn't often. She tries to play +the elder sister game on me, and I won't have it. Though she is +elder—very much elder, you now. But I think her worst point is that +she's so frightfully mysterious. You can never tell what she's up to. +Now, a man I met at supper last night told me he thought he had seen +Carlotta in Bloomsbury yesterday. However, I didn't believe that, +because she is expecting me in Paris; we happen to be as thick <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>as +thieves just now, and if she had been in London, she would have looked +me up."</p> + +<p>"Just so," I replied, wondering whether I should endeavor to obtain +from Marie Deschamps information which would be useful to Rosa.</p> + +<p>By the time that the star of the Diana had said goodbye to certain +male acquaintances, and had gone through a complicated dialogue with +her maid on the subject of dress-trunks, the clock pointed almost to +nine, and a porter rushed us—Marie and myself—into an empty +compartment of a composite coach near to the engine. The compartment +was first class, but it evidently belonged to an ancient order of +rolling stock, and the vivacious Marie criticized it with considerable +freedom. The wind howled, positively howled, in the station.</p> + +<p>"I wish I wasn't going," said the lady. "I shall be horribly ill."</p> + +<p>"You probably will," I said, to tease her, idly opening the Globe. "It +seems that the morning steamer from Calais wasn't able to make either +Dover or Folkestone, and has returned to Calais. Imagine the state of +mind of the passengers!"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ugh! Oh, Mr. Foster, what is that case by your side?"</p> + +<p>"It is a jewel-case."</p> + +<p>"What a big one!"</p> + +<p>She did not conceal her desire to see the inside of it, but I felt +that I could not, even to satisfy her charming curiosity, expose the +interior of Rosa's jewel-case in a railway carriage, and so I edged +away from the topic with as much adroitness as I was capable of.</p> + +<p>The pretty girl pouted, and asked me for the Globe, behind which she +buried herself. She kept murmuring aloud extracts from the Globe's +realistic description of the weather, and then she jumped up.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going."</p> + +<p>"Not going?"</p> + +<p>"No. The weather's too awful. These newspaper accounts frighten me."</p> + +<p>"But the Casino de Paris?"</p> + +<p>"A fig for it! They must wait for me, that's all. I'll try again +to-morrow. Will you mind telling the guard to get my boxes out, +there's a dear Mr. Foster, and I'll endeavor to find that maid of +mine?"</p> + +<p>The train was already five minutes late in starting; she delayed it +quite another five <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>minutes, and enjoyed the process. And it was I who +meekly received the objurgations of porters and guard. My reward was a +smile, given with a full sense of its immense value.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Mr. Foster. Take care of your precious jewel-case."</p> + +<p>I had carried the thing in my hand up and down the platform. I ran to +my carriage, and jumped in breathless as the train whistled.</p> + +<p>"Pleasant journey!" the witch called out, waving her small hand to me.</p> + +<p>I bowed to her from the window, laughing. She was a genial soul, and +the incident had not been without amusement.</p> + +<p>After I had shut the carriage door, and glanced out of the window for +a moment in the approved way, I sank, faintly smiling at the episode, +into my corner, and then I observed with a start that the opposite +corner was occupied. Another traveller had got into the compartment +while I had been coursing about the platform on behalf of Marie, and +that traveller was the mysterious and sinister creature whom I had met +twice before—once in Oxford Street, and once again during the night +watch in the cathedral at Bruges. He must have made up his mind to +travel rather sud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>denly, for, in spite of the weather, he had neither +overcoat nor umbrella—merely the frock coat and silk hat of +Piccadilly. But there was no spot of rain on him, and no sign of +disarray.</p> + +<p>As I gazed with alarmed eyes into the face of that strange, forbidding +personality, the gaiety of my mood went out like a match in a breeze. +The uncomfortable idea oppressed me that I was being surely caught and +enveloped in a net of adverse circumstances, that I was the +unconscious victim of a deep and terrible conspiracy which proceeded +slowly forward to an inevitable catastrophe. On each of the previous +occasions when this silent and malicious man had crossed my path I had +had the same feeling, but in a less degree, and I had been able to +shake it off almost at once. But now it overcame and conquered me.</p> + +<p>The train thundered across Grosvenor Bridge through the murky weather +on its way to the coast, and a hundred times I cursed it for its lack +of speed. I would have given much to be at the journey's end, and away +from this motionless and inscrutable companion. His eyes were +constantly on my face, and do what I would I could not appear at ease. +I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>tried to read the paper, I pretended to sleep, I hummed a tune, I +even went so far as to whistle, but my efforts at sang-froid were +ridiculous. The worst of it was that he was aware of my despicable +condition; his changeless cynical smile made that fact obvious to me.</p> + +<p>At last I felt that something must happen. At any rate, the silence of +the man must be broken. And so I gathered together my courage, and +with a preposterous attempt at a friendly smile remarked:</p> + +<p>"Beastly weather we're having. One would scarcely expect it so early +in September."</p> + +<p>It was an inane speech, so commonplace, so entirely foolish. And the +man ignored it absolutely. Only the corners of his lips drooped a +little to express, perhaps, a profounder degree of hate and scorn.</p> + +<p>This made me a little angry.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I see you last in the cathedral at Bruges?" I demanded curtly, +even rudely.</p> + +<p>He laughed. And his laugh really alarmed me.</p> + +<p>The train stopped at that moment at a dark and deserted spot, which +proved to be Sittingbourne. I hesitated, and then, giving up the +struggle, sped out of the compartment, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>entered another one lower +down. My new compartment was empty. The sensation of relief was +infinitely soothing. Placing the jewel-case carefully on my knees, I +breathed freely once more, and said to myself that another quarter of +an hour of that detestable presence would have driven me mad.</p> + +<p>I began to think about Rosetta Rosa. As a solace after the +exasperating companionship of that silent person in the other +compartment, I invited from the back of my mind certain thoughts about +Rosetta Rosa which had been modestly waiting for me there for some +little time, and I looked at them fairly, and turned them over, and +viewed them from every side, and derived from them a rather thrilling +joy. The fact is, I was beginning to be in love with Rosa. Nay, I was +actually in love with her. Ever since our first meeting my meditations +had been more or less busy with her image. For a long period, largely +owing to my preoccupation with Alresca, I had dreamed of her but +vaguely. And now, during our interviews at her hotel and in the church +of St. Gilles, she had, in the most innocent way in the world, forged +fetters on me which I had no desire to shake off.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a presumption on my part. I acknowledged frankly that it was a +presumption. I was a young doctor, with nothing to distinguish me from +the ruck of young doctors. And she was—well, she was one of those +rare and radiant beings to whom even monarchs bow, and the whole earth +offers the incense of its homage.</p> + +<p>Which did not in the least alter the fact that I was in love with her. +And, after all, she was just a woman; more, she was a young woman. And +she had consulted me! She had allowed me to be of use to her! And, +months ago in London, had she not permitted me to talk to her with an +extraordinary freedom? Lovely, incomparable, exquisite as she was, she +was nevertheless a girl, and I was sure that she had a girl's heart.</p> + +<p>However, it was a presumption.</p> + +<p>I remembered her legendary engagement to Lord Clarenceux, an +engagement which had interested all Europe. I often thought of that +matter. Had she loved him—really loved him? Or had his love for her +merely flattered her into thinking that she loved him? Would she not +be liable to institute comparisons be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>tween myself and that renowned, +wealthy, and gifted nobleman?</p> + +<p>Well, I did not care if she did. Such is the egoism of untried love +that I did not care if she did! And I lapsed into a reverie—a reverie +in which everything went smoothly, everything was for the best in the +best of all possible worlds, and only love and love's requital +existed....</p> + +<p>Then, in the fraction of a second, as it seemed, there was a grating, +a horrible grind of iron, a bump, a check, and my head was buried in +the cushions of the opposite side of the carriage, and I felt +stunned—not much, but a little.</p> + +<p>"What—what?" I heard myself exclaim. "They must have plumped the +brakes on pretty sudden."</p> + +<p>Then, quite after an interval, it occurred to me that this was a +railway accident—one of those things that one reads of in the papers +with so much calmness. I wondered if I was hurt, and why I could hear +no sound; the silence was absolute—terrifying.</p> + +<p>In a vague, aimless way, I sought for my matchbox, and struck a +light. I had just time to observe that both windows were smashed, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>and +the floor of the compartment tilted, when the match went out in the +wind. I had heard no noise of breaking glass.</p> + +<p>I stumbled slowly to the door, and tried to open it, but the thing +would not budge. Whereupon I lost my temper.</p> + +<p>"Open, you beast, you beast, you beast!" I cried to the door, kicking +it hard, and yet not feeling the impact.</p> + +<p>Then another thought—a proud one, which served to tranquillize me: "I +am a doctor, and they will want me to attend to the wounded."</p> + +<p>I remembered my flask, and unscrewing the stopper with difficulty, +clutched the mouth with my teeth and drank. After that I was sane and +collected. Now I could hear people tramping on the ground outside, and +see the flash of lanterns. In another moment a porter, whose silver +buttons gleamed in the darkness, was pulling me through the window.</p> + +<p>"Hurt?"</p> + +<p>"No, not I. But if any one else is, I'm a doctor."</p> + +<p>"Here's a doctor, sir," he yelled to a gray-headed man near by. Then +he stood still, wondering what he should do next. I per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>ceived in the +near distance the lights of a station.</p> + +<p>"Is that Dover?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; Dover Priory. Dover's a mile further on. There was a goods +wagon got derailed on the siding just beyond the home signal, and it +blocked the down line, and the driver of the express ran right into +it, although the signal was against him—ran right into it, 'e did."</p> + +<p>Other people were crawling out of the carriages now, and suddenly +there seemed to be scores of spectators, and much shouting and running +about. The engine lay on its side, partly overhanging a wrecked wagon. +Immense clouds of steam issued from it, hissing above the roar of the +wind. The tender was twisted like a patent hairpin in the middle. The +first coach, a luggage-van, stood upright, and seemed scarcely +damaged. The second coach, the small, old-fashioned vehicle which +happily I had abandoned at Sittingbourne, was smashed out of +resemblance to a coach. The third one, from which I had just emerged, +looked fairly healthy, and the remaining three had not even left the +rails.</p> + +<p>All ran to the smashed coach.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There were two passengers in that coach," said the guard, who, having +been at the rear of the train, was unharmed.</p> + +<p>"Are you counting me?" I asked. "Because I changed carriages at +Sittingbourne."</p> + +<p>"Praise God for that, sir!" he answered. "There's only one, then—a +tall, severe-looking gent—in the first-class compartment."</p> + +<p>Was it joy or sorrow that I felt at the thought of that man buried +somewhere in the shapeless mass of wood and iron? It certainly was not +unmixed sorrow. On the contrary, I had a distinct feeling of elation +at the thought that I was probably rid forever of this haunter of my +peace, this menacing and mysterious existence which (if instinctive +foreboding was to be trusted) had been about to cross and thwart and +blast my own.</p> + +<p>The men hammered and heaved and chopped and sawed, and while they were +in the midst of the work some one took me by the sleeve and asked me +to go and attend to the engine-driver and stoker, who were being +carried into a waiting-room at the station. It is symptomatic of the +extraordinary confusion which reigns in these affairs that till that +moment the question of the fate of the men in charge <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>of the train had +not even entered my mind, though I had of course noticed that the +engine was overturned. In the waiting-room it was discovered that two +local doctors had already arrived. I preferred to leave the +engine-driver to them. He was unconscious as he lay on a table. The +stoker, by his side, kept murmuring in a sort of delirium:</p> + +<p>"Bill, 'e was all dazed like—'e was all dazed like. I told him the +signal wasn't off. I shouted to him. But 'e was all dazed like."</p> + +<p>I returned to the train full of a horrible desire to see with my own +eyes a certain corpse. Bit by bit the breakdown gang had removed the +whole of the centre part of the shattered carriage. I thrust myself +into the group, and—we all looked at each other. Nobody, alive or +dead, was to be found.</p> + +<p>"He, too, must have got out at Sittingbourne," I said at length.</p> + +<p>"Ay!" said the guard.</p> + +<p>My heard swam, dizzy with dark imaginings and unspeakable suspicions. +"He has escaped; he is alive!" I muttered savagely, hopelessly. It was +as if a doom had closed inevitably over me. But if my thoughts had +been legible and I had been asked to explain <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>this attitude of mine +towards a person who had never spoken to me, whom I had seen but +thrice, and whose identity was utterly unknown, I could not have done +so. I had no reasons. It was intuition.</p> + +<p>Abruptly I straightened myself, and surveying the men and the +background of ruin lighted by the fitful gleams of lanterns and the +pale glitter of a moon half-hidden by flying clouds, I shouted out:</p> + +<p>"I want a cab. I have to catch the Calais boat. Will somebody please +direct me!"</p> + +<p>No one appeared even to hear me. The mental phenomena which accompany +a railway accident, even a minor one such as this, are of the most +singular description. I felt that I was growing angry again. I had a +grievance because not a soul there seemed to care whether I caught the +Calais boat or not. That, under the unusual circumstances, the steamer +would probably wait did not occur to me. Nor did I perceive that there +was no real necessity for me to catch the steamer. I might just as +well have spent the night at the Lord Warden, and proceeded on my +journey in the morning. But no! I must hurry away instantly!</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then I thought of the jewel-box.</p> + +<p>"Where's my jewel-box?" I demanded vehemently from the guard, as +though he had stolen it.</p> + +<p>He turned to me.</p> + +<p>"What's that you're carrying?" he replied.</p> + +<p>All the time I had been carrying the jewel-box. At the moment of the +collision I must have instinctively clutched it, and my grasp had not +slackened. I had carried it to the waiting-room and back without +knowing that I was doing so!</p> + +<p>This sobered me once more. But I would not stay on the scene. I was +still obsessed by the desire to catch the steamer. And abruptly I set +off walking down the line. I left the crowd and the confusion and the +ruin, and hastened away bearing the box.</p> + +<p>I think that I must have had no notion of time, and very little notion +of space. For I arrived at the harbour without the least recollection +of the details of my journey thither. I had no memory of having been +accosted by any official of the railway, or even of having encountered +any person at all. Fortunately it had ceased to rain, and the wind, +though still strong, was falling rapidly.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>Except for a gatekeeper, the bleak, exposed pier had the air of being +deserted. The lights of the town flickered in the distance, and above +them rose dimly the gaunt outlines of the fortified hills. In front +was the intemperate and restless sea. I felt that I was at the +extremity of England, and on the verge of unguessed things. Now, I had +traversed about half the length of the lonely pier, which seems to +curve right out into the unknown, when I saw a woman approaching me in +the opposite direction. My faculties were fatigued with the crowded +sensations of that evening, and I took no notice of her. Even when she +stopped to peer into my face I thought nothing of it, and put her +gently aside, supposing her to be some dubious character of the night +hours. But she insisted on speaking to me.</p> + +<p>"You are Carl Foster," she said abruptly. The voice was harsh, +trembling, excited, yet distinguished.</p> + +<p>"Suppose I am?" I answered wearily. How tired I was!</p> + +<p>"I advise you not to go to Paris."</p> + +<p>I began to arouse my wits, and I became aware that the woman was +speaking with a strong French accent. I searched her face, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>but she +wore a thick veil, and in the gloom of the pier I could only make out +that she had striking features, and was probably some forty years of +age. I stared at her in silence.</p> + +<p>"I advise you not to go to Paris," she repeated.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind. Take my advice."</p> + +<p>"Why? Shall I be robbed?"</p> + +<p>"Robbed!" she exclaimed, as if that was a new idea to her. "Yes," she +said hurriedly. "Those jewels might be stolen."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that I have jewels?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! I—I saw the case."</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble yourself, madam; I shall take particular care not to be +robbed. But may I ask how you have got hold of my name?"</p> + +<p>I had vague ideas of an ingenious plan for robbing me, the particulars +of which this woman was ready to reveal for a consideration.</p> + +<p>She ignored my question.</p> + +<p>"Listen!" she said quickly. "You are going to meet a lady in Paris. Is +it not so?"</p> + +<p>"I must really—"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take advice. Move no further in that affair."</p> + +<p>I attempted to pass her, but she held me by the sleeve. She went on +with emphasis:</p> + +<p>"Rosetta Rosa will never be allowed to sing in 'Carmen' at the Opéra +Comique. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Great Scott!" I said, "I believe you must be Carlotta Deschamps."</p> + +<p>It was a half-humorous inspiration on my part, but the remark produced +an immediate effect on the woman, for she walked away with a highly +theatrical scowl and toss of the head. I recalled what Marie Deschamps +had said in the train about her stepsister, and also my suspicion that +Rosa's maid was not entirely faithful to her mistress—spied on her, +in fact; and putting the two things together, it occurred to me that +this strange lady might actually be Carlotta.</p> + +<p>Many women of the stage acquire a habitual staginess and +theatricality, and it was quite conceivable that Carlotta had +relations with Yvette, and that, ridden by the old jealousy which had +been aroused through the announcement of Rosa's return to the Opéra +Comique, she was setting herself in an indefi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>nite, clumsy, stealthy, +and melodramatic manner to prevent Rosa's appearance in "Carmen."</p> + +<p>No doubt she had been informed of Rosa's conference with me in the +church of St. Gilles, and, impelled by some vague, obscure motive, had +travelled to London to discover me, and having succeeded, was +determined by some means to prevent me from getting into touch with +Rosa in Paris. So I conjectured roughly, and subsequent events +indicated that I was not too far wrong.</p> + +<p>I laughed. The notion of the middle-aged prima donna going about in +waste places at dead of night to work mischief against a rival was +indubitably comic. I would make a facetious narrative of the meeting +for the amusement of Rosa at breakfast to-morrow in Paris. Then, +feeling all at once at the end of my physical powers, I continued my +way, and descended the steps to the Calais boat.</p> + +<p>All was excitement there. Had I heard of the railway accident? Yes, I +had. I had been in it. Instantly I was surrounded by individuals who +raked me fore and aft with questions. I could not endure it; my +nervous energy, I realized, was exhausted, and having <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>given a brief +outline of the disaster, I fled down the saloon stairs.</p> + +<p>My sole desire was to rest; the need of unconsciousness, of +forgetfulness, was imperious upon me; I had had too many experiences +during the last few hours. I stretched myself on the saloon cushions, +making a pillow of the jewel-box.</p> + +<p>"Shall we start soon?" I murmured to a steward.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, in another five minutes. Weather's moderating, sir."</p> + +<p>Other passengers were in the saloon, and more followed. As this would +be the first steamer to leave Dover that day, there was a good number +of voyagers on board, in spite of adverse conditions. I heard people +talking, and the splash of waves against the vessel's sides, and then +I went to sleep. Nothing could have kept me awake.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE STEAMER</h3> + + +<p>I awoke with a start, and with wavering eyes looked at the saloon +clock. I had slept for one hour only, but it appeared to me that I was +quite refreshed. My mind was strangely clear, every sense +preternaturally alert. I began to wonder what had aroused me. Suddenly +the ship shuddered through the very heart of her, and I knew that it +was this shuddering, which must have occurred before, that had wakened +me.</p> + +<p>"Good God! We're sinking!" a man cried. He was in the next berth to +me, and he sat up, staring wildly.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" I answered.</p> + +<p>The electric lights went out, and we were left with the miserable +illumination of one little swinging oil-lamp. Immediately the score or +so persons in the saloon were afoot and rushing about, grasping their +goods and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>chattels. The awful shuddering of the ship continued. +Scarcely a word was spoken.</p> + +<p>A man flew, or rather, tumbled, down the saloon stairs, shouting: +"Where's my wife? Where's my wife?" No one took the slightest notice +of him, nor did he seem to expect any answer. Even in the +semi-darkness of the single lamp I distinctly saw that with both hands +he was tearing handfuls of hair from his head. I had heard the phrase +"tearing one's hair" some thousands of time in my life, but never till +that moment had I witnessed the action itself. Somehow it made an +impression on me. The man raced round the saloon still shouting, and +raced away again up-stairs and out of sight. Everyone followed him +pell-mell, helter-skelter, and almost in a second I found myself +alone. I put on my overcoat, and my mackintosh over that, and seizing +Rosa's jewel-box, I followed the crowd.</p> + +<p>As I emerged on deck a Bengal light flared red and dazzling on the +bridge, and I saw some sailors trying to lower a boat from its davits. +Then I knew that the man who had cried "We're sinking!" even if he was +not speaking the exact truth, had at any rate some grounds for his +assertion.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>A rather pretty girl, pale with agitation, seized me by the +buttonhole.</p> + +<p>"Where are we going?" she questioned earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Don't know, madam," I replied; and then a young man dragged her off +by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Come this way, Lottie," I heard him say to her, "and keep calm."</p> + +<p>I was left staring at the place where the girl's head had been. Then +the head of an old man filled that place. I saw his mouth and all his +features working in frantic endeavor to speak to me, but he could not +articulate. I stepped aside; I could not bear to look at him.</p> + +<p>"Carl," I said to myself, "you are undoubtedly somewhat alarmed, but +you are not in such an absolutely azure funk as that old chap. Pull +yourself together."</p> + +<p>Of what followed immediately I have no recollection. I knew vaguely +that the ship rolled and had a serious list to starboard, that orders +were being hoarsely shouted from the bridge, that the moon was shining +fitfully, that the sea was black and choppy; I also seemed to catch +the singing of a hymn somewhere on the forward deck. I suppose I knew +that I existed. But that was all. I had no exact <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>knowledge of what I +myself was doing. There was a hiatus in my consciousness of myself.</p> + +<p>The proof of this is that, after a lapse of time, I suddenly +discovered that I had smoked half-way through a cigarette, and that I +was at the bows of the steamer. For a million sovereigns I could not +explain under what circumstances I had moved from one end of the ship +to the other, nor how I had come to light that cigarette. Such is the +curious effect of perturbation.</p> + +<p>But the perturbation had now passed from me, just as mysteriously as +it had overtaken me. I was cool and calm. I felt inquisitive, and I +asked several people what had happened. But none seemed to know. In +fact, they scarcely heard me, and answered wildly, as if in delirium. +It seemed strange that anything could have occurred on so small a +vessel without the precise details being common property. Yet so it +was, and those who have been in an accident at sea will support me +when I say that the ignorance on the part of the passengers of the +events actually in progress is not the least astounding nor the least +disconcerting item in such an affair. It was the psychology of the +railway accident repeated.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>I began to observe. The weather was a little murky, but beyond doubt +still improving. The lights of the French coast could clearly be seen. +The ship rolled in a short sea; her engines had stopped; she still had +the formidable list to starboard; the captain was on the bridge, +leaning over, and with his hands round his mouth was giving orders to +an officer below. The sailors were still struggling to lower the boat +from the davits. The passengers stood about, aimless, perhaps +terror-struck, but now for the most part quiet and self-contained. +Some of them had life-belts. That was the sum of my observations.</p> + +<p>A rocket streamed upwards into the sky, and another and another, then +one caught the rigging, and, deflected, whizzed down again within a +few feet of my head, and dropped on deck, spluttering in a silly, +futile way. I threw the end of my cigarette at it to see whether that +might help it along.</p> + +<p>"So this is a shipwreck," I ejaculated. "And I'm in it. I've got +myself safely off the railway only to fall into the sea. What a d——d +shame!"</p> + +<p>Queerly enough, I had ceased to puzzle myself with trying to discover +how the disaster <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>had been brought about. I honestly made up my mind +that we were sinking, and that was sufficient.</p> + +<p>"What cursed ill-luck!" I murmured philosophically.</p> + +<p>I thought of Rosa, with whom I was to have breakfasted on the morrow, +whose jewels I was carrying, whose behest it had been my pleasure to +obey. At that moment she seemed to me in my mind's eye more beautiful, +of a more exquisite charm, than ever before. "Am I going to lose her?" +I murmured. And then: "What a sensation there'll be in the papers if +this ship does go down!" My brain flitted from point to point in a +quick agitation. I decided suddenly that the captain and crew must be +a set of nincompoops, who had lost their heads, and, not knowing what +to do, were unserenely doing nothing. And quite as suddenly I reversed +my decision, and reflected that no doubt the captain was doing +precisely the correct thing, and that the crew were loyal and +disciplined.</p> + +<p>Then my mind returned to Rosa. What would she say, what would she +feel, when she learnt that I had been drowned in the Channel? Would +she experience a grief merely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>platonic, or had she indeed a +profounder feeling towards me? Drowned! Who said drowned? There were +the boats, if they could be launched, and, moreover, I could swim. I +considered what I should do at the moment the ship foundered—for I +still felt she would founder. I was the blackest of pessimists. I said +to myself that I would spring as far as I could into the sea, not only +to avoid the sucking in of the vessel, but to get clear of the other +passengers.</p> + +<p>Suppose that a passenger who could not swim should by any chance seize +me in the water, how should I act? This was a conundrum. I could not +save another and myself, too. I said I would leave that delicate point +till the time came, but in my heart I knew that I should beat off such +a person with all the savagery of despair—unless it happened to be a +woman. I felt that I could not repulse a drowning woman, even if to +help her for a few minutes meant death for both of us.</p> + +<p>How insignificant seemed everything else—everything outside the ship +and the sea and our perilous plight! The death of Alresca, the +jealousy of Carlotta Deschamps, the plot (if there was one) against +Rosa—what were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>these matters to me? But Rosa was something. She was +more than something; she was all. A lovely, tantalizing vision of her +appeared to float before my eyes.</p> + +<p>I peered over the port rail to see whether we were in fact gradually +sinking. The heaving water looked a long way off, and the idea of this +raised my spirits for an instant. But only for an instant. The +apparent inactivity of those in charge annoyed while it saddened me. +They were not even sending up rockets now, nor burning Bengal lights. +I had no patience left to ask more questions. A mood of disgust seized +me. If the captain himself had stood by my side waiting to reply to +requests for information, I doubt if I should have spoken. I felt like +the spectator who is compelled to witness a tragedy which both wounds +and bores him. I was obsessed by my own ill-luck and the stupidity of +the rest of mankind. I was particularly annoyed by the spasmodic +hymn-singing that went on in various parts of the deck.</p> + +<p>The man who had burst into the saloon shouting "Where is my wife?" +reappeared from somewhere, and standing near to me started to undress +hastily. I watched him. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>He had taken off his coat, waistcoat, and +boots, when a quiet, amused voice said: "I shouldn't do that if I were +you. It's rather chilly, you know. Besides, think of the ladies."</p> + +<p>Without a word he began with equal celerity to reassume his clothes. I +turned to the speaker. It was the youth who had dragged the girl away +from me when I first came up on deck. She was on his arm, and had a +rug over her head. Both were perfectly self-possessed. The serenity of +the young man's face particularly struck me. I was not to be out-done.</p> + +<p>"Have a cigarette?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Thanks."</p> + +<p>"Do you happen to know what all this business is?" I asked him.</p> + +<p>"It's a collision," he said. "We were struck on the port paddle-box. +That saved us for the moment."</p> + +<p>"How did it occur?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know."</p> + +<p>"And where's the ship that struck us?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, somewhere over there—two or three miles away." He pointed +vaguely to the northeast. "You see, half the paddle-wheel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>was knocked +off, and when that sank, of course the port side rose out of the +water. I believe those paddle-wheels weigh a deuce of a lot."</p> + +<p>"Are we going to sink?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know. Can tell you more in half an hour. I've got two +life-belts hidden under a seat. They're rather a nuisance to carry +about. You're shivering, Lottie. We must take some more exercise. See +you later, sir."</p> + +<p>And the two went off again. The girl had not looked at me, nor I at +her. She did not seem to be interested in our conversation. As for her +companion, he restored my pride in my race.</p> + +<p>I began to whistle. Suddenly the whistle died on my lips. Standing +exactly opposite to me, on the starboard side, was the mysterious +being whom I had last seen in the railway carriage at Sittingbourne. +He was, as usual, imperturbable, sardonic, terrifying. His face, which +chanced to be lighted by the rays of a deck lantern, had the pallor +and the immobility of marble, and the dark eyes held me under their +hypnotic gaze.</p> + +<p>Again I had the sensation of being victimized by a conspiracy of which +this implacable man was the head. I endured once more the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>mental +tortures which I had suffered in the railway carriage, and now, as +then, I felt helpless and bewildered. It seemed to me that his +existence overshadowed mine, and that in some way he was connected +with the death of Alresca. Possibly there was a plot, in which the +part played by the jealousy of Carlotta Deschamps was only a minor +one. Possibly I had unwittingly stepped into a net of subtle intrigue, +of the extent of whose boundaries and ramifications I had not the +slightest idea. Like one set in the blackness of an unfamiliar +chamber, I feared to step forward or backward lest I might encounter +some unknown horror.</p> + +<p>It may be argued that I must have been in a highly nervous condition +in order to be affected in such a manner by the mere sight of a man—a +man who had never addressed to me a single word of conversation. +Perhaps so. Yet up to that period of my life my temperament and habit +of mind had been calm, unimpressionable, and if I may say so, not +specially absurd.</p> + +<p>What need to inquire how the man had got on board that ship—how he +had escaped death in the railway accident—how he had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>eluded my sight +at Dover Priory? There he stood. Evidently he had purposed to pursue +me to Paris, and little things like railway collisions were +insufficient to deter him. I surmised that he must have quitted the +compartment at Sittingbourne immediately after me, meaning to follow +me, but that the starting of the train had prevented him from entering +the same compartment as I entered. According to this theory, he must +have jumped into another compartment lower down the train as the train +was moving, and left it when the collision occurred, keeping his eye +on me all the time, but not coming forward. He must even have walked +after me down the line from Dover Priory to the pier.</p> + +<p>However, a shipwreck was a more serious affair than a railway +accident. And if the ship were indeed doomed, it would puzzle even him +to emerge with his life. He might seize me in the water, and from +simple hate drag me to destruction,—yes, that was just what he would +do,—but he would have a difficulty in saving himself. Such were my +wild and fevered notions!</p> + +<p>On the starboard bow I saw the dim bulk and the masthead lights of a +steamer ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>proaching us. The other passengers had observed it, too, +and there was a buzz of anticipation on the slanting deck. Only the +inimical man opposite to me seemed to ignore the stir. He did not even +turn round to look at the object which had aroused the general +excitement. His eyes never left me.</p> + +<p>The vessel came nearer, till we could discern clearly the outline of +her, and a black figure on her bridge. She was not more than a hundred +yards away when the beat of her engines stopped. She hailed us. We +waited for the answering call from our own captain, but there was no +reply. Twice again she hailed us, and was answered only by silence.</p> + +<p>"Why don't our people reply?" an old lady asked, who came up to me at +that moment, breathing heavily.</p> + +<p>"Because they are d—— d fools," I said roughly. She was a most +respectable and prim old lady; yet I could not resist shocking her +ears by an impropriety.</p> + +<p>The other ship moved away into the night.</p> + +<p>Was I in a dream? Was this a pantomime shipwreck? Then it occurred to +me that the captain was so sure of being ultimately able to help +himself that he preferred from motives <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>of economy to decline +assistance which would involve a heavy salvage claim.</p> + +<p>My self-possessed young man came along again in the course of his +peregrinations, the girl whom he called Lottie still on his arm. He +stopped for a chat.</p> + +<p>"Most curious thing!" he began.</p> + +<p>"What now?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I found out about the collision."</p> + +<p>"How did it occur?"</p> + +<p>"In this way. The captain was on duty on the bridge, with the +steersman at the wheel. It was thickish weather then, much thicker +than it is now—in fact, there'll soon be no breeze left, and look at +the stars! Suddenly the lookout man shouted that there was a sail on +the weather bow, and it must have been pretty close, too. The captain +ordered the man at the wheel to put the boat to port—I don't know the +exact phraseology of the thing—so that we could pass the other ship +on our starboard side. Instead of doing that, the triple idiot shoved +us to starboard as hard as he could, and before the captain could do +anything, we were struck on the port paddle. The steersman had sent us +right into the other ship. If he had wanted specially to land us <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>into +a good smash-up, he could scarcely have done it better. A good thing +we got caught on the paddle; otherwise we should have been cut clean +in two. As it was, the other boat recoiled and fell away."</p> + +<p>"Was she damaged?"</p> + +<p>"Probably not."</p> + +<p>"How does the man at the wheel explain his action?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's the curious part. I was just coming to that. Naturally +he's in a great state of terror just now, but he can just talk. He +swears that when the captain gave his order a third person ran up the +steps leading to the bridge, and so frightened him that he was sort of +dazed, and did exactly the wrong thing."</p> + +<p>"A queer tale!"</p> + +<p>"I should think so. But he sticks to it. He even says that this highly +mysterious third person made him do the wrong thing. But that's +absolute tommy-rot."</p> + +<p>"The man must be mad."</p> + +<p>"I should have said he had been drunk, but there doesn't seem to be +any trace of that. Anyhow, he sees visions, and I maintain that the +Chatham and Dover people oughtn't to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>have their boats steered by men +who see visions, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I agree with you. I suppose we aren't now in any real danger?"</p> + +<p>"I should hardly think so. We might have been. It was pure luck that +we happened to get struck on the paddle-box, and also it was pure luck +that the sea has gone down so rapidly. With a list like this, a really +lively cross-sea would soon have settled us."</p> + +<p>We were silent for a few moments. The girl looked idly round the ship, +and her eyes encountered the figure of the mysterious man. She seemed +to shiver.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed under her breath, "what a terrible face that man +has!"</p> + +<p>"Where?" said her friend.</p> + +<p>"Over there. And how is it he's wearing a silk hat—here?"</p> + +<p>His glance followed hers, but my follower had turned abruptly round, +and in a moment was moving quickly to the after-part of the ship. He +passed behind the smoke-stack, and was lost to our view.</p> + +<p>"The back of him looks pretty stiff," the young man said. "I wonder if +he's the chap that alarmed the man at the wheel."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>I laughed, and at the same time I accidentally dropped Rosa's +jewel-case, which had never left my hand. I picked it up hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"You seem attached to that case," the young man said, smiling. "If we +had foundered, should you have let it go, or tried to swim ashore with +it?"</p> + +<p>"The question is doubtful," I replied, returning his smile. In +shipwrecks one soon becomes intimate with strangers.</p> + +<p>"If I mistake not, it is a jewel-case."</p> + +<p>"It is a jewel-case."</p> + +<p>He nodded with a moralizing air, as if reflecting upon the sordid love +of property which will make a man carry a jewel-case about with him +when the next moment he might find himself in the sea. At least, that +was my interpretation of the nodding. Then the brother and sister—for +such I afterwards discovered they were—left me to take care of my +jewel-case alone.</p> + +<p>Why had I dropped the jewel-case? Was it because I was startled by the +jocular remark which identified the mysterious man with the person who +had disturbed the steersman? That remark was made in mere jest. Yet I +could not help thinking that it contained the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>truth. Nay, I knew that +it was true; I knew by instinct. And being true, what facts were +logically to be deduced from it? What aim had this mysterious man in +compelling, by his strange influences, the innocent sailor to guide +the ship towards destruction—the ship in which I happened to be a +passenger?... And then there was the railway accident. The stoker had +said that the engine-driver had been dazed—like the steersman. But +no. There are avenues of conjecture from which the mind shrinks. I +could not follow up that train of thought.</p> + +<p>Happily, I did not see my enemy again—at least, during that journey. +And my mind was diverted, for the dawn came—the beautiful September +dawn. Never have I greeted the sun with deeper joy, and I fancy that +my sentiments were shared by everyone on board the vessel. As the +light spread over the leaden waters, and the coast of France was +silhouetted against the sky, the passengers seemed to understand that +danger was over, and that we had been through peril, and escaped. Some +threw themselves upon their knees, and prayed with an ecstasy of +thankfulness. Others re-commenced their hymning. Others laughed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>rather hysterically, and began to talk at a prodigious rate. A few, +like myself, stood silent and apparently unmoved.</p> + +<p>Then the engines began to beat. There was a frightful clatter of +scrap-iron and wood in the port paddle-box, and they stopped +immediately, whereupon we noticed that the list of the vessel was +somewhat more marked than before. The remainder of the port paddle +had, in fact, fallen away into the water. The hymn-singers ceased +their melodies, absorbed in anticipating what would happen next. At +last, after many orders and goings to and fro, the engines started +again, this time, of course, the starboard paddle, deeply immersed, +moved by itself. We progressed with infinite slowness, and in a most +peculiar manner, but we did progress, and that was the main thing. The +passengers cheered heartily.</p> + +<p>We appeared to go in curves, but each curve brought us nearer to +Calais. As we approached that haven of refuge, it seemed as if every +steamer and smack of Calais was coming out to meet us. The steamers +whistled, the owners of smacks bawled and shouted. They desired to +assist; for were we not disabled, and would not the English railway +com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>pany pay well for help so gallantly rendered? Our captain, +however, made no sign, and, like a wounded, sullen animal, from whom +its companions timidly keep a respectful distance, we at length +entered Calais harbor, and by dint of much seamanship and polyglottic +swearing brought up safely at the quay.</p> + +<p>Then it was that one fully perceived, with a feeling of shame, how +night had magnified the seriousness of the adventure; how it had been +nothing, after all; how it would not fill more than half a column in +the newspapers; how the officers of the ship must have despised the +excited foolishness of passengers who would not listen to reasonable, +commonplace explanations.</p> + +<p>The boat was evacuated in the twinkling of an eye. I have never seen a +Channel steamer so quickly empty itself. It was as though the people +were stricken by a sudden impulse to dash away from the poor craft at +any cost. At the Customs, amid all the turmoil and bustle, I saw +neither my young friend and his sister, nor my enemy, who so far had +clung to me on my journey.</p> + +<p>I learned that a train would start in about a quarter of an hour. I +had some coffee and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>a roll at the buffet. While I was consuming that +trifling refection the young man and his sister joined me. The girl +was taciturn as before, but her brother talked cheerfully as he sipped +chocolate; he told me that his name was Watts, and he introduced his +sister. He had a pleasant but rather weak face, and as for his manner +and bearing, I could not decide in my own mind whether he was a +gentleman or a buyer from some London drapery warehouse on his way to +the city of modes. He gave no information as to his profession or +business, and as I had not even returned his confidence by revealing +my name, this was not to be wondered at.</p> + +<p>"Are you going on to Paris?" he said presently.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and the sooner I get there the better I shall be pleased."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," he smiled. "I am going, too. I have crossed the Channel +many times, but I have never before had such an experience as last +night's."</p> + +<p>Then we began to compare notes of previous voyages, until a railway +official entered the buffet with a raucous, "Voyageurs pour Paris, en +voiture."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was only one first-class carriage, and into this I immediately +jumped, and secured a corner. Mr. Watts followed me, and took the +other corner of the same seat. Miss Watts remained on the platform. It +was a corridor carriage, and the corridor happened to be on the far +side from the platform. Mr. Watts went out to explore the corridor. I +arranged myself in my seat, placed the jewel-case by my side, and my +mackintosh over my knees. Miss Watts stood idly in front of the +carriage door, tapping the platform with her umbrella.</p> + +<p>"You do not accompany your brother, then?" I ventured.</p> + +<p>"No. I'm staying in Calais, where I have an—an engagement." She +smiled plaintively at me.</p> + +<p>Mr. Watts came back into the compartment, and, standing on the step, +said good-by to his sister, and embraced her. She kissed him +affectionately. Then, having closed the carriage door, he stolidly +resumed his seat, which was on the other side away from the door. We +had the compartment to ourselves.</p> + +<p>"A nice girl," I reflected.</p> + +<p>The train whistled, and a porter ran along to put the catches on all +the doors.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good-by; we're off," I said to Miss Watts.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," she said, and her face seemed to flush in the cold morning +light,—"monsieur." Was she, then, French, to address me like that?</p> + +<p>She made a gesture as if she would say something to me of importance, +and I put my head out of the window.</p> + +<p>"May I ask you to keep an eye on my brother?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"In what way?" I asked, somewhat astonished.</p> + +<p>The train began to move, and she walked to keep level with me.</p> + +<p>"Do not let him drink at any of the railway buffets on the journey; he +will be met at the Gare du Nord. He is addicted—"</p> + +<p>"But how can I stop him if he wants to—"</p> + +<p>She had an appealing look, and she was running now to keep pace with +the train.</p> + +<p>"Ah, do what you can, sir. I ask it as a favor. Pardon the request +from a perfect stranger."</p> + +<p>I nodded acquiescence, and, waving a farewell to the poor girl, sank +back into my seat. "This is a nice commission!" I thought.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Watts was no longer in his corner. Also my jewel-case was gone.</p> + +<p>"A deliberate plant!" I exclaimed; and I could not help admiring the +cleverness with which it had been carried out.</p> + +<p>I rushed into the corridor, and looked through every compartment; but +Mr. Watts, whom I was to keep from drunkenness, had utterly departed. +Then I made for the handle of the communication cord. It had been +neatly cut off. The train was now travelling at a good speed, and the +first stop would be Amiens. I was too ashamed of my simplicity to give +the news of my loss to the other passengers in the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Very smart indeed!" I murmured, sitting down, and I smiled—for, +after all, I could afford to smile.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>A CHAT WITH ROSA</h3> + + +<p>"And when I sat down it was gone, and the precious Mr. Watts had also +vanished."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Rosa. That was all she said. It is impossible to deny +that she was startled, that she was aghast. I, however, maintained a +splendid equanimity.</p> + +<p>We were sitting in the salon of her flat at the Place de la Concorde +end of the Rue de Rivoli. We had finished lunch, and she had offered +me a cigarette. I had had a bath, and changed my attire, and eaten a +meal cooked by a Frenchman, and I felt renewed. I had sunned myself in +the society of Rosetta Rosa for an hour, and I felt soothed. I forgot +all the discomforts and misgivings of the voyage. It was nothing to +me, as I looked at this beautiful girl, that within the last +twenty-four hours I had twice been in danger of losing my life. What +to me was the mys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>terious man with the haunting face of implacable +hate? What to me were the words of the woman who had stopped me on the +pier at Dover? Nothing! A thousand times less than nothing! I loved, +and I was in the sympathetic presence of her whom I loved.</p> + +<p>I had waited till lunch was over to tell Rosa of the sad climax of my +adventures.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I repeated, "I was never more completely done in my life. The +woman conspirator took me in absolutely."</p> + +<p>"What did you do then?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I wired to Calais immediately we got to Amiens, and told the +police, and did all the things one usually does do when one has been +robbed. Also, since arriving in Paris, I have been to the police +here."</p> + +<p>"Do they hold out any hope of recovery?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid they are not sanguine. You see, the pair had a good start, +and I expect they belong to one of the leading gangs of jewel thieves +in Europe. The entire business must have been carefully planned. +Probably I was shadowed from the moment I left your bankers'."</p> + +<p>"It's unfortunate."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. I felt sure that you would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>attach some importance to +the jewel-case. So I have instructed the police to do their utmost."</p> + +<p>She seemed taken aback by the lightness of my tone.</p> + +<p>"My friend, those jewels were few, but they were valuable. They were +worth—I don't know what they were worth. There was a necklace that +must have cost fifteen thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>"Yes—the jewels."</p> + +<p>"Well! Is it not the jewels that are missing?"</p> + +<p>"Dear lady," I said, "I aspire to be thought a man of the world—it is +a failing of youth; but, then, I am young. As a man of the world, I +cogitated a pretty good long time before I set out for Paris with your +jewels."</p> + +<p>"You felt there was a danger of robbery?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"And you were not mistaken." There was irony in her voice.</p> + +<p>"True! But let me proceed. A man of the world would see at once that a +jewel-case was an object to attract the eyes of those who live by +their wits."</p> + +<p>"I should imagine so."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Therefore, as a man of the world, I endeavored to devise a scheme of +safeguarding my little cargo."</p> + +<p>"And you—"</p> + +<p>"I devised one."</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"I took all the jewels out of the case, and put them into my various +pockets; and I carried the case to divert attention from those +pockets."</p> + +<p>She looked at me, her face at first all perplexity; gradually the +light broke upon her.</p> + +<p>"Simple, wasn't it?" I murmured.</p> + +<p>"Then the jewels are not stolen?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. The jewels are in my pockets. If you recollect, I said +it was the jewel-case that was stolen."</p> + +<p>I began to smile.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Foster," she said, smiling too, "I am extremely angry."</p> + +<p>"Forgive the joke," I entreated. "Perhaps it is a bad one—but I hope +not a very bad one, because very bad jokes are inexcusable. And here +are your jewels."</p> + +<p>I put on the expression of a peccant but hopeful schoolboy, as I +emptied one pocket after another of the scintillating treasures. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>The +jewels lay, a gorgeous heap, on her lap. The necklace which she had +particularly mentioned was of pearls. There were also rubies and +emeralds, upon which she seemed to set special store, and a brooch in +the form of a butterfly, which she said was made expressly for her by +Lalique. But not a diamond in the collection! It appeared that she +regarded diamonds as some men regard champagne—as a commodity not +appealing to the very finest taste.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think you were so mischievous," she laughed, frowning.</p> + +<p>To transfer the jewels to her possession I had drawn my chair up to +hers, and we were close together, face to face.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" I replied, content, unimaginably happy. "You don't know me yet. +I'm a terrible fellow."</p> + +<p>"Think of my state of mind during the last fifteen minutes."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but think of the joy which you now experience. It is I who have +given you that joy—the joy of losing and gaining all that in a +quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>She picked up the necklace, and as she gazed at the stones her glance +had a rapt <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>expression, as though she were gazing through their depths +into the past.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Foster," she said at length, without ceasing to look at the +pearls, "I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are in Paris. Shall +you stay till I have appeared at the Opéra Comique?"</p> + +<p>"I was hoping to, and if you say you would like me to—"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I do." And she looked up.</p> + +<p>Her lovely eyes had a suspicion of moisture. The blood rushed through +my head, and I could feel its turbulent throb-throb across the temples +and at my heart.</p> + +<p>I was in heaven, and residence in heaven makes one bold.</p> + +<p>"You really would like me to stay?" I almost whispered, in a tone that +was equivalent to a declaration.</p> + +<p>Her eyes met mine in silence for a few instants, and then she said, +with a touch of melancholy:</p> + +<p>"In all my life I've only had two friends—I mean since my mother's +death; and you are the third."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't know what a life like mine is," she went on, with feeling. +"I'm only a prima donna, you know. People think that because I can +make as much money in three hours as a milliner's girl can make in +three years, and because I'm always in the midst of luxuries, and +because I have whims and caprices, and because my face has certain +curves in it, and because men get jealous with each other about +kissing my hand, that therefore I've got all I want."</p> + +<p>"Certain curves!" I burst out. "Why, you're the most beautiful +creature I ever saw!"</p> + +<p>"There!" she cried. "That's just how they all talk. I do hate it."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" I said. "Then I'll never call you beautiful again. But I +should have thought you were fairly happy."</p> + +<p>"I'm happy when I'm singing well," she answered—"only then. I like +singing. I like to see an audience moved. I must sing. Singing is my +life. But do you know what that means? That means that I belong to the +public, and so I can't hide myself. That means that I am +always—always—surrounded by 'admirers.'"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't like them. I don't like any of them. And I don't like +them in the mass. Why can't I just sing, and then belong simply to +myself? They are for ever there, my 'admirers.' Men of wealth, men of +talent, men of adventure, men of wits—all devoted, all respectful, +all ready to marry me. Some honorable, according to the accepted +standard, others probably dishonorable. And there is not one but whose +real desire is to own me. I know them. Love! In my world, peculiar in +that world in which I live, there is no such thing as love—only a +showy imitation. Yes, they think they love me. 'When we are married +you will not sing any more; you will be mine then,' says one. That is +what he imagines is love. And others would have me for the gold-mine +that is in my throat. I can read their greed in their faces."</p> + +<p>Her candid bitterness surprised as much as it charmed me.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you a little hard on them?" I ventured.</p> + +<p>"Now, am I?" she retorted. "Don't be a hypocrite. Am I?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>I said nothing.</p> + +<p>"You know perfectly well I'm not," she answered for me.</p> + +<p>"But I admire you," I said.</p> + +<p>"You're different," she replied. "You don't belong to my world. That's +what pleases me in you. You haven't got that silly air of always being +ready to lay down your life for me. You didn't come in this morning +with a bunch of expensive orchids, and beg that I should deign to +accept them." She pointed to various bouquets in the room. "You just +came in and shook hands, and asked me how I was."</p> + +<p>"I never thought of bringing any flowers," I said awkwardly.</p> + +<p>"Just so. That's the point. That's what I like. If there is one thing +that I can't tolerate, and that I have to tolerate, it's 'attentions,' +especially from people who copy their deportment from Russian +Archdukes."</p> + +<p>"There are Archdukes?"</p> + +<p>"Why! the air is thick with them. Why do men think that a woman is +flattered by their ridiculous 'attentions?' If they knew how sometimes +I can scarcely keep from laughing! There are moments when I would +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>give anything to be back again in the days when I knew no one more +distinguished than a concierge. There was more sincerity at my +disposal then."</p> + +<p>"But surely all distinguished people are not insincere?"</p> + +<p>"They are insincere to opera singers who happen to be young, +beautiful, and rich, which is my sad case. The ways of the people who +flutter round a theatre are not my ways. I was brought up simply, as +you were in your Devonshire home. I hate to spend my life as if it was +one long diplomatic reception. Ugh!"</p> + +<p>She clenched her hands, and one of the threads of the necklace gave +way, and the pearls scattered themselves over her lap.</p> + +<p>"There! That necklace was given to me by one of my friends!" She +paused.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" I said tentatively.</p> + +<p>"He is dead now. You have heard—everyone knows—that I was once +engaged to Lord Clarenceux. He was a friend. He loved me—he died—my +friends have a habit of dying. Alresca died."</p> + +<p>The conversation halted. I wondered whether I might speak of Lord +Clarenceux, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>or whether to do so would be an indiscretion. She began +to collect the pearls.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she repeated softly, "he was a friend."</p> + +<p>I drew a strange satisfaction from the fact that, though she had said +frankly that he loved her, she had not even hinted that she loved him.</p> + +<p>"Lord Clarenceux must have been a great man," I said.</p> + +<p>"That is exactly what he was," she answered with a vague enthusiasm. +"And a great nobleman too! So different from the others. I wish I +could describe him to you, but I cannot. He was immensely rich—he +looked on me as a pauper. He had the finest houses, the finest +judgment in the world. When he wanted anything he got it, no matter +what the cost. All dealers knew that, and any one who had 'the best' +to sell knew that in Lord Clarenceux he would find a purchaser. He +carried things with a high hand. I never knew another man so +determined, or one who could be more stern or more exquisitely kind. +He knew every sort of society, and yet he had never married. He fell +in love with me, and offered me his hand. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>declined—I was afraid of +him. He said he would shoot himself. And he would have done it; so I +accepted. I should have ended by loving him. For he wished me to love +him, and he always had his way. He was a man, and he held the same +view of my world that I myself hold. Mr. Foster, you must think I'm in +a very chattering mood."</p> + +<p>I protested with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"Lord Clarenceux died. And I am alone. I was terribly lonely after his +death. I missed his jealousy."</p> + +<p>"He was jealous?"</p> + +<p>"He was the most jealous man, I think, who ever lived. His jealousy +escorted me everywhere like a guard of soldiers. Yet I liked him even +for that. He was genuine; so sincere, so masterful with it. In all +matters his methods were drastic. If he had been alive I should not be +tormented by the absurd fears which I now allow to get the better of +me."</p> + +<p>"Fears! About what?"</p> + +<p>"To be frank, about my debut at the Opéra Comique. I can imagine," she +smiled, "how he would have dealt with that situation."</p> + +<p>"You are afraid of something?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I merely fear.... There is Carlotta Deschamps."</p> + +<p>"Miss Rosa, a few minutes ago you called me your friend." My voice was +emotional; I felt it.</p> + +<p>"I did, because you are. I have no claim on you, but you have been +very good to me."</p> + +<p>"You have the best claim on me. Will you rely on me?"</p> + +<p>We looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"I will," she said. I stood before her, and she took my hand.</p> + +<p>"You say you fear. I hope your fears are groundless—candidly, I can't +see how they can be otherwise. But suppose anything should happen. +Well, I shall be at your service."</p> + +<p>At that moment some one knocked and entered. It was Yvette. She +avoided my glance.</p> + +<p>"Madame will take her egg-and-milk before going to rehearsal?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Yvette. Bring it to me here, please."</p> + +<p>"You have a rehearsal to-day?" I asked. "I hope I'm not detaining +you."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not at all. The call is for three o'clock. This is the second one, +and they fixed the hour to suit me. It is really my first rehearsal, +because at the previous one I was too hoarse to sing a note."</p> + +<p>I rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like to come with me to the theatre?" she said with an +adorable accent of invitation.</p> + +<p>My good fortune staggered me.</p> + +<p>After she had taken her egg-and-milk we set out.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>EGG-AND-MILK</h3> + + +<p>I was intensely conscious of her beauty as I sat by her side in the +swiftly rolling victoria. And I was conscious of other qualities in +her too—of her homeliness, her good-fellowship, her trustfulness. The +fact that she was one of the most famous personalities in Europe did +not, after our talk, in the least disturb my pleasing dreams of a +possible future. It was, nevertheless, specially forced upon me, for +as we drove along the Rue de Rivoli, past the interminable façades of +the Louvre, and the big shops, and so into the meaner quarter of the +markets—the Opéra Comique was then situated in its temporary home in +the Place du Châtelet—numberless wayfarers showed by their demeanor +of curiosity that Rosetta Rosa was known to them. They were much more +polite than English people would have been, but they did not hide +their interest in us.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + +<p>The jewels had been locked away in a safe, except one gorgeous emerald +brooch which she was wearing at her neck.</p> + +<p>"It appears," I said, "that in Paris one must not even attend +rehearsals without jewels."</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>"You think I have a passion for jewels, and you despise me for it."</p> + +<p>"By no means. Nobody has a better right to wear precious stones than +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Can you guess why I wear them?"</p> + +<p>"Not because they make you look prettier, for that's impossible."</p> + +<p>"Will you please remember that I like you because you are not in the +habit of making speeches."</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon. I won't offend again. Well, then, I will confess that I +don't know why you wear jewels. There must be a Puritan strain in my +character, for I cannot enter into the desire for jewels. I say this +merely because you have practically invited me to be brutal."</p> + +<p>Now that I recall that conversation I realize how gentle she was +towards my crude and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>callous notions concerning personal adornment.</p> + +<p>"Yet you went to England in order to fetch my jewels."</p> + +<p>"No, I went to England in order to be of use to a lady. But tell +me—why do you wear jewels off the stage?"</p> + +<p>"Simply because, having them, I have a sort of feeling that they ought +to be used. It seems a waste to keep them hidden in a strong box, and +I never could tolerate waste. Really, I scarcely care more for jewels, +as jewels, than you do yourself."</p> + +<p>"Still, for a person who doesn't care for them, you seem to have a +fair quantity of them."</p> + +<p>"Ah! But many were given to me—and the rest I bought when I was +young, or soon afterwards. Besides, they are part of my stock in +trade."</p> + +<p>"When you were young!" I repeated, smiling. "How long is that since?"</p> + +<p>"Ages."</p> + +<p>I coughed.</p> + +<p>"It is seven years since I was young," she said, "and I was sixteen at +the time."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are positively venerable, then; and since you are, I must be +too."</p> + +<p>"I am much older than you are," she said; "not in years, but in life. +You don't feel old."</p> + +<p>"And do you?"</p> + +<p>"Frightfully."</p> + +<p>"What brings it on?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Experience—and other things. It is the soul which grows old."</p> + +<p>"But you have been happy?"</p> + +<p>"Never—never in my life, except when I was singing, have I been +happy. Have you been happy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "once or twice."</p> + +<p>"When you were a boy?"</p> + +<p>"No, since I have become a man. Just—just recently."</p> + +<p>"People fancy they are happy," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that the same thing as being happy?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps." Then suddenly changing the subject: "You haven't told me +about your journey. Just a bare statement that there was a delay on +the railway and another delay on the steamer. Don't you think you +ought to fill in the details?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>So I filled them in; but I said nothing about my mysterious enemy who +had accompanied me, and who after strangely disappearing and +reappearing had disappeared again; nor about the woman whom I had met +on the Admiralty Pier. I wondered when he might reappear once more. +There was no proper reason why I should not have told Rosa about these +persons, but some instinctive feeling, some timidity of spirit, +prevented me from doing so.</p> + +<p>"How thrilling! Were you frightened on the steamer?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I admitted frankly.</p> + +<p>"You may not think it," she said, "but I should not have been +frightened. I have never been frightened at Death."</p> + +<p>"But have you ever been near him?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" she answered thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>We were at the stage-door of the theatre. The olive-liveried footman +dismounted, and gravely opened the door of the carriage. I got out, +and gave my hand to Rosa, and we entered the theatre.</p> + +<p>In an instant she had become the prima donna. The curious little +officials of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>theatre bowed before her, and with prodigious smiles +waved us forward to the stage. The stage-manager, a small, fat man +with white hair, was drilling the chorus. As soon as he caught sight +of us he dismissed the short-skirted girls and the fatigued-looking +men, and skipped towards us. The orchestra suddenly ceased. Everyone +was quiet. The star had come.</p> + +<p>"Good day, mademoiselle. You are here to the moment."</p> + +<p>Rosa and the régisseur talked rapidly together, and presently the +conductor of the orchestra stepped from his raised chair on to the +stage, and with a stately inclination to Rosa joined in the +conversation. As for me, I looked about, and was stared at. So far as +I could see there was not much difference between an English stage and +a French stage, viewed at close quarters, except that the French +variety possesses perhaps more officials and a more bureaucratic air. +I gazed into the cold, gloomy auditorium, so bare of decoration, and +decided that in England such an auditorium would not be tolerated.</p> + +<p>After much further chatter the conductor bowed again, and returned to +his seat. Rosa <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>beckoned to me, and I was introduced to the +stage-manager.</p> + +<p>"Allow me to present to you Mr. Foster, one of my friends."</p> + +<p>Rosa coughed, and I noticed that her voice was slightly hoarse.</p> + +<p>"You have taken cold during the drive," I said, pouring into the sea +of French a little stream of English.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. It is nothing; it will pass off in a minute."</p> + +<p>The stage-manager escorted me to a chair near a grand piano which +stood in the wings. Then some male artists, evidently people of +importance, appeared out of the darkness at the back of the stage. +Rosa took off her hat and gloves, and placed them on the grand piano. +I observed that she was flushed, and I put it down to the natural +excitement of the artist about to begin work. The orchestra sounded +resonantly in the empty theatre, and, under the yellow glare of +unshaded electricity, the rehearsal of "Carmen" began at the point +where Carmen makes her first entry.</p> + +<p>As Rosa came to the centre of the stage from the wings she staggered. +One would have thought she was drunk. At her cue, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>instead of +commencing to sing, she threw up her hands, and with an appealing +glance at me sank down to the floor. I rushed to her, and immediately +the entire personnel of the theatre was in a state of the liveliest +excitement. I thought of a similar scene in London not many months +before. But the poor girl was perfectly conscious, and even +self-possessed.</p> + +<p>"Water!" she murmured. "I shall die of thirst if you don't give me +some water to drink at once."</p> + +<p>There appeared to be no water within the theatre, but at last some one +appeared with a carafe and glass. She drank two glassfuls, and then +dropped the glass, which broke on the floor.</p> + +<p>"I am not well," she said; "I feel so hot, and there is that +hoarseness in my throat. Mr. Foster, you must take me home. The +rehearsal will have to be postponed again; I am sorry. It's very +queer."</p> + +<p>She stood up with my assistance, looking wildly about her, but +appealing to no one but myself.</p> + +<p>"It is queer," I said, supporting her.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle was ill in the same way last <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>time," several sympathetic +voices cried out, and some of the women caressed her gently.</p> + +<p>"Let me get home," she said, half-shouting, and she clung to me. "My +hat—my gloves—quick!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," I said; "I will get a fiacre."</p> + +<p>"Why not my victoria?" she questioned imperiously.</p> + +<p>"Because you must go in a closed carriage," I said firmly.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle will accept my brougham?"</p> + +<p>A tall dark man had come forward. He was the Escamillo. She thanked +him with a look. Some woman threw a cloak over Rosa's shoulders, and, +the baritone on one side of her and myself on the other, we left the +theatre. It seemed scarcely a moment since she had entered it +confident and proud.</p> + +<p>During the drive back to her flat I did not speak, but I examined her +narrowly. Her skin was dry and burning, and on her forehead there was +a slight rash. Her lips were dry, and she continually made the motion +of swallowing. Her eyes sparkled, and they seemed to stand out from +her head. Also she still bitterly complained of thirst. She wanted, +indeed, to stop the carriage and have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>something to drink at the Café +de l'Univers, but I absolutely declined to permit such a proceeding, +and in a few minutes we were at her flat. The attack was passing away. +She mounted the stairs without much difficulty.</p> + +<p>"You must go to bed," I said. We were in the salon. "In a few hours +you will be better."</p> + +<p>"I will ring for Yvette."</p> + +<p>"No," I said, "you will not ring for Yvette. I want Yvette myself. +Have you no other servant who can assist you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But why not Yvette?"</p> + +<p>"You can question me to-morrow. Please obey me now. I am your doctor. +I will ring the bell. Yvette will come, and you will at once go out of +the room, find another servant, and retire to bed. You can do that? +You are not faint?"</p> + +<p>"No, I can do it; but it is very queer."</p> + +<p>I rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"You have said that before, and I say, 'It is queer; queerer than you +imagine.' One thing I must ask you before you go. When you had the +attack in the theatre did you see things double?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered. "But how did you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>know? I felt as though I was +intoxicated; but I had taken nothing whatever."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, you had taken egg-and-milk. Here is the glass out of which +you drank it." I picked up the glass, which had been left on the +table, and which still contained about a spoonful of egg-and-milk.</p> + +<p>Yvette entered in response to my summons.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle has returned soon," the girl began lightly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The two women looked at each other. I hastened to the door, and held +it open for Rosa to pass out. She did so. I closed the door, and put +my back against it. The glass I still held in my hand.</p> + +<p>"Now, Yvette, I want to ask you a few questions."</p> + +<p>She stood before me, pretty even in her plain black frock and black +apron, and folded her hands. Her face showed no emotion whatever.</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, but mademoiselle will need me."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle will not need you. She will never need you again."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur says?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You see this glass. What did you put in it?"</p> + +<p>"The cook put egg-and-milk into it."</p> + +<p>"I ask what you put in it?"</p> + +<p>"I, monsieur? Nothing."</p> + +<p>"You are lying, my girl. Your mistress has been poisoned."</p> + +<p>"I swear—"</p> + +<p>"I should advise you not to swear. You have twice attempted to poison +your mistress. Why did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"But this is absurd."</p> + +<p>"Does your mistress use eyedrops when she sings at the Opéra?"</p> + +<p>"Eyedrops?"</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean. A lotion which you drop into the eye in order +to dilate the pupil."</p> + +<p>"My mistress never uses eyedrops."</p> + +<p>"Does Madame Carlotta Deschamps use eyedrops?"</p> + +<p>It was a courageous move on my part, but it had its effect. She was +startled.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"I ask because eyedrops contain atropine, and mademoiselle is +suffering from a slight, a very slight, attack of atropine poisoning. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>The dose must have been very nicely gauged; it was just enough to +produce a temporary hoarseness and discomfort. I needn't tell such a +clever girl as you that atropine acts first on the throat. It has +clearly been some one's intention to prevent mademoiselle from singing +at rehearsals, and from appearing in Paris in 'Carmen.'"</p> + +<p>Yvette drew herself up, her nostrils quivering. She had turned +decidedly pale.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur insults me by his suspicions. I must go."</p> + +<p>"You won't go just immediately. I may tell you further that I have +analyzed the contents of this glass, and have found traces of +atropine."</p> + +<p>I had done no such thing, but that was a detail.</p> + +<p>"Also, I have sent for the police."</p> + +<p>This, too, was an imaginative statement.</p> + +<p>Yvette approached me suddenly, and flung her arms round my neck. I had +just time to put the glass on the seat of a chair and seize her hands.</p> + +<p>"No," I said, "you will neither spill that glass nor break it."</p> + +<p>She dropped at my feet weeping.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have pity on me, monsieur!" She looked up at me through her tears, +and the pose was distinctly effective. "It was Madame Deschamps who +asked me to do it. I used to be with her before I came to +mademoiselle. She gave me the bottle, but I didn't know it was +poison—I swear I didn't!"</p> + +<p>"What did you take it to be, then? Jam? Two grains of atropine will +cause death."</p> + +<p>For answer she clung to my knees. I released myself, and moved away a +few steps. She jumped up, and made a dash for the door, but I happened +to have locked it.</p> + +<p>"Where is Madame Deschamps?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"She returns to Paris to-morrow. Monsieur will let me go. I was only a +tool."</p> + +<p>"I will consider that matter, Yvette," I said. "In my opinion you are +a thoroughly wicked girl, and I wouldn't trust you any further than I +could see you. For the present, you will have an opportunity to +meditate over your misdoings." I left the room, and locked the door on +the outside.</p> + +<p>Impossible to disguise the fact that I was enormously pleased with +myself—with my sharpness, my smartness, my penetration, my success.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE PORTRAIT</h3> + + +<p>For the next hour or two I wandered about Rosa's flat like an +irresolute and bewildered spirit. I wished to act, yet without Rosa I +scarcely liked to do so. That some sort of a plot existed—whether +serious or trivial was no matter—there could be little doubt, and +there could be little doubt also that Carlotta Deschamps was at the +root of it.</p> + +<p>Several half-formed schemes flitted through my head, but none of them +seemed to be sufficiently clever. I had the idea of going to see +Carlotta Deschamps in order to warn her. Then I thought the warning +might perhaps be sent through her sister Marie, who was doubtless in +Paris, and who would probably be able to control Carlotta. I had not +got Carlotta's address, but I might get it by going to the Casino de +Paris, and asking Marie for it. Perhaps Marie, suspicious, might +refuse <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>the address. Had she not said that she and Carlotta were as +thick as thieves? Moreover, assuming that I could see Carlotta, what +should I say to her? How should I begin? Then it occurred to me that +the shortest way with such an affair was to go directly to the police, +as I had already threatened Yvette; but the appearance of the police +would mean publicity, scandal, and other things unpleasant for Rosa. +So it fell out that I maintained a discreet inactivity.</p> + +<p>Towards nightfall I went into the street to breathe the fresh air. A +man was patrolling the pavement in a somewhat peculiar manner. I +returned indoors, and after half an hour reconnoitred once more. The +man was on the opposite side of the road, with his eyes on the windows +of the salon. When he caught sight of me he walked slowly away. He +might have been signalling to Yvette, who was still under lock and +key, but this possibility did not disturb me, as escape was out of the +question for her.</p> + +<p>I went back to the flat, and a servant met me in the hall with a +message that mademoiselle was now quite recovered, and would like to +see me in her boudoir. I hurried to her. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>A fire was burning on the +hearth, and before this were two lounge chairs. Rosa occupied one, and +she motioned me to the other. Attired in a peignoir of pure white, and +still a little languorous after the attack, she looked the enchanting +perfection of beauty and grace. But in her eyes, which were unduly +bright, there shone an apprehension, the expectancy of the unknown.</p> + +<p>"I am better," she said, with a faint smile. "Feel my pulse."</p> + +<p>I held her wrist and took out my watch, but I forgot to count, and I +forgot to note the seconds. I was gazing at her. It seemed absurd to +contemplate the possibility of ever being able to call her my own.</p> + +<p>"Am I not better?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," I said; "the pulse is—the pulse is—you are much better."</p> + +<p>Then I pushed my chair a little further from the fire, and recollected +that there were several things to be said and done.</p> + +<p>"I expected the attack would pass very quickly," I said.</p> + +<p>"Then you know what I have been suffering from," she said, turning her +chair rapidly half-round towards me.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do," I answered, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>I was silent.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "tell me what it is." She laughed, but her voice was +low and anxious.</p> + +<p>"I am just wondering whether I shall tell you."</p> + +<p>"Stuff!" she exclaimed proudly. "Am I a child?"</p> + +<p>"You are a woman, and should be shielded from the sharp edges of +life."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she murmured "Not all men have thought so. And I wish you +wouldn't talk like that."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, I think like that," I said. "And I'm really anxious to +save you from unnecessary annoyance."</p> + +<p>"Then I insist that you shall tell me," she replied inconsequently. "I +will not have you adopt that attitude towards me. Do you understand? I +won't have it! I'm not a Dresden shepherdess, and I won't be treated +like one—at any rate, by you. So there!"</p> + +<p>I was in the seventh heaven of felicity.</p> + +<p>"If you will have it, you have been poisoned."</p> + +<p>I told her of my suspicions, and how they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>had been confirmed by +Yvette's avowal. She shivered, and then stood up and came towards me.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that Carlotta Deschamps and my own maid have +conspired together to poison me simply because I am going to sing in a +certain piece at a certain theatre? It's impossible!"</p> + +<p>"But it is true. Deschamps may not have wished to kill you; she merely +wanted to prevent you from singing, but she ran a serious risk of +murder, and she must have known it."</p> + +<p>Rosa began to sob, and I led her back to her chair.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to have told you to-night," I said. "But we should +communicate with the police, and I wanted your authority before doing +so."</p> + +<p>She dried her eyes, but her frame still shook.</p> + +<p>"I will sing 'Carmen,'" she said passionately.</p> + +<p>"Of course you will. We must get these two arrested, and you shall +have proper protection."</p> + +<p>"Police? No! We will have no police."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You object to the scandal? I had thought of that."</p> + +<p>"It is not that I object to the scandal. I despise Deschamps and +Yvette too much to take the slightest notice of either of them. I +could not have believed that women would so treat another woman." She +hid her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>"But is it not your duty—" I began.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Foster, please, please don't argue. I am incapable of prosecuting +these creatures. You say Yvette is locked up in the salon. Go to her, +and tell her to depart. Tell her that I shall do nothing, that I do +not hate her, that I bear her no ill-will, that I simply ignore her. +And let her carry the same message to Carlotta Deschamps."</p> + +<p>"Suppose there should be a further plot?"</p> + +<p>"There can't be. Knowing that this one is discovered, they will never +dare.... And even if they tried again in some other way, I would +sooner walk in danger all my life than acknowledge the existence of +such creatures. Will you go at once?"</p> + +<p>"As you wish;" and I went out.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Foster."</p> + +<p>She called me back. Taking my hand with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>a gesture half-caressing, she +raised her face to mine. Our eyes met, and in hers was a gentle, +trustful appeal, a pathetic and entrancing wistfulness, which sent a +sudden thrill through me. Her clasp of my fingers tightened ever so +little.</p> + +<p>"I haven't thanked you in words," she said, "for all you have done for +me, and are doing. But you know I'm grateful, don't you?"</p> + +<p>I could feel the tears coming into my eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing, absolutely nothing," I muttered, and hurried from the +room.</p> + +<p>At first, in the salon, I could not see Yvette, though the electric +light had been turned on, no doubt by herself. Then there was a +movement of one of the window-curtains, and she appeared from behind +it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is you," she said calmly, with a cold smile. She had +completely recovered her self-possession, so much was evident; and +apparently she was determined to play the game to the end, accepting +defeat with an air of ironical and gay indifference. Yvette was by no +means an ordinary woman. Her face was at once sinister and attractive, +with lines of strength about it; she moved with a certain distinction; +she had brains and various abil<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>ities; and I imagined her to have been +capable of some large action, a first-class sin or a really dramatic +self-sacrifice—she would have been ready for either. But of her +origin I am to this day as ignorant as of her ultimate fate.</p> + +<p>A current of air told me that a window was open.</p> + +<p>"I noticed a suspicious-looking man outside just now," I said. "Is he +one of your confederates? Have you been communicating with him?"</p> + +<p>She sat down in an armchair, leaned backwards, and began to hum an +air—la, la, la.</p> + +<p>"Answer me. Come!"</p> + +<p>"And if I decline?"</p> + +<p>"You will do well to behave yourself," I said; and, going to the +window, I closed it, and slipped the catch.</p> + +<p>"I hope the gendarmes will be here soon," she murmured amiably; "I am +rather tired of waiting." She affected to stifle a yawn.</p> + +<p>"Yvette," I said, "you know as well as I do that you have committed a +serious crime. Tell me all about Deschamps' jealousy of your mistress; +make a full confession, and I will see what can be done for you."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>She put her thin lips together.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied in a sharp staccato. "I have done what I have done, +and I will answer only the juge d'instruction."</p> + +<p>"Better think twice."</p> + +<p>"Never. It is a trick you wish to play on me."</p> + +<p>"Very well." I went to the door, and opened it wide. "You are free to +go."</p> + +<p>"To go?"</p> + +<p>"It is your mistress's wish."</p> + +<p>"She will not send me to prison?"</p> + +<p>"She scorns to do anything whatever."</p> + +<p>For a moment the girl looked puzzled, and then:</p> + +<p>"Ah! it is a bad pleasantry; the gendarmes are on the stairs."</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders, and at length she tripped quietly out of the +room. I heard her run down-stairs. Then, to my astonishment, the +footfalls approached again, and Yvette re-entered the room and closed +the door.</p> + +<p>"I see it is not a bad pleasantry," she began, with her back to the +door. "Mademoiselle is a great lady, and I have always known that; she +is an artist; she has soul—so have I. What you could not force from +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>me, neither you nor any man, I will tell you of my own free will. You +want to hear of Deschamps?"</p> + +<p>I nodded, half-admiring her—perhaps more than half.</p> + +<p>"She is a woman to fear. I have told you I used to be her maid before +I came to mademoiselle, and even I was always afraid of her. But I +liked her. We understood each other, Deschamps and I. Mademoiselle +imagines that Deschamps became jealous of her because of a certain +affair that happened at the Opéra Comique several years ago—a mere +quarrel of artists, of which I have seen many. That was partly the +cause, but there was something else. Deschamps used to think that Lord +Clarenceux was in love with her—with her! As a fact, he was not; but +she used to think so, and when Lord Clarenceux first began to pay +attention to mademoiselle, then it was that the jealousy of Deschamps +really sprang up. Ah! I have heard Deschamps swear to—But that is +nothing. She never forgave mademoiselle for being betrothed to Lord +Clarenceux. When he died, she laughed; but her hatred of mademoiselle +was unchanged. It smouldered, only it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>very hot underneath. And I +can understand—Lord Clarenceux was so handsome and so rich, the most +fine stern man I ever saw. He used to give me hundred-franc notes."</p> + +<p>"Never mind the notes. Why has Deschamps' jealousy revived so suddenly +just recently?"</p> + +<p>"Why? Because mademoiselle would come back to the Opéra Comique. +Deschamps could not suffer that. And when she heard it was to be so, +she wrote to me—to me!—and asked if it was true that mademoiselle +was to appear as Carmen. Then she came to see me—me—and I was +obliged to tell her it was true, and she was frightfully angry, and +then she began to cry—oh, her despair! She said she knew a way to +stop mademoiselle from singing, and she begged me to help her, and I +said I would."</p> + +<p>"You were willing to betray your mistress?"</p> + +<p>"Deschamps swore it would do no real harm. Do I not tell you that +Deschamps and I always liked each other? We were old friends. I +sympathized with her; she is growing old."</p> + +<p>"How much did she promise to pay you?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not a sou—not a centime. I swear it." The girl stamped her foot and +threw up her head, reddening with the earnestness of her disclaimer. +"What I did, I did from love; and I thought it would not harm +mademoiselle, really."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless you might have killed your mistress."</p> + +<p>"Alas!"</p> + +<p>"Answer me this: Now that your attempt has failed, what will Deschamps +do? Will she stop, or will she try something else?"</p> + +<p>Yvette shook her head slowly.</p> + +<p>"I do not know. She is dangerous. Sometimes she is like a mad woman. +You must take care. For myself, I will never see her again."</p> + +<p>"You give your word on that?"</p> + +<p>"I have said it. There is nothing more to tell you. So, adieu. Say to +mademoiselle that I have repented."</p> + +<p>She opened the door, and as she did so her eye seemed by chance to +catch a small picture which hung by the side of the hearth. My back +was to the fireplace, and I did not trouble to follow her glance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>"Ah," she murmured reflectively, "he was the most fine stern man ... +and he gave me hundred-franc notes."</p> + +<p>Then she was gone. We never saw nor heard of Yvette again.</p> + +<p>Out of curiosity, I turned to look at the picture which must have +caught her eye. It was a little photograph, framed in black, and hung +by itself on the wall; in the ordinary way one would scarcely have +noticed it. I went close up to it. My heart gave a jump, and I seemed +to perspire. The photograph was a portrait of the man who, since my +acquaintance with Rosa, had haunted my footsteps—the mysterious and +implacable person whom I had seen first opposite the Devonshire +Mansion, then in the cathedral at Bruges during my vigil by the corpse +of Alresca, then in the train which was wrecked, and finally in the +Channel steamer which came near to sinking. Across the lower part of +it ran the signature, in large, stiff characters, "Clarenceux."</p> + +<p>So Lord Clarenceux was not dead, though everyone thought him so. Here +was a mystery more disturbing than anything which had gone before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE VILLA</h3> + + +<p>It seemed to be my duty to tell Rosa, of course with all possible +circumspection, that, despite a general impression to the contrary, +Lord Clarenceux was still alive. His lordship's reasons for effacing +himself, and so completely deceiving his friends and the world, I +naturally could not divine; but I knew that such things had happened +before, and also I gathered that he was a man who would hesitate at no +caprice, however extravagant, once it had suggested itself to him as +expedient for the satisfaction of his singular nature.</p> + +<p>A light broke in upon me: Alresca must have been aware that Lord +Clarenceux was alive. That must have been part of Alresca's secret, +but only part. I felt somehow that I was on the verge of some tragical +discovery which might vitally affect not only my own existence, but +that of others.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<p>I saw Rosa on the morning after my interview with Yvette. She was in +perfect health and moderately good spirits, and she invited me to dine +with her that evening. "I will tell her after dinner," I said to +myself. The project of telling her seemed more difficult as it +approached. She said that she had arranged by telephone for another +rehearsal at the Opéra Comique at three o'clock, but she did not +invite me to accompany her. I spent the afternoon at the Sorbonne, +where I had some acquaintances, and after calling at my hotel, the +little Hôtel de Portugal in the Rue Croix des Petits Champs, to dress, +I drove in a fiacre to the Rue de Rivoli. I had carefully considered +how best in conversation I might lead Rosa to the subject of Lord +Clarenceux, and had arranged a little plan. Decidedly I did not +anticipate the interview with unmixed pleasure; but, as I have said, I +felt bound to inform her that her former lover's death was a fiction. +My suit might be doomed thereby to failure,—I had no right to expect +otherwise,—but if it should succeed and I had kept silence on this +point, I should have played the part of a—well, of a man "of three +letters."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle is not at home," said the servant.</p> + +<p>"Not at home! But I am dining with her, my friend."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle has been called away suddenly, and she has left a note +for monsieur. Will monsieur give himself the trouble to come into the +salon?"</p> + +<p>The note ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Friend:—A thousand excuses! But the enclosed will +explain. I felt that I must go—and go instantly. She might +die before I arrived. Will you call early to-morrow?</p> + +<p class="quotsig"> +"Your grateful<br /> +"Rosa"<br /> +</p> + +</div> + +<p>And this was the enclosure, written in French:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="quotdate"> +"<span class="smcap">Villa des Hortensias,</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Rue Thiers, Pantin, Paris.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle:—I am dying. I have wronged you deeply, and I +dare not die without your forgiveness. Prove to me that you +have a great heart by coming to my bedside <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>and telling me +that you accept my repentance. The bearer will conduct you.</p> + +<p class="quotsig"> +"Carlotta Deschamps."<br /> +</p> + +</div> + +<p>"What time did mademoiselle leave?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Less than a quarter of an hour ago," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Who brought the note to her?"</p> + +<p>"A man, monsieur. Mademoiselle accompanied him in a cab."</p> + +<p>With a velocity which must have startled the grave and leisurely +servant, I precipitated myself out of the house and back into the +fiacre, which happily had not gone away. I told the cabman to drive to +my hotel at his best speed.</p> + +<p>To me Deschamps' letter was in the highest degree suspicious. Rosa, of +course, with the simplicity of a heart incapable of any baseness, had +accepted it in perfect faith. But I remembered the words of Yvette, +uttered in all solemnity: "She is dangerous; you must take care." +Further, I observed that the handwriting of this strange and dramatic +missive was remarkably firm and regular for a dying woman, and that +the composition <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>showed a certain calculated effectiveness. I feared a +lure. Instinctively I knew Deschamps to be one of those women who, +driven by the goad of passionate feeling, will proceed to any length, +content to postpone reflection till afterwards—when the irremediable +has happened.</p> + +<p>By chance I was slightly acquainted with the remote and sinister +suburb where lay the Villa des Hortensias. I knew that at night it +possessed a peculiar reputation, and my surmise was that Rosa had been +decoyed thither with some evil intent.</p> + +<p>Arrived at my hotel, I unearthed my revolver and put it in my pocket. +Nothing might occur; on the other hand, everything might occur, and it +was only prudent to be prepared. Dwelling on this thought, I also took +the little jewelled dagger which Rosa had given to Sir Cyril Smart at +the historic reception of my Cousin Sullivan's.</p> + +<p>In the hall of the hotel I looked at the plan of Paris. Certainly +Pantin seemed to be a very long way off. The route to it from the +centre of the city—that is to say, the Place de l'Opéra—followed the +Rue Lafayette, which is the longest straight thoroughfare in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>Paris, +and then the Rue d'Allemagne, which is a continuation, in the same +direct line, of the Rue Lafayette. The suburb lay without the +fortifications. The Rue Thiers—every Parisian suburb has its Rue +Thiers—was about half a mile past the barrier, on the right.</p> + +<p>I asked the aged woman who fulfils the functions of hall-porter at the +Hôtel de Portugal whether a cab would take me to Pantin.</p> + +<p>"Pantin," she repeated, as she might have said "Timbuctoo." And she +called the proprietor. The proprietor also said "Pantin" as he might +have said "Timbuctoo," and advised me to take the steam-tram which +starts from behind the Opéra, to let that carry me as far as it would, +and then, arrived in those distant regions, either to find a cab or to +walk the remainder of the distance.</p> + +<p>So, armed, I issued forth, and drove to the tram, and placed myself on +the top of the tram. And the tram, after much tooting of horns, set +out.</p> + +<p>Through kilometre after kilometre of gaslit clattering monotony that +immense and deafening conveyance took me. There were cafés everywhere, +thickly strewn on both sides of the way—at first large and lofty and +richly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>decorated, with vast glazed façades, and manned by waiters in +black and white, then gradually growing smaller and less busy. The +black and white waiters gave place to men in blouses, and men in +blouses gave place to women and girls—short, fat women and girls who +gossiped among themselves and to customers. Once we passed a café +quite deserted save for the waiter and the waitress, who sat, head on +arms, side by side, over a table asleep.</p> + +<p>Then the tram stopped finally, having covered about three miles. There +was no sign of a cab. I proceeded on foot. The shops got smaller and +dingier; they were filled, apparently, by the families of the +proprietors. At length I crossed over a canal—the dreadful quarter of +La Villette—and here the street widened out to an immense width, and +it was silent and forlorn under the gas-lamps. I hurried under railway +bridges, and I saw in the distance great shunting-yards looking grim +in their blue hazes of electric light. Then came the city barrier and +the octroi, and still the street stretched in front of me, darker now, +more mischievous, more obscure. I was in Pantin.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last I descried the white and blue sign of the Rue Thiers. I stood +alone in the shadow of high, forbidding houses. All seemed strange and +fearsome. Certainly this might still be called Paris, but it was not +the Paris known to Englishmen; it was the Paris of Zola, and Zola in a +Balzacian mood.</p> + +<p>I turned into the Rue Thiers, and at once the high, forbidding houses +ceased, and small detached villas—such as are to be found in +thousands round the shabby skirts of Paris—took their place. The +Villa des Hortensias, clearly labelled, was nearly at the far end of +the funereal street. It was rather larger than its fellows, and +comprised three stories, with a small garden in front and a vast +grille with a big bell, such as Parisians love when they have passed +the confines of the city, and have dispensed with the security of a +concierge. The grille was ajar. I entered the garden, having made sure +that the bell would not sound. The façade of the house showed no light +whatever. A double stone stairway of four steps led to the front door. +I went up the steps, and was about to knock, when the idea flashed +across my mind: "Suppose that Deschamps is really dying, how am I to +ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>plain my presence here? I am not the guardian of Rosa, and she may +resent being tracked across Paris by a young man with no claim to +watch her actions."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, in an expedition of this nature one must accept risks, +and therefore I knocked gently. There was no reply to the summons, and +I was cogitating upon my next move when, happening to press against +the door with my hand, I discovered that it was not latched. Without +weighing consequences, I quietly opened it, and with infinite caution +stepped into the hall, and pushed the door to. I did not latch it, +lest I might need to make a sudden exit—unfamiliar knobs and springs +are apt to be troublesome when one is in a hurry.</p> + +<p>I was now fairly in the house, but the darkness was blacker than the +pit, and I did not care to strike a match. I felt my way along by the +wall till I came to a door on the left; it was locked. A little +further was another door, also locked. I listened intently, for I +fancied I could hear a faint murmur of voices, but I was not sure. +Then I startled myself by stepping on nothing—I was at the head of a +flight of stone steps; down below I could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>distinguish an almost +imperceptible glimmer of light.</p> + +<p>"I'm in for it. Here goes!" I reflected, and I crept down the steps +one by one, and in due course reached the bottom. To the left was a +doorway, through which came the glimmer of light. Passing through the +doorway, I came into a room with a stone floor. The light, which was +no stronger than the very earliest intimation of a winter's dawn, +seemed to issue in a most unusual way from the far corner of this +apartment near the ceiling. I directed my course towards it, and in +the transit made violent contact with some metallic object, which +proved to be an upright iron shaft, perhaps three inches in diameter, +running from floor to ceiling.</p> + +<p>"Surely," I thought, "this is the queerest room I was ever in."</p> + +<p>Circumnavigating the pillar, I reached the desired corner, and stood +under the feeble source of light. I could see now that in this corner +the ceiling was higher than elsewhere, and that the light shone dimly +from a perpendicular pane of glass which joined the two levels of the +ceiling. I also saw that there was a ledge about two feet from the +floor, upon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>which a man would stand in order to look through the +pane.</p> + +<p>I climbed on to the ledge, and I looked. To my astonishment, I had a +full view of a large apartment, my head being even with the floor of +that apartment. Lying on a couch was a woman—the woman who had +accosted me on Dover Pier—Carlotta Deschamps, in fact. By her side, +facing her in a chair, was Rosetta Rosa. I could hear nothing, but by +the movement of their lips I knew that these two were talking. Rosa's +face was full of pity; as for Deschamps, her coarse features were +inscrutable. She had a certain pallor, but it was impossible to judge +whether she was ill or well.</p> + +<p>I had scarcely begun to observe the two women when I caught the sound +of footsteps on the stone stair. The footsteps approached; they +entered the room where I was. I made no sound. Without any hesitation +the footsteps arrived at my corner, and a pair of hands touched my +legs. Then I knew it was time to act. Jumping down from the ledge, I +clasped the intruder by the head, and we rolled over together, +struggling. But he was a short man, apparently stiff in the limbs, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>in ten seconds or thereabouts I had him flat on his back, and my hand +at his throat.</p> + +<p>"Don't move," I advised him.</p> + +<p>In that faint light I could not see him, so I struck a match, and held +it over the man's face. We gazed at each other, breathing heavily.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" the man exclaimed.</p> + +<p>It was Sir Cyril Smart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE SHEATH OF THE DAGGER</h3> + + +<p>That was one of those supremely trying moments which occur, I suppose, +once or twice in the lives of most men, when events demand to be fully +explained while time will on no account permit of the explanation. I +felt that I must know at once the reason and purpose of Sir Cyril's +presence with me in the underground chamber, and that I could do +nothing further until I had such knowledge. And yet I also felt that +explanations must inevitably wait until the scene enacting above us +was over. I stood for a second silent, irresolute. The match went out.</p> + +<p>"Are you here to protect her?" whispered Sir Cyril.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if she is in danger. I will tell you afterwards about things. +And you?"</p> + +<p>"I was passing through Paris, and I heard that Deschamps was +threatening Rosa. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>Everyone is talking of it, and I heard of the +scene at the rehearsal, and I began to guess.... I know Deschamps +well. I was afraid for Rosa. Then this morning I met Yvette, Rosa's +maid—she's an old acquaintance of mine—and she told me everything. I +have many friends in Paris, and I learnt to-night that Deschamps had +sent for Rosa. So I have come up to interfere. They are up-stairs, are +they not? Let us watch."</p> + +<p>"You know the house, then?"</p> + +<p>"I have been here before, to one of Deschamps' celebrated suppers. She +showed me all over it then. It is one of the strangest houses round +about Paris—and that's saying something. The inside was rebuilt by a +Russian count who wanted to do the Louis Quinze revelry business over +again. He died, and Deschamps bought the place. She often stays here +quite alone."</p> + +<p>I was putting all the questions. Sir Cyril seemed not to be very +curious concerning the origin of my presence.</p> + +<p>"What is Rosa to you?" I queried with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"What is she to you?" he returned quickly.</p> + +<p>"To me she is everything," I said.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And to me, my young friend!"</p> + +<p>I could not, of course, see Sir Cyril's face, but the tone of his +reply impressed and silenced me. I was mystified—and yet I felt glad +that he was there. Both of us forgot to be surprised at the +peculiarity of the scene. It appeared quite natural that he should +have supervened so dramatically at precisely the correct moment, and I +asked him for no more information. He evidently did know the place, +for he crept immediately to the ledge, and looked into the room above. +I followed, and stood by his side. The two women were still talking.</p> + +<p>"Can't we get into the room, or do something?" I murmured.</p> + +<p>"Not yet. How do we know that Deschamps means harm? Let us wait. Have +you a weapon?"</p> + +<p>Sir Cyril spoke as one in command, and I accepted the assumption of +authority.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said; "I've got a revolver, and a little dagger."</p> + +<p>"Who knows what may happen? Give me one of them—give me the dagger, +if you like."</p> + +<p>I passed it to him in the darkness. As<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>tounding as it may seem, I am +prepared solemnly to assert that at that moment I had forgotten the +history of the dagger, and Sir Cyril's connection with it.</p> + +<p>I was just going to ask of what use weapons could be, situated as we +were, when I saw Deschamps with a sudden movement jump up from her +bed, her eyes blazing. With an involuntary cry in my throat I hammered +the glass in front of us with the butt of my revolver, but it was at +least an inch thick, and did not even splinter. Sir Cyril sprang from +the ledge instantly. Meanwhile Rosa, the change of whose features +showed that she divined the shameful trick played upon her, stood up, +half-indignant, half-terrified. Deschamps was no more dying than I +was; her eyes burned with the lust of homicide, and with uplifted +twitching hands she advanced like a tiger, and Rosa retreated before +her to the middle of the room.</p> + +<p>Then there was the click of a spring, and a square of the centre of +the floor, with Rosa standing upon it, swiftly descended into the room +where we were. The thing was as startling as a stage illusion; yes, a +thousand-fold more startling than any trick I ever saw. I may state +here, what I learnt afterwards, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>that the room above was originally a +dining-room, and the arrangement of the trap had been designed to +cause a table to disappear and reappear as tables were wont to do at +the notorious banquets of King Louis in the Petit Trianon. The glass +observatory enabled the kitchen attendants to watch the progress of +the meals. Sir Cyril knew of the contrivance, and, rushing to the +upright pillar, had worked it most opportunely.</p> + +<p>The kitchen, as I may now call it, was illuminated with light from the +room above. I hastened to Rosa, who on seeing Sir Cyril and myself +gave a little cry, and fell forward fainting. She was a brave girl, +but one may have too many astonishments. I caught her, and laid her +gently on the floor. Meanwhile Deschamps (the dying Deschamps!) stood +on the edge of the upper floor, stamping and shouting in a high fever +of foiled revenge. She was mad. When I say that she was mad, I mean +that she was merely and simply insane. I could perceive it instantly, +and I foresaw that we should have trouble with her.</p> + +<p>Without the slightest warning, she jumped down into the midst of us. +The distance was a good ten feet, but with a lunatic's luck she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>did +not hurt herself. She faced Sir Cyril, shaking in every limb with +passion, and he, calm, determined, unhurried, raised his dagger to +defend himself against this terrible lioness should the need arise.</p> + +<p>But as he lifted the weapon his eye fell on it; he saw what it was; he +had not observed it before, since we had been in darkness. And as he +looked his composure seemed to desert him. He paled, and his hand +trembled and hung loosely. The mad woman, seizing her chance, snatched +the dagger from him, and like a flash of lightning drove it into his +left breast. Sir Cyril sank down, the dagger sticking out from his +light overcoat.</p> + +<p>The deed was over before I could move. I sprang forward. Deschamps +laughed, and turned to me. I closed with her. She scratched and bit, +and she was by no means a weak woman. At first I feared that in her +fury she would overpower me. At length, however, I managed to master +her; but her strength was far from exhausted, and she would not yield. +She was mad; time was passing. I could not afford to be nice in my +methods, so I contrived to stun her, and proceeded to tie her hands +with my handkerchief. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>Then, panting, I stood up to survey the floor.</p> + +<p>I may be forgiven, perhaps, if at that frightful crisis I was not +perfectly cool, and could not decide on the instant upon the wisest +course of action to pursue. Sir Cyril was insensible, and a little +circle of blood was forming round the dagger; Deschamps was +insensible, with a dark bruise on her forehead, inflicted during our +struggle; Rosa was insensible—I presumed from excess of emotion at +the sudden fright.</p> + +<p>I gazed at the three prone forms, pondering over my handiwork and that +of Chance. What should be the next step? Save for my own breathing, +there was a deathlike silence. The light from the empty room above +rained down upon us through the trap, illuminating the still faces +with its yellow glare. Was any other person in the house? From what +Sir Cyril had said, and from my own surmises, I thought not. Whatever +people Deschamps might have employed to carry messages, she had +doubtless dismissed them. She and Rosa had been alone in the building. +I can understand now that there was something peculiarly attractive to +the diseased imagination of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>Deschamps in the prospect of inviting her +victim to the snare, and working vengeance upon a rival unaided, +unseen, solitary in that echoing and deserted mansion. I was horribly +perplexed. It struck me that I ought to be gloomily sorrowful, but I +was not. At the bottom of my soul I felt happy, for Rosa was saved.</p> + +<p>It was Rosa who first recovered consciousness, and her movement in +sitting up recalled me to my duty. I ran to Sir Cyril, and, kneeling +down so as to screen his body from her sight, I drew the dagger from +its sheath, and began hastily, with such implements as I could +contrive on the spur of the moment, to attend to his wound.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" Rosa inquired feebly.</p> + +<p>I considered my reply, and then, without turning towards her, I spoke +in a slow, matter-of-fact voice.</p> + +<p>"Listen carefully to what I say. There has been a plot to—to do you +injury. But you are not hurt. You are, in fact, quite well—don't +imagine anything else. Sir Cyril Smart is here; he's hurt; Deschamps +has wounded him. Deschamps is harmless for the moment, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>but she may +recover and break out again. So I can't leave to get help. You must +go. You have fainted, but I am sure you can walk quite well. Go up the +stairs here, and walk along the hall till you come to the front door; +it is not fastened. Go out into the street, and bring back two +gendarmes—two, mind—and a cab, if you can. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how—"</p> + +<p>"Now, please go at once!" I insisted grimly and coldly. "We can talk +afterwards. Just do as you're told."</p> + +<p>Cowed by the roughness of my tone, she rose and went. I heard her +light, hesitating step pass through the hall, and so out of the house.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes I had done all that could be done for Sir Cyril, as +he lay there. The wound was deep, having regard to the small size of +the dagger, and I could only partially stop the extravasation of +blood, which was profuse. I doubted if he would recover. It was not +long, however, before he regained his senses. He spoke, and I remember +vividly now how pathetic to me was the wagging of his short gray beard +as his jaw moved.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Foster," he said—"your name is Foster, isn't it? Where did you find +that dagger?"</p> + +<p>"You must keep quiet," I said. "I have sent for assistance."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, man. You know I'm done for. Tell me how you got the +dagger."</p> + +<p>So I told him.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he murmured. "It's my luck!" he sighed. Then in little detached +sentences, with many pauses, he began to relate a history of what +happened after Rosa and I had left him on the night of Sullivan's +reception. Much of it was incomprehensible to me; sometimes I could +not make out the words. But it seemed that he had followed us in his +carriage, had somehow met Rosa again, and then, in a sudden frenzy of +remorse, had attempted to kill himself with the dagger in the street. +His reason for this I did not gather. His coachman and footman had +taken him home, and the affair had been kept quiet.</p> + +<p>Remorse for what? I burned to ask a hundred questions, but, fearing to +excite him, I shut my lips.</p> + +<p>"You are in love with her?" he asked.</p> + +<p>I nodded. It was a reply as abrupt as his demand. At that moment +Deschamps laughed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>quietly behind me. I turned round quickly, but she +lay still; though she had come to, the fire in her eyes was quenched, +and I anticipated no immediate difficulty with her.</p> + +<p>"I knew that night that you were in love with her," Sir Cyril +continued. "Has she told you about—about me?"</p> + +<p>"No," I said.</p> + +<p>"I have done her a wrong, Foster—her and another. But she will tell +you. I can't talk now. I'm going—going. Tell her that I died in +trying to protect her; say that—Foster—say—" He relapsed into +unconsciousness.</p> + +<p>I heard firm, rapid steps in the hall, and in another instant the +representatives of French law had taken charge of the house. Rosa +followed them in. She looked wistfully at Sir Cyril, and then, +flinging herself down by his side, burst into wild tears.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE THING IN THE CHAIR</h3> + + +<p>On the following night I sat once more in the salon of Rosa's flat. +She had had Sir Cyril removed thither. He was dying; I had done my +best, but his case was quite hopeless, and at Rosa's urgent entreaty I +had at last left her alone by his bedside.</p> + +<p>I need not recount all the rush of incidents that had happened since +the tragedy at the Villa des Hortensias on the previous evening. Most +people will remember the tremendous sensation caused by the judicial +inquiry—an inquiry which ended in the tragical Deschamps being +incarcerated in the Charenton Asylum. For aught I know, the poor +woman, once one of the foremost figures in the gaudy world of +theatrical Paris, is still there consuming her heart with a futile +hate.</p> + +<p>Rosa would never refer in any way to the interview between Deschamps +and herself; it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>was as if she had hidden the memory of it in some +secret chamber of her soul, which nothing could induce her to open +again. But there can be no doubt that Deschamps had intended to murder +her, and, indeed, would have murdered her had it not been for the +marvellously opportune arrival of Sir Cyril. With the door of the room +locked as it was, I should assuredly have been condemned, lacking Sir +Cyril's special knowledge of the house, to the anguish of witnessing a +frightful crime without being able to succor the victim. To this day I +can scarcely think of that possibility and remain calm.</p> + +<p>As for Sir Cyril's dramatic appearance in the villa, when I had learnt +all the facts, that was perhaps less extraordinary than it had seemed +to me from our hasty dialogue in the underground kitchen of Deschamps' +house. Although neither Rosa nor I was aware of it, operatic circles +had been full of gossip concerning Deschamps' anger and jealousy, of +which she made no secret. One or two artists of the Opéra Comique had +decided to interfere, or at any rate seriously to warn Rosa, when Sir +Cyril arrived, on his way to London from the German watering-place +where he had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>been staying. All Paris knew Sir Cyril, and Sir Cyril +knew all Paris; he was made acquainted with the facts directly, and +the matter was left to him. A man of singular resolution, originality, +and courage, he had gone straight to the Rue Thiers, having caught a +rumor, doubtless started by the indiscreet Deschamps herself, that +Rosa would be decoyed there. The rest was mere good fortune.</p> + +<p>In regard to the mysterious connection between Sir Cyril and Rosa, I +had at present no clue to it; nor had there been much opportunity for +conversation between Rosa and myself. We had not even spoken to each +other alone, and, moreover, I was uncertain whether she would care to +enlighten me on that particular matter; assuredly I had no right to +ask her to do so. Further, I was far more interested in another, and +to me vastly more important, question, the question of Lord Clarenceux +and his supposed death.</p> + +<p>I was gloomily meditating upon the tangle of events, when the door of +the salon opened, and Rosa entered. She walked stiffly to a chair, +and, sitting down opposite to me, looked into my face with hard, +glittering eyes. For a few moments she did not speak, and I could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>not +break the silence. Then I saw the tears slowly welling up, and I was +glad for that. She was intensely moved, and less agonizing experiences +than she had gone through might easily have led to brain fever in a +woman of her highly emotional temperament.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you leave me, Mr. Foster?" she cried passionately, and +there were sobs in her voice. "Why don't you leave me, and never see +me again?"</p> + +<p>"Leave you?" I said softly. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am cursed. Throughout my life I have been cursed; and the +curse clings, and it falls on those who come near me."</p> + +<p>She gave way to hysterical tears; her head bent till it was almost on +her knees. I went to her, and gently raised it, and put a cushion at +the back of the chair. She grew calmer.</p> + +<p>"If you are cursed, I will be cursed," I said, gazing straight at her, +and then I sat down again.</p> + +<p>The sobbing gradually ceased. She dried her eyes.</p> + +<p>"He is dead," she said shortly.</p> + +<p>I made no response; I had none to make.</p> + +<p>"You do not say anything," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry. Sir Cyril was the right sort."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He was my father," she said.</p> + +<p>"Your father!" I repeated. No revelation could have more profoundly +astonished me.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she firmly repeated.</p> + +<p>We both paused.</p> + +<p>"I thought you had lost both parents," I said at length, rather +lamely.</p> + +<p>"Till lately I thought so too. Listen. I will tell you the tale of all +my life. Not until to-night have I been able to put it together, and +fill in the blanks."</p> + +<p>And this is what she told me:</p> + +<p>"My father was travelling through Europe. He had money, and of course +he met with adventures. One of his adventures was my mother. She lived +among the vines near Avignon, in Southern France; her uncle was a +small grape-grower. She belonged absolutely to the people, but she was +extremely beautiful. I'm not exaggerating; she was. She was one of +those women that believe everything, and my father fell in love with +her. He married her properly at Avignon. They travelled together +through France and Italy, and then to Belgium. Then, in something less +than a year, I was born. She gave herself up to me entirely. She was +not clever; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>she had no social talents and no ambitions. No, she +certainly had not much brain; but to balance that she had a heart—so +large that it completely enveloped my father and me.</p> + +<p>"After three years he had had enough of my mother. He got restive. He +was ambitious. He wanted to shine in London, where he was known, and +where his family had made traditions in the theatrical world. But he +felt that my mother wouldn't—wouldn't be suitable for London. Fancy +the absurdity of a man trying to make a name in London when hampered +by a wife who was practically of the peasant class! He simply left +her. Oh, it was no common case of desertion. He used his influence +over my mother to make her consent. She did consent. It broke her +heart, but hers was the sort of love that suffers, so she let him go. +He arranged to allow her a reasonable income.</p> + +<p>"I can just remember a man who must have been my father. I was three +years old when he left us. Till then we had lived in a large house in +an old city. Can't you guess what house that was? Of course you can. +Yes, it was the house at Bruges where Alresca <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>died. We gave up that +house, my mother and I, and went to live in Italy. Then my father sold +the house to Alresca. I only knew that to-day. You may guess my +childish recollections of Bruges aren't very distinct. It was part of +the understanding that my mother should change her name, and at Pisa +she was known as Madame Montigny. That was the only surname of hers +that I ever knew.</p> + +<p>"As I grew older, my mother told me fairy-tales to account for the +absence of my father. She died when I was sixteen, and before she died +she told me the truth. She begged me to promise to go to him, and said +that I should be happy with him. But I would not promise. I was +sixteen then, and very proud. What my mother had told me made me hate +and despise my father. I left my dead mother's side hating him; I had +a loathing for him which words couldn't express. She had omitted to +tell me his real name; I never asked her, and I was glad not to know +it. In speaking of him, of course she always said 'your father', 'your +father', and she died before she got quite to the end of her story. I +buried my mother, and then I was determined to disappear. My father +might search, but he should <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>never find me. The thought that he would +search and search, and be unhappy for the rest of his life because he +couldn't find me, gave me a kind of joy. So I left Pisa, and I took +with me nothing but the few hundred lire which my mother had by her, +and the toy dagger—my father's gift—which she had always worn in her +hair.</p> + +<p>"I knew that I had a voice. Everyone said that, and my mother had had +it trained up to a certain point. I knew that I could make a +reputation. I adopted the name of Rosetta Rosa, and I set to work. +Others have suffered worse things than I suffered. I made my way. Sir +Cyril Smart, the great English impresario, heard me at Genoa, and +offered me an engagement in London. Then my fortune was made. You know +that story—everyone knows it.</p> + +<p>"Why did I not guess at once that he was my father? I cannot tell. And +not having guessed it at once, why should I ever have guessed it? I +cannot tell. The suspicion stole over me gradually. Let me say that I +always was conscious of a peculiar feeling towards Sir Cyril Smart, +partly antagonistic, yet not wholly so—a feeling I could never +under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>stand. Then suddenly I knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that +Sir Cyril was my father, and in the same moment he knew that I was his +daughter. You were there; you saw us in the portico of the +reception-rooms at that London hotel. I caught him staring at the +dagger in my hair just as if he was staring at a snake—I had not worn +it for some time—and the knowledge of his identity swept over me like +a—like a big wave. I hated him more than ever.</p> + +<p>"That night, it seems, he followed us in his carriage to Alresca's +flat. When I came out of the flat he was waiting. He spoke. I won't +tell you what he said, and I won't tell you what I said. But I was +very curt and very cruel." Her voice trembled. "I got into my +carriage. My God! how cruel I was! To-night he—my father—has told me +that he tried to kill himself with my mother's dagger, there on the +pavement. I had driven him to suicide."</p> + +<p>She stopped. "Do you blame me?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"I do not blame you," I said. "But he is dead, and death ends all +things."</p> + +<p>"You are right," she said. "And he loved <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>me at the last. I know that. +And he saved my life—you and he. He has atoned—atoned for his +conduct to my poor mother. He died with my kiss on his lips."</p> + +<p>And now the tears came into my eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed, and the pathos of her ringing tones was +intolerable to me. "You may well weep for me." Then with abrupt change +she laughed. "Don't you agree that I am cursed? Am I not cursed? Say +it! say it!"</p> + +<p>"I will not say it," I answered. "Why should you be cursed? What do +you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know what I mean, but I know what I feel. Look back at my +life. My mother died, deserted. My father has died, killed by a mad +woman. My dear friend Alresca died—who knows how? Clarenceux—he too +died."</p> + +<p>"Stay!" I almost shouted, springing up, and the suddenness of my +excitement intimidated her. "How do you know that Lord Clarenceux is +dead?"</p> + +<p>I stood before her, trembling with apprehension for the effect of the +disclosure I was about to make. She was puzzled and alarmed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>by the +violent change in me, but she controlled herself.</p> + +<p>"How do I know?" she repeated with strange mildness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, how do you know? Did you see him die?"</p> + +<p>I had a wild desire to glance over my shoulder at the portrait.</p> + +<p>"No, my friend. But I saw him after he was dead. He died suddenly in +Vienna. Don't let us talk about that."</p> + +<p>"Aha!" I laughed incredulously, and then, swiftly driven forward by an +overpowering impulse, I dropped on my knees and seized her hands with +a convulsive grasp. "Rosa! Rosa!"—my voice nearly broke—"you must +know that I love you. Say that you love me—that you would love me +whether Clarenceux were dead or alive."</p> + +<p>An infinite tenderness shone in her face. She put out her hand, and to +calm me stroked my hair.</p> + +<p>"Carl!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>It was enough. I got up. I did not kiss her.</p> + +<p>A servant entered, and said that some one from the theatre had called +to see mademoi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>selle on urgent business. Excusing herself, Rosa went +out. I held open the door for her, and closed it slowly with a sigh of +incredible relief. Then I turned back into the room. I was content to +be alone for a little while.</p> + +<p>Great God! The chair which Rosa had but that instant left was not +empty. Occupying it was a figure—the figure of the man whose portrait +hung on the wall—the figure of the man who had haunted me ever since +I met Rosa—the figure of Lord Clarenceux, whom Rosa had seen dead.</p> + +<p>At last, oh, powers of hell, I knew you! The inmost mystery stood +clear. In one blinding flash of comprehension I felt the fullness of +my calamity. This man that I had seen was not a man, but a malign and +jealous spirit—using his spectral influences to crush the mortals +bold enough to love the woman whom he had loved on earth. The death of +Alresca, the unaccountable appearances in the cathedral, in the train, +on the steamer—everything was explained. And before that coldly +sneering, triumphant face, which bore the look of life, and which I +yet knew to be impalpable, I shook with the terrified ague of a +culprit.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + +<p>A minute or a thousand years might have passed. Then Rosa returned. In +an instant the apparition had vanished. But by her pallid, drawn face +and her gray lips I knew that she had seen it. Truly she was cursed, +and I with her!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE MENACE</h3> + + +<p>From the moment of my avowal to Rosa it seemed that the evil spirit of +the dead Lord Clarenceux had assumed an ineffable dominion over me. I +cannot properly describe it; I cannot describe it all. I may only say +that I felt I had suddenly become the subject of a tyrant who would +punish me if I persisted in any course of conduct to which he +objected. I knew what fear was—the most terrible of all fears—the +fear of that which we cannot understand. The inmost and central throne +of my soul was commanded by this implacable ghost, this ghost which +did not speak, but which conveyed its ideas by means of a single +glance, a single sneer.</p> + +<p>It was strange that I should be aware at once what was required of me, +and the reasons for these requirements. Till that night I had never +guessed the nature of the thing which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>for so many weeks had been +warning me; I had not even guessed that I was being warned; I had +taken for a man that which was not a man. Yet now, in an instant of +time, all was clear down to the smallest details. From the primal hour +when a liking for Rosa had arisen in my breast, the ghost of Lord +Clarenceux, always hovering uneasily near to its former love, had +showed itself to me.</p> + +<p>The figure opposite the Devonshire Mansion—that was the first +warning. With regard to the second appearance, in the cathedral of +Bruges, I surmised that that only indirectly affected myself. +Primarily it was the celebration of a fiendish triumph over one who +had preceded me in daring to love Rosetta Rosa, but doubtless also it +was meant in a subsidiary degree as a second warning to the youth who +followed in Alresca's footsteps. Then there were the two appearances +during my journey from London to Paris with Rosa's jewels—in the +train and on the steamer. Matters by that time had become more +serious. I was genuinely in love, and the ghost's anger was quickened. +The train was wrecked and the steamer might have been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>sunk, and I +could not help thinking that the ghost, in some ineffectual way, had +been instrumental in both these disasters. The engine-driver, who said +he was "dazed," and the steersman, who attributed his mistake at the +wheel to the interference of some unknown outsider—were not these +things an indication that my dreadful suspicion was well grounded? And +if so, to what frightful malignity did they not point! Here was a +spirit, which in order to appease the pangs of a supernatural +jealousy, was ready to use its immaterial powers to destroy scores of +people against whom it could not possibly have any grudge. The most +fanatical anarchism is not worse than this.</p> + +<p>Those attempts had failed. But now the aspect of affairs was changed. +The ghost of Lord Clarenceux had more power over me now—I felt that +acutely; and I explained it by the fact that I was in the near +neighborhood of Rosa. It was only when she was near that the jealous +hate of this spectre exercised its full efficacy.</p> + +<p>In such wise did I reason the matter out to myself. But reasoning was +quite unnecessary. I knew by a sure instinct. All the dark <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>thoughts +of the ghost had passed into my brain, and if they had been +transcribed in words of fire and burnt upon my retina, I could not +have been more certain of their exact import.</p> + +<p>As I sat in my room at the hotel that night I speculated morosely upon +my plight and upon the future. Had a man ever been so situated before? +Well, probably so. We go about in a world where secret influences are +continually at work for us or against us, and we do not suspect their +existence, because we have no imagination. For it needs imagination to +perceive the truth—that is why the greatest poets are always the +greatest teachers.</p> + +<p>As for you who are disposed to smile at the idea of a live man crushed +(figuratively) under the heel of a ghost, I beg you to look back upon +your own experience, and count up the happenings which have struck you +as mysterious. You will be astonished at their number. But nothing is +so mysterious that it is incapable of explanation, did we but know +enough. I, by a singular mischance, was put in the way of the nameless +knowledge which explains all. At any rate, I was made ac<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>quainted with +some trifle of it. I had strayed on the seashore of the unknown, and +picked up a pebble. I had a glimpse of that other world which +permeates and exists side by side with and permeates our own.</p> + +<p>Just now I used the phrase "under the heel of a ghost," and I used it +advisedly. It indicates pretty well my mental condition. I was cowed, +mastered. The ghost of Clarenceux, driven to extremities by the brief +scene of tenderness which had passed in Rosa's drawing-room, had +determined by his own fell method to end the relations between Rosa +and myself. And his method was to assume a complete sway over me, the +object of his hatred.</p> + +<p>How did he exercise that sway? Can I answer? I cannot. How does one +man influence another? Not by electric wires or chemical apparatus, +but by those secret channels through which intelligence meets +intelligence. All I know is that I felt his sinister authority. During +life Clarenceux, according to every account, had been masterful, +imperious, commanding; and he carried these attributes with him beyond +the grave. His was a stronger personality than mine, and I could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>not +hide from myself the assurance that in the struggle of will against +will I should not be the conqueror.</p> + +<p>Not that anything had occurred, even the smallest thing! Upon +perceiving Rosa the apparition, as I have said, vanished. We did not +say much to each other, Rosa and I; we could not—we were afraid. I +went to my hotel; I sat in my room alone; I saw no ghost. But I was +aware, I was aware of the doom which impended over me. And already, +indeed, I experienced the curious sensation of the ebbing of +volitional power; I thought even that I was losing my interest in +life. My sensations were dulled. It began to appear to me unimportant +whether I lived or died. Only I knew that in either case I should love +Rosa. My love was independent of my will, and therefore the ghost of +Clarenceux, do what it might, could not tear it from me. I might die, +I might suffer mental tortures inconceivable, but I should continue to +love. In this idea lay my only consolation.</p> + +<p>I remained motionless in my chair for hours, and then—it was soon +after the clocks struck four—I sprang up, and searched among my +papers for Alresca's letter, the seal <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>of which, according to his +desire, was still intact. The letter had been in my mind for a long +time. I knew well that the moment for opening it had come, that the +circumstances to which Alresca had referred in his covering letter had +veritably happened. But somehow, till that instant, I had not been +able to find courage to read the communication. As I opened it I +glanced out of the window. The first sign of dawn was in the sky. I +felt a little easier.</p> + +<p>Here is what I read:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"My dear Carl Foster:—When you read this the words I am about to +write will have acquired the sanction which belongs to the utterances +of those who have passed away. Give them, therefore, the most serious +consideration.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"If you are not already in love with Rosetta Rosa you soon will be. I, +too, as you know, have loved her. Let me tell you some of the things +which happened to me.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"From the moment when that love first sprang up in my heart I began to +be haunted by—I will not say what; you know without being told, for +whoever loves Rosa will <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>be haunted as I was, as I am. Rosa has been +loved once for all, and with a passion so intense that it has survived +the grave. For months I disregarded the visitations, relying on the +strength of my own soul. I misjudged myself, or, rather, I +underestimated my adversary—the great man who in life had loved Rosa. +I proposed to Rosa, and she refused me. But that did not quench my +love. My love grew; I encouraged it; and it was against the mere fact +of my love that the warnings were directed.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"You remember the accident on the stage which led to our meeting. That +accident was caused by sheer terror—the terror of an apparition more +awful than any that had gone before.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Still I persisted—I persisted in my hopeless love. Then followed +that unnamed malady which in vain you are seeking to cure, a malady +which was accompanied by innumerable and terrifying phenomena. The +malady was one of the mind; it robbed me of the desire to live. More +than that, it made life intolerable. At last I surrendered. I believe +I am a brave man, but it is the privilege of the brave man to +surrender without losing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>honor to an adversary who has proved his +superiority. Yes, I surrendered. I cast out love in order that I might +live for my art.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"But I was too late. I had pushed too far the enmity of this spectral +and unrelenting foe, and it would not accept my surrender. I have +dashed the image of Rosa from my heart, and I have done it to no +purpose. I am dying. And so I write this for you, lest you should go +unwarned to the same doom.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"The love of Rosa is worth dying for, if you can win it. (I could not +even win it.) You will have to choose between Love and Life. I do not +counsel you either way. But I urge you to choose. I urge you either to +defy your foe utterly and to the death, or to submit before submission +is useless.</p> + +<p class="quotsig">"Alresca."</p> + +<p>I sat staring at the paper long after I had finished reading it, +thinking about poor Alresca. There was a date to it, and this date +showed that it was written a few days before his mysterious disease +took a turn for the better.</p> + +<p>The communication accordingly needs some explanation. It seems to me +that Al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>resca was mistaken. His foe was not so implacable as Alresca +imagined. Alresca having surrendered in the struggle between them, the +ghost of Lord Clarenceux hesitated, and then ultimately withdrew its +hateful influence, and Alresca recovered. Then Rosa came again into +his existence that evening at Bruges. Alresca, scornful of +consequences, let his passion burst once more into flame, and the +ghost instantly, in a flash of anger, worked its retribution.</p> + +<p>Day came, and during the whole of that day I pondered upon a phrase in +Alresca's letter, "You will have to choose between love and life." But +I could not choose. Love is the greatest thing in life; one may, +however, question whether it should be counted greater than life +itself. I tried to argue the question calmly, dispassionately. As if +such questions may be argued! I could not give up my love; I could not +give up my life; that was how all my calm, dispassionate arguments +ended. At one moment I was repeating, "The love of Rosa is worth dying +for;" at the next I was busy with the high and dear ambitions of which +I had so often dreamed. Were these to be sacrificed? Moreover, what +use would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>Rosa's love be to me when I was dead? And what use would my +life be to me without my love for her?</p> + +<p>A hundred times I tried to laugh, and said to myself that I was the +victim of fancy, that I should see nothing further of this prodigious +apparition; that, in short, my brain had been overtaxed by recent +events, and I had suffered from delusions. Vain and conventional +self-deceptions! At the bottom of my soul lay always the secret and +profound conviction that I was doomed, cursed, caught in the toils of +a relentless foe who was armed with all the strange terrors of the +unknown; a foe whose onslaughts it was absolutely impossible for me to +parry.</p> + +<p>As the hours passed a yearning to see Rosa, to be near her, came upon +me. I fought against it, fearing I know not what as the immediate +consequence. I wished to temporize, or, at any rate, to decide upon a +definite course of conduct before I saw her again. But towards evening +I felt that I should yield to the impulse to behold her. I said to +myself, as though I needed some excuse, that she would have a great +deal of trouble with the arrangements for Sir Cyril's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>funeral, and +that I ought to offer my assistance; that, indeed, I ought to have +offered my assistance early in the day.</p> + +<p>I presented myself after dinner. She was dressed in black, and her +manner was nervous, flurried, ill at ease. We shook hands very +formally, and then could find nothing to say to each other. Had she, +with a woman's instinct, guessed, from that instant's view of the +thing in the chair last night, all that was involved for me in our +love? If not all, she had guessed most of it. She had guessed that the +powerful spirit of Lord Clarenceux was inimical, fatally inimical, to +me. None knew better than herself the terrible strength of his +jealousy. I wondered what were her thoughts, her secret desires.</p> + +<p>At length she began to speak of commonplace matters.</p> + +<p>"Guess who has called," she said, with a little smile.</p> + +<p>"I give it up," I said, with a smile as artificial as her own.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Sullivan Smith. She and Sullivan Smith are on their way home +from Bayreuth; they are at the Hôtel du Rhin. She wanted to know all +about what happened in the Rue <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>Thiers, and to save trouble I told +her. She stayed a long time. There have been a lot of callers. I am +very tired. I—I expected you earlier. But you are not listening."</p> + +<p>I was not. I was debating whether or not to show her Alresca's letter. +I decided to do so, and I handed it to her there and then.</p> + +<p>"Read that," I murmured.</p> + +<p>She read it in silence, and then looked at me. Her tender eyes were +filled with tears. I cast away all my resolutions of prudence, of +wariness, before that gaze. Seizing her in my arms, I kissed her again +and again.</p> + +<p>"I have always suspected—what—what Alresca says," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"But you love me?" I cried passionately.</p> + +<p>"Do you need to be told, my poor Carl?" she replied, with the most +exquisite melancholy.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll defy hell itself!" I said.</p> + +<p>She hung passive in my embrace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE STRUGGLE</h3> + + +<p>When I got back to my little sitting-room at the Hôtel de Portugal, I +experienced a certain timid hesitation in opening the door. For +several seconds I stood before it, the key in the lock, afraid to +enter. I wanted to rush out again, to walk the streets all night; it +was raining, but I thought that anything would be preferable to the +inside of my sitting-room. Then I felt that, whatever the cost, I must +go in; and, twisting the key, I pushed heavily at the door, and +entered, touching as I did so the electric switch. In the chair which +stood before the writing-table in the middle of the room sat the +figure of Lord Clarenceux.</p> + +<p>Yes, my tormentor was indeed waiting. I had defied him, and we were +about to try a fall. As for me, I may say that my heart sank, sick +with an ineffable fear. The figure did not move as I went in; its back +was towards me. At the other end of the room was the doorway <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>which +led to the small bedroom, little more than an alcove, and the gaze of +the apparition was fixed on this doorway.</p> + +<p>I closed the outer door behind me, and locked it, and then I stood +still. In the looking-glass over the mantelpiece I saw a drawn, pale, +agitated face in which all the trouble of the world seemed to reside; +it was my own face. I was alone in the room with the ghost—the ghost +which, jealous of my love for the woman it had loved, meant to revenge +itself by my death.</p> + +<p>A ghost, did I say? To look at it, no one would have taken it for an +apparition. No wonder that till the previous evening I had never +suspected it to be other than a man. It was dressed in black; it had +the very aspect of life. I could follow the creases in the frock coat, +the direction of the nap of the silk hat which it wore in my room. How +well by this time I knew that faultless black coat and that impeccable +hat! Yet it seemed that I could not examine them too closely. I +pierced them with the intensity of my fascinated glance. Yes, I +pierced them, for showing faintly through the coat I could discern the +outline of the table which should have been hidden by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>the man's +figure, and through the hat I could see the handle of the French +window.</p> + +<p>As I stood motionless there, solitary under the glow of the electric +light with this fearful visitor, I began to wish that it would move. I +wanted to face it—to meet its gaze with my gaze, eye to eye, and will +against will. The battle between us must start at once, I thought, if +I was to have any chance of victory, for moment by moment I could feel +my resolution, my manliness, my mere physical courage, slipping away.</p> + +<p>But the apparition did not stir. Impassive, remorseless, sinister, it +was content to wait, well aware that all suspense was in its favor. +Then I said to myself that I would cross the room, and so attain my +object. I made a step—and drew back, frightened by the sound of a +creaking board. Absurd! But it was quite a minute before I dared to +make another step. I had meant to walk straight across to the other +door, passing in my course close by the occupied chair. I did not do +so; I kept round by the wall, creeping on tiptoe and my eye never +leaving the figure in the chair. I did this in spite of myself, and +the manner of my action was the first hint of an ultimate defeat.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> + +<p>At length I stood in the doorway leading to the bedroom. I could feel +the perspiration on my forehead and at the back of my neck. I fronted +the inscrutable white face of the thing which had once been Lord +Clarenceux, the lover of Rosetta Rosa; I met its awful eyes, dark, +invidious, fateful. Ah, those eyes! Even in my terror I could read in +them all the history, all the characteristics, of Lord Clarenceux. +They were the eyes of one capable at once of the highest and of the +lowest. Mingled with their hardness was a melting softness, with their +cruelty a large benevolence, with their hate a pitying tenderness, +with their spirituality a hellish turpitude. They were the eyes of two +opposite men, and as I gazed into them they reconciled for me the +conflicting accounts of Lord Clarenceux which I had heard from +different people.</p> + +<p>But as far as I was concerned that night the eyes held nothing but +cruelty and disaster; though I could detect in them the other +qualities, those qualities were not for me. We faced each other, the +apparition and I, and the struggle, silent and bitter as the grave, +began. Neither of us moved. My arms were folded easily, but my nails +pressed in the palms of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>my clenched hands. My teeth were set, my lips +tight together, my glance unswerving. By sheer strength of endeavor I +cast aside all my forebodings of defeat, and in my heart I said with +the profoundest conviction that I would love Rosa though the seven +seas and all the continents gave up their dead to frighten me.</p> + +<p>So we remained, for how long I do not know. It may have been hours; it +may have been only minutes; I cannot tell. Then gradually there came +over me a feeling that the ghost in the chair was growing larger. The +ghastly inhuman sneer on his thin widening lips assaulted me like a +giant's malediction. And the light in the room seemed to become more +brilliant, till it was almost blinding with the dazzle of its +whiteness. This went on for a time, and once more I pulled myself +together, collected my scattering senses, and seized again the courage +and determination which had nearly slipped from me.</p> + +<p>But I knew that I must get away, out of sight of this moveless and +diabolic figure, which did not speak, but which made known its +commands by means of its eyes alone. "Resign her!" the eyes said. +"Tear your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>love for her out of your heart! Swear that you will never +see her again—or I will ruin you utterly, not only now, but forever +more!"</p> + +<p>And though I trembled, my eyes answered "No."</p> + +<p>For some reason which I cannot at all explain, I suddenly took off my +overcoat, and, drawing aside the screen which ran across the corner of +the room at my right hand, forming a primitive sort of wardrobe, I +hung it on one of the hooks. I had to feel with my fingers for the +hook, because I kept my gaze on the figure.</p> + +<p>"I will go into the bedroom," I said.</p> + +<p>And I half-turned to pass through the doorway. Then I stopped. If I +did so, the eyes of the ghost would be upon my back, and I felt that I +could only withstand that glance by meeting it. To have it on my +back!... Doubtless I was going mad. However, I went backwards through +the doorway, and then rapidly stepped out of sight of the apparition, +and sat down upon the bed.</p> + +<p>Useless! I must return. The mere idea of the empty sitting-room—empty +with the ghost in it—filled me with a new and stranger fear. Horrible +happenings might <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>occur in that room, and I must be there to see them! +Moreover, the ghost's gaze must not fall on nothing; that would be too +appalling (without doubt I was mad); its gaze must meet something, +otherwise it would travel out into space further and further till it +had left all the stars and waggled aimless in the ether: the notion of +such a calamity was unbearable. Besides, I was hungry for that gaze; +my eyes desired those eyes; if that glance did not press against them, +they would burst from my head and roll on the floor, and I should be +compelled to go down on my hands and knees and grope in search for +them. No, no, I must return to the sitting-room. And I returned.</p> + +<p>The gaze met me in the doorway. And now there was something novel in +it—an added terror, a more intolerable menace, a silent imprecation +so frightful that no human being could suffer it. I sank to the +ground, and as I did so I shrieked, but it was an unheard shriek, +sounding only within the brain. And in reply to that unheard shriek I +heard the unheard voice of the ghost crying, "Yield!"</p> + +<p>I would not yield. Crushed, maddened, tortured by a worse than any +physical torture, I would not yield. But I wanted to die. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>felt that +death would be sweet and utterly desirable. And so thinking, I faded +into a kind of coma, or rather a state which was just short of coma. I +had not lost consciousness, but I was conscious of nothing but the +gaze.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Rosa," I whispered. "I'm beaten, but my love has not been +conquered."</p> + +<p>The next thing I remembered was the paleness of the dawn at the +window. The apparition had vanished for that night, and I was alive. +But I knew that I had touched the skirts of death; I knew that after +another such night I should die.</p> + +<p>The morning chocolate arrived, and by force of habit I consumed it. I +felt no interest in any earthly thing; my sole sensation was a dread +of the coming night, which all too soon would be upon me. For several +hours I sat, pale and nerveless, in my room, despising myself for a +weakness and a fear which I could not possibly avoid. I was no longer +my own master; I was the slave, the shrinking chattel of a ghost, and +the thought of my condition was a degradation unspeakable.</p> + +<p>During the afternoon a ray of hope flashed upon me. Mrs. Sullivan +Smith was at the Hôtel du Rhin, so Rosa had said; I would call <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>on +her. I remembered her strange demeanor to me on the occasion of our +first meeting, and afterwards at the reception. It seemed clear to me +now that she must have known something. Perhaps she might help me.</p> + +<p>I found her in a garish apartment too full of Louis Philippe +furniture, robed in a crimson tea-gown, and apparently doing nothing +whatever. She had the calm quiescence of a Spanish woman. Yet when she +saw me her eyes burned with a sudden dark excitement.</p> + +<p>"Carl," she said, with the most staggering abruptness, "you are +dying."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" I said morosely. "Do I look it?"</p> + +<p>"Yet the crystal warned you!" she returned, with apparent but not real +inconsequence.</p> + +<p>"I want you to tell me," I said eagerly, and with no further pretence. +"You must have known something then, when you made me look in the +crystal. What did you know—and how?"</p> + +<p>She sat a moment in thought, stately, half-languid, mysterious.</p> + +<p>"First," she said, "let me hear all that has happened. Then I will +tell you."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is Sullivan about?" I asked. I felt that if I was to speak I must not +be interrupted by that good-natured worldling.</p> + +<p>"Sullivan," she said a little scornfully, with gentle contempt, "is +learning French billiards. You are perfectly safe." She understood.</p> + +<p>Then I told her without the least reservation all that had happened to +me, and especially my experiences of the previous night. When I had +finished she looked at me with her large sombre eyes, which were full +of pity, but not of hope. I waited for her words.</p> + +<p>"Now, listen," she said. "You shall hear. I was with Lord Clarenceux +when he died."</p> + +<p>"You!" I exclaimed. "In Vienna! But even Rosa was not with him. How—"</p> + +<p>"Patience! And do not interrupt me with questions. I am giving away a +secret which carries with it my—my reputation. Long before my +marriage I had known Lord Clarenceux. He knew many women; I was one of +them. That affair ended. I married Sullivan.</p> + +<p>"I happened to be in Vienna at the time Lord Clarenceux was taken with +brain fever. I was performing at a music-hall on the Prater. There was +a great rage then for English singers in Vienna. I knew he was alone. +I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>remembered certain things that had passed between us, and I went to +him. I helped to nurse him. He was engaged to Rosa, but Rosa was far +away, and could not come immediately. He grew worse. The doctors said +one day that he must die. That night I was by his bedside. He got +suddenly up out of bed. I could not stop him: he had the strength of +delirium. He went into his dressing-room, and dressed himself fully, +even to his hat, without any assistance.</p> + +<p>"'Where are you going?' I said to him.</p> + +<p>"'I am going to her,' he said. 'These cursed doctors say I shall die. +But I sha'n't. I want her. Why hasn't she come? I must go and find +her.'</p> + +<p>"Then he fell across the bed exhausted. He was dying. I had rung for +help, but no one had come, and I ran out of the room to call on the +landing. When I came back he was sitting up in bed, all dressed, and +still with his hat on. It was the last flicker of his strength. His +eyes glittered. He began to speak. How he stared at me! I shall never +forget it!</p> + +<p>"'I am dying!' he said hoarsely. 'They were right, after all. I shall +lose her. I would sell my soul to keep her, yet death takes me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>from +her. She is young and beautiful, and will live many years. But I have +loved her, and where I have loved let others beware. I shall never be +far from her, and if another man should dare to cast eyes on her I +will curse him. The heat of my jealousy shall blast his very soul. He, +too, shall die. Rosa was mine in life, and she shall be mine in death. +My spirit will watch over her, for no man ever loved a woman as I +loved Rosa.' Those were his very words, Carl. Soon afterwards he +died."</p> + +<p>She recited Clarenceux's last phrases with such genuine emotion that I +could almost hear Clarenceux himself saying them. I felt sure that she +had remembered them precisely, and that Clarenceux would, indeed, have +employed just such terms.</p> + +<p>"And you believe," I murmured, after a long pause, during which I +fitted the remarkable narration in with my experiences, and found that +it tallied—"you believe that Lord Clarenceux could keep his word +after death?"</p> + +<p>"I believe!" she said simply.</p> + +<p>"Then there is no hope for me, Emmeline?"</p> + +<p>She looked at me vaguely, absently, without speaking, and shook her +head. Her lustrous eyes filled with tears.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE INTERCESSION</h3> + + +<p>Just as I was walking away from the hotel I perceived Rosa's victoria +drawing up before the portico. She saw me. We exchanged a long look—a +look charged with anxious questionings. Then she beckoned to me, and +I, as it were suddenly waking from a trance, raised my hat, and went +to her.</p> + +<p>"Get in," she said, without further greeting. "We will drive to the +Arc de Triomphe and back. I was going to call on Mrs. Sullivan +Smith,—just a visit of etiquette,—but I will postpone that."</p> + +<p>Her manner was constrained, as it had been on the previous day, but I +could see that she was striving hard to be natural. For myself, I did +not speak. I felt nervous, even irritable, in my love for her. +Gradually, however, her presence soothed me, slackened the tension of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>my system, and I was able to find a faint pleasure in the beauty of +the September afternoon, and of the girl by my side, in the smooth +movement of the carriage, and the general gaiety and color of the +broad tree-lined Champs Elysées.</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask me to drive with you?" I asked her at length, abruptly +yet suavely. Amid the noise of the traffic we could converse with the +utmost privacy.</p> + +<p>"Because I have something to say to you," she answered, looking +straight in front of her.</p> + +<p>"Before you say it, one question occurs to me. You are dressed in +black; you are in mourning for Sir Cyril, your father, who is not even +buried. And yet you told me just now that you were paying a mere visit +of etiquette to my cousin Emmeline. Is it usual in Paris for ladies in +mourning to go out paying calls? But perhaps you had a special object +in calling on Emmeline."</p> + +<p>"I had," she replied at once with dignity, "and I did not wish you to +know."</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Foster—"</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Foster!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I won't call you Carl any more. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>have made a mistake, and it +is as well you should hear of it now. I can't love you. I have +misunderstood my feelings. What I feel for you is gratitude, not love. +I want you to forget me."</p> + +<p>She was pale and restless.</p> + +<p>"Rosa!" I exclaimed warningly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she continued urgently and feverishly, "forget me. I may seem +cruel, but it is best there should be no beating about the bush. I +can't love you."</p> + +<p>"Rosa!" I repeated.</p> + +<p>"Go back to London," she went on. "You have ambitions. Fulfil them. +Work at your profession. Above all, don't think of me. And always +remember that though I am very grateful to you, I cannot love +you—never!"</p> + +<p>"That isn't true, Rosa!" I said quietly. "You have invited me into +this carriage simply to lie to me. But you are an indifferent liar—it +is not your forte. My dear child, do you imagine that I cannot see +through your poor little plan? Mrs. Sullivan Smith has been talking to +you, and it has occurred to you that if you cast me off, the anger of +that—that thing may be appeased, and I may be saved from the fate +that overtook Alresca. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>You were calling on Emmeline to ask her advice +finally, as she appears to be mixed up in this affair. Then, on seeing +me, you decided all of a sudden to take your courage in both hands, +and dismiss me at once. It was heroic of you, Rosa; it was a splendid +sacrifice of your self-respect. But it can't be. Nothing is going to +disturb my love. If I die under some mysterious influence, then I die; +but I shall die loving you, and I shall die absolutely certain that +you love me."</p> + +<p>Her breast heaved, and under the carriage rug her hand found mine and +clasped it. We did not look at each other. In a thick voice I called +to the coachman to stop. I got out, and the vehicle passed on. If I +had stayed with her, I should have wept in sight of the whole street.</p> + +<p>I ate no dinner that evening, but spent the hours in wandering up and +down the long verdurous alleys in the neighborhood of the Arc de +Triomphe. I was sure of Rosa's love, and that thought gave me a +certain invigoration. But to be sure of a woman's love when that love +means torture and death to you is not a complete and perfect +happiness. No, my heart was full of bitterness and despair, and my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>mind invaded by a miserable weakness. I pitied myself, and at the +same time I scorned myself. After all, the ghost had no actual power +over me; a ghost cannot stab, cannot throttle, cannot shoot. A ghost +can only act upon the mind, and if the mind is feeble enough to allow +itself to be influenced by an intangible illusion, then—</p> + +<p>But how futile were such arguments! Whatever the power might be, the +fact that the ghost had indeed a power over me was indisputable. All +day I had felt the spectral sword of it suspended above my head. My +timid footsteps lingering on the way to the hotel sufficiently proved +its power. The experiences of the previous night might be merely +subjective—conceptions of the imagination—but they were no less +real, no less fatal to me on that account.</p> + +<p>Once I had an idea of not going to the hotel that night at all. But of +what use could such an avoidance be? The apparition was bound by no +fetters to that terrible sitting-room of mine. I might be put to the +ordeal anywhere, even here in the thoroughfares of the city, and upon +the whole I preferred to return to my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>lodging. Nay, I was the victim +of a positive desire for that scene of my torture.</p> + +<p>I returned. It was eleven o'clock. The apparition awaited me. But this +time it was not seated in the chair. It stood with its back to the +window, and its gaze met mine as I entered the room. I did not close +the door, and my eyes never left its face. The sneer on its thin lips +was bitterer, more devilishly triumphant, than before. Erect, +motionless, and inexorable, the ghost stood there, and it seemed to +say: "What is the use of leaving the door open? You dare not escape. +You cannot keep away from me. To-night you shall die of sheer terror."</p> + +<p>With a wild audacity I sat down in the very chair which it had +occupied, and drummed my fingers on the writing-table. Then I took off +my hat, and with elaborate aim pitched it on to a neighboring sofa. I +was making a rare pretence of carelessness. But moment by moment, +exactly as before, my courage and resolution oozed out of me, drawn +away by that mystic presence.</p> + +<p>Once I got up filled with a brilliant notion. I would approach the +apparition; I would try to touch it. Could I but do so, it would +van<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>ish; I felt convinced it would vanish. I got up, as I say, but I +did not approach the ghost. I was unable to move forward, held by a +nameless dread. I dropped limply back into the chair. The phenomena of +the first night repeated themselves, but more intensely, with a more +frightful torture. Once again I sought relief from the agony of that +gaze by retreating into the bedroom; once again I was compelled by the +same indescribable fear to return, and once again I fell down, smitten +by a new and more awful menace, a kind of incredible blasphemy which +no human thought can convey.</p> + +<p>And now the ghost moved mysteriously and ominously towards me. With an +instinct of defence, cowed as I was upon the floor, I raised my hand +to ward it off. Useless attempt! It came near and nearer, +imperceptibly moving.</p> + +<p>"Let me die in peace," I said within my brain.</p> + +<p>But it would not. Not only must I die, but in order to die I must +traverse all the hideous tortures of the soul which that lost spirit +had learnt in its dire wanderings.</p> + +<p>The ghost stood over me, impending like a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>doom. Then it suddenly +looked towards the door, startled, and the door swung on its hinges. A +girl entered—a girl dressed in black, her shoulders and bosom +gleaming white against the dark attire, a young girl with the +heavenliest face on this earth. Casting herself on her knees before +the apparition, she raised to that dreadful spectre her countenance +transfigured by the ecstasy of a sublime appeal. It was Rosa.</p> + +<p>Can I describe what followed? Not adequately, only by imperfect hints. +These two faced each other, Rosa and the apparition. She uttered no +word. But I, in my stupor, knew that she was interceding with the +spectre for my life. Her lovely eyes spoke to it of its old love, its +old magnanimity, and in the name of that love and that magnanimity +called upon it to renounce the horrible vengeance of which I was the +victim.</p> + +<p>For long the spectre gazed with stern and formidable impassivity upon +the girl. I trembled, all hope and all despair, for the issue. She +would not be vanquished. Her love was stronger than its hate; her love +knew not the name of fear. For a thousand nights, so it seemed, the +two remained thus, at grips, as it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>were, in a death-struggle. Then +with a reluctant gesture of abdication the ghost waved a hand; its +terrible features softened into a consent, and slowly it faded away.</p> + +<p>As I lay there Rosa bent over me, and put her arms round my neck, and +I could feel on my face the caress of her hair, and the warm baptism +of her tears—tears of joy.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I raised her gently. I laid her on the sofa, and with a calm, blissful +expectancy awaited the moment when her eyes should open. Ah! I may not +set down here the sensation of relief which spread through my being as +I realized with every separate brain-cell that I was no longer a +victim, the doomed slave of an evil and implacable power, but a free +man—free to live, free to love, exempt from the atrocious influences +of the nether sphere. I saw that ever since the first encounter in +Oxford Street my existence had been under a shadow, dark and malign +and always deepening, and that this shadow was now magically +dissipated in the exquisite dawn of a new day. And I gave thanks, not +only to Fate, but to the divine girl who in one of those inspirations +accorded only <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>to genius had conceived the method of my +enfranchisement, and so nobly carried it out.</p> + +<p>Her eyelids wavered, and she looked at me.</p> + +<p>"It is gone?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "the curse is lifted."</p> + +<p>She smiled, and only our ardent glances spoke.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"How came you to think of it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I was sitting in my room after dinner, thinking and thinking. And +suddenly I could see this room, and you, and the spectre, as plainly +as I see you now. I felt your terror; I knew every thought that was +passing in your brain, the anguish of it! And then, and then, an idea +struck me. I had never appealed in vain to Lord Clarenceux in +life—why should I not appeal now? I threw a wrap over my shoulders +and ran out. I didn't take a cab, I ran—all the way. I scarcely knew +what I was doing, only that I had to save you. Oh, Carl, you are +free!"</p> + +<p>"Through you," I said.</p> + +<p>She kissed me, and her kiss had at once the pure passion of a girl and +the satisfied solicitude of a mother.</p> + +<p>"Take me home!" she whispered.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> + +<p>Outside the hotel an open carriage happened to be standing. I hailed +the driver, and we got in. The night was beautifully fine and mild. In +the narrow lane of sky left by the high roofs of the street the stars +shone and twinkled with what was to me a new meaning. For I was once +more in accord with the universe. I and Life were at peace again.</p> + +<p>"Don't let us go straight home," said Rosa, as the driver turned +towards us for instructions. "It seems to me that a drive through +Paris would be very enjoyable to-night."</p> + +<p>And so we told the man to proceed along the quays as far as he could, +and then through the Champs Elysées to the Bois de Boulogne. The Seine +slept by its deserted parapets like a silver snake, and only the low +rumble of the steam-car from Versailles disturbed its slumber. The +million lights of the gas-lamps, stretching away now and then into the +endless vistas of the boulevards, spoke to me of the delicious +companionship of humanity, from which I had so nearly been snatched +away. And the glorious girl by my side—what of her companionship? Ah, +that was more than a companionship; it was a perfect intercourse which +we shared. No two human beings ever <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>understood one another more +absolutely, more profoundly, than did Rosa and myself, for we had been +through the valley and through the flood together. And so it happened +that we did not trouble much with conversation. It was our souls, not +our mouths which talked—talked softly and mysteriously in the +gracious stillness and obscurity of that Paris night. I learnt many +things during that drive—the depth of her love, the height of her +courage, the ecstasy of her bliss. And she, too, she must have learnt +many things from me—the warmth of my gratitude to her, a warmth which +was only exceeded by the transcendent fire of my affection.</p> + +<p>Presently we had left the borders of the drowsy Seine, which is so +busy by day, so strangely silent by night. We crossed the immense +Place de la Concorde. Once again we were rolling smoothly along the +Champs Elysées. Only a few hours before we had driven through this +very avenue, Rosa and I, but with what different feelings from those +which possessed us now! How serene and quiet it was! Occasionally a +smooth-gliding carriage, or a bicyclist flitting by with a Chinese +lantern at the head of his machine—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>that was all. As we approached +the summit of the hill where the Arc de Triomphe is, a new phenomenon +awaited us. The moon rose—a lovely azure crescent over the houses, +and its faint mild rays were like a benediction upon us. Then we had +turned to the left, and were in the Bois de Boulogne. We stopped the +carriage under the trees, which met overhead; the delicatest breeze +stirred the branches to a crooning murmur. All around was solitude and +a sort of hushed expectation. Suddenly Rosa put her hand into mine, +and with a simultaneous impulse we got out of the carriage and +strolled along a by-path.</p> + +<p>"Carl," she said, "I have a secret for you. But you must tell no one." +She laughed mischievously.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" I answered, calmly smiling.</p> + +<p>"It is that I love you," and she buried her face against my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Tell me that again," I said, "and again and again."</p> + +<p>And so under the tall rustling trees we exchanged vows—vows made more +sacred by the bitterness of our experience. And then at last, much to +the driver's satisfaction, we returned to the carriage, and were +driven back <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>to the Rue de Rivoli. I gave the man a twenty-franc +piece; certainly the hour was unconscionably late.</p> + +<p>I bade good night, a reluctant good night, to Rosa at the entrance to +her flat.</p> + +<p>"Dearest girl," I said, "let us go to England to-morrow. You are +almost English, you know; soon you will be the wife of an Englishman, +and there is no place like London."</p> + +<p>"True," she answered. "There is no place like London. We'll go. The +Opéra Comique will manage without me. And I will accept no more +engagements for a very, very long time. Money doesn't matter. You have +enough, and I—oh, Carl, I've got stacks and piles of it. It's so +easy, if you have a certain sort of throat like mine, to make more +money than you can spend."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said. "We will have a holiday, after we are married, and that +will be in a fortnight's time. We will go to Devonshire, where the +heather is. But, my child, you will be wanting to sing again soon. It +is your life."</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, "you are my life, aren't you?" And, after a pause: +"But perhaps sing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>ing is part of my life, too. Yes, I shall sing."</p> + +<p>Then I left her for that night, and walked slowly back to my hotel.</p> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ghost, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST *** + +***** This file should be named 17176-h.htm or 17176-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/7/17176/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ghost + A Modern Fantasy + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: November 28, 2005 [EBook #17176] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + THE GHOST + + A Modern Fantasy + + + + BY + + ARNOLD BENNETT + + AUTHOR OF "THE OLD WIVES' TALES," "CLAYHANGER," + ETC., ETC. + + + + BOSTON + SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY + 1911 + + Copyright, 1907 + By HERBERT B. TURNER & CO. + + Copyright, 1911 + + BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED) + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I. MY SPLENDID COUSIN + +II. AT THE OPERA + +III. THE CRY OF ALRESCA + +IV. ROSA'S SUMMONS + +V. THE DAGGER AND THE MAN + +VI. ALRESCA'S FATE + +VII. THE VIGIL BY THE BIER + +VIII. THE MESSAGE + +IX. THE TRAIN + +X. THE STEAMER + +XI. A CHAT WITH ROSA + +XII. EGG-AND-MILK + +XIII. THE PORTRAIT + +XIV. THE VILLA + +XV. THE SHEATH OF THE DAGGER + +XVI. THE THING IN THE CHAIR + +XVII. THE MENACE + +XVIII. THE STRUGGLE + +XIX. THE INTERCESSION + + + + +THE GHOST + +CHAPTER I + +MY SPLENDID COUSIN + + +I am eight years older now. It had never occurred to me that I am +advancing in life and experience until, in setting myself to recall +the various details of the affair, I suddenly remembered my timid +confusion before the haughty mien of the clerk at Keith Prowse's. + +I had asked him: + +"Have you any amphitheatre seats for the Opera to-night?" + +He did not reply. He merely put his lips together and waved his hand +slowly from side to side. + +Not perceiving, in my simplicity, that he was thus expressing a +sublime pity for the ignorance which my demand implied, I innocently +proceeded: + +"Nor balcony?" + +This time he condescended to speak. + +"Noth--ing, sir." + +Then I understood that what he meant was: "Poor fool! why don't you +ask for the moon?" + +I blushed. Yes, I blushed before the clerk at Keith Prowse's, and +turned to leave the shop. I suppose he thought that as a Christian it +was his duty to enlighten my pitiable darkness. + +"It's the first Rosa night to-night," he said with august affability. +"I had a couple of stalls this morning, but I've just sold them over +the telephone for six pound ten." + +He smiled. His smile crushed me. I know better now. I know that clerks +in box-offices, with their correct neckties and their air of +continually doing wonders over the telephone, are not, after all, the +grand masters of the operatic world. I know that that manner of theirs +is merely a part of their attire, like their cravats; that they are +not really responsible for the popularity of great sopranos; and that +they probably go home at nights to Fulham by the white omnibus, or to +Hammersmith by the red one--and not in broughams. + +"I see," I observed, carrying my crushed remains out into the street. +Impossible to conceal the fact that I had recently arrived from +Edinburgh as raw as a ploughboy! + +If you had seen me standing irresolute on the pavement, tapping my +stick of Irish bog-oak idly against the curbstone, you would have +seen a slim youth, rather nattily dressed (I think), with a shadow of +brown on his upper lip, and a curl escaping from under his hat, and +the hat just a little towards the back of his head, and a pretty good +chin, and the pride of life in his ingenuous eye. Quite unaware that +he was immature! Quite unaware that the supple curves of his limbs had +an almost feminine grace that made older fellows feel paternal! Quite +unaware that he had everything to learn, and that all his troubles lay +before him! Actually fancying himself a man because he had just taken +his medical degree.... + +The June sun shone gently radiant in a blue sky, and above the roofs +milky-bosomed clouds were floating in a light wind. The town was +bright, fresh, alert, as London can be during the season, and the +joyousness of the busy streets echoed the joyousness of my heart (for +I had already, with the elasticity of my years, recovered from the +reverse inflicted on me by Keith Prowse's clerk). On the opposite side +of the street were the rich premises of a well-known theatrical club, +whose weekly entertainments had recently acquired fame. I was, I +recollect, proud of knowing the identity of the building--it was one +of the few things I did know in London--and I was observing with +interest the wondrous livery of the two menials motionless behind the +glass of its portals, when a tandem equipage drew up in front of the +pile, and the menials darted out, in their white gloves, to prove that +they were alive and to justify their existence. + +It was an amazingly complete turnout, and it well deserved all the +attention it attracted, which was considerable. The horses were +capricious, highly polished grays, perhaps a trifle undersized, but +with such an action as is not to be bought for less than twenty-five +guineas a hoof; the harness was silver-mounted; the dog-cart itself a +creation of beauty and nice poise; the groom a pink and priceless +perfection. But the crown and summit of the work was the driver--a +youngish gentleman who, from the gloss of his peculiarly shaped collar +to the buttons of his diminutive boots, exuded an atmosphere of +expense. His gloves, his scarf-pin, his watch-chain, his mustache, his +eye-glass, the crease in his nether garments, the cut of his +coat-tails, the curves of his hat--all uttered with one accord the +final word of fashion, left nothing else to be said. The correctness +of Keith Prowse's clerk was as naught to his correctness. He looked as +if he had emerged immaculate from the outfitter's boudoir, an +achievement the pride of Bond Street. + +As this marvellous creature stood up and prepared to alight from the +vehicle, he chanced to turn his eye-glass in my direction. He scanned +me carelessly, glanced away, and scanned me again with a less detached +stare. And I, on my part, felt the awakening of a memory. + +"That's my cousin Sullivan," I said to myself. "I wonder if he wants +to be friends." + +Our eyes coquetted. I put one foot into the roadway, withdrew it, +restored it to the roadway, and then crossed the street. + +It was indeed the celebrated Sullivan Smith, composer of those so +successful musical comedies, "The Japanese Cat," "The Arabian Girl," +and "My Queen." And he condescended to recognize me! His gestures +indicated, in fact, a warm desire to be cousinly. I reached him. The +moment was historic. While the groom held the wheeler's head, and the +twin menials assisted with dignified inactivity, we shook hands. + +"How long is it?" he said. + +"Fifteen years--about," I answered, feeling deliciously old. + +"Remember I punched your head?" + +"Rather!" (Somehow I was proud that he had punched my head.) + +"No credit to me," he added magnanimously, "seeing I was years older +than you and a foot or so taller. By the way, Carl, how old did you +say you were?" + +He regarded me as a sixth-form boy might regard a fourth-form boy. + +"I didn't say I was any age," I replied. "But I'm twenty-three." + +"Well, then, you're quite old enough to have a drink. Come into the +club and partake of a gin-and-angostura, old man. I'll clear all this +away." + +He pointed to the equipage, the horses, and the groom, and with an +apparently magic word whispered into the groom's ear he did in fact +clear them away. They rattled and jingled off in the direction of +Leicester Square, while Sullivan muttered observations on the groom's +driving. + +"Don't imagine I make a practice of tooling tandems down to my club," +said Sullivan. "I don't. I brought the thing along to-day because I've +sold it complete to Lottie Cass. You know her, of course?" + +"I don't." + +"Well, anyhow," he went on after this check, "I've sold her the entire +bag of tricks. What do you think I'm going to buy?" + +"What?" + +"A motor-car, old man!" + +In those days the person who bought a motor-car was deemed a fearless +adventurer of romantic tendencies. And Sullivan so deemed himself. The +very word "motor-car" then had a strange and thrilling romantic sound +with it. + +"The deuce you are!" I exclaimed. + +"I am," said he, happy in having impressed me. He took my arm as though +we had been intimate for a thousand years, and led me fearlessly past +the swelling menials within the gate to the club smoking-room, and put +me into a grandfather's chair of pale heliotrope plush in front of an +onyx table, and put himself into another grandfather's chair of +heliotrope plush. And in the cushioned quietude of the smoking-room, +where light-shod acolytes served gin-and-angostura as if serving +gin-and-angostura had been a religious rite, Sullivan went through an +extraordinary process of unchaining himself. His form seemed to be +crossed and re-crossed with chains--gold chains. At the end of one gold +chain was a gold cigarette-case, from which he produced gold-tipped +cigarettes. At the end of another was a gold matchbox. At the end of +another, which he may or may not have drawn out by mistake, were all +sorts of things--knives, keys, mirrors, and pencils. A singular +ceremony! But I was now in the world of gold. + +And then smoke ascended from the gold-tipped cigarettes as incense from +censers, and Sullivan lifted his tinted glass of gin-and-angostura, and +I, perceiving that such actions were expected of one in a theatrical +club, responsively lifted mine, and the glasses collided, and Sullivan +said: + +"Here's to the end of the great family quarrel." + +"I'm with you," said I. + +And we sipped. + +My father had quarrelled with his mother in an epoch when even musical +comedies were unknown, and the quarrel had spread, as family quarrels +do, like a fire or the measles. The punching of my head by Sullivan in +the extinct past had been one of its earliest consequences. + +"May the earth lie lightly on them!" said Sullivan. + +He was referring to the originators of the altercation. The tone in +which he uttered this wish pleased me--it was so gentle. It hinted +that there was more in Sullivan than met the eye, though a great deal +met the eye. I liked him. He awed me, and he also seemed to me +somewhat ridiculous in his excessive pomp. But I liked him. + +The next instant we were talking about Sullivan Smith. How he +contrived to switch the conversation suddenly into that channel I +cannot imagine. Some people have a gift of conjuring with +conversations. They are almost always frankly and openly interested in +themselves, as Sullivan was interested in himself. You may seek to +foil them; you may even violently wrench the conversation into other +directions. But every effort will be useless. They will beat you. You +had much better lean back in your chair and enjoy their legerdemain. + +In about two minutes Sullivan was in the very midst of his career. + +"I never went in for high art, you know. All rot! I found I could +write melodies that people liked and remembered." (He was so used to +reading interviews with himself in popular weeklies that he had caught +the formalistic phraseology, and he was ready apparently to mistake +even his cousin for an interviewer. But I liked him.) "And I could get +rather classy effects out of an orchestra. And so I kept on. I didn't +try to be Wagner. I just stuck to Sullivan Smith. And, my boy, let me +tell you it's only five years since 'The Japanese Cat' was produced, +and I'm only twenty-seven, my boy! And now, who is there that doesn't +know me?" He put his elbows on the onyx. "Privately, between cousins, +you know, I made seven thousand quid last year, and spent half that. I +live on half my income; always have done; always shall. Good +principle! I'm a man of business, I am, Carl Foster. Give the public +what they want, and save half your income--that's the ticket. Look at +me. I've got to act the duke; it pays, so I do it. I am a duke. I get +twopence apiece royalty on my photographs. That's what you'll never +reach up to, not if you're the biggest doctor in the world." He +laughed. "By the way, how's Jem getting along? Still practising at +Totnes?" + +"Yes," I said. + +"Doing well?" + +"Oh! So--so! You see, we haven't got seven thousand a year, but we've +got five hundred each, and Jem's more interested in hunting than in +doctoring. He wants me to go into partnership with him. But I don't +see myself." + +"Ambitious, eh, like I was? Got your degree in Edinburgh?" + +I nodded, but modestly disclaimed being ambitious like he was. + +"And your sister Lilian?" + +"She's keeping house for Jem." + +"Pretty girl, isn't she?" + +"Yes," I said doubtfully. "Sings well, too." + +"So you cultivate music down there?" + +"Rather!" I said. "That is, Lilian does, and I do when I'm with her. +We're pretty mad on it. I was dead set on hearing Rosetta Rosa in +'Lohengrin' to-night, but there isn't a seat to be had. I suppose I +shall push myself into the gallery." + +"No, you won't," Sullivan put in sharply. "I've got a box. There'll be +a chair for you. You'll see my wife. I should never have dreamt of +going. Wagner bores me, though I must say I've got a few tips from +him. But when we heard what a rush there was for seats Emmeline +thought we ought to go, and I never cross her if I can help it. I made +Smart give us a box." + +"I shall be delighted to come," I said. "There's only one Smart, I +suppose? You mean Sir Cyril?" + +"The same, my boy. Lessee of the Opera, lessee of the Diana, lessee of +the Folly, lessee of the Ottoman. If any one knows the color of his +cheques I reckon it's me. He made me--that I will say; but I made him, +too. Queer fellow! Awfully cute of him to get elected to the County +Council. It was through him I met my wife. Did you ever see Emmeline +when she was Sissie Vox?" + +"I'm afraid I didn't." + +"You missed a treat, old man. There was no one to touch her in boys' +parts in burlesque. A dashed fine woman she is--though I say it, +dashed fine!" He seemed to reflect a moment. "She's a spiritualist. I +wish she wasn't. Spiritualism gets on her nerves. I've no use for it +myself, but it's her life. It gives her fancies. She got some sort of +a silly notion--don't tell her I said this, Carlie--about Rosetta +Rosa. Says she's unlucky--Rosa, I mean. Wanted me to warn Smart +against engaging her. Me! Imagine it! Why, Rosa will be the making of +this opera season! She's getting a terrific salary, Smart told me." + +"It's awfully decent of you to offer me a seat," I began to thank him. + +"Stuff!" he said. "Cost me nothing." A clock struck softly. +"Christopher! it's half-past twelve, and I'm due at the Diana at +twelve. We're rehearsing, you know." + +We went out of the club arm in arm, Sullivan toying with his +eye-glass. + +"Well, you'll toddle round to-night, eh? Just ask for my box. You'll +find they'll look after you. So long!" + +He walked off. + +"I say," he cried, returning hastily on his steps, and lowering his +voice, "when you meet my wife, don't say anything about her +theatrical career. She don't like it. She's a great lady now. See?" + +"Why, of course!" I agreed. + +He slapped me on the back and departed. + +It is easy to laugh at Sullivan. I could see that even then--perhaps +more clearly then than now. But I insist that he was lovable. He had +little directly to do with my immense adventure, but without him it +could not have happened. And so I place him in the forefront of the +narrative. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AT THE OPERA + + +It was with a certain nervousness that I mentioned Sullivan's name to +the gentleman at the receipt of tickets--a sort of transcendantly fine +version of Keith Prowse's clerk--but Sullivan had not exaggerated his +own importance. They did look after me. They looked after me with such +respectful diligence that I might have been excused for supposing that +they had mistaken me for the Shah of Persia in disguise. I was +introduced into Sullivan's box with every circumstance of pomp. The +box was empty. Naturally I had arrived there first. I sat down, and +watched the enormous house fill, but not until I had glanced into the +mirror that hung on the crimson partition of the box to make sure that +my appearance did no discredit to Sullivan and the great lady, his +wife. + +At eight o'clock, when the conductor appeared at his desk to an +accompaniment of applauding taps from the musicians, the house was +nearly full. The four tiers sent forth a sparkle of diamonds, of silk, +and of white arms and shoulders which rivalled the glitter of the vast +crystal chandelier. The wide floor of serried stalls (those stalls of +which one pair at least had gone for six pound ten) added their more +sombre brilliance to the show, while far above, stretching away +indefinitely to the very furthest roof, was the gallery (where but for +Sullivan I should have been), a mass of black spotted with white +faces. + +Excitement was in the air: the expectation of seeing once again +Rosetta Rosa, the girl with the golden throat, the mere girl who, two +years ago, had in one brief month captured London, and who now, after +a period of petulance, had decided to recapture London. On ordinary +nights, for the inhabitants of boxes, the Opera is a social +observance, an exhibition of jewels, something between an F.O. +reception and a conversazione with music in the distance. But to-night +the habitues confessed a genuine interest in the stage itself, +abandoning their role of players. Dozens of times since then have I +been to the Opera, and never have I witnessed the candid enthusiasm +of that night. If London can be naive, it was naive then. + +The conductor raised his baton. The orchestra ceased its tuning. The +lights were lowered. Silence and stillness enwrapped the auditorium. +And the quivering violins sighed out the first chords of the +"Lohengrin" overture. For me, then, there existed nothing save the +voluptuous music, to which I abandoned myself as to the fascination of +a dream. But not for long. Just as the curtain rose, the door behind +me gave a click, and Sullivan entered in all his magnificence. I +jumped up. On his arm in the semi-darkness I discerned a tall, +olive-pale woman, with large handsome features of Jewish cast, and +large, liquid black eyes. She wore a dead-white gown, and over this a +gorgeous cloak of purple and mauve. + +"Emmeline, this is Carl," Sullivan whispered. + +She smiled faintly, giving me her finger-tips, and then she suddenly +took a step forward as if the better to examine my face. Her strange +eyes met mine. She gave a little indefinable unnecessary "Ah!" and +sank down into a chair, loosing my hand swiftly. I was going to say +that she loosed my hand as if it had been the tail of a snake that she +had picked up in mistake for something else. But that would leave the +impression that her gesture was melodramatic, which it was not. Only +there was in her demeanor a touch of the bizarre, ever so slight; yes, +so slight that I could not be sure that I had not imagined it. + +"The wife's a bit overwrought," Sullivan murmured in my ear. "Nerves, +you know. Women are like that. Wait till you're married. Take no +notice. She'll be all right soon." + +I nodded and sat down. In a moment the music had resumed its sway over +me. + +I shall never forget my first sight of Rosetta Rosa as, robed with the +modesty which the character of Elsa demands, she appeared on the stage +to answer the accusation of Ortrud. For some moments she hesitated in +the background, and then timidly, yet with what grandeur of mien, +advanced towards the king. I knew then, as I know now, that hers was a +loveliness of that imperious, absolute, dazzling kind which banishes +from the hearts of men all moral conceptions, all considerations of +right and wrong, and leaves therein nothing but worship and desire. +Her acting, as she replied by gesture to the question of the king, +was perfect in its realization of the simplicity of Elsa. Nevertheless +I, at any rate, as I searched her features through the lorgnon that +Mrs. Sullivan had silently handed to me, could descry beneath the +actress the girl--the spoilt and splendid child of Good Fortune, who +in the very spring of youth had tasted the joy of sovereign power, +that unique and terrible dominion over mankind which belongs to beauty +alone. + +Such a face as hers once seen is engraved eternally on the memory of +its generation. And yet when, in a mood of lyrical and rapt ecstasy, +she began her opening song, "In Lichter Waffen Scheine," her face was +upon the instant forgotten. She became a Voice--pure, miraculous, +all-compelling; and the listeners seemed to hold breath while the +matchless melody wove round them its persuasive spell. + + * * * * * + +The first act was over, and Rosetta Rosa stood at the footlights +bowing before the rolling and thunderous storms of applause, her hand +in the hand of Alresca, the Lohengrin. That I have not till this +moment mentioned Alresca, and that I mention him now merely as the +man who happened to hold Rosa's hand, shows with what absolute +sovereignty Rosa had dominated the scene. For as Rosa was among +sopranos, so was Alresca among tenors--the undisputed star. Without +other aid Alresca could fill the opera-house; did he not receive two +hundred and fifty pounds a night? To put him in the same cast as Rosa +was one of Cyril Smart's lavish freaks of expense. + +As these two stood together Rosetta Rosa smiled at him; he gave her a +timid glance and looked away. + +When the clapping had ceased and the curtain hid the passions of the +stage, I turned with a sigh of exhaustion and of pleasure to my +hostess, and I was rather surprised to find that she showed not a +trace of the nervous excitement which had marked her entrance into the +box. She sat there, an excellent imitation of a woman of fashion, +languid, unmoved, apparently a little bored, but finely conscious of +doing the right thing. + +"It's a treat to see any one enjoy anything as you enjoy this music," +she said to me. She spoke well, perhaps rather too carefully, and with +a hint of the cockney accent. + +"It runs in the family, you know, Mrs. Smith," I replied, blushing for +the ingenuousness which had pleased her. + +"Don't call me Mrs. Smith; call me Emmeline, as we are cousins. I +shouldn't at all like it if I mightn't call you Carl. Carl is such a +handsome name, and it suits you. Now, doesn't it, Sully?" + +"Yes, darling," Sullivan answered nonchalantly. He was at the back of +the box, and clearly it was his benevolent desire to give me fair +opportunity of a tete-a-tete with his dark and languorous lady. +Unfortunately, I was quite unpractised in the art of maintaining a +tete-a-tete with dark and languorous ladies. Presently he rose. + +"I must look up Smart," he said, and left us. + +"Sullivan has been telling me about you. What a strange meeting! And +so you are a doctor! You don't know how young you look. Why, I am old +enough to be your mother!" + +"Oh, no, you aren't," I said. At any rate, I knew enough to say that. + +And she smiled. + +"Personally," she went on, "I hate music--loathe it. But it's +Sullivan's trade, and, of course, one must come here." + +She waved a jewelled arm towards the splendid animation of the +auditorium. + +"But surely, Emmeline," I cried protestingly, "you didn't 'loathe' +that first act. I never heard anything like it. Rosa was simply--well, +I can't describe it." + +She gazed at me, and a cloud of melancholy seemed to come into her +eyes. And after a pause she said, in the strangest tone, very quietly: + +"You're in love with her already." + +And her eyes continued to hold mine. + +"Who could help it?" I laughed. + +She leaned towards me, and her left hand hung over the edge of the +box. + +"Women like Rosetta Rosa ought to be killed!" she said, with +astonishing ferocity. Her rich, heavy contralto vibrated through me. +She was excited again, that was evident. The nervous mood had +overtaken her. The long pendent lobes of her ears crimsoned, and her +opulent bosom heaved. I was startled. I was rather more than +startled--I was frightened. I said to myself, "What a peculiar +creature!" + +"Why?" I questioned faintly. + +"Because they are too young, too lovely, too dangerous," she responded +with fierce emphasis. "And as for Rosa in particular--as for Rosa in +particular--if you knew what I knew, what I've seen----" + +"What have you seen?" I was bewildered. I began to wish that Sullivan +had not abandoned me to her. + +"Perhaps I'm wrong," she laughed. + +She laughed, and sat up straight again, and resumed her excellent +imitation of the woman of fashion, while I tried to behave as though I +had found nothing singular in her behavior. + +"You know about our reception?" she asked vivaciously in another +moment, playing with her fan. + +"I'm afraid I don't." + +"Where have you been, Carl?" + +"I've been in Edinburgh," I said, "for my final." + +"Oh!" she said. "Well, it's been paragraphed in all the papers. +Sullivan is giving a reception in the Gold Rooms of the Grand Babylon +Hotel. Of course, it will be largely theatrical,--Sullivan has to mix +a good deal with that class, you know; it's his business,--but there +will be a lot of good people there. You'll come, won't you? It's to +celebrate the five hundredth performance of 'My Queen.' Rosetta Rosa +is coming." + +"I shall be charmed. But I should have thought you wouldn't ask Rosa +after what you've just said." + +"Not ask Rosa! My dear Carl, she simply won't go anywhere. I know for +a fact she declined Lady Casterby's invitation to meet a Serene +Highness. Sir Cyril got her for me. She'll be the star of the show." + +The theatre darkened once more. There were the usual preliminaries, +and the orchestra burst into the prelude of the second act. + +"Have you ever done any crystal-gazing?" Emmeline whispered. + +And some one on the floor of the house hissed for silence. + +I shook my head. + +"You must try." Her voice indicated that she was becoming excited +again. "At my reception there will be a spiritualism room. I'm a +believer, you know." + +I nodded politely, leaning over the front of the box to watch the +conductor. + +Then she set herself to endure the music. + +Immediately the second act was over, Sullivan returned, bringing with +him a short, slight, bald-headed man of about fifty. The two were +just finishing a conversation on some stage matter. + +"Smart, let me introduce to you my cousin, Carl Foster. Carl, this is +Sir Cyril Smart." + +My first feeling was one of surprise that a man so celebrated should +be so insignificant to the sight. Yet as he looked at me I could +somehow feel that here was an intelligence somewhat out of the common. +At first he said little, and that little was said chiefly to my +cousin's wife, but there was a quietude and firmness in his speech +which had their own effect. + +Sir Cyril had small eyes, and small features generally, including +rather a narrow forehead. His nostrils, however, were well curved, and +his thin, straight lips and square chin showed the stiffest +determination. He looked fatigued, weary, and harassed; yet it did not +appear that he complained of his lot; rather accepted it with sardonic +humor. The cares of an opera season and of three other simultaneous +managements weighed on him ponderously, but he supported the burden +with stoicism. + +"What is the matter with Alresca to-night?" Sullivan asked. "Suffering +the pangs of jealousy, I suppose." + +"Alresca," Sir Cyril replied, "is the greatest tenor living, and +to-night he sings like a variety comedian. But it is not jealousy. +There is one thing about Alresca that makes me sometimes think he is +not an artist at all--he is incapable of being jealous. I have known +hundreds of singers, and he is the one solitary bird among them of +that plumage. No, it is not jealousy." + +"Then what is it?" + +"I wish I knew. He asked me to go and dine with him this afternoon. +You know he dines at four o'clock. Of course, I went. What do you +think he wanted me to do? He actually suggested that I should change +the bill to-night! That showed me that something really was the +matter, because he's the most modest and courteous man I have ever +known, and he has a horror of disappointing the public. I asked him if +he was hoarse. No. I asked him if he felt ill. No. But he was +extremely depressed. + +"'I'm quite well,' he said, 'and yet--' Then he stopped. 'And yet +what?' It seemed as if I couldn't drag it out of him. Then all of a +sudden he told me. 'My dear Smart,' he said, 'there is a misfortune +coming to me. I feel it.' That's just what he said--'There's a +misfortune coming to me. I feel it.' He's superstitious. They all are. +Naturally, I set to work to soothe him. I did what I could. I talked +about his liver in the usual way. But it had less than the usual +effect. However, I persuaded him not to force me to change the bill." + +Mrs. Sullivan struck into the conversation. + +"He isn't in love with Rosa, is he?" she demanded brusquely. + +"In love with Rosa? Of course he isn't, my pet!" said Sullivan. + +The wife glared at her husband as if angry, and Sullivan made a comic +gesture of despair with his hands. + +"Is he?" Mrs. Sullivan persisted, waiting for Smart's reply. + +"I never thought of that," said Sir Cyril simply. "No; I should say +not, decidedly not.... He may be, after all. I don't know. But if +he were, that oughtn't to depress him. Even Rosa ought to be flattered +by the admiration of a man like Alresca. Besides, so far as I know, +they've seen very little of each other. They're too expensive to sing +together often. There's only myself and Conried of New York who would +dream of putting them in the same bill. I should say they hadn't sung +together more than two or three times since the death of Lord +Clarenceux; so, even if he has been making love to her, she's scarcely +had time to refuse him--eh?" + +"If he has been making love to Rosa," said Mrs. Sullivan slowly, +"whether she has refused him or not, it's a misfortune for him, that's +all." + +"Oh, you women! you women!" Sullivan smiled. "How fond you are of each +other." + +Mrs. Sullivan disdained to reply to her spouse. + +"And, let me tell you," she added, "he has been making love to her." + +The talk momentarily ceased, and in order to demonstrate that I was +not tongue-tied in the company of these celebrities, I ventured to +inquire what Lord Clarenceux, whose riches and eccentricities had +reached even the Scottish newspapers, had to do with the matter. + +"Lord Clarenceux was secretly engaged to Rosa in Vienna," Sir Cyril +replied. "That was about two and a half years ago. He died shortly +afterwards. It was a terrible shock for her. Indeed, I have always +thought that the shock had something to do with her notorious quarrel +with us. She isn't naturally quarrelsome, so far as I can judge, +though really I have seen very little of her." + +"By the way, what was the real history of that quarrel?" said +Sullivan. "I only know the beginning of it, and I expect Carl doesn't +know even that, do you, Carl?" + +"No," I murmured modestly. "But perhaps it's a State secret." + +"Not in the least," Sir Cyril said, turning to me. "I first heard Rosa +in Genoa--the opera-house there is more of a barn even than this, and +a worse stage than this used to be, if that's possible. She was +nineteen. Of course, I knew instantly that I had met with the chance +of my life. In my time I have discovered eleven stars, but this was a +sun. I engaged her at once, and she appeared here in the following +July. She sang twelve times, and--well, you know the sensation there +was. I had offered her twenty pounds a night in Genoa, and she seemed +mighty enchanted. + +"After her season here I offered her two hundred pounds a night for +the following year; but Lord Clarenceux had met her then, and she +merely said she would think it over. She wouldn't sign a contract. I +was annoyed. My motto is, 'Never be annoyed,' but I was. Next to +herself, she owed everything to me. She went to Vienna to fulfil an +engagement, and Lord Clarenceux after her. I followed. I saw her, and +I laid myself out to arrange terms of peace. + +"I have had difficulties with prime donne before, scores of times. +Yes; I have had experience." He laughed sardonically. "I thought I +knew what to do. Generally a prima donna has either a pet dog or a pet +parrot--sopranos go in for dogs, contraltos seem to prefer parrots. I +have made a study of these agreeable animals, and I have found that +through them their mistresses can be approached when all other avenues +are closed. I can talk doggily to poodles in five languages, and in +the art of administering sugar to the bird I am, I venture to think, +unrivalled. But Rosa had no pets. And after a week's negotiation, I +was compelled to own myself beaten. It was a disadvantage to me that +she wouldn't lose her temper. She was too polite; she really was +grateful for what I had done for her. She gave me no chance to work on +her feelings. But beyond all this there was something strange about +Rosa, something I have never been able to fathom. She isn't a child +like most of 'em. She's as strong-headed as I am myself, every bit!" + +He paused, as if inwardly working at the problem. + +"Well, and how did you make it up?" Sullivan asked briskly. + +(As for me, I felt as if I had come suddenly into the centre of the +great world.) + +"Oh, nothing happened for a time. She sang in Paris and America, and +took her proper place as the first soprano in the world. I did without +her, and managed very well. Then early this spring she sent her agent +to see me, and offered to sing ten times for three thousand pounds. +They can't keep away from London, you know. New York and Chicago are +all very well for money, but if they don't sing in London people ask +'em why. I wanted to jump at the offer, but I pretended not to be +eager. Up till then she had confined herself to French operas; so I +said that London wouldn't stand an exclusively French repertoire from +any one, and would she sing in 'Lohengrin.' She would. I suggested +that she should open with 'Lohengrin,' and she agreed. The price was +stiffish, but I didn't quarrel with that. I never drive bargains. She +is twenty-two now, or twenty-three; in a few more years she will want +five hundred pounds a night, and I shall have to pay it." + +"And how did she meet you?" + +"With just the same cold politeness. And I understand her less than +ever." + +"She isn't English, I suppose?" I put in. + +"English!" Sir Cyril ejaculated. "No one ever heard of a great English +soprano. Unless you count Australia as England, and Australia wouldn't +like that. No. That is another of her mysteries. No one knows where +she emerged from. She speaks English and French with absolute +perfection. Her Italian accent is beautiful. She talks German freely, +but badly. I have heard that she speaks perfect Flemish,--which is +curious,--but I do not know." + +"Well," said Sullivan, nodding his head, "give me the theatrical as +opposed to the operatic star. The theatrical star's bad enough, and +mysterious enough, and awkward enough. But, thank goodness, she isn't +polite--at least, those at the Diana aren't. You can speak your mind +to 'em. And that reminds me, Smart, about that costume of Effie's in +the first act of 'My Queen.' Of course you'll insist--" + +"Don't talk your horrid shop now, Sullivan," his wife said; and +Sullivan didn't. + +The prelude to the third act was played, and the curtain went up on +the bridal chamber of Elsa and Lohengrin. Sir Cyril Smart rose as if +to go, but lingered, eying the stage as a general might eye a +battle-field from a neighboring hill. The music of the two processions +was heard approaching from the distance. Then, to the too familiar +strains of the wedding march, the ladies began to enter on the right, +and the gentlemen on the left. Elsa appeared amid her ladies, but +there was no Lohengrin in the other crowd. The double chorus +proceeded, and then a certain excitement was visible on the stage, and +the conductor made signs with his left hand. + +"Smart, what's wrong? Where's Alresca?" It was Sullivan who spoke. + +"He'll sail in all right," Sir Cyril said calmly. "Don't worry." + +The renowned impresario had advanced nearer to the front of our box, +and was standing immediately behind my chair. My heart was beating +violently with apprehension under my shirt-front. Where was Alresca? +It was surely impossible that he should fail to appear! But he ought +to have been on the stage, and he was not on the stage. I stole a +glance at Sir Cyril's face. It was Napoleonic in its impassivity. + +And I said to myself: + +"He is used to this kind of thing. Naturally slips must happen +sometimes." + +Still, I could not control my excitement. + +Emmeline's hand was convulsively clutching at the velvet-covered +balustrade of the box. + +"It'll be all right," I repeated to myself. + +But when the moment came for the king to bless the bridal pair, and +there was no Lohengrin to bless, even the impassive Sir Cyril seemed +likely to be disturbed, and you could hear murmurs of apprehension +from all parts of the house. The conductor, however, went doggedly on, +evidently hoping for the best. + +At last the end of the procession was leaving the stage, and Elsa was +sitting on the bed alone. Still no Lohengrin. The violins arrived at +the muted chord of B flat, which is Lohengrin's cue. They hung on it +for a second, and then the conductor dropped his baton. A bell rang. +The curtain descended. The lights were turned up, and there was a +swift loosing of tongues in the house. People were pointing to Sir +Cyril in our box. As for him, he seemed to be the only unmoved person +in the audience. + +"That's never occurred before in my time," he said. "Alresca was not +mistaken. Something has happened. I must go." + +But he did not go. And I perceived that, though the calm of his +demeanor was unimpaired, this unprecedented calamity had completely +robbed him of his power of initiative. He could not move. He was +nonplussed. + +The door of the box opened, and an official with a blazing diamond in +his shirt-front entered hurriedly. + +"What is it, Nolan?" + +"There's been an accident to Monsieur Alresca, Sir Cyril, and they +want a doctor." + +It was the chance of a lifetime! I ought to have sprung up and proudly +announced, "I'm a doctor." But did I? No! I was so timid, I was so +unaccustomed to being a doctor, that I dared not for the life of me +utter a word. It was as if I was almost ashamed of being a doctor. I +wonder if my state of mind will be understood. + +"Carl's a doctor," said Sullivan. + +How I blushed! + +"Are you?" said Sir Cyril, suddenly emerging from his condition of +suspended activity. "I never guessed it. Come along with us, will +you?" + +"With pleasure," I answered as briskly as I could. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CRY OF ALRESCA + + +As I left the box in the wake of Sir Cyril and Mr. Nolan, Sullivan +jumped up to follow us, and the last words I heard were from Emmeline. + +"Sullivan, stay here. You shall not go near that woman," she exclaimed +in feverish and appealing tones: excitement had once more overtaken +her. And Sullivan stayed. + +"Berger here?" Sir Cyril asked hurriedly of Nolan. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Send some one for him. I'll get him to take Alresca's part. He'll +have to sing it in French, but that won't matter. We'll make a new +start at the duet." + +"But Rosa?" said Nolan. + +"Rosa! She's not hurt, is she?" + +"No, sir. But she's upset." + +"What the devil is she upset about?" + +"The accident. She's practically useless. We shall never persuade her +to sing again to-night." + +"Oh, damn!" Sir Cyril exclaimed. And then quite quietly: "Well, run +and tell 'em, then. Shove yourself in front of the curtain, my lad, +and make a speech. Say it's nothing serious, but just sufficient to +stop the performance. Apologize, grovel, flatter 'em, appeal to their +generosity--you know." + +"Yes, Sir Cyril." + +And Nolan disappeared on his mission of appeasing the audience. + +We had traversed the flagged corridor. Sir Cyril opened a narrow door +at the end. + +"Follow me," he called out. "This passage is quite dark, but quite +straight." + +It was not a passage; it was a tunnel. I followed the sound of his +footsteps, my hands outstretched to feel a wall on either side. It +seemed a long way, but suddenly we stepped into twilight. There was a +flight of steps which we descended, and at the foot of the steps a +mutilated commissionaire, ornamented with medals, on guard. + +"Where is Monsieur Alresca?" Sir Cyril demanded. + +"Behind the back-cloth, where he fell, sir," answered the +commissionaire, saluting. + +I hurried after Sir Cyril, and found myself amid a most extraordinary +scene of noise and confusion on the immense stage. The entire +personnel of the house seemed to be present: a crowd apparently +consisting of thousands of people, and which really did comprise some +hundreds. Never before had I had such a clear conception of the +elaborate human machinery necessary to the production of even a +comparatively simple lyric work like "Lohengrin." Richly clad pages +and maids of honor, all white and gold and rouge, mingled with +shirt-sleeved carpenters and scene-shifters in a hysterical rabble; +chorus-masters, footmen in livery, loungers in evening dress, girls in +picture hats, members of the orchestra with instruments under their +arms, and even children, added variety to the throng. And, round +about, gigantic "flats" of wood and painted canvas rose to the flies, +where their summits were lost in a maze of ropes and pulleys. Beams of +light, making visible great clouds of dust, shot forth from hidden +sources. Voices came down from the roof, and from far below ascended +the steady pulsation of a dynamo. I was bewildered. + +Sir Cyril pushed ahead, without saying a word, without even +remonstrating when his minions omitted to make way for him. Right at +the back of the stage, and almost in the centre, the crowd was much +thicker. And at last, having penetrated it, we came upon a sight which +I am not likely to forget. Rosa, in all the splendor of the bridal +costume, had passed her arms under Alresca's armpits, and so raised +his head and shoulders against her breast. She was gazing into the +face of the spangled knight, and the tears were falling from her eyes +into his. + +"My poor Alresca! My poor Alresca!" she kept murmuring. + +Pressing on these two were a distinguished group consisting of the +King, the Herald, Ortrud, Telramund, and several more. And Ortrud was +cautiously feeling Alresca's limbs with her jewel-laden fingers. I saw +instantly that Alresca was unconscious. + +"Please put him down, mademoiselle." + +These were the first words that I ever spoke to Rosetta Rosa, and, out +of sheer acute nervousness, I uttered them roughly, in a tone of +surly command. I was astonished at myself. I was astonished at my own +voice. She glanced up at me and hesitated. No doubt she was +unaccustomed to such curt orders. + +"Please put him down at once," I repeated, trying to assume a bland, +calm, professional, authoritative manner, and not in the least +succeeding. "It is highly dangerous to lift an unconscious person from +a recumbent position." + +Why I should have talked like an article in a medical dictionary +instead of like a human being I cannot imagine. + +"This is a doctor--Mr. Carl Foster," Sir Cyril explained smoothly, and +she laid Alresca's head gently on the bare planks of the floor. + +"Will everyone kindly stand aside, and I will examine him." + +No one moved. The King continued his kingly examination of the prone +form. Not a fold of Ortrud's magnificent black robe was disturbed. +Then Sir Cyril translated my request into French and into German, and +these legendary figures of the Middle Ages withdrew a little, fixing +themselves with difficulty into the common multitude that pressed on +them from without. I made them retreat still further. Rosetta Rosa +moved gravely to one side. + +Almost immediately Alresca opened his eyes, and murmured faintly, "My +thigh." + +I knelt down, but not before Rosa had sprung forward at the sound of +his voice, and kneeling close by my side had clasped his hand. I tried +to order her away, but my tongue could not form the words. I could +only look at her mutely, and there must have been an effective appeal +in my eyes, for she got up, nodding an acquiescence, and stood silent +and tense a yard from Alresca's feet. With a violent effort I nerved +myself to perform my work. The voice of Nolan, speaking to the +audience, and then a few sympathetic cheers, came vaguely from the +other side of the big curtain, and then the orchestra began to play +the National Anthem. + +The left thigh was broken near the knee-joint. So much I ascertained +at once. As I manipulated the limb to catch the sound of the crepitus +the injured man screamed, and he was continually in very severe pain. +He did not, however, again lose consciousness. + +"I must have a stretcher, and he must be carried to a room. I can't +do anything here," I said to Sir Cyril. "And you had better send for a +first-rate surgeon. Sir Francis Shorter would do very well--102 +Manchester Square, I think the address is. Tell him it's a broken +thigh. It will be a serious case." + +"Let me send for my doctor--Professor Eugene Churt," Rosa said. "No +one could be more skilful." + +"Pardon me," I protested, "Professor Churt is a physician of great +authority, but he is not a surgeon, and here he would be useless." + +She bowed--humbly, as I thought. + +With such materials as came to hand I bound Alresca's legs together, +making as usual the sound leg fulfil the function of a splint to the +other one, and he was placed on a stretcher. It was my first case, and +it is impossible for me to describe my shyness and awkwardness as the +men who were to carry the stretcher to the dressing-room looked +silently to me for instructions. + +"Now," I said, "take short steps, keep your knees bent, but don't on +any account keep step. As gently as you can--all together--lift." + +Rosa followed the little procession as it slowly passed through the +chaotic anarchy of the stage. Alresca was groaning, his eyes closed. +Suddenly he opened them, and it seemed as though he caught sight of +her for the first time. He lifted his head, and the sweat stood in +drops on his brow. + +"Send her away!" he cried sharply, in an agony which was as much +mental as physical. "She is fatal to me." + +The bearers stopped in alarm at this startling outburst; but I ordered +them forward, and turned to Rosa. She had covered her face with her +hands, and was sobbing. + +"Please go away," I said. "It is very important he should not be +agitated." + +Without quite intending to do so, I touched her on the shoulder. + +"Alresca doesn't mean that!" she stammered. + +Her blue eyes were fixed on me, luminous through her tears, and I +feasted on all the lovely curves of that incomparable oval which was +her face. + +"I am sure he doesn't," I answered. "But you had better go, hadn't +you?" + +"Yes," she said, "I will go." + +"Forgive my urgency," I murmured. Then she drew back and vanished in +the throng. + +In the calm of the untidy dressing-room, with the aid of Alresca's +valet, I made my patient as comfortable as possible on a couch. And +then I had one of the many surprises of my life. The door opened, and +old Toddy entered. No inhabitant of the city of Edinburgh would need +explanations on the subject of Toddy MacWhister. The first surgeon of +Scotland, his figure is familiar from one end of the town to the +other--and even as far as Leith and Portobello. I trembled. And my +reason for trembling was that the celebrated bald expert had quite +recently examined me for my Final in surgery. On that dread occasion I +had made one bad blunder, so ridiculous that Toddy's mood had passed +suddenly from grim ferociousness to wild northern hilarity. I think I +am among the few persons in the world who have seen and heard Toddy +MacWhister laugh. + +I hoped that he would not remember me, but, like many great men, he +had a disconcertingly good memory for faces. + +"Ah!" he said, "I've seen ye before." + +"You have, sir." + +"You are the callant who told me that the medulla oblongata--" + +"Please--" I entreated. + +Perhaps he would not have let me off had not Sir Cyril stood +immediately behind him. The impresario explained that Toddy MacWhister +(the impresario did not so describe him) had been in the audience, and +had offered his services. + +"What is it?" asked Toddy, approaching Alresca. + +"Fracture of the femur." + +"Simple, of course." + +"Yes, sir, but so far as I can judge, of a somewhat peculiar nature. +I've sent round to King's College Hospital for splints and bandages." + +Toddy took off his coat. + +"We sha'n't need ye, Sir Cyril," said he casually. + +And Sir Cyril departed. + +In an hour the limb was set--a masterly display of skill--and, except +to give orders, Toddy had scarcely spoken another word. As he was +washing his hands in a corner of the dressing-room he beckoned to me. + +"How was it caused?" he whispered. + +"No one seems to know, sir." + +"Doesn't matter much, anyway! Let him lie a wee bit, and then get him +home. Ye'll have no trouble with him, but there'll be no more warbling +and cutting capers for him this yet awhile." + +And Toddy, too, went. He had showed not the least curiosity as to +Alresca's personality, and I very much doubt whether he had taken the +trouble to differentiate between the finest tenor in Europe and a +chorus-singer. For Toddy, Alresca was simply an individual who sang +and cut capers. + +I made the necessary dispositions for the transport of Alresca in an +hour's time to his flat in the Devonshire Mansion, and then I sat down +near him. He was white and weak, but perfectly conscious. He had +proved himself to be an admirable patient. Even in the very crisis of +the setting his personal distinction and his remarkable and finished +politeness had suffered no eclipse. And now he lay there, with his +silky mustache disarranged and his hair damp, exactly as I had once +seen him on the couch in the garden by the sea in the third act of +"Tristan," the picture of nobility. He could not move, for the +sufficient reason that a strong splint ran from his armpit to his +ankle, but his arms were free, and he raised his left hand, and +beckoned me with an irresistible gesture to come quite close to him. + +I smiled encouragingly and obeyed. + +"My kind friend," he murmured, "I know not your name." + +His English was not the English of an Englishman, but it was beautiful +in its exotic quaintness. + +"My name is Carl Foster," I said. "It will be better for you not to +talk." + +He made another gesture of protest with that wonderful left hand of +his. + +"Monsieur Foster, I must talk to Mademoiselle Rosa." + +"Impossible," I replied. "It really is essential that you should keep +quiet." + +"Kind friend, grant me this wish. When I have seen her I shall be +better. It will do me much good." + +There was such a desire in his eyes, such a persuasive plaintiveness +in his voice, that, against my judgment, I yielded. + +"Very well," I said. "But I am afraid I can only let you see her for +five minutes." + +The hand waved compliance, and I told the valet to go and inquire for +Rosa. + +"She is here, sir," said the valet on opening the door. I jumped up. +There she was, standing on the door-mat in the narrow passage! Yet I +had been out of the room twice, once to speak to Sir Cyril Smart, and +once to answer an inquiry from my cousin Sullivan, and I had not seen +her. + +She was still in the bridal costume of Elsa, and she seemed to be +waiting for permission to enter. I went outside to her, closing the +door. + +"Sir Cyril would not let me come," she said. "But I have escaped him. +I was just wondering if I dared peep in. How is he?" + +"He is getting on splendidly," I answered. "And he wants to have a +little chat with you." + +"And may he?" + +"If you will promise to be very, very ordinary, and not to excite +him." + +"I promise," she said with earnestness. + +"Remember," I added, "quite a little, tiny chat!" + +She nodded and went in, I following. Upon catching sight of her, +Alresca's face broke into an exquisite, sad smile. Then he gave his +valet a glance, and the valet crept from the room. I, as in +professional duty bound, remained. The most I could do was to retire +as far from the couch, and pretend to busy myself with the rolling up +of spare bandages. + +"My poor Rosa," I heard Alresca begin. + +The girl had dropped to her knees by his side, and taken his hand. + +"How did it happen, Alresca? Tell me." + +"I cannot tell you! I saw--saw something, and I fell, and caught my +leg against some timber, and I don't remember any more." + +"Saw something? What did you see?" + +There was a silence. + +"Were you frightened?" Rosa continued softly. + +Then another silence. + +"Yes," said Alresca at length, "I was frightened." + +"What was it?" + +"I say I cannot tell you. I do not know." + +"You are keeping something from me, Alresca," she exclaimed +passionately. + +I was on the point of interfering in order to bring the colloquy to an +end, but I hesitated. They appeared to have forgotten that I was +there. + +"How so?" said Alresca in a curious whisper. "I have nothing to keep +from you, my dear child." + +"Yes," she said, "you are keeping something from me. This afternoon +you told Sir Cyril that you were expecting a misfortune. Well, the +misfortune has occurred to you. How did you guess that it was coming? +Then, to-night, as they were carrying you away on that stretcher, do +you remember what you said?" + +"What did I say?" + +"You remember, don't you?" Rosa faltered. + +"I remember," he admitted. "But that was nonsense. I didn't know what +I was saying. My poor Rosa, I was delirious. And that is just why I +wished to see you--in order to explain to you that that was nonsense. +You must forget what I said. Remember only that I love you." + +("So Emmeline was right," I reflected.) + +Abruptly Rosa stood up. + +"You must not love me, Alresca," she said in a shaking voice. "You ask +me to forget something; I will try. You, too, must forget +something--your love." + +"But last night," he cried, in accents of an almost intolerable +pathos--"last night, when I hinted--you did not--did not speak like +this, Rosetta." + +I rose. I had surely no alternative but to separate them. If I allowed +the interview to be prolonged the consequences to my patient might be +extremely serious. Yet again I hesitated. It was the sound of Rosa's +sobbing that arrested me. + +Once more she dropped to her knees. + +"Alresca!" she moaned. + +He seized her hand and kissed it. + +And then I came forward, summoning all my courage to assert the +doctor's authority. And in the same instant Alresca's features, which +had been the image of intense joy, wholly changed their expression, +and were transformed into the embodiment of fear. With a look of +frightful terror he pointed with one white hand to the blank wall +opposite. He tried to sit up, but the splint prevented him. Then his +head fell back. + +"It is there!" he moaned. "Fatal! My Rosa--" + +The words died in his mouth, and he swooned. + +As for Rosetta Rosa, I led her from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +ROSA'S SUMMONS + + +Everyone knows the Gold Rooms at the Grand Babylon on the Embankment. +They are immense, splendid, and gorgeous; they possess more gold leaf +to the square inch than any music-hall in London. They were designed +to throw the best possible light on humanity in the mass, to +illuminate effectively not only the shoulders of women, but also the +sombreness of men's attire. Not a tint on their walls that has not +been profoundly studied and mixed and laid with a view to the great +aim. Wherefore, when the electric clusters glow in the ceiling, and +the "after-dinner" band (that unique corporation of British citizens +disguised as wild Hungarians) breathes and pants out its after-dinner +melodies from the raised platform in the main salon, people regard +this coup d'oeil with awe, and feel glad that they are in the dazzling +picture, and even the failures who are there imagine that they have +succeeded. Wherefore, also, the Gold Rooms of the Grand Babylon are +expensive, and only philanthropic societies, plutocrats, and the +Titans of the theatrical world may persuade themselves that they can +afford to engage them. + +It was very late when I arrived at my cousin Sullivan's much +advertised reception. I had wished not to go at all, simply because I +was inexperienced and nervous; but both he and his wife were so +good-natured and so obviously anxious to be friendly, that I felt +bound to appear, if only for a short time. As I stood in the first +room, looking vaguely about me at the lively throng of resplendent +actresses who chattered and smiled so industriously and with such +abundance of gesture to the male acquaintances who surrounded them, I +said to myself that I was singularly out of place there. + +I didn't know a soul, and the stream of arrivals having ceased, +neither Sullivan nor Emmeline was immediately visible. The moving +picture was at once attractive and repellent to me. It became +instantly apparent that the majority of the men and women there had +but a single interest in life, that of centring attention upon +themselves; and their various methods of reaching this desirable end +were curious and wonderful in the extreme. For all practical purposes, +they were still on the boards which they had left but an hour or two +before. It seemed as if they regarded the very orchestra in the light +of a specially contrived accompaniment to their several actions and +movements. As they glanced carelessly at me, I felt that they held me +as a foreigner, as one outside that incredible little world of theirs +which they call "the profession." And so I felt crushed, with a faint +resemblance to a worm. You see, I was young. + +I walked through towards the main salon, and in the doorway between +the two rooms I met a girl of striking appearance, who was followed by +two others. I knew her face well, having seen it often in photograph +shops; it was the face of Marie Deschamps, the popular divette of the +Diana Theatre, the leading lady of Sullivan's long-lived musical +comedy, "My Queen." I needed no second glance to convince me that Miss +Deschamps was a very important personage indeed, and, further, that a +large proportion of her salary of seventy-five pounds a week was +expended in the suits and trappings of triumph. If her dress did not +prove that she was on the topmost bough of the tree, then nothing +could. Though that night is still recent history, times have changed. +Divettes could do more with three hundred a month then than they can +with eight hundred now. + +As we passed she examined me with a curiosity whose charm was its +frankness. Of course, she put me out of countenance, particularly when +she put her hand on my sleeve. Divettes have the right to do these +things. + +"I know who you are," she said, laughing and showing her teeth. "You +are dear old Sully's cousin; he pointed you out to me the other night +when you were at the Diana. Now, don't say you aren't, or I shall look +such a fool; and for goodness' sake don't say you don't know +me--because everyone knows me, and if they don't they ought to." + +I was swept away by the exuberance of her attack, and, blushing +violently, I took the small hand which she offered, and assured her +that I was in fact Sullivan Smith's cousin, and her sincere admirer. + +"That's all right," she said, raising her superb shoulders after a +special manner of her own. "Now you shall take me to Sullivan, and he +shall introduce us. Any friend of dear old Sully's is a friend of +mine. How do you like my new song?" + +"What new song?" I inquired incautiously. + +"Why, 'Who milked the cow?' of course." + +I endeavored to give her to understand that it had made an indelible +impression on me; and with such like converse we went in search of +Sullivan, while everyone turned to observe the unknown shy young man +who was escorting Marie Deschamps. + +"Here he is," my companion said at length, as we neared the orchestra, +"listening to the band. He should have a band, the little dear! +Sullivan, introduce me to your cousin." + +"Charmed--delighted." And Sullivan beamed with pleasure. "Ah, my young +friend," he went on to me, "you know your way about fairly well. But +there! medical students--they're all alike. Well, what do you think of +the show?" + +"Hasn't he done it awfully well, Mr. Foster?" said Miss Deschamps. + +I said that I should rather think he had. + +"Look here," said Sullivan, becoming grave and dropping his voice, +"there are four hundred invitations, and it'll cost me seven hundred +and fifty pounds. But it pays. You know that, don't you, Marie? Look +at the advertisement! And I've got a lot of newspaper chaps here. +It'll be in every paper to-morrow. I reckon I've done this thing on +the right lines. It's only a reception, of course, but let me tell you +I've seen after the refreshments--not snacks--refreshments, mind you! +And there's a smoke-room for the boys, and the wife's got a +spiritualism-room, and there's the show in this room. Some jolly good +people here, too--not all chorus girls and walking gents. Are they, +Marie?" + +"You bet not," the lady replied. + +"Rosetta Rosa's coming, and she won't go quite everywhere--not quite! +By the way, it's about time she did come." He looked at his watch. + +"Ah, Mr. Foster," the divette said, "you must tell me all about that +business. I'm told you were there, and that there was a terrible +scene." + +"What business?" I inquired. + +"At the Opera the other night, when Alresca broke his thigh. Didn't +you go behind and save his life?" + +"I didn't precisely save his life, but I attended to him." + +"They say he is secretly married to Rosa. Is that so?" + +"I really can't say, but I think not." + +"What did she say to him when she went into his dressing-room? I know +all about it, because one of our girls has a sister who's in the Opera +chorus, and her sister saw Rosa go in. I do want to know what she +said, and what he said." + +An impulse seized me to invent a harmless little tale for the +diversion of Marie Deschamps. I was astonished at my own enterprise. I +perceived that I was getting accustomed to the society of greatness. + +"Really?" she exclaimed, when I had finished. + +"I assure you." + +"He's teasing," Sullivan said. + +"Mr. Foster wouldn't do such a thing," she observed, drawing herself +up, and I bowed. + +A man with an eye-glass came and began to talk confidently in +Sullivan's ear, and Sullivan had to leave us. + +"See you later," he smiled. "Keep him out of mischief, Marie. And I +say, Carl, the wife said I was to tell you particularly to go into +her crystal-gazing room. Don't forget." + +"I'll go, too," Miss Deschamps said. "You may take me there now, if +you please. And then I must go down to where the champagne is flowing. +But not with you, not with you, Mr. Foster. There are other gentlemen +here very anxious for the post. Now come along." + +We made our way out of the stir and noise of the grand salon, Marie +Deschamps leaning on my arm in the most friendly and confiding way in +the world, and presently we found ourselves in a much smaller +apartment crowded with whispering seekers after knowledge of the +future. This room was dimly lighted from the ceiling by a single +electric light, whose shade was a queer red Japanese lantern. At the +other end of it were double curtains. These opened just as we entered, +and Emmeline appeared, leading by the hand a man who was laughing +nervously. + +"Your fortune, ladies and gentlemen, your fortune!" she cried +pleasantly. Then she recognized me, and her manner changed, or I +fancied that it did. + +"Ah, Carl, so you've arrived!" she exclaimed, coming forward and +ignoring all her visitors except Marie and myself. + +"Yes, Emmeline, dear," said Marie, "we've come. And, please, I want to +see something in the crystal. How do you do it?" + +Emmeline glanced around. + +"Sullivan said my crystal-gazing would be a failure," she smiled. "But +it isn't, is it? I came in here as soon as I had done receiving, and +I've already had I don't know how many clients. I sha'n't be able to +stop long, you know. The fact is, Sullivan doesn't like me being here +at all. He thinks it not right of the hostess...." + +"But it's perfectly charming of you!" some one put in. + +"Perfectly delicious!" said Marie. + +"Now, who shall I take first?" Emmeline asked, puzzled. + +"Oh, me, of course!" Marie Deschamps replied without a hesitation or a +doubt, though she and I had come in last. And the others acquiesced, +because Marie was on the topmost bough of all. + +"Come along, then," said Emmeline, relieved. + +I made as if to follow them. + +"No, Mr. Foster," said Marie. "You just stay here, and don't listen." + +The two women disappeared behind the portiere, and a faint giggle, +soon suppressed, came through the portiere from Marie. + +I obeyed her orders, but as I had not the advantage of knowing a +single person in that outer room, I took myself off for a stroll, in +the hope of encountering Rosetta Rosa. Yes, certainly in the hope of +encountering Rosetta Rosa! But in none of the thronged chambers did I +discover her. + +When I came back, the waiting-room for prospective crystal-gazers was +empty, and Emmeline herself was just leaving it. + +"What!" I exclaimed. "All over?" + +"Yes," she said; "Sullivan has sent for me. You see, of course, one +has to mingle with one's guests. Only they're really Sullivan's +guests." + +"And what about me?" I said. "Am I not going to have a look into the +crystal?" + +I had, as a matter of fact, not the slightest interest in her crystal +at that instant. I regarded the crystal as a harmless distraction of +hers, and I was being simply jocular when I made that remark. +Emmeline, however, took it seriously. As her face had changed when +she first saw me in the box at the Opera, and again to-night when she +met me and Marie Deschamps on my arm, so once more it changed now. + +"Do you really want to?" she questioned me, in her thrilling voice. + +My soul said: "It's all rubbish--but suppose there is something in it, +after all?" + +And I said aloud: + +"Yes." + +"Come, then." + +We passed through the room with the red Japanese lantern, and lo! the +next room was perfectly dark save for an oval of white light which +fell slantingly on a black marble table. The effect was rather +disconcerting at first; but the explanation was entirely simple. The +light came from an electric table-lamp (with a black cardboard shade +arranged at an angle) which stood on the table. As my eyes grew +accustomed to the obscurity I discovered two chairs. + +"Sit down," said Emmeline. + +And she and I each took one of the chairs, at opposite sides of the +table. + +Emmeline was magnificently attired. As I looked at her in the dimness +across the table, she drummed her fingers on the marble, and then she +bent her face to glance within the shade of the lamp, and for a second +her long and heavy, yet handsome, features were displayed to the +minutest part in the blinding ray of the lamp, and the next second +they were in obscurity again. It was uncanny. I was impressed; and all +the superstition which, like a snake, lies hidden in the heart of +every man, stirred vaguely and raised its head. + +"Carl--" Emmeline began, and paused. + +The woman indubitably did affect me strangely. Hers was a lonely soul, +an unusual mixture of the absolutely conventional and of something +quite else--something bizarre, disturbing, and inexplicable. I was +conscious of a feeling of sympathy for her. + +"Well?" I murmured. + +"Do you believe in the supernatural?" + +"I neither believe nor disbelieve," I replied, "for I have never met +with anything that might be a manifestation of it. But I may say that +I am not a hard and fast materialist." And I added: "Do you believe in +it?" + +"Of course," she snapped. + +"Then, if you really believe, if it's so serious to you, why do you +make a show of it for triflers?". + +"Ah!" she breathed. "Some of them do make me angry. They like to play +at having dealings with the supernatural. But I thought the crystal +would be such a good thing for Sullivan's reception. It is very +important to Sullivan that this should be a great success--our first +large public reception, you know. Sullivan says we must advertise +ourselves." + +The explanation of her motives was given so naively, so simply and +unaffectedly, that it was impossible to take exception to it. + +"Where's the crystal?" I inquired. + +"It is here," she said, and she rolled a glass ball with the +suddenness that had the appearance of magic from the dark portion of +the table's surface into the oval of light. And it was so exactly +spherical, and the table top was so smooth that it would not stay +where it was put, and she had to hold it there with her ringed hand. + +"So that's it," I remarked. + +"Carl," she said, "it is only right I should warn you. Some weeks ago +I saw in the crystal the face of a man whom I did not know. I saw it +again and again--and always the same scene. Then I saw you at the +Opera last week, and Sullivan introduced you as his cousin that he +talks about sometimes. Did you notice that night that I behaved rather +queerly?" + +"Yes." I spoke shortly. + +"You are the man whom I saw in the crystal." + +"Really?" I ejaculated, smiling, or at least trying to smile. "And +what is the scene of which I am part?" + +"You are standing--But no!" + +She abruptly ceased speaking and coughed, clearing her throat, and she +fixed her large eyes on me. Outside I could hear the distant strain of +the orchestra, and the various noises of a great crowd of people. But +this little dark room, with its sharply defined oval of light, was +utterly shut off from the scene of gaiety. I was aware of an +involuntary shiver, and for the life of me I could not keep my gaze +steadily on the face of the tall woman who sat so still, with such +impressiveness, on the other side of the table. I waited for her to +proceed, and after what seemed a long interval she spoke again: + +"You aren't afraid, are you?" she demanded. + +"Of course I'm not." + +"Then you shall look into the crystal and try to see what I saw. I +will not tell you. You shall try to see for yourself. You may succeed, +if I help you. Now, try to free your mind from every thought, and look +earnestly. Look!" + +I drew the globe towards me from under her fingers. + +"Rum!" I murmured to myself. + +Then I strenuously fixed my eyes on the glinting depths of the +crystal, full of strange, shooting fires; but I could see nothing +whatever. + +"No go!" I said. "You'll have to tell me what you saw." + +"Patience. There is time yet. Look again. Take my hand in your right +hand." + +I obeyed, and we sat together in the tense silence. After a few +minutes, the crystal darkened and then slowly cleared. I trembled with +an uneasy anticipation. + +"You see something," she breathed sorrowfully in my ear. + +"Not yet, not yet," I whispered. "But it is coming. Yes, I see +myself, and--and--a woman--a very pretty woman. I am clasping her +hand." + +"Don't you recognize the woman?" Again Emmeline's voice vibrated like +a lamentation in my ear. I did recognize the woman, and the sweat +stood on my brow. + +"It is Rosetta Rosa!" + +"And what else do you see?" my questioner pursued remorselessly. + +"I see a figure behind us," I stammered, "but what figure I cannot +make out. It is threatening me. It is threatening me! It is a horrible +thing. It will kill me! Ah--!" + +I jumped up with a nervous movement. The crystal, left to itself, +rolled off the table to the floor, and fell with a thud unbroken on +the soft carpet. And I could hear the intake of Emmeline's breath. + +At that moment the double portiere was pulled apart, and some one +stood there in the red light from the Japanese lantern. + +"Is Mr. Foster here? I want him to come with me," said a voice. And it +was the voice of Rosa. + +Just behind her was Sullivan. + +"I expected you'd be here," laughed Sullivan. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE DAGGER AND THE MAN + + +Rosetta Rosa and I threaded through the crowd towards the Embankment +entrance of the Gold Rooms. She had spoken for a few moments with +Emmeline, who went pale with satisfaction at the candid friendliness +of her tone, and she had chatted quite gaily with Sullivan himself; +and we had all been tremendously impressed by her beauty and fine +grace--I certainly not the least. And then she had asked me, with a +quality of mysteriousness in her voice, to see her to her carriage. + +And, with her arm in mine, it was impossible for me to believe that +she could influence, in any evil way, my future career. That she might +be the cause of danger to my life seemed ridiculous. She was the +incarnation of kindliness and simplicity. She had nothing about her of +the sinister, and further, with all her transcendent beauty and charm, +she was also the incarnation of the matter-of-fact. I am obliged to +say this, though I fear that it may impair for some people the vision +of her loveliness and her unique personality. She was the incarnation +of the matter-of-fact, because she appeared to be invariably quite +unconscious of the supremacy of her talents. She was not weighed down +by them, as many artists of distinction are weighed down. She carried +them lightly, seemingly unaware that they existed. Thus no one could +have guessed that that very night she had left the stage of the Opera +after an extraordinary triumph in her greatest role--that of Isolde in +"Tristan." + +And so her presence by my side soothed away almost at once the +excitation and the spiritual disturbance of the scene through which I +had just passed with Emmeline; and I was disposed, if not to laugh at +the whole thing, at any rate to regard it calmly, dispassionately, as +one of the various inexplicable matters with which one meets in a +world absurdly called prosaic. I was sure that no trick had been +played upon me. I was sure that I had actually seen in the crystal +what I had described to Emmeline, and that she, too, had seen it. But +then, I argued, such an experience might be the result of hypnotic +suggestion, or of thought transference, or of some other imperfectly +understood agency.... Rosetta Rosa an instrument of misfortune! No! + +When I looked at her I comprehended how men have stopped at nothing +for the sake of love, and how a woman, if only she be beautiful +enough, may wield a power compared to which the sway of a Tsar, even a +Tsar unhampered by Dumas, is impotence itself. Even at that early +stage I had begun to be a captive to her. But I did not believe that +her rule was malign. + +"Mr. Foster," she said, "I have asked you to see me to my carriage, +but really I want you to do more than that. I want you to go with me +to poor Alresca's. He is progressing satisfactorily, so far as I can +judge, but the dear fellow is thoroughly depressed. I saw him this +afternoon, and he wished, if I met you here to-night, that I should +bring you to him. He has a proposition to make to you, and I hope you +will accept it." + +"I shall accept it, then," I said. + +She pulled out a tiny gold watch, glistening with diamonds. + +"It is half-past one," she said. "We might be there in ten minutes. +You don't mind it being late, I suppose. We singers, you know, have +our own hours." + +In the foyer we had to wait while the carriage was called. I stood +silent, and perhaps abstracted, at her elbow, absorbed in the pride +and happiness of being so close to her, and looking forward with a +tremulous pleasure to the drive through London at her side. She was +dressed in gray, with a large ermine-lined cloak, and she wore no +ornaments except a thin jewelled dagger in her lovely hair. + +All at once I saw that she flushed, and, following the direction of +her eyes, I beheld Sir Cyril Smart, with a startled gaze fixed +immovably on her face. Except the footmen and the attendants attached +to the hotel, there were not half a dozen people in the entrance-hall +at this moment. Sir Cyril was nearly as white as the marble floor. He +made a step forward, and then stood still. She, too, moved towards +him, as it seemed, involuntarily. + +"Good evening, Miss Rosa," he said at length, with a stiff +inclination. She responded, and once more they stared at each other. I +wondered whether they had quarrelled again, or whether both were by +some mischance simultaneously indisposed. Surely they must have +already met during the evening at the Opera! + +Then Rosa, with strange deliberation, put her hand to her hair and +pulled out the jewelled dagger. + +"Sir Cyril," she said, "you seem fascinated by this little weapon. Do +you recognize it?" + +He made no answer, nor moved, but I noticed that his hands were +tightly clenched. + +"You do recognize it, Sir Cyril?" + +At last he nodded. + +"Then take it. The dagger shall be yours. To-night, within the last +minute, I think I have suddenly discovered that, next to myself, you +have the best right to it." + +He opened his lips to speak, but made no sound. + +"See," she said. "It is a real dagger, sharp and pointed." + +Throwing back her cloak with a quick gesture, she was about to prick +the skin of her left arm between the top of her long glove and the +sleeve of her low-cut dress. But Sir Cyril, and I also, jumped to stop +her. + +"Don't do that," I said. "You might hurt yourself." + +She glanced at me, angry for the instant; but her anger dissolved in +an icy smile. + +"Take it, Sir Cyril, to please me." + +Her intonation was decidedly peculiar. + +And Sir Cyril took the dagger. + +"Miss Rosa's carriage," a commissionaire shouted, and, beckoning to +me, the girl moved imperiously down the steps to the courtyard. There +was no longer a smile on her face, which had a musing and withdrawn +expression. Sir Cyril stood stock-still, holding the dagger. What the +surrounding lackeys thought of this singular episode I will not guess. +Indeed, the longer I live, the less I care to meditate upon what +lackeys do think. But that the adventures of their employers provide +them with ample food for thought there can be no doubt. + +Rosa's horses drew us swiftly away from the Grand Babylon Hotel, and +it seemed that she wished to forget or to ignore the remarkable +incident. For some moments she sat silent, her head slightly bent, her +cloak still thrown back, but showing no sign of agitation beyond a +slightly hurried heaving of the bosom. + +I was discreet enough not to break in upon her reflections by any +attempt at conversation, for it seemed to me that what I had just +witnessed had been a sudden and terrible crisis, not only in the life +of Sir Cyril, but also in that of the girl whose loveliness was dimly +revealed to me in the obscurity of the vehicle. + +We had got no further than Trafalgar Square when she aroused herself, +looked at me, and gave a short laugh. + +"I suppose," she remarked, "that a doctor can't cure every disease?" + +"Scarcely," I replied. + +"Not even a young doctor?" she said with comical gravity. + +"Not even a young doctor," I gravely answered. + +Then we both laughed. + +"You must excuse my fun," she said. "I can't help it, especially when +my mind is disturbed." + +"Why do you ask me?" I inquired. "Was it just a general observation +caused by the seriousness of my countenance, or were you thinking of +something in particular?" + +"I was thinking of Alresca," she murmured, "my poor Alresca. He is the +rarest gentleman and the finest artist in Europe, and he is +suffering." + +"Well," I said, "one can't break one's thigh for nothing." + +"It is not his thigh. It is something else." + +"What?" + +She shook her head, to indicate her inability to answer. + +Here I must explain that, on the morning after the accident, I had +taken a hansom to the Devonshire Mansion with the intention of paying +a professional visit to Alresca. I was not altogether certain that I +ought to regard the case as mine, but I went. Immediately before my +hansom, however, there had drawn up another hansom in front of the +portals of the Devonshire, and out of that other hansom had stepped +the famous Toddy MacWhister. Great man as Toddy was, he had an eye on +"saxpences," and it was evident that, in spite of the instructions +which he had given me as to the disposal of Alresca, Toddy was +claiming the patient for his own. I retired. It was the only thing I +could do. Two doctors were not needed, and I did not see myself, a +young man scarcely yet escaped from the fear of examinations, +disputing cases with the redoubtable Toddy. I heard afterwards that he +had prolonged his stay in London in order to attend Alresca. So that +I had not seen the tenor since his accident. + +"What does Monsieur Alresca want to see me about?" I demanded +cautiously. + +"He will tell you," said Rosa, equally cautious. + +A silence followed. + +"Do you think I upset him--that night?" she asked. + +"You wish me to be frank?" + +"If I had thought you would not be frank I would not have asked you. +Do you imagine it is my habit to go about putting awkward questions +like that?" + +"I think you did upset him very much." + +"You think I was wrong?" + +"I do." + +"Perhaps you are right," she admitted. + +I had been bold. A desire took me to be still bolder. She was in the +carriage with me. She was not older than I. And were she Rosetta Rosa, +or a mere miss taken at hazard out of a drawing-room, she was feminine +and I was masculine. In short--Well, I have fits of rashness +sometimes. + +"You say he is depressed," I addressed her firmly. "And I will +venture to inform you that I am not in the least surprised." + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "And why?" + +"After what you said to him that night in the dressing-room. If I had +been in Alresca's place I know that I should be depressed, and very +much depressed, too." + +"You mean--" she faltered. + +"Yes," I said, "I mean that." + +I thought I had gone pretty far, and my heart was beating. I could not +justly have protested had she stopped the carriage and deposited me on +the pavement by the railings of Green Park. But her character was +angelic. She accepted my treatment of her with the most astounding +meekness. + +"You mean," she said, "that he is in love with me, and I chose just +that night to--refuse him." + +I nodded. + +"That is emotional cause enough, isn't it, to account for any +mysterious depression that any man is ever likely to have?" + +"You are mistaken," she said softly. "You don't know Alresca. You +don't know his strength of mind. I can assure you that it is +something more than unreturned love that is destroying him." + +"Destroying him?" + +"Yes, destroying him. Alresca is capable of killing a futile passion. +His soul is too far removed from his body, and even from his mind, to +be seriously influenced by the mistakes and misfortunes of his mind +and body. Do you understand me?" + +"I think so." + +"What is the matter with Alresca is something in his most secret +soul." + +"And you can form no idea of what it is?" + +She made no reply. + +"Doctors certainly can't cure such diseases as that," I said. + +"They can try," said Rosetta Rosa. + +"You wish me to try?" I faced her. + +She inclined her head. + +"Then I will," I said with sudden passionateness, forgetting even that +I was not Alresca's doctor. + +The carriage stopped. In the space of less than a quarter of an hour, +so it seemed to me, we had grown almost intimate--she and I. + +Alresca's man was awaiting us in the portico of the Devonshire, and +without a word he led us to his master. Alresca lay on his back on a +couch in a large and luxuriously littered drawing-room. The pallor of +his face and the soft brilliance of his eyes were infinitely pathetic, +and again he reminded me of the tragic and gloomy third act of +"Tristan." He greeted us kindly in his quiet voice. + +"I have brought the young man," said Rosa, "and now, after I have +inquired about your health, I must go. It is late. Are you better, +Alresca?" + +"I am better now that you are here," he smiled. "But you must not go +yet. It is many days since I heard a note of music. Sing to me before +you go." + +"To-night?" + +"Yes, to-night." + +"What shall I sing?" + +"Anything, so that I hear your voice." + +"I will sing 'Elsa's Dream.' But who will accompany? You know I simply +can't play to my own singing." + +I gathered together all my courage. + +"I'm an awful player," I said, "but I know the whole score of +'Lohengrin.'" + +"How clever of you!" Rosa laughed. "I'm sure you play beautifully." + +Alresca rewarded me with a look, and, trembling, I sat down to the +piano. I was despicably nervous. Before the song was finished I had +lost everything but honor; but I played that accompaniment to the most +marvellous soprano in the world. + +And what singing! Rosa stood close beside me. I caught the golden +voice at its birth. Every vibration, every shade of expression, every +subtlety of feeling was mine; and the experience was unforgettable. +Many times since then have I heard Rosa sing, many times in my hearing +has she excited a vast audience to overwhelming enthusiasm; but never, +to my mind, has she sung so finely as on that night. She was +profoundly moved, she had in Alresca the ideal listener, and she sang +with the magic power of a goddess. It was the summit of her career. + +"There is none like you," Alresca said, and the praise of Alresca +brought the crimson to her cheek. He was probably the one person +living who had the right to praise her, for an artist can only be +properly estimated by his equals. + +"Come to me, Rosa," he murmured, as he took her hand in his and kissed +it. "You are in exquisite voice to-night," he said. + +"Am I?" + +"Yes. You have been excited; and I notice that you always sing best +under excitement." + +"Perhaps," she replied. "The fact is, I have just met--met some one +whom I never expected to meet. That is all. Good night, dear friend." + +"Good night." + +She passed her hand soothingly over his forehead. + +When we were alone Alresca seemed to be overtaken by lassitude. + +"Surely," I said, "it is not by Toddy--I mean Dr. Todhunter +MacWhister's advice that you keep these hours. The clocks are striking +two!" + +"Ah, my friend," he replied wearily, in his precise and rather +elaborate English, "ill or well, I must live as I have been accustomed +to live. For twenty years I have gone to bed promptly at three o'clock +and risen at eleven o'clock. Must I change because of a broken thigh? +In an hour's time, and not before, my people will carry this couch and +its burden to my bedroom. Then I shall pretend to sleep; but I shall +not sleep. Somehow of late the habit of sleep has left me. Hitherto, I +have scorned opiates, which are the refuge of the weak-minded, yet I +fear I may be compelled to ask you for one. There was a time when I +could will myself to sleep. But not now, not now!" + +"I am not your medical adviser," I said, mindful of professional +etiquette, "and I could not think of administering an opiate without +the express permission of Dr. MacWhister." + +"Pardon me," he said, his eyes resting on me with a quiet satisfaction +that touched me to the heart, "but you are my medical adviser, if you +will honor me so far. I have not forgotten your neat hand and skilful +treatment of me at the time of my accident. To-day the little +Scotchman told me that my thigh was progressing quite admirably, and +that all I needed was nursing. I suggested to him that you should +finish the case. He had, in fact, praised your skill. And so, Mr. +Foster, will you be my doctor? I want you to examine me thoroughly, +for, unless I deceive myself, I am suffering from some mysterious +complaint." + +I was enormously, ineffably flattered and delighted, and all the boy +in me wanted to caper around the room and then to fall on Alresca's +neck and dissolve in gratitude to him. But instead of these feats, I +put on a vast seriousness (which must really have been very funny to +behold), and then I thanked Alresca in formal phrases, and then, quite +in the correct professional style, I began to make gentle fun of his +idea of a mysterious complaint, and I asked him for a catalogue of his +symptoms. I perceived that he and Rosa must have previously arranged +that I should be requested to become his doctor. + +"There are no symptoms," he replied, "except a gradual loss of +vitality. But examine me." + +I did so most carefully, testing the main organs, and subjecting him +to a severe cross-examination. + +"Well?" he said, as, after I had finished, I sat down to cogitate. + +"Well, Monsieur Alresca, all I can say is that your fancy is too +lively. That is what you suffer from, an excitable fan--" + +"Stay, my friend," he interrupted me with a firm gesture. "Before you +go any further, let me entreat you to be frank. Without absolute +candor nothing can be done. I think I am a tolerable judge of faces, +and I can read in yours the fact that my condition has puzzled you." + +I paused, taken aback. It had puzzled me. I thought of all that +Rosetta Rosa had said, and I hesitated. Then I made up my mind. + +"I yield," I responded. "You are not an ordinary man, and it was +absurd of me to treat you as one. Absolute candor is, as you say, +essential, and so I'll confess that your case does puzzle me. There is +no organic disease, but there is a quite unaccountable organic +weakness--a weakness which fifty broken thighs would not explain. I +must observe, and endeavor to discover the cause. In the meantime I +have only one piece of advice. You know that in certain cases we have +to tell women patients that a successful issue depends on their own +willpower: I say the same thing to you." + +"Receive my thanks," he said. "You have acted as I hoped. As for the +willpower, that is another matter," and a faint smile crossed his +handsome, melancholy face. + +I rose to leave. It was nearly three o'clock. + +"Give me a few moments longer. I have a favor to ask." + +After speaking these words he closed his eyes, as though to recall the +opening sentences of a carefully prepared speech. + +"I am entirely at your service," I murmured. + +"Mr. Foster," he began, "you are a young man of brilliant +accomplishments, at the commencement of your career. Doubtless you +have made your plans for the immediate future, and I feel quite sure +that those plans do not include any special attendance upon myself, +whom until the other day you had never met. I am a stranger to you, +and on the part of a stranger it would be presumptuous to ask you to +alter your plans. Nevertheless, I am at this moment capable of that +presumption. In my life I have not often made requests, but such +requests as I have made have never been refused. I hope that my good +fortune in this respect may continue. Mr. Foster, I wish to leave +England. I wish to die in my own place--" + +I shrugged my shoulders in protest against the word "die." + +"If you prefer it, I wish to live in my own place. Will you accompany +me as companion? I am convinced that we should suit each other--that I +should derive benefit from your skill and pleasure from your society, +while you--you would tolerate the whims and eccentricities of my +middle age. We need not discuss terms; you would merely name your +fee." + +There was, as a matter of fact, no reason in the world why I should +have agreed to this suggestion of Alresca's. As he himself had said, +we were strangers, and I was under no obligation to him of any kind. + +Yet at once I felt an impulse to accept his proposal. Whence that +impulse sprang I cannot say. Perhaps from the aspect of an adventure +that the affair had. Perhaps from the vague idea that by attaching +myself to Alresca I should be brought again into contact with Rosetta +Rosa. Certainly I admired him immensely. None who knew him could avoid +doing so. Already, indeed, I had for him a feeling akin to affection. + +"I see by your face," he said, "that you are not altogether unwilling. +You accept?" + +"With pleasure;" and I smiled with the pleasure I felt. + +But it seemed to me that I gave the answer independently of my own +volition. The words were uttered almost before I knew. + +"It is very good of you." + +"Not at all," I said. "I have made no plans, and therefore nothing +will be disarranged. Further, I count it an honor; and, moreover, your +'case'--pardon the word--interests me deeply. Where do you wish to +go?" + +"To Bruges, of course." + +He seemed a little surprised that I should ask the question. + +"Bruges," he went on, "that dear and wonderful old city of Flanders, +is the place of my birth. You have visited it?" + +"No," I said, "but I have often heard that it is the most picturesque +city in Europe, and I should like to see it awfully." + +"There is nothing in the world like Bruges," he said. "Bruges the Dead +they call it; a fit spot in which to die." + +"If you talk like that I shall reconsider my decision." + +"Pardon, pardon!" he laughed, suddenly wearing an appearance of +gaiety. "I am happier now. When can we go? To-morrow? Let it be +to-morrow." + +"Impossible," I said. "The idea of a man whose thigh was broken less +than a fortnight since taking a sea voyage to-morrow! Do you know that +under the most favorable circumstances it will be another five or six +weeks before the bone unites, and that even then the greatest care +will be necessary?" + +His gaiety passed. + +"Five more weeks here?" + +"I fear so." + +"But our agreement shall come into operation at once. You will visit +me daily? Rather, you will live here?" + +"If it pleases you. I am sure I shall be charmed to live here." + +"Let the time go quickly--let it fly! Ah, Mr. Foster, you will like +Bruges. It is the most dignified of cities. It has the picturesqueness +of Nuremburg, the waterways of Amsterdam, the squares of Turin, the +monuments of Perugia, the cafes of Florence, and the smells of +Cologne. I have an old house there of the seventeenth century; it is +on the Quai des Augustins." + +"A family affair?" I questioned. + +"No; I bought it only a few years ago from a friend. I fear I cannot +boast of much family. My mother made lace, my father was a +schoolmaster. They are both dead, and I have no relatives." + +Somewhere in the building a clock struck three, and at that instant +there was a tap at the door, and Alresca's valet discreetly entered. + +"Monsieur rang?" + +"No, Alexis. Leave us." + +Comprehending that it was at last Alresca's hour for retiring, I rose +to leave, and called the man back. + +"Good night, dear friend," said Alresca, pressing my hand. "I shall +expect you to-morrow, and in the meantime a room shall be prepared for +you. Au revoir." + +Alexis conducted me to the door. As he opened it he made a civil +remark about the beauty of the night. I glanced at his face. + +"You are English, aren't you?" I asked him. + +"Yes, sir." + +"I only ask because Alexis is such a peculiar name for an Englishman." + +"It is merely a name given to me by Monsieur Alresca when I entered +his service several years ago. My name is John Smedley." + +"Well, Mr. Smedley," I said, putting half a sovereign into his hand, +"I perceive that you are a man of intelligence." + +"Hope so, sir." + +"I am a doctor, and to-morrow, as I dare say you heard, I am coming to +live here with your master in order to attend him medically." + +"Yes, sir." + +"He says he is suffering from some mysterious complaint, Smedley." + +"He told me as much, sir." + +"Do you know what that complaint is?" + +"Haven't the least idea, sir. But he always seems low like, and he +gets lower, especially during the nights. What might the complaint be, +sir?" + +"I wish I could tell you. By the way, haven't you had trained nurses +there?" + +"Yes, sir. The other doctor sent two. But the governor dismissed 'em +yesterday. He told me they worried him. Me and the butler does what's +necessary." + +"You say he is more depressed during the nights--you mean he shows the +effects of that depression in the mornings?" + +"Just so, sir." + +"I am going to be confidential, Smedley. Are you aware if your master +has any secret trouble on his mind, any worry that he reveals to no +one?" + +"No, sir, I am not." + +"Thank you, Smedley. Good night." + +"Good night, sir, and thank you." + +I had obtained no light from Alexis, and I sought in vain for an +explanation of my patient's condition. Of course, it was plausible +enough to argue that his passion for Rosa was at the root of the evil; +but I remembered Rosa's words to me in the carriage, and I was +disposed to agree with them. To me, as to her, it seemed that, though +Alresca was the sort of man to love deeply, he was not the sort of man +to allow an attachment, however profound or unfortunate, to make a +wreck of his existence. No. If Alresca was dying, he was not dying of +love. + +As Alexis had remarked, it was a lovely summer night, and after +quitting the Devonshire I stood idly on the pavement, and gazed about +me in simple enjoyment of the scene. + +The finest trees in Hyde Park towered darkly in front of me, and above +them was spread the star-strewn sky, with a gibbous moon just showing +over the housetops to the left. I could not see a soul, but faintly +from the distance came the tramp of a policeman on his beat. The +hour, to my busy fancy, seemed full of fate. But it was favorable to +meditation, and I thought, and thought, and thought. Was I at the +beginning of an adventure, or would the business, so strangely +initiated, resolve itself into something prosaic and mediocre? I had a +suspicion--indeed, I had a hope--that adventures were in store for me. +Perhaps peril also. For the sinister impression originally made upon +me by that ridiculous crystal-gazing scene into which I had been +entrapped by Emmeline had returned, and do what I would I could not +dismiss it. + +My cousin's wife was sincere, with all her vulgarity and inborn +snobbishness. And that being assumed, how did I stand with regard to +Rosetta Rosa? Was the thing a coincidence, or had I indeed crossed her +path pursuant to some strange decree of Fate--a decree which Emmeline +had divined or guessed or presaged? There was a certain weirdness +about Emmeline that was rather puzzling. + +I had seen Rosa but twice, and her image, to use the old phrase, was +stamped on my heart. True! Yet the heart of any young man who had +talked with Rosa twice would in all probability have been similarly +affected. Rosa was not the ordinary pretty and clever girl. She was +such a creature as grows in this world not often in a century. She was +an angel out of Paradise--an angel who might pass across Europe and +leave behind her a trail of broken hearts to mark the transit. And if +angels could sing as she did, then no wonder that the heavenly choirs +were happy in nothing but song. (You are to remember that it was three +o'clock in the morning.) No, the fact that I was already half in love +with Rosa proved nothing. + +On the other hand, might not the manner in which she and Alresca had +sought me out be held to prove something? Why should such exalted +personages think twice about a mere student of medicine who had had +the good fortune once to make himself useful at a critical juncture? +Surely, I could argue that here was the hand of Fate. + +Rubbish! I was an ass to stand there at that unearthly hour, robbing +myself of sleep in order to pursue such trains of thought. Besides, +supposing that Rosa and myself were, in fact, drawn together by chance +or fate, or whatever you like to call it, had not disaster been +prophesied in that event? It would be best to leave the future alone. +My aim should be to cure Alresca, and then go soberly to Totnes and +join my brother in practice. + +I turned down Oxford Street, whose perspective of gas-lamps stretched +east and west to distances apparent infinite, and as I did so I +suddenly knew that some one was standing by the railings opposite, +under the shadow of the great trees. I had been so sure that I was +alone that this discovery startled me a little, and I began to whistle +tunelessly. + +I could make out no details of the figure, except that it was a man +who stood there, and to satisfy my curiosity I went across to inspect +him. To my astonishment he was very well, though very quietly, +dressed, and had the appearance of being a gentleman of the highest +distinction. His face was clean-shaven, and I noticed the fine, firm +chin, and the clear, unblinking eyes. He stood quite still, and as I +approached looked me full in the face. It was a terrible gaze, and I +do not mind confessing that, secretly, I quailed under it; there was +malice and a dangerous hate in that gaze. Nevertheless I was young, +careless, and enterprising. + +"Can you tell me if I am likely to get a cab at this time of night?" I +asked as lightly as I could. I wanted to hear his voice. + +But he returned no answer, merely gazing at me as before, without a +movement. + +"Strange!" I said, half to myself. "The fellow must be deaf, or mad, +or a foreigner." + +The man smiled slightly, his lips drooping to a sneer. I retreated, +and as I stepped back on the curb my foot touched some small object. I +looked down, and in the dim light, for the dawn was already heralded, +I saw the glitter of jewels. I stooped and picked the thing up. It was +the same little dagger which but a few hours before I had seen Rosa +present with so much formality to Sir Cyril Smart. But there was this +difference--the tiny blade was covered with blood! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ALRESCA'S FATE + + +The house was large, and its beautiful facade fronted a narrow canal. +To say that the spot was picturesque is to say little, for the whole +of Bruges is picturesque. This corner of the Quai des Augustins was +distinguished even in Bruges. The aspect of the mansion, with its wide +entrance and broad courtyard, on which the inner windows looked down +in regular array, was simple and dignified in the highest degree. The +architecture was an entirely admirable specimen of Flemish domestic +work of the best period, and the internal decoration and the furniture +matched to a nicety the exterior. It was in that grave and silent +abode, with Alresca, that I first acquired a taste for bric-a-brac. +Ah! the Dutch marquetry, the French cabinetry, the Belgian brassware, +the curious panellings, the oak-frames, the faience, the silver +candlesticks, the Amsterdam toys in silver, the Antwerp incunables, +and the famous tenth-century illuminated manuscript in half-uncials! +Such trifles abounded, and in that antique atmosphere they had the +quality of exquisite fitness. + +And on the greenish waters of the canal floated several gigantic +swans, with insatiable and endless appetites. We used to feed them +from the dining-room windows, which overhung the canal. + +I was glad to be out of London, and as the days passed my gladness +increased. I had not been pleased with myself in London. As the weeks +followed each other, I had been compelled to admit to myself that the +case of Alresca held mysteries for me, even medical mysteries. During +the first day or two I had thought that I understood it, and I had +despised the sayings of Rosetta Rosa in the carriage, and the +misgivings with which my original examination of Alresca had inspired +me. And then I gradually perceived that, after all, the misgivings had +been justified. The man's thigh made due progress; but the man, slowly +failing, lost interest in the struggle for life. + +Here I might proceed to a technical dissertation upon his physical +state, but it would be useless. A cloud of long words will not cover +ignorance; and I was most emphatically ignorant. At least, such +knowledge as I had obtained was merely of a negative character. All +that I could be sure of was that this was by no means an instance of +mysterious disease. There was no disease, as we understand the term. +In particular, there was no decay of the nerve-centres. Alresca was +well--in good health. What he lacked was the will to live--that +strange and mystic impulse which alone divides us from death. It was, +perhaps, hard on a young G.P. to be confronted by such a medical +conundrum at the very outset of his career; but, then, the Maker of +conundrums seldom considers the age and inexperience of those who are +requested to solve them. + +Yes, this was the first practical proof that had come to me of the +sheer empiricism of the present state of medicine. + +We had lived together--Alresca and I--peaceably, quietly, sadly. He +appeared to have ample means, and the standard of luxury which existed +in his flat was a high one. He was a connoisseur in every department +of art and life, and took care that he was well served. Perhaps it +would be more correct to say that he had once taken care to be well +served, and that the custom primarily established went on by its own +momentum. For he did not exercise even such control as a sick man +might have been expected to exercise. He seemed to be concerned with +nothing, save that occasionally he would exhibit a flickering +curiosity as to the opera season which was drawing to a close. + +Unfortunately, there was little operatic gossip to be curious about. +Rosa had fulfilled her engagement and gone to another capital, and +since her departure the season had, perhaps inevitably, fallen flat. +Of course, the accident to and indisposition of Alresca had also +contributed to this end. And there had been another factor in the +case--a factor which, by the way, constituted the sole item of news +capable of rousing Alresca from his torpor. I refer to the +disappearance of Sir Cyril Smart. + +Soon after my cousin Sullivan's reception, the papers had reported Sir +Cyril to be ill, and then it was stated that he had retired to a +remote Austrian watering-place (name unmentioned) in order to rest and +recuperate. Certain weekly papers of the irresponsible sort gave +publicity to queer rumors--that Sir Cyril had fought a duel and been +wounded, that he had been attacked one night in the streets, even that +he was dead. But these rumors were generally discredited, and +meanwhile the opera season ran its course under the guidance of Sir +Cyril's head man, Mr. Nolan, so famous for his diamond shirt-stud. + +Perhaps I could have thrown some light upon the obscurity which +enveloped the doings of Sir Cyril Smart. But I preferred to remain +inactive. Locked away in my writing-case I kept the jewelled dagger so +mysteriously found by me outside the Devonshire Mansion. + +I had mentioned the incidents of that night to no one, and probably +not a soul on the planet guessed that the young doctor in attendance +upon Alresca had possession of a little toy-weapon which formed a +startling link between two existences supposed to be unconnected save +in the way of business--those of Sir Cyril and Rosetta Rosa. I +hesitated whether to send the dagger to Rosa, and finally decided that +I would wait until I saw her again, if ever that should happen, and +then do as circumstances should dictate. I often wondered whether the +silent man with the fixed gaze, whom I had met in Oxford Street that +night, had handled the dagger, or whether his presence was a mere +coincidence. To my speculations I discovered no answer. + +Then the moment had come when Alresca's thigh was so far mended that, +under special conditions, we could travel, and one evening, after a +journey full of responsibilities for me, we had arrived in Bruges. + +Soon afterwards came a slight alteration. + +Alresca took pleasure in his lovely house, and I was aware of an +improvement in his condition. The torpor was leaving him, and his +spirits grew livelier. Unfortunately, it was difficult to give him +outdoor exercise, since the roughly paved streets made driving +impossible for him, and he was far from being able to walk. After a +time I contrived to hire a large rowing boat, and on fine afternoons +it was our custom to lower him from the quay among the swans into this +somewhat unwieldy craft, so that he might take the air as a Venetian. +The idea tickled him, and our progress along the disused canals was +always a matter of interest to the towns-people, who showed an +unappeasable inquisitiveness concerning their renowned fellow +citizen. + +It was plain to me that he was recovering; that he had lifted himself +out of the circle of that strange influence under which he had nearly +parted with his life. The fact was plain to me, but the explanation of +the fact was not plain. I was as much puzzled by his rise as I had +been puzzled by his descent. But that did not prevent me from trying +to persuade myself that this felicitous change in my patient's state +must be due, after all, to the results of careful dieting, a proper +curriculum of daily existence, supervision of mental tricks and +habits--in short, of all that minute care and solicitude which only a +resident doctor can give to a sick man. + +One evening he was especially alert and gay, and I not less so. We +were in the immense drawing-room, which, like the dining-room, +overlooked the canal. Dinner was finished--we dined at six, the Bruges +hour--and Alresca lay on his invalid's couch, ejecting from his mouth +rings of the fine blue smoke of a Javanese cigar, a box of which I had +found at the tobacco shop kept by two sisters at the corner of the +Grande Place. I stood at the great central window, which was wide +open, and watched the whiteness of the swans moving vaguely over the +surface of the canal in the oncoming twilight. The air was warm and +heavy, and the long, high-pitched whine of the mosquito swarms--sole +pest of the city--had already begun. + +"Alresca," I said, "your days as an invalid are numbered." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"No one who was really an invalid could possibly enjoy that cigar as +you are enjoying it." + +"A good cigar--a glass of good wine," he murmured, savoring the +perfume of the cigar. "What would life be without them?" + +"A few weeks ago, and you would have said: 'What is life even with +them?'" + +"Then you really think I am better?" he smiled. + +"I'm sure of it." + +"As for me," he returned, "I confess it. That has happened which I +thought never would happen. I am once more interested in life. The +wish to live has come back. I am glad to be alive. Carl, your first +case has been a success." + +"No thanks to me," I said. "Beyond seeing that you didn't displace the +broken pieces of your thigh-bone, what have I done? Nothing. No one +knows that better than you do." + +"That's your modesty--your incurable modesty." + +I shook my head, and went to stand by his couch. I was profoundly +aware then, despite all the efforts of my self-conceit to convince +myself to the contrary, that I had effected nothing whatever towards +his recovery, that it had accomplished itself without external aid. +But that did not lessen my intense pleasure in the improvement. By +this time I had a most genuine affection for Alresca. The rare +qualities of the man--his serenity, his sense of justice, his +invariable politeness and consideration, the pureness of his soul--had +captured me completely. I was his friend. Perhaps I was his best +friend in the world. The singular circumstances of our coming together +had helped much to strengthen the tie between us. I glanced down at +him, full of my affection for him, and minded to take advantage of the +rights of that affection for once in a way. + +"Alresca," I said quietly. + +"Well?" + +"What was it?" + +"What was what?" + +I met his gaze. + +"What was that thing that you have fought and driven off? What is the +mystery of it? You know--you must know. Tell me." + +His eyelids fell. + +"Better to leave the past alone," said he. "Granting that I had formed +an idea, I could not put it into proper words. I have tried to do so. +In the expectation of death I wrote down certain matters. But these I +shall now destroy. I am wiser, less morbid. I can perceive that there +are fields of thought of which it is advisable to keep closed the +gates. Do as I do, Carl--forget. Take the credit for my recovery, and +be content with that." + +I felt that he was right, and resumed my position near the window, +humming a tune. + +"In a week you may put your foot to the ground; you will then no +longer have to be carried about like a parcel." I spoke in a casual +tone. + +"Good!" he ejaculated. + +"And then our engagement will come to an end, and you will begin to +sing again." + +"Ah!" he said contemplatively, after a pause, "sing!" + +It seemed as if singing was a different matter. + +"Yes," I repeated, "sing. You must throw yourself into that. It will +be the best of all tonics." + +"Have I not told you that I should never sing again?" + +"Perhaps you have," I replied; "but I don't remember. And even if you +have, as you yourself have just said, you are now wiser, less morbid." + +"True!" he murmured. "Yes, I must sing. They want me at Chicago. I +will go, and while there I will spread abroad the fame of Carl +Foster." + +He smiled gaily, and then his face became meditative and sad. + +"My artistic career has never been far away from tragedy," he said at +length. "It was founded on a tragedy, and not long ago I thought it +would end in one." + +I waited in silence, knowing that if he wished to tell me any private +history, he would begin of his own accord. + +"You are listening, Carl?" + +I nodded. It was growing dusk. + +"You remember I pointed out to you the other day the little house in +the Rue d'Ostende where my parents lived?" + +"Perfectly." + +"That," he proceeded, using that curiously formal and elaborate +English which he must have learned from reading-books, "that was the +scene of the tragedy which made me an artist. I have told you that my +father was a schoolmaster. He was the kindest of men, but he had moods +of frightful severity--moods which subsided as quickly as they arose. +At the age of three, just as I was beginning to talk easily, I became, +for a period, subject to fits; and in one of these I lost the power of +speech. I, Alresca, could make no sound; and for seven years that +tenor whom in the future people were to call 'golden-throated,' and +'world-famous,' and 'unrivalled,' had no voice." He made a deprecatory +gesture. "When I think of it, Carl, I can scarcely believe it--so +strange are the chances of life. I could hear and understand, but I +could not speak. + +"Of course, that was forty years ago, and the system of teaching mutes +to talk was not then invented, or, at any rate, not generally +understood. So I was known and pitied as the poor dumb boy. I took +pleasure in dumb animals, and had for pets a silver-gray cat, a goat, +and a little spaniel. One afternoon--I should be about ten years +old--my father came home from his school and sitting down, laid his +head on the table and began to cry. Seeing him cry, I also began to +cry; I was acutely sensitive. + +"'What is the matter?' asked my good mother. + +"'Alas!' he said, 'I am a murderer!' + +"'Nay, that cannot be,' she replied. + +"'I say it is so,' said my father. 'I have murdered a child--a little +girl. I grumbled at her yesterday. I was annoyed and angry--because +she had done her lessons ill. I sent her home, but instead of going +home she went to the outer canal and drowned herself. They came and +told me this afternoon. Yes, I am a murderer!' + +"I howled, while my mother tried to comfort my father, pointing out +to him that if he had spoken roughly to the child it was done for the +child's good, and that he could not possibly have foreseen the +catastrophe. But her words were in vain. + +"We all went to bed. In the middle of the night I heard my dear +silver-gray cat mewing at the back of the house. She had been locked +out. I rose and went down-stairs to let her in. To do so it was +necessary for me to pass through the kitchen. It was quite dark, and I +knocked against something in the darkness. With an inarticulate +scream, I raced up-stairs again to my parents' bedroom. I seized my +mother by her night-dress and dragged her towards the door. She +stopped only to light a candle, and hand-in-hand we went down-stairs +to the kitchen. The candle threw around its fitful, shuddering glare, +and my mother's eyes followed mine. Some strange thing happened in my +throat. + +"'Mother!' I cried, in a hoarse, uncouth, horrible voice, and, casting +myself against her bosom, I clung convulsively to her. From a hook in +the ceiling beam my father's corpse dangled. He had hanged himself in +the frenzy of his remorse. So my speech came to me again." + +All the man's genius for tragic acting, that genius which had made him +unique in "Tristan" and in "Tannhauser," had been displayed in this +recital; and its solitary auditor was more moved by it than +superficially appeared. Neither of us spoke a word for a few minutes. +Then Alresca, taking aim, threw the end of his cigar out of the +window. + +"Yes," I said at length, "that was tragedy, that was!" + +He proceeded: + +"The critics are always praising me for the emotional qualities in my +singing. Well, I cannot use my voice without thinking of the dreadful +circumstance under which Fate saw fit to restore that which Fate had +taken away." + +And there fell a long silence, and night descended on the canal, and +the swans were nothing now but pale ghosts wandering soundlessly over +the water. + +"Carl," Alresca burst out with a start--he was decidedly in a mood to +be communicative that evening--"have you ever been in love?" + +In the gloom I could just distinguish that he was leaning his head on +his arm. + +"No," I answered; "at least, I think not;" and I wondered if I had +been, if I was, in love. + +"You have that which pleases women, you know, and you will have +chances, plenty of chances. Let me advise you--either fall in love +young or not at all. If you have a disappointment before you are +twenty-five it is nothing. If you have a disappointment after you are +thirty-five, it is--everything." + +He sighed. + +"No, Alresca," I said, surmising that he referred to his own case, +"not everything, surely?" + +"You are right," he replied. "Even then it is not everything. The +human soul is unconquerable, even by love. But, nevertheless, be +warned. Do not drive it late. Ah! Why should I not confess to you, now +that all is over? Carl, you are aware that I have loved deeply. Can +you guess what being in love meant to me? Probably not. I am aging +now, but in my youth I was handsome, and I have had my voice. Women, +the richest, the cleverest, the kindest--they fling themselves at +such as me. There is no vanity in saying so; it is the simple fact. I +might have married a hundred times; I might have been loved a thousand +times. But I remained--as I was. My heart slept like that of a young +girl. I rejected alike the open advances of the bold and the shy, +imperceptible signals of the timid. Women were not for me. In secret I +despised them. I really believe I did. + +"Then--and it is not yet two years ago--I met her whom you know. And +I--I the scorner, fell in love. All my pride, my self-assurance +crumbled into ruin about me, and left me naked to the torment of an +unrequited passion. I could not credit the depth of my misfortune, and +at first it was impossible for me to believe that she was serious in +refusing me. But she had the right. She was an angel, and I only a +man. She was the most beautiful woman in the world." + +"She was--she is," I said. + +He laughed easily. + +"She is," he repeated. "But she is nothing to me. I admire her beauty +and her goodness, that is all. She refused me. Good! At first I +rebelled against my fate, then I accepted it." And he repeated: "Then +I accepted it." + +I might have made some reply to his flattering confidences, but I +heard some one walk quickly across the foot-path outside and through +the wide entrance porch. In another moment the door of the salon was +thrown open, and a figure stood radiant and smiling in the doorway. +The antechamber had already been lighted, and the figure was +silhouetted against the yellow radiance. + +"So you are here, and I have found you, all in the dark!" + +Alresca turned his head. + +"Rosa!" he cried in bewilderment, put out his arms, and then drew them +sharply back again. + +It was Rosetta. She ran towards us, and shook hands with kind +expressions of greeting, and our eyes followed her as she moved about, +striking matches and applying them to candles. Then she took off her +hat and veil. + +"There! I seemed to know the house," she said. "Immediately I had +entered the courtyard I felt that there was a corridor running to the +right, and at the end of that corridor some steps and a landing and a +door, and on the other side of that door a large drawing-room. And +so, without ringing or waiting for the faithful Alexis, I came in." + +"And what brings you to Bruges, dear lady?" asked Alresca. + +"Solicitude for your health, dear sir," she replied, smiling. "At +Bayreuth I met that quaint person, Mrs. Sullivan Smith, who told me +that you were still here with Mr. Foster; and to-day, as I was +travelling from Cologne to Ostend, the idea suddenly occurred to me to +spend one night at Bruges, and make inquiries into your condition--and +that of Mr. Foster. You know the papers have been publishing the most +contradictory accounts." + +"Have they indeed?" laughed Alresca. + +But I could see that he was nervous and not at ease. For myself, I +was, it must be confessed, enchanted to see Rosa again, and so +unexpectedly, and it was amazingly nice of her to include myself in +her inquiries, and yet I divined that it would have been better if she +had never come. I had a sense of some sort of calamity. + +Alresca was flushed. He spoke in short, hurried sentences. Alternately +his tones were passionate and studiously cold. Rosa's lovely +presence, her musical chatter, her gay laughter, filled the room. She +seemed to exhale a delightful and intoxicating atmosphere, which +spread itself through the chamber and enveloped the soul of Alresca. +It was as if he fought against an influence, and then gradually +yielded to the sweetness of it. I observed him closely--for was he not +my patient?--and I guessed that a struggle was passing within him. I +thought of what he had just been saying to me, and I feared lest the +strong will should be scarcely so strong as it had deemed itself. + +"You have dined?" asked Alresca. + +"I have eaten," she said. "One does not dine after a day's +travelling." + +"Won't you have some coffee?" + +She consented to the coffee, which Alexis John Smedley duly brought +in, and presently she was walking lightly to and fro, holding the tiny +white cup in her white hand, and peering at the furniture and +bric-a-brac by the light of several candles. Between whiles she +related to Alresca all the news of their operatic acquaintances--how +this one was married, another stranded in Buenos Ayres, another ill +with jealousy, another ill with a cold, another pursued for debt, and +so on through the diverting category. + +"And Smart?" Alresca queried at length. + +I had been expecting and hoping for this question. + +"Oh, Sir Cyril! I have heard nothing of him. He is not a person that +interests me." + +She shut her lips tight and looked suddenly across in my direction, +and our eyes met, but she made no sign that I could interpret. If she +had known that the little jewelled dagger lay in the room over her +head! + +Her straw hat and thin white veil lay on a settee between two windows. +She picked them up, and began to pull the pins out of the hat. Then +she put the hat down again. + +"I must run away soon, Alresca," she said, bending over him, "but +before I leave I should like to go through the whole house. It seems +such a quaint place. Will you let Mr. Foster show me? He shall not be +away from you long." + +"In the dark?" + +"Why not? We can have candles." + +And so, a heavy silver candlestick in either hand, I presently found +myself preceding Rosa up the wide branching staircase of the house. +We had left the owner with a reading-lamp at the head of his couch, +and a copy of "Madame Bovary" to pass the time. + +We stopped at the first landing to examine a picture. + +"That mysterious complaint that he had, or thought he had, in London +has left him, has it not?" she asked me suddenly, in a low, slightly +apprehensive, confidential tone, moving her head in the direction of +the salon below. + +For some reason I hesitated. + +"He says so," I replied cautiously. "At any rate, he is much better." + +"Yes, I can see that. But he is still in a very nervous condition." + +"Ah," I said, "that is only--only at certain times." + +As we went together from room to room I forgot everything except the +fact of her presence. Never was beauty so powerful as hers; never was +the power of beauty used so artlessly, with such a complete +unconsciousness. I began gloomily to speculate on the chances of her +ultimately marrying Alresca, and a remark from her awoke me from my +abstraction. We were nearing the top of the house. + +"It is all familiar to me, in a way," she said. + +"Why, you said the same down-stairs. Have you been here before?" + +"Never, to my knowledge." + +We were traversing a long, broad passage side by side. Suddenly I +tripped over an unexpected single stair, and nearly fell. Rosa, +however, had allowed for it. + +"I didn't see that step," I said. + +"Nor I," she answered, "but I knew, somehow, that it was there. It is +very strange and uncanny, and I shall insist on an explanation from +Alresca." She gave a forced laugh. + +As I fumbled with the handle of the door she took hold of my hand. + +"Listen!" she said excitedly, "this will be a small room, and over the +mantelpiece is a little round picture of a dog." + +I opened the door with something akin to a thrill. This part of the +house was unfamiliar to me. The room was certainly a small one, but +there was no little round picture over the mantelpiece. It was a +square picture, and rather large, and a sea-piece. + +"You guessed wrong," I said, and I felt thankful. + +"No, no, I am sure." + +She went to the square picture, and lifted it away from the wall. + +"Look!" she said. + +Behind the picture was a round whitish mark on the wall, showing where +another picture had previously hung. + +"Let us go, let us go! I don't like the flicker of these candles," she +murmured, and she seized my arm. + +We returned to the corridor. Her grip of me tightened. + +"Was not that Alresca?" she cried. + +"Where?" + +"At the end of the corridor--there!" + +"I saw no one, and it couldn't have been he, for the simple reason +that he can't walk yet, not to mention climbing three flights of +stairs. You have made yourself nervous." + +We descended to the ground-floor. In the main hall Alresca's +housekeeper, evidently an old acquaintance, greeted Rosa with a +curtsy, and she stopped to speak to the woman. I went on to the salon. + +The aspect of the room is vividly before me now as I write. Most of +the great chamber was in a candle-lit gloom, but the reading-lamp +burnt clearly at the head of the couch, throwing into prominence the +fine profile of Alresca's face. He had fallen asleep, or at any rate +his eyes were closed. The copy of "Madame Bovary" lay on the floor, +and near it a gold pencil-case. Quietly I picked the book up, and saw +on the yellow cover of it some words written in pencil. These were the +words: + +"Carl, I love her. He has come again. This time it is ----" + +I looked long at his calm and noble face, and bent and listened. At +that moment Rosa entered. Concealing the book, I held out my right +hand with a gesture. + +"Softly!" I enjoined her, and my voice broke. + +"Why? What?" + +"He is dead," I said. + +It did not occur to me that I ought to have prepared her. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VIGIL BY THE BIER + + +We looked at each other, Rosa and I, across the couch of Alresca. + +All the vague and terrible apprehensions, disquietudes, misgivings, +which the gradual improvement in Alresca's condition had lulled to +sleep, aroused themselves again in my mind, coming, as it were, boldly +out into the open from the dark, unexplored grottos wherein they had +crouched and hidden. And I went back in memory to those sinister days +in London before I had brought Alresca to Bruges, days over which a +mysterious horror had seemed to brood. + +I felt myself adrift in a sea of frightful suspicions. I remembered +Alresca's delirium on the night of his accident, and his final +hallucination concerning the blank wall in the dressing-room (if +hallucination it was), also on that night. I remembered his outburst +against Rosetta Rosa. I remembered Emmeline Smith's outburst against +Rosetta Rosa. I remembered the vision in the crystal, and Rosa's +sudden and astoundingly apt breaking in upon that vision. I remembered +the scene between Rosa and Sir Cyril Smart, and her almost hysterical +impulse to pierce her own arm with the little jewelled dagger. I +remembered the glint of the dagger which drew my attention to it on +the curb of an Oxford Street pavement afterwards. I remembered the +disappearance of Sir Cyril Smart. I remembered all the inexplicable +circumstances of Alresca's strange decay, and his equally strange +recovery. I remembered that his recovery had coincided with an entire +absence of communication between himself and Rosa.... And then she +comes! And within an hour he is dead! "I love her. He has come again. +This time it is--" How had Alresca meant to finish that sentence? "He +has come again." Who had come again? Was there, then, another man +involved in the enigma of this tragedy? Was it the man I had seen +opposite the Devonshire Mansion on the night when I had found the +dagger? Or was "he" merely an error for "she"? "I love her. She has +come again." That would surely make better sense than what Alresca +had actually written? And he must have been mentally perturbed. Such a +slip was possible. No, no! When a man, even a dying man, is writing a +message which he has torn out of his heart, he does not put "he" for +"she" ... "I love her...." Then, had he misjudged her heart when he +confided in me during the early part of the evening? Or had the sudden +apparition of Rosa created his love anew? Why had she once refused +him? She seemed to be sufficiently fond of him. But she had killed +him. Directly or indirectly she had been the cause of his death. + +And as I looked at her, my profound grief for Alresca made me her +judge. I forgot for the instant the feelings with which she had once +inspired me, and which, indeed, had never died in my soul. + +"How do you explain this?" I demanded of her in a calm and judicial +and yet slightly hostile tone. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "How sad it is! How terribly sad!" + +And her voice was so pure and kind, and her glance so innocent, and +her grief so pitiful, that I dismissed forever any shade of a +suspicion that I might have cherished against her. Although she had +avoided my question, although she had ignored its tone, I knew with +the certainty of absolute knowledge that she had no more concern in +Alresca's death than I had. + +She came forward, and regarded the corpse steadily, and took the +lifeless hand in her hand. But she did not cry. Then she went abruptly +out of the room and out of the house. And for several days I did not +see her. A superb wreath arrived with her card, and that was all. + +But the positive assurance that she was entirely unconnected with the +riddle did nothing to help me to solve it. I had, however, to solve it +for the Belgian authorities, and I did so by giving a certificate that +Alresca had died of "failure of the heart's action." A convenient +phrase, whose convenience imposes perhaps oftener than may be imagined +on persons of an unsuspecting turn of mind! And having accounted for +Alresca's death to the Belgian authorities, I had no leisure (save +during the night) to cogitate much upon the mystery. For I was made +immediately to realize, to an extent to which I had not realized +before, how great a man Alresca was, and how large he bulked in the +world's eye. + +The first announcement of his demise appeared in the "Etoile Belgi," +the well-known Brussels daily, and from the moment of its appearance +letters, telegrams, and callers descended upon Alresca's house in an +unending stream. As his companion I naturally gave the whole of my +attention to his affairs, especially as he seemed to have no relatives +whatever. Correspondents of English, French, and German newspapers +flung themselves upon me in the race for information. They seemed to +scent a mystery, but I made it my business to discourage such an idea. +Nay, I went further, and deliberately stated to them, with a false air +of perfect candor, that there was no foundation of any sort for such +an idea. Had not Alresca been indisposed for months? Had he not died +from failure of the heart's action? There was no reason why I should +have misled these excellent journalists in their search for the +sensational truth, except that I preferred to keep the mystery wholly +to myself. + +Those days after the death recur to me now as a sort of breathless +nightmare, in which, aided by the admirable Alexis, I was forever +despatching messages and uttering polite phrases to people I had never +seen before. + +I had two surprises, one greater and one less. In the first place, the +Anglo-Belgian lawyer whom I had summoned informed me, after Alresca's +papers had been examined and certain effects sealed in the presence of +an official, that my friend had made a will, bearing a date +immediately before our arrival in Bruges, leaving the whole of his +property to me, and appointing me sole executor. I have never +understood why Alresca did this, and I have always thought that it was +a mere kind caprice on his part. + +The second surprise was a visit from the Burgomaster of the city. He +came clothed in his official robes. It was a call of the most rigid +ceremony. Having condoled with me and also complimented me upon my +succession to the dead man's estate, he intimated that the city +desired a public funeral. For a moment I was averse to this, but as I +could advance no argument against it I concurred in the proposal. + +There was a lying-in-state of the body at the cathedral, and the whole +city seemed to go in mourning. On the second day a priest called at +the house on the Quai des Augustins, and said that he had been sent by +the Bishop to ask if I cared to witness the lying-in-state from some +private vantage-ground. I went to the cathedral, and the Bishop +himself escorted me to the organ-loft, whence I could see the silent +crowds move slowly in pairs past Alresca's bier, which lay in the +chancel. It was an impressive sight, and one which I shall not forget. + +On the afternoon of the day preceding the funeral the same priest came +to me again, and I received him in the drawing-room, where I was +writing a letter to Totnes. He was an old man, a very old man, with a +quavering voice, but he would not sit down. + +"It has occurred to the Lord Bishop," he piped, "that monsieur has not +been offered the privilege of watching by the bier." + +The idea startled me, and I was at a loss what to say. + +"The Lord Bishop presents his profound regrets, and will monsieur care +to watch?" + +I saw at once that a refusal would have horrified the ecclesiastic. + +"I shall regard it as an honor," I said. "When?" + +"From midnight to two o'clock," answered the priest. "The later +watches are arranged." + +"It is understood," I said, after a pause. + +And the priest departed, charged with my compliments to the Lord +Bishop. + +I had a horror of the duty which had been thrust upon me. It went +against not merely my inclinations but my instincts. However, there +was only one thing to do, and of course I did it. + +At five minutes to twelve I was knocking at the north door of the +cathedral. A sacristan, who carried in his hand a long lighted taper, +admitted me at once. Save for this taper and four candles which stood +at the four corners of the bier, the vast interior was in darkness. + +The sacristan silently pointed to the chancel, and I walked +hesitatingly across the gloomy intervening space, my footsteps echoing +formidably in the silence. Two young priests stood, one at either side +of the lofty bier. One of them bowed to me, and I took his place. He +disappeared into the ambulatory. The other priest was praying for the +dead, a slight frown on his narrow white brow. His back was +half-turned towards the corpse, and he did not seem to notice me in +any way. + +I folded my arms, and as some relief from the uncanny and troublous +thoughts which ran in my head I looked about me. I could not bring +myself to gaze on the purple cloth which covered the remains of +Alresca. We were alone--the priest, Alresca, and I--and I felt afraid. +In vain I glanced round, in order to reassure myself, at the +stained-glass windows, now illumined by September starlight, at the +beautiful carving of the choir-stalls, at the ugly rococo screen. I +was afraid, and there was no disguising my fear. + +Suddenly the clock chimes of the belfry rang forth with startling +resonance, and twelve o'clock struck upon the stillness. Then followed +upon the bells a solemn and funereal melody. + +"How comes that?" I asked the priest, without stopping to consider +whether I had the right to speak during my vigil. + +"It is the carilloneur," my fellow watcher said, interrupting his +whispered and sibilant devotions, and turning to me, as it seemed, +unwillingly. "Have you not heard it before? Every evening since the +death he has played it at midnight in memory of Alresca." Then he +resumed his office. + +The minutes passed, or rather crawled by, and, if anything, my +uneasiness increased. I suffered all the anxieties and tremors which +those suffer who pass wakeful nights, imagining every conceivable ill, +and victimized by the most dreadful forebodings. Through it all I was +conscious of the cold of the stone floor penetrating my boots and +chilling my feet.... + +The third quarter after one struck, and I began to congratulate myself +that the ordeal by the bier was coming to an end. I looked with a sort +of bravado into the dark, shadowed distances of the fane, and smiled +at my nameless trepidations. And then, as my glance sought to +penetrate the gloom of the great western porch, I grew aware that a +man stood there. I wished to call the attention of the priest to this +man, but I could not--I could not. + +He came very quietly out of the porch, and walked with hushed +footfall up the nave; he mounted the five steps to the chancel; he +approached us; he stood at the foot of the bier; he was within a yard +of me. The priest had his back to him. The man seemed to ignore me; he +looked fixedly at the bier. But I knew him. I knew that fine, hard, +haughty face, that stiff bearing, that implacable eye. It was the man +whom I had seen standing under the trees opposite the Devonshire +Mansion in London. + +For a few moments his countenance showed no emotion. Then the features +broke into an expression of indescribable malice. With gestures of +demoniac triumph he mocked the solemnity of the bier, and showered +upon it every scornful indignity that the human face can convey. + +I admit that I was spellbound with astonishment and horror. I ought to +have seized the author of the infamous sacrilege--I ought, at any +rate, to have called to the priest--but I could do neither. I trembled +before this mysterious man. My frame literally shook. I knew what fear +was. I was a coward. + +At length he turned away, casting at me as he did so one indefinable +look, and with slow dignity passed again down the length of the nave +and disappeared. Then, and not till then, I found my voice and my +courage. I pulled the priest by the sleeve of his cassock. + +"Some one has just been in the cathedral," I said huskily. And I told +him what I had seen. + +"Impossible! Retro me, Sathanas! It was imagination." + +His tone was dry, harsh. + +"No, no," I said eagerly. "I assure you...." + +He smiled incredulously, and repeated the word "Imagination!" + +But I well knew that it was not imagination, that I had actually seen +this man enter and go forth. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE MESSAGE + + +When I returned to Alresca's house--or rather, I should say, to my own +house--after the moving and picturesque ceremony of the funeral, I +found a note from Rosetta Rosa, asking me to call on her at the Hotel +du Commerce. This was the first news of her that I had had since she +so abruptly quitted the scene of Alresca's death. I set off instantly +for the hotel, and just as I was going I met my Anglo-Belgian lawyer, +who presented to me a large envelope addressed to myself in the +handwriting of Alresca, and marked "private." The lawyer, who had been +engaged in the sorting and examination of an enormous quantity of +miscellaneous papers left by Alresca, informed me that he only +discovered the package that very afternoon. I took the packet, put it +in my pocket, and continued on my way to Rosa. It did not occur to me +at the time, but it occurred to me afterwards, that I was extremely +anxious to see her again. + +Everyone who has been to Bruges knows the Hotel du Commerce. It is +the Ritz of Bruges, and very well aware of its own importance in the +scheme of things. As I entered the courtyard a waiter came up to me. + +"Excuse me, monsieur, but we have no rooms." + +"Why do you tell me that?" + +"Pardon. I thought monsieur wanted a room. Mademoiselle Rosa, the +great diva, is staying here, and all the English from the Hotel du +Panier d'Or have left there in order to be in the same hotel with +Mademoiselle Rosa." + +Somewhere behind that mask of professional servility there was a +smile. + +"I do not want a room," I said, "but I want to see Mademoiselle Rosa." + +"Ah! As to that, monsieur, I will inquire." He became stony at once. + +"Stay. Take my card." + +He accepted it, but with an air which implied that everyone left a +card. + +In a moment another servant came forth, breathing apologies, and led +me to Rosa's private sitting-room. As I went in a youngish, dark-eyed, +black-aproned woman, who, I had no doubt, was Rosa's maid, left the +room. + +Rosa and I shook hands in silence, and with a little diffidence. +Wrapped in a soft, black, thin-textured tea-gown, she reclined in an +easy-chair. Her beautiful face was a dead white; her eyes were +dilated, and under them were dark semicircles. + +"You have been ill," I exclaimed, "and I was not told." + +She shrugged her shoulders in denial, and shivered. + +"No," she said shortly. There was a pause. "He is buried?" + +"Yes." + +"Let me hear about it." + +I wished to question her further about her health, but her tone was +almost imperious, and I had a curious fear of offending her. +Nevertheless I reminded myself that I was a doctor, and my concern for +her urged me to be persistent. + +"But surely you have been ill?" I said. + +She tapped her foot. It was the first symptom of nervous impatience +that I had observed in her. + +"Not in body," she replied curtly. "Tell me all about the funeral." + +And I gave her an account of the impressive incidents of the +interment--the stately procession, the grandiose ritual, the symbols +of public grief. She displayed a strange, morbid curiosity as to it +all. + +And then suddenly she rose up from her chair, and I rose also, and she +demanded, as it were pushed by some secret force to the limit of her +endurance: + +"You loved him, didn't you, Mr. Foster?" + +It was not an English phrase; no Englishwoman would have used it. + +"I was tremendously fond of him," I answered. "I should never have +thought that I could have grown so fond of any one in such a short +time. He wasn't merely fine as an artist; he was so fine as a man." + +She nodded. + +"You understood him? You knew all about him? He talked to you openly, +didn't he?" + +"Yes," I said. "He used to tell me all kinds of things." + +"Then explain to me," she cried out, and I saw that tears brimmed in +her eyes, "why did he die when I came?" + +"It was a coincidence," I said lamely. + +Seizing my hands, she actually fell on her knees before me, flashing +into my eyes all the loveliness of her pallid, upturned face. + +"It was not a coincidence!" she passionately sobbed. "Why can't you be +frank with me, and tell me how it is that I have killed him? He said +long ago--do you not remember?--that I was fatal to him. He was +getting better--you yourself said so--till I came, and then he died." + +What could I reply? The girl was uttering the thoughts which had +haunted me for days. + +I tried to smile a reassurance, and raising her as gently as I could, +I led her back to her chair. It was on my part a feeble performance. + +"You are suffering from a nervous crisis," I said, "and I must +prescribe for you. My first prescription is that we do not talk about +Alresca's death." + +I endeavored to be perfectly matter-of-fact in tone, and gradually she +grew calmer. + +"I have not slept since that night," she murmured wearily. "Then you +will not tell me?" + +"What have I to tell you, except that you are ill? Stop a moment. I +have an item of news, after all. Poor Alresca has made me his heir." + +"That was like his kind heart." + +"Yes, indeed. But I can't imagine why he did it!" + +"It was just gratitude," said she. + +"A rare kind of gratitude," I replied. + +"Is no reason given in the will?" + +"Not a word." + +I remembered the packet which I had just received from the lawyer, and +I mentioned it to her. + +"Open it now," she said. "I am interested--if you do not think me too +inquisitive." + +I tore the envelope. It contained another envelope, sealed, and a +letter. I scanned the letter. + +"It is nothing," I said with false casualness, and was returning it to +my pocket. The worst of me is that I have no histrionic instinct; I +cannot act a part. + +"Wait!" she cried sharply, and I hesitated before the appeal in her +tragic voice. "You cannot deceive me, Mr. Foster. It is something. I +entreat you to read to me that letter. Does it not occur to you that I +have the right to demand this from you? Why should he beat about the +bush? You know, and I know that you know, that there is a mystery in +this dreadful death. Be frank with me, my friend. I have suffered much +these last days." + +We looked at each other silently, I with the letter in my hand. Why, +indeed, should I treat her as a child, this woman with the compelling +eyes, the firm, commanding forehead? Why should I pursue the silly +game of pretence? + +"I will read it," I said. "There is, certainly, a mystery in +connection with Alresca's death, and we may be on the eve of solving +it." + +The letter was dated concurrently with Alresca's will--that is to say, +a few days before our arrival in Bruges--and it ran thus: + + "My dear Friend:--It seems to me that I am to die, and from + a strange cause--for I believe I have guessed the cause. The + nature of my guess and all the circumstances I have written + out at length, and the document is in the sealed packet + which accompanies this. My reason for making such a record + is a peculiar one. I should desire that no eye might ever + read that document. But I have an idea that some time or + other the record may be of use to you--possibly soon. You, + Carl, may be the heir of more than my goods. If matters + should so fall out, then break the seal, and read what I + have written. If not, I beg of you, after five years have + elapsed, to destroy the packet unread. I do not care to be + more precise. + + + Always yours, + "Alresca." + +"That is all?" asked Rosa, when I had finished reading it. + +I passed her the letter to read for herself. Her hand shook as she +returned it to me. + +And we both blushed. We were both confused, and each avoided the +glance of the other. The silence between us was difficult to bear. I +broke it. + +"The question is, What am I to do? Alresca is dead. Shall I respect +his wish, or shall I open the packet now? If he could have foreseen +your anxiety, he probably would not have made these conditions. +Besides, who can say that the circumstances he hints at have not +already arisen? Who can say"--I uttered the words with an emphasis the +daring of which astounded even myself--"that I am not already the heir +of more than Alresca's goods?" + +I imagined, after achieving this piece of audacity, that I was +perfectly calm, but within me there must have raged such a tumult of +love and dark foreboding that in reality I could scarcely have known +what I was about. + +Rosa's eyes fixed themselves upon me, but I sustained that gaze. She +stretched forth a hand as if to take the packet. + +"You shall decide," I said. "Am I to open it, or am I not to open it?" + +"Open it," she whispered. "He will forgive us." + +I began to break the seal. + +"No, no!" she screamed, standing up again with clenched hands. "I was +wrong. Leave it, for God's sake! I could not bear to know the truth." + +I, too, sprang up, electrified by that terrible outburst. Grasping +tight the envelope, I walked to and fro in the room, stamping on the +carpet, and wondering all the time (in one part of my brain) why I +should be making such a noise with my feet. At length I faced her. She +had not moved. She stood like a statue, her black tea-gown falling +about her, and her two hands under her white drawn face. + +"It shall be as you wish," I said. "I won't open it." + +And I put the envelope back into my pocket. + +We both sat down. + +"Let us have some tea, eh?" said Rosa. She had resumed her +self-control more quickly than I could. I was unable to answer her +matter-of-fact remark. She rang the bell, and the maid entered with +tea. The girl's features struck me; they showed both wit and cunning. + +"What splendid tea!" I said, when the refection was in progress. We +had both found it convenient to shelter our feelings behind small +talk. "I'd no idea you could get tea like this in Bruges." + +"You can't," Rosa smiled. "I never travel without my own brand. It is +one of Yvette's special cares not to forget it." + +"Your maid?" + +"Yes." + +"She seems not quite the ordinary maid," I ventured. + +"Yvette? No! I should think not. She has served half the sopranos in +Europe--she won't go to contraltos. I possess her because I outbid all +rivals for her services. As a hairdresser she is unequalled. And it's +so much nicer not being forced to call in a coiffeur in every town! It +was she who invented my 'Elsa' coiffure. Perhaps you remember it?" + +"Perfectly. By the way, when do you recommence your engagements?" + +She smiled nervously. "I--I haven't decided." + +Nothing with any particle of significance passed during the remainder +of our interview. Telling her that I was leaving for England the next +day, I bade good-by to Rosa. She did not express the hope of seeing me +again, and for some obscure reason, buried in the mysteries of love's +psychology, I dared not express the hope to her. And so we parted, +with a thousand things unsaid, on a note of ineffectuality, of +suspense, of vague indefiniteness. + +And the next morning I received from her this brief missive, which +threw me into a wild condition of joyous expectancy: "If you could +meet me in the Church of St. Gilles at eleven o'clock this morning, I +should like to have your advice upon a certain matter.--Rosa." + +Seventy-seven years elapsed before eleven o'clock. + +St. Gilles is a large church in a small deserted square at the back of +the town. I waited for Rosa in the western porch, and at five minutes +past the hour she arrived, looking better in health, at once more +composed and vivacious. We sat down in a corner at the far end of one +of the aisles. Except ourselves and a couple of cleaners, there seemed +to be no one in the church. + +"You asked me yesterday about my engagements," she began. + +"Yes," I said, "and I had a reason. As a doctor, I will take leave to +tell you that it is advisable for you to throw yourself into your work +as soon as possible, and as completely as possible." And I remembered +the similar advice which, out of the plenitude of my youthful wisdom, +I had offered to Alresca only a few days before. + +"The fact is that I have signed a contract to sing 'Carmen' at the +Paris Opera Comique in a fortnight's time. I have never sung the role +there before, and I am, or rather I was, very anxious to do so. This +morning I had a telegram from the manager urging me to go to Paris +without delay for the rehearsals." + +"And are you going?" + +"That is the question. I may tell you that one of my objects in +calling on poor Alresca was to consult him about the point. The truth +is, I am threatened with trouble if I appear at the Opera Comique, +particularly in 'Carmen.' The whole matter is paltry beyond words, but +really I am a little afraid." + +"May I hear the story?" + +"You know Carlotta Deschamps, who always takes Carmen at the Comique?" + +"I've heard her sing." + +"By the way, that is her half-sister, Marie Deschamps, who sings in +your cousin's operas at the London Diana." + +"I have made the acquaintance of Marie--a harmless little thing!" + +"Her half-sister isn't quite so harmless. She is the daughter of a +Spanish mother, while Marie is the daughter of an English mother, a +Cockney woman. As to Carlotta, when I was younger"--oh, the +deliciously aged air with which this creature of twenty-three referred +to her youth--"I was singing at the Opera Comique in Paris, where +Carlotta was starring, and I had the misfortune to arouse her +jealousy. She is frightfully jealous, and get worse as she gets older. +She swore to me that if I ever dared to appear at the Comique again +she would have me killed. I laughed. I forgot the affair, but it +happens that I never have sung at the Comique since that time. And now +that I am not merely to appear at the Comique, but am going to sing +'Carmen' there, her own particular role, Deschamps is furious. I +firmly believe she means harm. Twice she has written to me the most +formidable threats. It seems strange that I should stand in awe of a +woman like Carlotta Deschamps, but so it is. I am half-inclined to +throw up the engagement." + +That a girl of Rosa's spirit should have hesitated for an instant +about fulfilling her engagement showed most plainly, I thought, that +she was not herself. I assured her that her fears were groundless, +that we lived in the nineteenth century, and that Deschamps' fury +would spend itself in nothing worse than threats. In the end she said +she would reconsider the matter. + +"Don't wait to reconsider," I urged, "but set off for Paris at once. +Go to-day. Act. It will do you good." + +"But there are a hundred things to be thought of first," she said, +laughing at my earnestness. + +"For example?" + +"Well, my jewels are with my London bankers." + +"Can't you sing without jewels?" + +"Not in Paris. Who ever heard of such a thing?" + +"You can write to your bankers to send them by registered post." + +"Post! They are worth thousands and thousands of pounds. I ought +really to fetch them, but there would scarcely be time." + +"Let me bring them to you in Paris," I said. "Give me a letter to your +bankers, and I will undertake to deliver the jewels safely into your +hands." + +"I could not dream of putting you to so much trouble." + +The notion of doing something for her had, however, laid hold of me. +At that moment I felt that to serve even as her jewel-carrier would be +for me the supreme happiness in the world. + +"But," I said, "I ask it as a favor." + +"Do you?" She gave me a divine smile, and yielded. + +At her request we did not leave the church together. She preceded me. +I waited a few minutes, and then walked slowly out. Happening to look +back as I passed along the square, I saw a woman's figure which was +familiar to me, and, dominated by a sudden impulse, I returned quickly +on my steps. The woman was Yvette, and she was obviously a little +startled when I approached her. + +"Are you waiting for your mistress?" I said sharply. "Because...." + +She flashed me a look. + +"Did monsieur by any chance imagine that I was waiting for himself?" + +There was a calm insolence about the girl which induced me to retire +from that parley. + +In two hours I was on my way to London. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TRAIN + + +The boat-train was due to leave in ten minutes, and the platform at +Victoria Station (how changed since then!) showed that scene of +discreet and haughty excitement which it was wont to exhibit about +nine o'clock every evening in those days. The weather was wild. It had +been wet all day, and the rain came smashing down, driven by the great +gusts of a genuine westerly gale. Consequently there were fewer +passengers than usual, and those people who by choice or compulsion +had resolved to front the terrors of the Channel passage had a +preoccupied look as they hurried importantly to and fro amid piles of +luggage and groups of loungers on the wind-swept platform beneath the +flickering gas-lamps. But the porters, and the friends engaged in the +ceremony of seeing-off, and the loungers, and the bookstall +clerks--these individuals were not preoccupied by thoughts of intimate +inconveniences before midnight. As for me, I was quite alone with my +thoughts. At least, I began by being alone. + +As I was registering a particularly heavy and overfed portmanteau to +Paris, a young woman put her head close to mine at the window of the +baggage-office. + +"Mr. Foster? I thought it was. My cab set down immediately after +yours, and I have been trying to catch your eye on the platform. Of +course it was no go!" + +The speech was thrown at me in a light, airy tone from a tiny, pert +mouth which glistened red behind a muslin veil. + +"Miss Deschamps!" I exclaimed. + +"Glad you remember my name. As handsome and supercilious as ever, I +observe. I haven't seen you since that night at Sullivan's reception. +Why didn't you call on me one Sunday? You know I asked you to." + +"Did you ask me?" I demanded, secretly flattered in the extremity of +my youthfulness because she had called me supercilious. + +"Well, rather. I'm going to Paris--and in this weather!" + +"I am, too." + +"Then, let's go together, eh?" + +"Delighted. But why have you chosen such a night?" + +"I haven't chosen it. You see, I open to-morrow at the Casino de +Paris for fourteen nights, and I suppose I've got to be there. You +wouldn't believe what they're paying me. The Diana company is touring +in the provinces while the theatre is getting itself decorated. I hate +the provinces. Leeds and Liverpool and Glasgow--fancy dancing there! +And so my half-sister--Carlotta, y'know--got me this engagement, and +I'm going to stay with her. Have you met Carlotta?" + +"No--not yet." I did not add that I had had reason to think a good +deal about her. + +"Well, Carlotta is--Carlotta. A terrific swell, and a bit of a Tartar. +We quarrel every time we meet, which isn't often. She tries to play +the elder sister game on me, and I won't have it. Though she is +elder--very much elder, you now. But I think her worst point is that +she's so frightfully mysterious. You can never tell what she's up to. +Now, a man I met at supper last night told me he thought he had seen +Carlotta in Bloomsbury yesterday. However, I didn't believe that, +because she is expecting me in Paris; we happen to be as thick as +thieves just now, and if she had been in London, she would have looked +me up." + +"Just so," I replied, wondering whether I should endeavor to obtain +from Marie Deschamps information which would be useful to Rosa. + +By the time that the star of the Diana had said goodbye to certain +male acquaintances, and had gone through a complicated dialogue with +her maid on the subject of dress-trunks, the clock pointed almost to +nine, and a porter rushed us--Marie and myself--into an empty +compartment of a composite coach near to the engine. The compartment +was first class, but it evidently belonged to an ancient order of +rolling stock, and the vivacious Marie criticized it with considerable +freedom. The wind howled, positively howled, in the station. + +"I wish I wasn't going," said the lady. "I shall be horribly ill." + +"You probably will," I said, to tease her, idly opening the Globe. "It +seems that the morning steamer from Calais wasn't able to make either +Dover or Folkestone, and has returned to Calais. Imagine the state of +mind of the passengers!" + +"Ugh! Oh, Mr. Foster, what is that case by your side?" + +"It is a jewel-case." + +"What a big one!" + +She did not conceal her desire to see the inside of it, but I felt +that I could not, even to satisfy her charming curiosity, expose the +interior of Rosa's jewel-case in a railway carriage, and so I edged +away from the topic with as much adroitness as I was capable of. + +The pretty girl pouted, and asked me for the Globe, behind which she +buried herself. She kept murmuring aloud extracts from the Globe's +realistic description of the weather, and then she jumped up. + +"I'm not going." + +"Not going?" + +"No. The weather's too awful. These newspaper accounts frighten me." + +"But the Casino de Paris?" + +"A fig for it! They must wait for me, that's all. I'll try again +to-morrow. Will you mind telling the guard to get my boxes out, +there's a dear Mr. Foster, and I'll endeavor to find that maid of +mine?" + +The train was already five minutes late in starting; she delayed it +quite another five minutes, and enjoyed the process. And it was I who +meekly received the objurgations of porters and guard. My reward was a +smile, given with a full sense of its immense value. + +"Good-by, Mr. Foster. Take care of your precious jewel-case." + +I had carried the thing in my hand up and down the platform. I ran to +my carriage, and jumped in breathless as the train whistled. + +"Pleasant journey!" the witch called out, waving her small hand to me. + +I bowed to her from the window, laughing. She was a genial soul, and +the incident had not been without amusement. + +After I had shut the carriage door, and glanced out of the window for +a moment in the approved way, I sank, faintly smiling at the episode, +into my corner, and then I observed with a start that the opposite +corner was occupied. Another traveller had got into the compartment +while I had been coursing about the platform on behalf of Marie, and +that traveller was the mysterious and sinister creature whom I had met +twice before--once in Oxford Street, and once again during the night +watch in the cathedral at Bruges. He must have made up his mind to +travel rather suddenly, for, in spite of the weather, he had neither +overcoat nor umbrella--merely the frock coat and silk hat of +Piccadilly. But there was no spot of rain on him, and no sign of +disarray. + +As I gazed with alarmed eyes into the face of that strange, forbidding +personality, the gaiety of my mood went out like a match in a breeze. +The uncomfortable idea oppressed me that I was being surely caught and +enveloped in a net of adverse circumstances, that I was the +unconscious victim of a deep and terrible conspiracy which proceeded +slowly forward to an inevitable catastrophe. On each of the previous +occasions when this silent and malicious man had crossed my path I had +had the same feeling, but in a less degree, and I had been able to +shake it off almost at once. But now it overcame and conquered me. + +The train thundered across Grosvenor Bridge through the murky weather +on its way to the coast, and a hundred times I cursed it for its lack +of speed. I would have given much to be at the journey's end, and away +from this motionless and inscrutable companion. His eyes were +constantly on my face, and do what I would I could not appear at ease. +I tried to read the paper, I pretended to sleep, I hummed a tune, I +even went so far as to whistle, but my efforts at sang-froid were +ridiculous. The worst of it was that he was aware of my despicable +condition; his changeless cynical smile made that fact obvious to me. + +At last I felt that something must happen. At any rate, the silence of +the man must be broken. And so I gathered together my courage, and +with a preposterous attempt at a friendly smile remarked: + +"Beastly weather we're having. One would scarcely expect it so early +in September." + +It was an inane speech, so commonplace, so entirely foolish. And the +man ignored it absolutely. Only the corners of his lips drooped a +little to express, perhaps, a profounder degree of hate and scorn. + +This made me a little angry. + +"Didn't I see you last in the cathedral at Bruges?" I demanded curtly, +even rudely. + +He laughed. And his laugh really alarmed me. + +The train stopped at that moment at a dark and deserted spot, which +proved to be Sittingbourne. I hesitated, and then, giving up the +struggle, sped out of the compartment, and entered another one lower +down. My new compartment was empty. The sensation of relief was +infinitely soothing. Placing the jewel-case carefully on my knees, I +breathed freely once more, and said to myself that another quarter of +an hour of that detestable presence would have driven me mad. + +I began to think about Rosetta Rosa. As a solace after the +exasperating companionship of that silent person in the other +compartment, I invited from the back of my mind certain thoughts about +Rosetta Rosa which had been modestly waiting for me there for some +little time, and I looked at them fairly, and turned them over, and +viewed them from every side, and derived from them a rather thrilling +joy. The fact is, I was beginning to be in love with Rosa. Nay, I was +actually in love with her. Ever since our first meeting my meditations +had been more or less busy with her image. For a long period, largely +owing to my preoccupation with Alresca, I had dreamed of her but +vaguely. And now, during our interviews at her hotel and in the church +of St. Gilles, she had, in the most innocent way in the world, forged +fetters on me which I had no desire to shake off. + +It was a presumption on my part. I acknowledged frankly that it was a +presumption. I was a young doctor, with nothing to distinguish me from +the ruck of young doctors. And she was--well, she was one of those +rare and radiant beings to whom even monarchs bow, and the whole earth +offers the incense of its homage. + +Which did not in the least alter the fact that I was in love with her. +And, after all, she was just a woman; more, she was a young woman. And +she had consulted me! She had allowed me to be of use to her! And, +months ago in London, had she not permitted me to talk to her with an +extraordinary freedom? Lovely, incomparable, exquisite as she was, she +was nevertheless a girl, and I was sure that she had a girl's heart. + +However, it was a presumption. + +I remembered her legendary engagement to Lord Clarenceux, an +engagement which had interested all Europe. I often thought of that +matter. Had she loved him--really loved him? Or had his love for her +merely flattered her into thinking that she loved him? Would she not +be liable to institute comparisons between myself and that renowned, +wealthy, and gifted nobleman? + +Well, I did not care if she did. Such is the egoism of untried love +that I did not care if she did! And I lapsed into a reverie--a reverie +in which everything went smoothly, everything was for the best in the +best of all possible worlds, and only love and love's requital +existed.... + +Then, in the fraction of a second, as it seemed, there was a grating, +a horrible grind of iron, a bump, a check, and my head was buried in +the cushions of the opposite side of the carriage, and I felt +stunned--not much, but a little. + +"What--what?" I heard myself exclaim. "They must have plumped the +brakes on pretty sudden." + +Then, quite after an interval, it occurred to me that this was a +railway accident--one of those things that one reads of in the papers +with so much calmness. I wondered if I was hurt, and why I could hear +no sound; the silence was absolute--terrifying. + +In a vague, aimless way, I sought for my matchbox, and struck a +light. I had just time to observe that both windows were smashed, and +the floor of the compartment tilted, when the match went out in the +wind. I had heard no noise of breaking glass. + +I stumbled slowly to the door, and tried to open it, but the thing +would not budge. Whereupon I lost my temper. + +"Open, you beast, you beast, you beast!" I cried to the door, kicking +it hard, and yet not feeling the impact. + +Then another thought--a proud one, which served to tranquillize me: "I +am a doctor, and they will want me to attend to the wounded." + +I remembered my flask, and unscrewing the stopper with difficulty, +clutched the mouth with my teeth and drank. After that I was sane and +collected. Now I could hear people tramping on the ground outside, and +see the flash of lanterns. In another moment a porter, whose silver +buttons gleamed in the darkness, was pulling me through the window. + +"Hurt?" + +"No, not I. But if any one else is, I'm a doctor." + +"Here's a doctor, sir," he yelled to a gray-headed man near by. Then +he stood still, wondering what he should do next. I perceived in the +near distance the lights of a station. + +"Is that Dover?" + +"No, sir; Dover Priory. Dover's a mile further on. There was a goods +wagon got derailed on the siding just beyond the home signal, and it +blocked the down line, and the driver of the express ran right into +it, although the signal was against him--ran right into it, 'e did." + +Other people were crawling out of the carriages now, and suddenly +there seemed to be scores of spectators, and much shouting and running +about. The engine lay on its side, partly overhanging a wrecked wagon. +Immense clouds of steam issued from it, hissing above the roar of the +wind. The tender was twisted like a patent hairpin in the middle. The +first coach, a luggage-van, stood upright, and seemed scarcely +damaged. The second coach, the small, old-fashioned vehicle which +happily I had abandoned at Sittingbourne, was smashed out of +resemblance to a coach. The third one, from which I had just emerged, +looked fairly healthy, and the remaining three had not even left the +rails. + +All ran to the smashed coach. + +"There were two passengers in that coach," said the guard, who, having +been at the rear of the train, was unharmed. + +"Are you counting me?" I asked. "Because I changed carriages at +Sittingbourne." + +"Praise God for that, sir!" he answered. "There's only one, then--a +tall, severe-looking gent--in the first-class compartment." + +Was it joy or sorrow that I felt at the thought of that man buried +somewhere in the shapeless mass of wood and iron? It certainly was not +unmixed sorrow. On the contrary, I had a distinct feeling of elation +at the thought that I was probably rid forever of this haunter of my +peace, this menacing and mysterious existence which (if instinctive +foreboding was to be trusted) had been about to cross and thwart and +blast my own. + +The men hammered and heaved and chopped and sawed, and while they were +in the midst of the work some one took me by the sleeve and asked me +to go and attend to the engine-driver and stoker, who were being +carried into a waiting-room at the station. It is symptomatic of the +extraordinary confusion which reigns in these affairs that till that +moment the question of the fate of the men in charge of the train had +not even entered my mind, though I had of course noticed that the +engine was overturned. In the waiting-room it was discovered that two +local doctors had already arrived. I preferred to leave the +engine-driver to them. He was unconscious as he lay on a table. The +stoker, by his side, kept murmuring in a sort of delirium: + +"Bill, 'e was all dazed like--'e was all dazed like. I told him the +signal wasn't off. I shouted to him. But 'e was all dazed like." + +I returned to the train full of a horrible desire to see with my own +eyes a certain corpse. Bit by bit the breakdown gang had removed the +whole of the centre part of the shattered carriage. I thrust myself +into the group, and--we all looked at each other. Nobody, alive or +dead, was to be found. + +"He, too, must have got out at Sittingbourne," I said at length. + +"Ay!" said the guard. + +My heard swam, dizzy with dark imaginings and unspeakable suspicions. +"He has escaped; he is alive!" I muttered savagely, hopelessly. It was +as if a doom had closed inevitably over me. But if my thoughts had +been legible and I had been asked to explain this attitude of mine +towards a person who had never spoken to me, whom I had seen but +thrice, and whose identity was utterly unknown, I could not have done +so. I had no reasons. It was intuition. + +Abruptly I straightened myself, and surveying the men and the +background of ruin lighted by the fitful gleams of lanterns and the +pale glitter of a moon half-hidden by flying clouds, I shouted out: + +"I want a cab. I have to catch the Calais boat. Will somebody please +direct me!" + +No one appeared even to hear me. The mental phenomena which accompany +a railway accident, even a minor one such as this, are of the most +singular description. I felt that I was growing angry again. I had a +grievance because not a soul there seemed to care whether I caught the +Calais boat or not. That, under the unusual circumstances, the steamer +would probably wait did not occur to me. Nor did I perceive that there +was no real necessity for me to catch the steamer. I might just as +well have spent the night at the Lord Warden, and proceeded on my +journey in the morning. But no! I must hurry away instantly! + +Then I thought of the jewel-box. + +"Where's my jewel-box?" I demanded vehemently from the guard, as +though he had stolen it. + +He turned to me. + +"What's that you're carrying?" he replied. + +All the time I had been carrying the jewel-box. At the moment of the +collision I must have instinctively clutched it, and my grasp had not +slackened. I had carried it to the waiting-room and back without +knowing that I was doing so! + +This sobered me once more. But I would not stay on the scene. I was +still obsessed by the desire to catch the steamer. And abruptly I set +off walking down the line. I left the crowd and the confusion and the +ruin, and hastened away bearing the box. + +I think that I must have had no notion of time, and very little notion +of space. For I arrived at the harbour without the least recollection +of the details of my journey thither. I had no memory of having been +accosted by any official of the railway, or even of having encountered +any person at all. Fortunately it had ceased to rain, and the wind, +though still strong, was falling rapidly. + +Except for a gatekeeper, the bleak, exposed pier had the air of being +deserted. The lights of the town flickered in the distance, and above +them rose dimly the gaunt outlines of the fortified hills. In front +was the intemperate and restless sea. I felt that I was at the +extremity of England, and on the verge of unguessed things. Now, I had +traversed about half the length of the lonely pier, which seems to +curve right out into the unknown, when I saw a woman approaching me in +the opposite direction. My faculties were fatigued with the crowded +sensations of that evening, and I took no notice of her. Even when she +stopped to peer into my face I thought nothing of it, and put her +gently aside, supposing her to be some dubious character of the night +hours. But she insisted on speaking to me. + +"You are Carl Foster," she said abruptly. The voice was harsh, +trembling, excited, yet distinguished. + +"Suppose I am?" I answered wearily. How tired I was! + +"I advise you not to go to Paris." + +I began to arouse my wits, and I became aware that the woman was +speaking with a strong French accent. I searched her face, but she +wore a thick veil, and in the gloom of the pier I could only make out +that she had striking features, and was probably some forty years of +age. I stared at her in silence. + +"I advise you not to go to Paris," she repeated. + +"Who are you?" + +"Never mind. Take my advice." + +"Why? Shall I be robbed?" + +"Robbed!" she exclaimed, as if that was a new idea to her. "Yes," she +said hurriedly. "Those jewels might be stolen." + +"How do you know that I have jewels?" + +"Ah! I--I saw the case." + +"Don't trouble yourself, madam; I shall take particular care not to be +robbed. But may I ask how you have got hold of my name?" + +I had vague ideas of an ingenious plan for robbing me, the particulars +of which this woman was ready to reveal for a consideration. + +She ignored my question. + +"Listen!" she said quickly. "You are going to meet a lady in Paris. Is +it not so?" + +"I must really--" + +"Take advice. Move no further in that affair." + +I attempted to pass her, but she held me by the sleeve. She went on +with emphasis: + +"Rosetta Rosa will never be allowed to sing in 'Carmen' at the Opera +Comique. Do you understand?" + +"Great Scott!" I said, "I believe you must be Carlotta Deschamps." + +It was a half-humorous inspiration on my part, but the remark produced +an immediate effect on the woman, for she walked away with a highly +theatrical scowl and toss of the head. I recalled what Marie Deschamps +had said in the train about her stepsister, and also my suspicion that +Rosa's maid was not entirely faithful to her mistress--spied on her, +in fact; and putting the two things together, it occurred to me that +this strange lady might actually be Carlotta. + +Many women of the stage acquire a habitual staginess and +theatricality, and it was quite conceivable that Carlotta had +relations with Yvette, and that, ridden by the old jealousy which had +been aroused through the announcement of Rosa's return to the Opera +Comique, she was setting herself in an indefinite, clumsy, stealthy, +and melodramatic manner to prevent Rosa's appearance in "Carmen." + +No doubt she had been informed of Rosa's conference with me in the +church of St. Gilles, and, impelled by some vague, obscure motive, had +travelled to London to discover me, and having succeeded, was +determined by some means to prevent me from getting into touch with +Rosa in Paris. So I conjectured roughly, and subsequent events +indicated that I was not too far wrong. + +I laughed. The notion of the middle-aged prima donna going about in +waste places at dead of night to work mischief against a rival was +indubitably comic. I would make a facetious narrative of the meeting +for the amusement of Rosa at breakfast to-morrow in Paris. Then, +feeling all at once at the end of my physical powers, I continued my +way, and descended the steps to the Calais boat. + +All was excitement there. Had I heard of the railway accident? Yes, I +had. I had been in it. Instantly I was surrounded by individuals who +raked me fore and aft with questions. I could not endure it; my +nervous energy, I realized, was exhausted, and having given a brief +outline of the disaster, I fled down the saloon stairs. + +My sole desire was to rest; the need of unconsciousness, of +forgetfulness, was imperious upon me; I had had too many experiences +during the last few hours. I stretched myself on the saloon cushions, +making a pillow of the jewel-box. + +"Shall we start soon?" I murmured to a steward. + +"Yes, sir, in another five minutes. Weather's moderating, sir." + +Other passengers were in the saloon, and more followed. As this would +be the first steamer to leave Dover that day, there was a good number +of voyagers on board, in spite of adverse conditions. I heard people +talking, and the splash of waves against the vessel's sides, and then +I went to sleep. Nothing could have kept me awake. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE STEAMER + + +I awoke with a start, and with wavering eyes looked at the saloon +clock. I had slept for one hour only, but it appeared to me that I was +quite refreshed. My mind was strangely clear, every sense +preternaturally alert. I began to wonder what had aroused me. Suddenly +the ship shuddered through the very heart of her, and I knew that it +was this shuddering, which must have occurred before, that had wakened +me. + +"Good God! We're sinking!" a man cried. He was in the next berth to +me, and he sat up, staring wildly. + +"Rubbish!" I answered. + +The electric lights went out, and we were left with the miserable +illumination of one little swinging oil-lamp. Immediately the score or +so persons in the saloon were afoot and rushing about, grasping their +goods and chattels. The awful shuddering of the ship continued. +Scarcely a word was spoken. + +A man flew, or rather, tumbled, down the saloon stairs, shouting: +"Where's my wife? Where's my wife?" No one took the slightest notice +of him, nor did he seem to expect any answer. Even in the +semi-darkness of the single lamp I distinctly saw that with both hands +he was tearing handfuls of hair from his head. I had heard the phrase +"tearing one's hair" some thousands of time in my life, but never till +that moment had I witnessed the action itself. Somehow it made an +impression on me. The man raced round the saloon still shouting, and +raced away again up-stairs and out of sight. Everyone followed him +pell-mell, helter-skelter, and almost in a second I found myself +alone. I put on my overcoat, and my mackintosh over that, and seizing +Rosa's jewel-box, I followed the crowd. + +As I emerged on deck a Bengal light flared red and dazzling on the +bridge, and I saw some sailors trying to lower a boat from its davits. +Then I knew that the man who had cried "We're sinking!" even if he was +not speaking the exact truth, had at any rate some grounds for his +assertion. + +A rather pretty girl, pale with agitation, seized me by the +buttonhole. + +"Where are we going?" she questioned earnestly. + +"Don't know, madam," I replied; and then a young man dragged her off +by the arm. + +"Come this way, Lottie," I heard him say to her, "and keep calm." + +I was left staring at the place where the girl's head had been. Then +the head of an old man filled that place. I saw his mouth and all his +features working in frantic endeavor to speak to me, but he could not +articulate. I stepped aside; I could not bear to look at him. + +"Carl," I said to myself, "you are undoubtedly somewhat alarmed, but +you are not in such an absolutely azure funk as that old chap. Pull +yourself together." + +Of what followed immediately I have no recollection. I knew vaguely +that the ship rolled and had a serious list to starboard, that orders +were being hoarsely shouted from the bridge, that the moon was shining +fitfully, that the sea was black and choppy; I also seemed to catch +the singing of a hymn somewhere on the forward deck. I suppose I knew +that I existed. But that was all. I had no exact knowledge of what I +myself was doing. There was a hiatus in my consciousness of myself. + +The proof of this is that, after a lapse of time, I suddenly +discovered that I had smoked half-way through a cigarette, and that I +was at the bows of the steamer. For a million sovereigns I could not +explain under what circumstances I had moved from one end of the ship +to the other, nor how I had come to light that cigarette. Such is the +curious effect of perturbation. + +But the perturbation had now passed from me, just as mysteriously as +it had overtaken me. I was cool and calm. I felt inquisitive, and I +asked several people what had happened. But none seemed to know. In +fact, they scarcely heard me, and answered wildly, as if in delirium. +It seemed strange that anything could have occurred on so small a +vessel without the precise details being common property. Yet so it +was, and those who have been in an accident at sea will support me +when I say that the ignorance on the part of the passengers of the +events actually in progress is not the least astounding nor the least +disconcerting item in such an affair. It was the psychology of the +railway accident repeated. + +I began to observe. The weather was a little murky, but beyond doubt +still improving. The lights of the French coast could clearly be seen. +The ship rolled in a short sea; her engines had stopped; she still had +the formidable list to starboard; the captain was on the bridge, +leaning over, and with his hands round his mouth was giving orders to +an officer below. The sailors were still struggling to lower the boat +from the davits. The passengers stood about, aimless, perhaps +terror-struck, but now for the most part quiet and self-contained. +Some of them had life-belts. That was the sum of my observations. + +A rocket streamed upwards into the sky, and another and another, then +one caught the rigging, and, deflected, whizzed down again within a +few feet of my head, and dropped on deck, spluttering in a silly, +futile way. I threw the end of my cigarette at it to see whether that +might help it along. + +"So this is a shipwreck," I ejaculated. "And I'm in it. I've got +myself safely off the railway only to fall into the sea. What a d----d +shame!" + +Queerly enough, I had ceased to puzzle myself with trying to discover +how the disaster had been brought about. I honestly made up my mind +that we were sinking, and that was sufficient. + +"What cursed ill-luck!" I murmured philosophically. + +I thought of Rosa, with whom I was to have breakfasted on the morrow, +whose jewels I was carrying, whose behest it had been my pleasure to +obey. At that moment she seemed to me in my mind's eye more beautiful, +of a more exquisite charm, than ever before. "Am I going to lose her?" +I murmured. And then: "What a sensation there'll be in the papers if +this ship does go down!" My brain flitted from point to point in a +quick agitation. I decided suddenly that the captain and crew must be +a set of nincompoops, who had lost their heads, and, not knowing what +to do, were unserenely doing nothing. And quite as suddenly I reversed +my decision, and reflected that no doubt the captain was doing +precisely the correct thing, and that the crew were loyal and +disciplined. + +Then my mind returned to Rosa. What would she say, what would she +feel, when she learnt that I had been drowned in the Channel? Would +she experience a grief merely platonic, or had she indeed a +profounder feeling towards me? Drowned! Who said drowned? There were +the boats, if they could be launched, and, moreover, I could swim. I +considered what I should do at the moment the ship foundered--for I +still felt she would founder. I was the blackest of pessimists. I said +to myself that I would spring as far as I could into the sea, not only +to avoid the sucking in of the vessel, but to get clear of the other +passengers. + +Suppose that a passenger who could not swim should by any chance seize +me in the water, how should I act? This was a conundrum. I could not +save another and myself, too. I said I would leave that delicate point +till the time came, but in my heart I knew that I should beat off such +a person with all the savagery of despair--unless it happened to be a +woman. I felt that I could not repulse a drowning woman, even if to +help her for a few minutes meant death for both of us. + +How insignificant seemed everything else--everything outside the ship +and the sea and our perilous plight! The death of Alresca, the +jealousy of Carlotta Deschamps, the plot (if there was one) against +Rosa--what were these matters to me? But Rosa was something. She was +more than something; she was all. A lovely, tantalizing vision of her +appeared to float before my eyes. + +I peered over the port rail to see whether we were in fact gradually +sinking. The heaving water looked a long way off, and the idea of this +raised my spirits for an instant. But only for an instant. The +apparent inactivity of those in charge annoyed while it saddened me. +They were not even sending up rockets now, nor burning Bengal lights. +I had no patience left to ask more questions. A mood of disgust seized +me. If the captain himself had stood by my side waiting to reply to +requests for information, I doubt if I should have spoken. I felt like +the spectator who is compelled to witness a tragedy which both wounds +and bores him. I was obsessed by my own ill-luck and the stupidity of +the rest of mankind. I was particularly annoyed by the spasmodic +hymn-singing that went on in various parts of the deck. + +The man who had burst into the saloon shouting "Where is my wife?" +reappeared from somewhere, and standing near to me started to undress +hastily. I watched him. He had taken off his coat, waistcoat, and +boots, when a quiet, amused voice said: "I shouldn't do that if I were +you. It's rather chilly, you know. Besides, think of the ladies." + +Without a word he began with equal celerity to reassume his clothes. I +turned to the speaker. It was the youth who had dragged the girl away +from me when I first came up on deck. She was on his arm, and had a +rug over her head. Both were perfectly self-possessed. The serenity of +the young man's face particularly struck me. I was not to be out-done. + +"Have a cigarette?" I said. + +"Thanks." + +"Do you happen to know what all this business is?" I asked him. + +"It's a collision," he said. "We were struck on the port paddle-box. +That saved us for the moment." + +"How did it occur?" + +"Don't know." + +"And where's the ship that struck us?" + +"Oh, somewhere over there--two or three miles away." He pointed +vaguely to the northeast. "You see, half the paddle-wheel was knocked +off, and when that sank, of course the port side rose out of the +water. I believe those paddle-wheels weigh a deuce of a lot." + +"Are we going to sink?" + +"Don't know. Can tell you more in half an hour. I've got two +life-belts hidden under a seat. They're rather a nuisance to carry +about. You're shivering, Lottie. We must take some more exercise. See +you later, sir." + +And the two went off again. The girl had not looked at me, nor I at +her. She did not seem to be interested in our conversation. As for her +companion, he restored my pride in my race. + +I began to whistle. Suddenly the whistle died on my lips. Standing +exactly opposite to me, on the starboard side, was the mysterious +being whom I had last seen in the railway carriage at Sittingbourne. +He was, as usual, imperturbable, sardonic, terrifying. His face, which +chanced to be lighted by the rays of a deck lantern, had the pallor +and the immobility of marble, and the dark eyes held me under their +hypnotic gaze. + +Again I had the sensation of being victimized by a conspiracy of which +this implacable man was the head. I endured once more the mental +tortures which I had suffered in the railway carriage, and now, as +then, I felt helpless and bewildered. It seemed to me that his +existence overshadowed mine, and that in some way he was connected +with the death of Alresca. Possibly there was a plot, in which the +part played by the jealousy of Carlotta Deschamps was only a minor +one. Possibly I had unwittingly stepped into a net of subtle intrigue, +of the extent of whose boundaries and ramifications I had not the +slightest idea. Like one set in the blackness of an unfamiliar +chamber, I feared to step forward or backward lest I might encounter +some unknown horror. + +It may be argued that I must have been in a highly nervous condition +in order to be affected in such a manner by the mere sight of a man--a +man who had never addressed to me a single word of conversation. +Perhaps so. Yet up to that period of my life my temperament and habit +of mind had been calm, unimpressionable, and if I may say so, not +specially absurd. + +What need to inquire how the man had got on board that ship--how he +had escaped death in the railway accident--how he had eluded my sight +at Dover Priory? There he stood. Evidently he had purposed to pursue +me to Paris, and little things like railway collisions were +insufficient to deter him. I surmised that he must have quitted the +compartment at Sittingbourne immediately after me, meaning to follow +me, but that the starting of the train had prevented him from entering +the same compartment as I entered. According to this theory, he must +have jumped into another compartment lower down the train as the train +was moving, and left it when the collision occurred, keeping his eye +on me all the time, but not coming forward. He must even have walked +after me down the line from Dover Priory to the pier. + +However, a shipwreck was a more serious affair than a railway +accident. And if the ship were indeed doomed, it would puzzle even him +to emerge with his life. He might seize me in the water, and from +simple hate drag me to destruction,--yes, that was just what he would +do,--but he would have a difficulty in saving himself. Such were my +wild and fevered notions! + +On the starboard bow I saw the dim bulk and the masthead lights of a +steamer approaching us. The other passengers had observed it, too, +and there was a buzz of anticipation on the slanting deck. Only the +inimical man opposite to me seemed to ignore the stir. He did not even +turn round to look at the object which had aroused the general +excitement. His eyes never left me. + +The vessel came nearer, till we could discern clearly the outline of +her, and a black figure on her bridge. She was not more than a hundred +yards away when the beat of her engines stopped. She hailed us. We +waited for the answering call from our own captain, but there was no +reply. Twice again she hailed us, and was answered only by silence. + +"Why don't our people reply?" an old lady asked, who came up to me at +that moment, breathing heavily. + +"Because they are d----d fools," I said roughly. She was a most +respectable and prim old lady; yet I could not resist shocking her +ears by an impropriety. + +The other ship moved away into the night. + +Was I in a dream? Was this a pantomime shipwreck? Then it occurred to +me that the captain was so sure of being ultimately able to help +himself that he preferred from motives of economy to decline +assistance which would involve a heavy salvage claim. + +My self-possessed young man came along again in the course of his +peregrinations, the girl whom he called Lottie still on his arm. He +stopped for a chat. + +"Most curious thing!" he began. + +"What now?" + +"Well, I found out about the collision." + +"How did it occur?" + +"In this way. The captain was on duty on the bridge, with the +steersman at the wheel. It was thickish weather then, much thicker +than it is now--in fact, there'll soon be no breeze left, and look at +the stars! Suddenly the lookout man shouted that there was a sail on +the weather bow, and it must have been pretty close, too. The captain +ordered the man at the wheel to put the boat to port--I don't know the +exact phraseology of the thing--so that we could pass the other ship +on our starboard side. Instead of doing that, the triple idiot shoved +us to starboard as hard as he could, and before the captain could do +anything, we were struck on the port paddle. The steersman had sent us +right into the other ship. If he had wanted specially to land us into +a good smash-up, he could scarcely have done it better. A good thing +we got caught on the paddle; otherwise we should have been cut clean +in two. As it was, the other boat recoiled and fell away." + +"Was she damaged?" + +"Probably not." + +"How does the man at the wheel explain his action?" + +"Well, that's the curious part. I was just coming to that. Naturally +he's in a great state of terror just now, but he can just talk. He +swears that when the captain gave his order a third person ran up the +steps leading to the bridge, and so frightened him that he was sort of +dazed, and did exactly the wrong thing." + +"A queer tale!" + +"I should think so. But he sticks to it. He even says that this highly +mysterious third person made him do the wrong thing. But that's +absolute tommy-rot." + +"The man must be mad." + +"I should have said he had been drunk, but there doesn't seem to be +any trace of that. Anyhow, he sees visions, and I maintain that the +Chatham and Dover people oughtn't to have their boats steered by men +who see visions, eh?" + +"I agree with you. I suppose we aren't now in any real danger?" + +"I should hardly think so. We might have been. It was pure luck that +we happened to get struck on the paddle-box, and also it was pure luck +that the sea has gone down so rapidly. With a list like this, a really +lively cross-sea would soon have settled us." + +We were silent for a few moments. The girl looked idly round the ship, +and her eyes encountered the figure of the mysterious man. She seemed +to shiver. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed under her breath, "what a terrible face that man +has!" + +"Where?" said her friend. + +"Over there. And how is it he's wearing a silk hat--here?" + +His glance followed hers, but my follower had turned abruptly round, +and in a moment was moving quickly to the after-part of the ship. He +passed behind the smoke-stack, and was lost to our view. + +"The back of him looks pretty stiff," the young man said. "I wonder if +he's the chap that alarmed the man at the wheel." + +I laughed, and at the same time I accidentally dropped Rosa's +jewel-case, which had never left my hand. I picked it up hurriedly. + +"You seem attached to that case," the young man said, smiling. "If we +had foundered, should you have let it go, or tried to swim ashore with +it?" + +"The question is doubtful," I replied, returning his smile. In +shipwrecks one soon becomes intimate with strangers. + +"If I mistake not, it is a jewel-case." + +"It is a jewel-case." + +He nodded with a moralizing air, as if reflecting upon the sordid love +of property which will make a man carry a jewel-case about with him +when the next moment he might find himself in the sea. At least, that +was my interpretation of the nodding. Then the brother and sister--for +such I afterwards discovered they were--left me to take care of my +jewel-case alone. + +Why had I dropped the jewel-case? Was it because I was startled by the +jocular remark which identified the mysterious man with the person who +had disturbed the steersman? That remark was made in mere jest. Yet I +could not help thinking that it contained the truth. Nay, I knew that +it was true; I knew by instinct. And being true, what facts were +logically to be deduced from it? What aim had this mysterious man in +compelling, by his strange influences, the innocent sailor to guide +the ship towards destruction--the ship in which I happened to be a +passenger?... And then there was the railway accident. The stoker had +said that the engine-driver had been dazed--like the steersman. But +no. There are avenues of conjecture from which the mind shrinks. I +could not follow up that train of thought. + +Happily, I did not see my enemy again--at least, during that journey. +And my mind was diverted, for the dawn came--the beautiful September +dawn. Never have I greeted the sun with deeper joy, and I fancy that +my sentiments were shared by everyone on board the vessel. As the +light spread over the leaden waters, and the coast of France was +silhouetted against the sky, the passengers seemed to understand that +danger was over, and that we had been through peril, and escaped. Some +threw themselves upon their knees, and prayed with an ecstasy of +thankfulness. Others re-commenced their hymning. Others laughed +rather hysterically, and began to talk at a prodigious rate. A few, +like myself, stood silent and apparently unmoved. + +Then the engines began to beat. There was a frightful clatter of +scrap-iron and wood in the port paddle-box, and they stopped +immediately, whereupon we noticed that the list of the vessel was +somewhat more marked than before. The remainder of the port paddle +had, in fact, fallen away into the water. The hymn-singers ceased +their melodies, absorbed in anticipating what would happen next. At +last, after many orders and goings to and fro, the engines started +again, this time, of course, the starboard paddle, deeply immersed, +moved by itself. We progressed with infinite slowness, and in a most +peculiar manner, but we did progress, and that was the main thing. The +passengers cheered heartily. + +We appeared to go in curves, but each curve brought us nearer to +Calais. As we approached that haven of refuge, it seemed as if every +steamer and smack of Calais was coming out to meet us. The steamers +whistled, the owners of smacks bawled and shouted. They desired to +assist; for were we not disabled, and would not the English railway +company pay well for help so gallantly rendered? Our captain, +however, made no sign, and, like a wounded, sullen animal, from whom +its companions timidly keep a respectful distance, we at length +entered Calais harbor, and by dint of much seamanship and polyglottic +swearing brought up safely at the quay. + +Then it was that one fully perceived, with a feeling of shame, how +night had magnified the seriousness of the adventure; how it had been +nothing, after all; how it would not fill more than half a column in +the newspapers; how the officers of the ship must have despised the +excited foolishness of passengers who would not listen to reasonable, +commonplace explanations. + +The boat was evacuated in the twinkling of an eye. I have never seen a +Channel steamer so quickly empty itself. It was as though the people +were stricken by a sudden impulse to dash away from the poor craft at +any cost. At the Customs, amid all the turmoil and bustle, I saw +neither my young friend and his sister, nor my enemy, who so far had +clung to me on my journey. + +I learned that a train would start in about a quarter of an hour. I +had some coffee and a roll at the buffet. While I was consuming that +trifling refection the young man and his sister joined me. The girl +was taciturn as before, but her brother talked cheerfully as he sipped +chocolate; he told me that his name was Watts, and he introduced his +sister. He had a pleasant but rather weak face, and as for his manner +and bearing, I could not decide in my own mind whether he was a +gentleman or a buyer from some London drapery warehouse on his way to +the city of modes. He gave no information as to his profession or +business, and as I had not even returned his confidence by revealing +my name, this was not to be wondered at. + +"Are you going on to Paris?" he said presently. + +"Yes; and the sooner I get there the better I shall be pleased." + +"Exactly," he smiled. "I am going, too. I have crossed the Channel +many times, but I have never before had such an experience as last +night's." + +Then we began to compare notes of previous voyages, until a railway +official entered the buffet with a raucous, "Voyageurs pour Paris, en +voiture." + +There was only one first-class carriage, and into this I immediately +jumped, and secured a corner. Mr. Watts followed me, and took the +other corner of the same seat. Miss Watts remained on the platform. It +was a corridor carriage, and the corridor happened to be on the far +side from the platform. Mr. Watts went out to explore the corridor. I +arranged myself in my seat, placed the jewel-case by my side, and my +mackintosh over my knees. Miss Watts stood idly in front of the +carriage door, tapping the platform with her umbrella. + +"You do not accompany your brother, then?" I ventured. + +"No. I'm staying in Calais, where I have an--an engagement." She +smiled plaintively at me. + +Mr. Watts came back into the compartment, and, standing on the step, +said good-by to his sister, and embraced her. She kissed him +affectionately. Then, having closed the carriage door, he stolidly +resumed his seat, which was on the other side away from the door. We +had the compartment to ourselves. + +"A nice girl," I reflected. + +The train whistled, and a porter ran along to put the catches on all +the doors. + +"Good-by; we're off," I said to Miss Watts. + +"Monsieur," she said, and her face seemed to flush in the cold morning +light,--"monsieur." Was she, then, French, to address me like that? + +She made a gesture as if she would say something to me of importance, +and I put my head out of the window. + +"May I ask you to keep an eye on my brother?" she whispered. + +"In what way?" I asked, somewhat astonished. + +The train began to move, and she walked to keep level with me. + +"Do not let him drink at any of the railway buffets on the journey; he +will be met at the Gare du Nord. He is addicted--" + +"But how can I stop him if he wants to--" + +She had an appealing look, and she was running now to keep pace with +the train. + +"Ah, do what you can, sir. I ask it as a favor. Pardon the request +from a perfect stranger." + +I nodded acquiescence, and, waving a farewell to the poor girl, sank +back into my seat. "This is a nice commission!" I thought. + +Mr. Watts was no longer in his corner. Also my jewel-case was gone. + +"A deliberate plant!" I exclaimed; and I could not help admiring the +cleverness with which it had been carried out. + +I rushed into the corridor, and looked through every compartment; but +Mr. Watts, whom I was to keep from drunkenness, had utterly departed. +Then I made for the handle of the communication cord. It had been +neatly cut off. The train was now travelling at a good speed, and the +first stop would be Amiens. I was too ashamed of my simplicity to give +the news of my loss to the other passengers in the carriage. + +"Very smart indeed!" I murmured, sitting down, and I smiled--for, +after all, I could afford to smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A CHAT WITH ROSA + + +"And when I sat down it was gone, and the precious Mr. Watts had also +vanished." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Rosa. That was all she said. It is impossible to deny +that she was startled, that she was aghast. I, however, maintained a +splendid equanimity. + +We were sitting in the salon of her flat at the Place de la Concorde +end of the Rue de Rivoli. We had finished lunch, and she had offered +me a cigarette. I had had a bath, and changed my attire, and eaten a +meal cooked by a Frenchman, and I felt renewed. I had sunned myself in +the society of Rosetta Rosa for an hour, and I felt soothed. I forgot +all the discomforts and misgivings of the voyage. It was nothing to +me, as I looked at this beautiful girl, that within the last +twenty-four hours I had twice been in danger of losing my life. What +to me was the mysterious man with the haunting face of implacable +hate? What to me were the words of the woman who had stopped me on the +pier at Dover? Nothing! A thousand times less than nothing! I loved, +and I was in the sympathetic presence of her whom I loved. + +I had waited till lunch was over to tell Rosa of the sad climax of my +adventures. + +"Yes," I repeated, "I was never more completely done in my life. The +woman conspirator took me in absolutely." + +"What did you do then?" + +"Well, I wired to Calais immediately we got to Amiens, and told the +police, and did all the things one usually does do when one has been +robbed. Also, since arriving in Paris, I have been to the police +here." + +"Do they hold out any hope of recovery?" + +"I'm afraid they are not sanguine. You see, the pair had a good start, +and I expect they belong to one of the leading gangs of jewel thieves +in Europe. The entire business must have been carefully planned. +Probably I was shadowed from the moment I left your bankers'." + +"It's unfortunate." + +"Yes, indeed. I felt sure that you would attach some importance to +the jewel-case. So I have instructed the police to do their utmost." + +She seemed taken aback by the lightness of my tone. + +"My friend, those jewels were few, but they were valuable. They were +worth--I don't know what they were worth. There was a necklace that +must have cost fifteen thousand pounds." + +"Yes--the jewels." + +"Well! Is it not the jewels that are missing?" + +"Dear lady," I said, "I aspire to be thought a man of the world--it is +a failing of youth; but, then, I am young. As a man of the world, I +cogitated a pretty good long time before I set out for Paris with your +jewels." + +"You felt there was a danger of robbery?" + +"Exactly." + +"And you were not mistaken." There was irony in her voice. + +"True! But let me proceed. A man of the world would see at once that a +jewel-case was an object to attract the eyes of those who live by +their wits." + +"I should imagine so." + +"Therefore, as a man of the world, I endeavored to devise a scheme of +safeguarding my little cargo." + +"And you--" + +"I devised one." + +"What was it?" + +"I took all the jewels out of the case, and put them into my various +pockets; and I carried the case to divert attention from those +pockets." + +She looked at me, her face at first all perplexity; gradually the +light broke upon her. + +"Simple, wasn't it?" I murmured. + +"Then the jewels are not stolen?" + +"Certainly not. The jewels are in my pockets. If you recollect, I said +it was the jewel-case that was stolen." + +I began to smile. + +"Mr. Foster," she said, smiling too, "I am extremely angry." + +"Forgive the joke," I entreated. "Perhaps it is a bad one--but I hope +not a very bad one, because very bad jokes are inexcusable. And here +are your jewels." + +I put on the expression of a peccant but hopeful schoolboy, as I +emptied one pocket after another of the scintillating treasures. The +jewels lay, a gorgeous heap, on her lap. The necklace which she had +particularly mentioned was of pearls. There were also rubies and +emeralds, upon which she seemed to set special store, and a brooch in +the form of a butterfly, which she said was made expressly for her by +Lalique. But not a diamond in the collection! It appeared that she +regarded diamonds as some men regard champagne--as a commodity not +appealing to the very finest taste. + +"I didn't think you were so mischievous," she laughed, frowning. + +To transfer the jewels to her possession I had drawn my chair up to +hers, and we were close together, face to face. + +"Ah!" I replied, content, unimaginably happy. "You don't know me yet. +I'm a terrible fellow." + +"Think of my state of mind during the last fifteen minutes." + +"Yes, but think of the joy which you now experience. It is I who have +given you that joy--the joy of losing and gaining all that in a +quarter of an hour." + +She picked up the necklace, and as she gazed at the stones her glance +had a rapt expression, as though she were gazing through their depths +into the past. + +"Mr. Foster," she said at length, without ceasing to look at the +pearls, "I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are in Paris. Shall +you stay till I have appeared at the Opera Comique?" + +"I was hoping to, and if you say you would like me to--" + +"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I do." And she looked up. + +Her lovely eyes had a suspicion of moisture. The blood rushed through +my head, and I could feel its turbulent throb-throb across the temples +and at my heart. + +I was in heaven, and residence in heaven makes one bold. + +"You really would like me to stay?" I almost whispered, in a tone that +was equivalent to a declaration. + +Her eyes met mine in silence for a few instants, and then she said, +with a touch of melancholy: + +"In all my life I've only had two friends--I mean since my mother's +death; and you are the third." + +"Is that all?" + +"You don't know what a life like mine is," she went on, with feeling. +"I'm only a prima donna, you know. People think that because I can +make as much money in three hours as a milliner's girl can make in +three years, and because I'm always in the midst of luxuries, and +because I have whims and caprices, and because my face has certain +curves in it, and because men get jealous with each other about +kissing my hand, that therefore I've got all I want." + +"Certain curves!" I burst out. "Why, you're the most beautiful +creature I ever saw!" + +"There!" she cried. "That's just how they all talk. I do hate it." + +"Do you?" I said. "Then I'll never call you beautiful again. But I +should have thought you were fairly happy." + +"I'm happy when I'm singing well," she answered--"only then. I like +singing. I like to see an audience moved. I must sing. Singing is my +life. But do you know what that means? That means that I belong to the +public, and so I can't hide myself. That means that I am +always--always--surrounded by 'admirers.'" + +"Well?" + +"Well, I don't like them. I don't like any of them. And I don't like +them in the mass. Why can't I just sing, and then belong simply to +myself? They are for ever there, my 'admirers.' Men of wealth, men of +talent, men of adventure, men of wits--all devoted, all respectful, +all ready to marry me. Some honorable, according to the accepted +standard, others probably dishonorable. And there is not one but whose +real desire is to own me. I know them. Love! In my world, peculiar in +that world in which I live, there is no such thing as love--only a +showy imitation. Yes, they think they love me. 'When we are married +you will not sing any more; you will be mine then,' says one. That is +what he imagines is love. And others would have me for the gold-mine +that is in my throat. I can read their greed in their faces." + +Her candid bitterness surprised as much as it charmed me. + +"Aren't you a little hard on them?" I ventured. + +"Now, am I?" she retorted. "Don't be a hypocrite. Am I?" + +I said nothing. + +"You know perfectly well I'm not," she answered for me. + +"But I admire you," I said. + +"You're different," she replied. "You don't belong to my world. That's +what pleases me in you. You haven't got that silly air of always being +ready to lay down your life for me. You didn't come in this morning +with a bunch of expensive orchids, and beg that I should deign to +accept them." She pointed to various bouquets in the room. "You just +came in and shook hands, and asked me how I was." + +"I never thought of bringing any flowers," I said awkwardly. + +"Just so. That's the point. That's what I like. If there is one thing +that I can't tolerate, and that I have to tolerate, it's 'attentions,' +especially from people who copy their deportment from Russian +Archdukes." + +"There are Archdukes?" + +"Why! the air is thick with them. Why do men think that a woman is +flattered by their ridiculous 'attentions?' If they knew how sometimes +I can scarcely keep from laughing! There are moments when I would +give anything to be back again in the days when I knew no one more +distinguished than a concierge. There was more sincerity at my +disposal then." + +"But surely all distinguished people are not insincere?" + +"They are insincere to opera singers who happen to be young, +beautiful, and rich, which is my sad case. The ways of the people who +flutter round a theatre are not my ways. I was brought up simply, as +you were in your Devonshire home. I hate to spend my life as if it was +one long diplomatic reception. Ugh!" + +She clenched her hands, and one of the threads of the necklace gave +way, and the pearls scattered themselves over her lap. + +"There! That necklace was given to me by one of my friends!" She +paused. + +"Yes?" I said tentatively. + +"He is dead now. You have heard--everyone knows--that I was once +engaged to Lord Clarenceux. He was a friend. He loved me--he died--my +friends have a habit of dying. Alresca died." + +The conversation halted. I wondered whether I might speak of Lord +Clarenceux, or whether to do so would be an indiscretion. She began +to collect the pearls. + +"Yes," she repeated softly, "he was a friend." + +I drew a strange satisfaction from the fact that, though she had said +frankly that he loved her, she had not even hinted that she loved him. + +"Lord Clarenceux must have been a great man," I said. + +"That is exactly what he was," she answered with a vague enthusiasm. +"And a great nobleman too! So different from the others. I wish I +could describe him to you, but I cannot. He was immensely rich--he +looked on me as a pauper. He had the finest houses, the finest +judgment in the world. When he wanted anything he got it, no matter +what the cost. All dealers knew that, and any one who had 'the best' +to sell knew that in Lord Clarenceux he would find a purchaser. He +carried things with a high hand. I never knew another man so +determined, or one who could be more stern or more exquisitely kind. +He knew every sort of society, and yet he had never married. He fell +in love with me, and offered me his hand. I declined--I was afraid of +him. He said he would shoot himself. And he would have done it; so I +accepted. I should have ended by loving him. For he wished me to love +him, and he always had his way. He was a man, and he held the same +view of my world that I myself hold. Mr. Foster, you must think I'm in +a very chattering mood." + +I protested with a gesture. + +"Lord Clarenceux died. And I am alone. I was terribly lonely after his +death. I missed his jealousy." + +"He was jealous?" + +"He was the most jealous man, I think, who ever lived. His jealousy +escorted me everywhere like a guard of soldiers. Yet I liked him even +for that. He was genuine; so sincere, so masterful with it. In all +matters his methods were drastic. If he had been alive I should not be +tormented by the absurd fears which I now allow to get the better of +me." + +"Fears! About what?" + +"To be frank, about my debut at the Opera Comique. I can imagine," she +smiled, "how he would have dealt with that situation." + +"You are afraid of something?" + +"Yes." + +"What is it?" + +"I don't know. I merely fear.... There is Carlotta Deschamps." + +"Miss Rosa, a few minutes ago you called me your friend." My voice was +emotional; I felt it. + +"I did, because you are. I have no claim on you, but you have been +very good to me." + +"You have the best claim on me. Will you rely on me?" + +We looked at each other. + +"I will," she said. I stood before her, and she took my hand. + +"You say you fear. I hope your fears are groundless--candidly, I can't +see how they can be otherwise. But suppose anything should happen. +Well, I shall be at your service." + +At that moment some one knocked and entered. It was Yvette. She +avoided my glance. + +"Madame will take her egg-and-milk before going to rehearsal?" + +"Yes, Yvette. Bring it to me here, please." + +"You have a rehearsal to-day?" I asked. "I hope I'm not detaining +you." + +"Not at all. The call is for three o'clock. This is the second one, +and they fixed the hour to suit me. It is really my first rehearsal, +because at the previous one I was too hoarse to sing a note." + +I rose to go. + +"Wouldn't you like to come with me to the theatre?" she said with an +adorable accent of invitation. + +My good fortune staggered me. + +After she had taken her egg-and-milk we set out. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +EGG-AND-MILK + + +I was intensely conscious of her beauty as I sat by her side in the +swiftly rolling victoria. And I was conscious of other qualities in +her too--of her homeliness, her good-fellowship, her trustfulness. The +fact that she was one of the most famous personalities in Europe did +not, after our talk, in the least disturb my pleasing dreams of a +possible future. It was, nevertheless, specially forced upon me, for +as we drove along the Rue de Rivoli, past the interminable facades of +the Louvre, and the big shops, and so into the meaner quarter of the +markets--the Opera Comique was then situated in its temporary home in +the Place du Chatelet--numberless wayfarers showed by their demeanor +of curiosity that Rosetta Rosa was known to them. They were much more +polite than English people would have been, but they did not hide +their interest in us. + +The jewels had been locked away in a safe, except one gorgeous emerald +brooch which she was wearing at her neck. + +"It appears," I said, "that in Paris one must not even attend +rehearsals without jewels." + +She laughed. + +"You think I have a passion for jewels, and you despise me for it." + +"By no means. Nobody has a better right to wear precious stones than +yourself." + +"Can you guess why I wear them?" + +"Not because they make you look prettier, for that's impossible." + +"Will you please remember that I like you because you are not in the +habit of making speeches." + +"I beg pardon. I won't offend again. Well, then, I will confess that I +don't know why you wear jewels. There must be a Puritan strain in my +character, for I cannot enter into the desire for jewels. I say this +merely because you have practically invited me to be brutal." + +Now that I recall that conversation I realize how gentle she was +towards my crude and callous notions concerning personal adornment. + +"Yet you went to England in order to fetch my jewels." + +"No, I went to England in order to be of use to a lady. But tell +me--why do you wear jewels off the stage?" + +"Simply because, having them, I have a sort of feeling that they ought +to be used. It seems a waste to keep them hidden in a strong box, and +I never could tolerate waste. Really, I scarcely care more for jewels, +as jewels, than you do yourself." + +"Still, for a person who doesn't care for them, you seem to have a +fair quantity of them." + +"Ah! But many were given to me--and the rest I bought when I was +young, or soon afterwards. Besides, they are part of my stock in +trade." + +"When you were young!" I repeated, smiling. "How long is that since?" + +"Ages." + +I coughed. + +"It is seven years since I was young," she said, "and I was sixteen at +the time." + +"You are positively venerable, then; and since you are, I must be +too." + +"I am much older than you are," she said; "not in years, but in life. +You don't feel old." + +"And do you?" + +"Frightfully." + +"What brings it on?" + +"Oh! Experience--and other things. It is the soul which grows old." + +"But you have been happy?" + +"Never--never in my life, except when I was singing, have I been +happy. Have you been happy?" + +"Yes," I said, "once or twice." + +"When you were a boy?" + +"No, since I have become a man. Just--just recently." + +"People fancy they are happy," she murmured. + +"Isn't that the same thing as being happy?" + +"Perhaps." Then suddenly changing the subject: "You haven't told me +about your journey. Just a bare statement that there was a delay on +the railway and another delay on the steamer. Don't you think you +ought to fill in the details?" + +So I filled them in; but I said nothing about my mysterious enemy who +had accompanied me, and who after strangely disappearing and +reappearing had disappeared again; nor about the woman whom I had met +on the Admiralty Pier. I wondered when he might reappear once more. +There was no proper reason why I should not have told Rosa about these +persons, but some instinctive feeling, some timidity of spirit, +prevented me from doing so. + +"How thrilling! Were you frightened on the steamer?" she asked. + +"Yes," I admitted frankly. + +"You may not think it," she said, "but I should not have been +frightened. I have never been frightened at Death." + +"But have you ever been near him?" + +"Who knows?" she answered thoughtfully. + +We were at the stage-door of the theatre. The olive-liveried footman +dismounted, and gravely opened the door of the carriage. I got out, +and gave my hand to Rosa, and we entered the theatre. + +In an instant she had become the prima donna. The curious little +officials of the theatre bowed before her, and with prodigious smiles +waved us forward to the stage. The stage-manager, a small, fat man +with white hair, was drilling the chorus. As soon as he caught sight +of us he dismissed the short-skirted girls and the fatigued-looking +men, and skipped towards us. The orchestra suddenly ceased. Everyone +was quiet. The star had come. + +"Good day, mademoiselle. You are here to the moment." + +Rosa and the regisseur talked rapidly together, and presently the +conductor of the orchestra stepped from his raised chair on to the +stage, and with a stately inclination to Rosa joined in the +conversation. As for me, I looked about, and was stared at. So far as +I could see there was not much difference between an English stage and +a French stage, viewed at close quarters, except that the French +variety possesses perhaps more officials and a more bureaucratic air. +I gazed into the cold, gloomy auditorium, so bare of decoration, and +decided that in England such an auditorium would not be tolerated. + +After much further chatter the conductor bowed again, and returned to +his seat. Rosa beckoned to me, and I was introduced to the +stage-manager. + +"Allow me to present to you Mr. Foster, one of my friends." + +Rosa coughed, and I noticed that her voice was slightly hoarse. + +"You have taken cold during the drive," I said, pouring into the sea +of French a little stream of English. + +"Oh, no. It is nothing; it will pass off in a minute." + +The stage-manager escorted me to a chair near a grand piano which +stood in the wings. Then some male artists, evidently people of +importance, appeared out of the darkness at the back of the stage. +Rosa took off her hat and gloves, and placed them on the grand piano. +I observed that she was flushed, and I put it down to the natural +excitement of the artist about to begin work. The orchestra sounded +resonantly in the empty theatre, and, under the yellow glare of +unshaded electricity, the rehearsal of "Carmen" began at the point +where Carmen makes her first entry. + +As Rosa came to the centre of the stage from the wings she staggered. +One would have thought she was drunk. At her cue, instead of +commencing to sing, she threw up her hands, and with an appealing +glance at me sank down to the floor. I rushed to her, and immediately +the entire personnel of the theatre was in a state of the liveliest +excitement. I thought of a similar scene in London not many months +before. But the poor girl was perfectly conscious, and even +self-possessed. + +"Water!" she murmured. "I shall die of thirst if you don't give me +some water to drink at once." + +There appeared to be no water within the theatre, but at last some one +appeared with a carafe and glass. She drank two glassfuls, and then +dropped the glass, which broke on the floor. + +"I am not well," she said; "I feel so hot, and there is that +hoarseness in my throat. Mr. Foster, you must take me home. The +rehearsal will have to be postponed again; I am sorry. It's very +queer." + +She stood up with my assistance, looking wildly about her, but +appealing to no one but myself. + +"It is queer," I said, supporting her. + +"Mademoiselle was ill in the same way last time," several sympathetic +voices cried out, and some of the women caressed her gently. + +"Let me get home," she said, half-shouting, and she clung to me. "My +hat--my gloves--quick!" + +"Yes, yes," I said; "I will get a fiacre." + +"Why not my victoria?" she questioned imperiously. + +"Because you must go in a closed carriage," I said firmly. + +"Mademoiselle will accept my brougham?" + +A tall dark man had come forward. He was the Escamillo. She thanked +him with a look. Some woman threw a cloak over Rosa's shoulders, and, +the baritone on one side of her and myself on the other, we left the +theatre. It seemed scarcely a moment since she had entered it +confident and proud. + +During the drive back to her flat I did not speak, but I examined her +narrowly. Her skin was dry and burning, and on her forehead there was +a slight rash. Her lips were dry, and she continually made the motion +of swallowing. Her eyes sparkled, and they seemed to stand out from +her head. Also she still bitterly complained of thirst. She wanted, +indeed, to stop the carriage and have something to drink at the Cafe +de l'Univers, but I absolutely declined to permit such a proceeding, +and in a few minutes we were at her flat. The attack was passing away. +She mounted the stairs without much difficulty. + +"You must go to bed," I said. We were in the salon. "In a few hours +you will be better." + +"I will ring for Yvette." + +"No," I said, "you will not ring for Yvette. I want Yvette myself. +Have you no other servant who can assist you?" + +"Yes. But why not Yvette?" + +"You can question me to-morrow. Please obey me now. I am your doctor. +I will ring the bell. Yvette will come, and you will at once go out of +the room, find another servant, and retire to bed. You can do that? +You are not faint?" + +"No, I can do it; but it is very queer." + +I rang the bell. + +"You have said that before, and I say, 'It is queer; queerer than you +imagine.' One thing I must ask you before you go. When you had the +attack in the theatre did you see things double?" + +"Yes," she answered. "But how did you know? I felt as though I was +intoxicated; but I had taken nothing whatever." + +"Excuse me, you had taken egg-and-milk. Here is the glass out of which +you drank it." I picked up the glass, which had been left on the +table, and which still contained about a spoonful of egg-and-milk. + +Yvette entered in response to my summons. + +"Mademoiselle has returned soon," the girl began lightly. + +"Yes." + +The two women looked at each other. I hastened to the door, and held +it open for Rosa to pass out. She did so. I closed the door, and put +my back against it. The glass I still held in my hand. + +"Now, Yvette, I want to ask you a few questions." + +She stood before me, pretty even in her plain black frock and black +apron, and folded her hands. Her face showed no emotion whatever. + +"Yes, monsieur, but mademoiselle will need me." + +"Mademoiselle will not need you. She will never need you again." + +"Monsieur says?" + +"You see this glass. What did you put in it?" + +"The cook put egg-and-milk into it." + +"I ask what you put in it?" + +"I, monsieur? Nothing." + +"You are lying, my girl. Your mistress has been poisoned." + +"I swear--" + +"I should advise you not to swear. You have twice attempted to poison +your mistress. Why did you do it?" + +"But this is absurd." + +"Does your mistress use eyedrops when she sings at the Opera?" + +"Eyedrops?" + +"You know what I mean. A lotion which you drop into the eye in order +to dilate the pupil." + +"My mistress never uses eyedrops." + +"Does Madame Carlotta Deschamps use eyedrops?" + +It was a courageous move on my part, but it had its effect. She was +startled. + +"I--I don't know, monsieur." + +"I ask because eyedrops contain atropine, and mademoiselle is +suffering from a slight, a very slight, attack of atropine poisoning. +The dose must have been very nicely gauged; it was just enough to +produce a temporary hoarseness and discomfort. I needn't tell such a +clever girl as you that atropine acts first on the throat. It has +clearly been some one's intention to prevent mademoiselle from singing +at rehearsals, and from appearing in Paris in 'Carmen.'" + +Yvette drew herself up, her nostrils quivering. She had turned +decidedly pale. + +"Monsieur insults me by his suspicions. I must go." + +"You won't go just immediately. I may tell you further that I have +analyzed the contents of this glass, and have found traces of +atropine." + +I had done no such thing, but that was a detail. + +"Also, I have sent for the police." + +This, too, was an imaginative statement. + +Yvette approached me suddenly, and flung her arms round my neck. I had +just time to put the glass on the seat of a chair and seize her hands. + +"No," I said, "you will neither spill that glass nor break it." + +She dropped at my feet weeping. + +"Have pity on me, monsieur!" She looked up at me through her tears, +and the pose was distinctly effective. "It was Madame Deschamps who +asked me to do it. I used to be with her before I came to +mademoiselle. She gave me the bottle, but I didn't know it was +poison--I swear I didn't!" + +"What did you take it to be, then? Jam? Two grains of atropine will +cause death." + +For answer she clung to my knees. I released myself, and moved away a +few steps. She jumped up, and made a dash for the door, but I happened +to have locked it. + +"Where is Madame Deschamps?" I asked. + +"She returns to Paris to-morrow. Monsieur will let me go. I was only a +tool." + +"I will consider that matter, Yvette," I said. "In my opinion you are +a thoroughly wicked girl, and I wouldn't trust you any further than I +could see you. For the present, you will have an opportunity to +meditate over your misdoings." I left the room, and locked the door on +the outside. + +Impossible to disguise the fact that I was enormously pleased with +myself--with my sharpness, my smartness, my penetration, my success. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE PORTRAIT + + +For the next hour or two I wandered about Rosa's flat like an +irresolute and bewildered spirit. I wished to act, yet without Rosa I +scarcely liked to do so. That some sort of a plot existed--whether +serious or trivial was no matter--there could be little doubt, and +there could be little doubt also that Carlotta Deschamps was at the +root of it. + +Several half-formed schemes flitted through my head, but none of them +seemed to be sufficiently clever. I had the idea of going to see +Carlotta Deschamps in order to warn her. Then I thought the warning +might perhaps be sent through her sister Marie, who was doubtless in +Paris, and who would probably be able to control Carlotta. I had not +got Carlotta's address, but I might get it by going to the Casino de +Paris, and asking Marie for it. Perhaps Marie, suspicious, might +refuse the address. Had she not said that she and Carlotta were as +thick as thieves? Moreover, assuming that I could see Carlotta, what +should I say to her? How should I begin? Then it occurred to me that +the shortest way with such an affair was to go directly to the police, +as I had already threatened Yvette; but the appearance of the police +would mean publicity, scandal, and other things unpleasant for Rosa. +So it fell out that I maintained a discreet inactivity. + +Towards nightfall I went into the street to breathe the fresh air. A +man was patrolling the pavement in a somewhat peculiar manner. I +returned indoors, and after half an hour reconnoitred once more. The +man was on the opposite side of the road, with his eyes on the windows +of the salon. When he caught sight of me he walked slowly away. He +might have been signalling to Yvette, who was still under lock and +key, but this possibility did not disturb me, as escape was out of the +question for her. + +I went back to the flat, and a servant met me in the hall with a +message that mademoiselle was now quite recovered, and would like to +see me in her boudoir. I hurried to her. A fire was burning on the +hearth, and before this were two lounge chairs. Rosa occupied one, and +she motioned me to the other. Attired in a peignoir of pure white, and +still a little languorous after the attack, she looked the enchanting +perfection of beauty and grace. But in her eyes, which were unduly +bright, there shone an apprehension, the expectancy of the unknown. + +"I am better," she said, with a faint smile. "Feel my pulse." + +I held her wrist and took out my watch, but I forgot to count, and I +forgot to note the seconds. I was gazing at her. It seemed absurd to +contemplate the possibility of ever being able to call her my own. + +"Am I not better?" + +"Yes, yes," I said; "the pulse is--the pulse is--you are much better." + +Then I pushed my chair a little further from the fire, and recollected +that there were several things to be said and done. + +"I expected the attack would pass very quickly," I said. + +"Then you know what I have been suffering from," she said, turning her +chair rapidly half-round towards me. + +"I do," I answered, with emphasis. + +"What is it?" + +I was silent. + +"Well," she said, "tell me what it is." She laughed, but her voice was +low and anxious. + +"I am just wondering whether I shall tell you." + +"Stuff!" she exclaimed proudly. "Am I a child?" + +"You are a woman, and should be shielded from the sharp edges of +life." + +"Ah!" she murmured "Not all men have thought so. And I wish you +wouldn't talk like that." + +"Nevertheless, I think like that," I said. "And I'm really anxious to +save you from unnecessary annoyance." + +"Then I insist that you shall tell me," she replied inconsequently. "I +will not have you adopt that attitude towards me. Do you understand? I +won't have it! I'm not a Dresden shepherdess, and I won't be treated +like one--at any rate, by you. So there!" + +I was in the seventh heaven of felicity. + +"If you will have it, you have been poisoned." + +I told her of my suspicions, and how they had been confirmed by +Yvette's avowal. She shivered, and then stood up and came towards me. + +"Do you mean to say that Carlotta Deschamps and my own maid have +conspired together to poison me simply because I am going to sing in a +certain piece at a certain theatre? It's impossible!" + +"But it is true. Deschamps may not have wished to kill you; she merely +wanted to prevent you from singing, but she ran a serious risk of +murder, and she must have known it." + +Rosa began to sob, and I led her back to her chair. + +"I ought not to have told you to-night," I said. "But we should +communicate with the police, and I wanted your authority before doing +so." + +She dried her eyes, but her frame still shook. + +"I will sing 'Carmen,'" she said passionately. + +"Of course you will. We must get these two arrested, and you shall +have proper protection." + +"Police? No! We will have no police." + +"You object to the scandal? I had thought of that." + +"It is not that I object to the scandal. I despise Deschamps and +Yvette too much to take the slightest notice of either of them. I +could not have believed that women would so treat another woman." She +hid her face in her hands. + +"But is it not your duty--" I began. + +"Mr. Foster, please, please don't argue. I am incapable of prosecuting +these creatures. You say Yvette is locked up in the salon. Go to her, +and tell her to depart. Tell her that I shall do nothing, that I do +not hate her, that I bear her no ill-will, that I simply ignore her. +And let her carry the same message to Carlotta Deschamps." + +"Suppose there should be a further plot?" + +"There can't be. Knowing that this one is discovered, they will never +dare.... And even if they tried again in some other way, I would +sooner walk in danger all my life than acknowledge the existence of +such creatures. Will you go at once?" + +"As you wish;" and I went out. + +"Mr. Foster." + +She called me back. Taking my hand with a gesture half-caressing, she +raised her face to mine. Our eyes met, and in hers was a gentle, +trustful appeal, a pathetic and entrancing wistfulness, which sent a +sudden thrill through me. Her clasp of my fingers tightened ever so +little. + +"I haven't thanked you in words," she said, "for all you have done for +me, and are doing. But you know I'm grateful, don't you?" + +I could feel the tears coming into my eyes. + +"It is nothing, absolutely nothing," I muttered, and hurried from the +room. + +At first, in the salon, I could not see Yvette, though the electric +light had been turned on, no doubt by herself. Then there was a +movement of one of the window-curtains, and she appeared from behind +it. + +"Oh, it is you," she said calmly, with a cold smile. She had +completely recovered her self-possession, so much was evident; and +apparently she was determined to play the game to the end, accepting +defeat with an air of ironical and gay indifference. Yvette was by no +means an ordinary woman. Her face was at once sinister and attractive, +with lines of strength about it; she moved with a certain distinction; +she had brains and various abilities; and I imagined her to have been +capable of some large action, a first-class sin or a really dramatic +self-sacrifice--she would have been ready for either. But of her +origin I am to this day as ignorant as of her ultimate fate. + +A current of air told me that a window was open. + +"I noticed a suspicious-looking man outside just now," I said. "Is he +one of your confederates? Have you been communicating with him?" + +She sat down in an armchair, leaned backwards, and began to hum an +air--la, la, la. + +"Answer me. Come!" + +"And if I decline?" + +"You will do well to behave yourself," I said; and, going to the +window, I closed it, and slipped the catch. + +"I hope the gendarmes will be here soon," she murmured amiably; "I am +rather tired of waiting." She affected to stifle a yawn. + +"Yvette," I said, "you know as well as I do that you have committed a +serious crime. Tell me all about Deschamps' jealousy of your mistress; +make a full confession, and I will see what can be done for you." + +She put her thin lips together. + +"No," she replied in a sharp staccato. "I have done what I have done, +and I will answer only the juge d'instruction." + +"Better think twice." + +"Never. It is a trick you wish to play on me." + +"Very well." I went to the door, and opened it wide. "You are free to +go." + +"To go?" + +"It is your mistress's wish." + +"She will not send me to prison?" + +"She scorns to do anything whatever." + +For a moment the girl looked puzzled, and then: + +"Ah! it is a bad pleasantry; the gendarmes are on the stairs." + +I shrugged my shoulders, and at length she tripped quietly out of the +room. I heard her run down-stairs. Then, to my astonishment, the +footfalls approached again, and Yvette re-entered the room and closed +the door. + +"I see it is not a bad pleasantry," she began, with her back to the +door. "Mademoiselle is a great lady, and I have always known that; she +is an artist; she has soul--so have I. What you could not force from +me, neither you nor any man, I will tell you of my own free will. You +want to hear of Deschamps?" + +I nodded, half-admiring her--perhaps more than half. + +"She is a woman to fear. I have told you I used to be her maid before +I came to mademoiselle, and even I was always afraid of her. But I +liked her. We understood each other, Deschamps and I. Mademoiselle +imagines that Deschamps became jealous of her because of a certain +affair that happened at the Opera Comique several years ago--a mere +quarrel of artists, of which I have seen many. That was partly the +cause, but there was something else. Deschamps used to think that Lord +Clarenceux was in love with her--with her! As a fact, he was not; but +she used to think so, and when Lord Clarenceux first began to pay +attention to mademoiselle, then it was that the jealousy of Deschamps +really sprang up. Ah! I have heard Deschamps swear to--But that is +nothing. She never forgave mademoiselle for being betrothed to Lord +Clarenceux. When he died, she laughed; but her hatred of mademoiselle +was unchanged. It smouldered, only it was very hot underneath. And I +can understand--Lord Clarenceux was so handsome and so rich, the most +fine stern man I ever saw. He used to give me hundred-franc notes." + +"Never mind the notes. Why has Deschamps' jealousy revived so suddenly +just recently?" + +"Why? Because mademoiselle would come back to the Opera Comique. +Deschamps could not suffer that. And when she heard it was to be so, +she wrote to me--to me!--and asked if it was true that mademoiselle +was to appear as Carmen. Then she came to see me--me--and I was +obliged to tell her it was true, and she was frightfully angry, and +then she began to cry--oh, her despair! She said she knew a way to +stop mademoiselle from singing, and she begged me to help her, and I +said I would." + +"You were willing to betray your mistress?" + +"Deschamps swore it would do no real harm. Do I not tell you that +Deschamps and I always liked each other? We were old friends. I +sympathized with her; she is growing old." + +"How much did she promise to pay you?" + +"Not a sou--not a centime. I swear it." The girl stamped her foot and +threw up her head, reddening with the earnestness of her disclaimer. +"What I did, I did from love; and I thought it would not harm +mademoiselle, really." + +"Nevertheless you might have killed your mistress." + +"Alas!" + +"Answer me this: Now that your attempt has failed, what will Deschamps +do? Will she stop, or will she try something else?" + +Yvette shook her head slowly. + +"I do not know. She is dangerous. Sometimes she is like a mad woman. +You must take care. For myself, I will never see her again." + +"You give your word on that?" + +"I have said it. There is nothing more to tell you. So, adieu. Say to +mademoiselle that I have repented." + +She opened the door, and as she did so her eye seemed by chance to +catch a small picture which hung by the side of the hearth. My back +was to the fireplace, and I did not trouble to follow her glance. + +"Ah," she murmured reflectively, "he was the most fine stern man ... +and he gave me hundred-franc notes." + +Then she was gone. We never saw nor heard of Yvette again. + +Out of curiosity, I turned to look at the picture which must have +caught her eye. It was a little photograph, framed in black, and hung +by itself on the wall; in the ordinary way one would scarcely have +noticed it. I went close up to it. My heart gave a jump, and I seemed +to perspire. The photograph was a portrait of the man who, since my +acquaintance with Rosa, had haunted my footsteps--the mysterious and +implacable person whom I had seen first opposite the Devonshire +Mansion, then in the cathedral at Bruges during my vigil by the corpse +of Alresca, then in the train which was wrecked, and finally in the +Channel steamer which came near to sinking. Across the lower part of +it ran the signature, in large, stiff characters, "Clarenceux." + +So Lord Clarenceux was not dead, though everyone thought him so. Here +was a mystery more disturbing than anything which had gone before. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE VILLA + + +It seemed to be my duty to tell Rosa, of course with all possible +circumspection, that, despite a general impression to the contrary, +Lord Clarenceux was still alive. His lordship's reasons for effacing +himself, and so completely deceiving his friends and the world, I +naturally could not divine; but I knew that such things had happened +before, and also I gathered that he was a man who would hesitate at no +caprice, however extravagant, once it had suggested itself to him as +expedient for the satisfaction of his singular nature. + +A light broke in upon me: Alresca must have been aware that Lord +Clarenceux was alive. That must have been part of Alresca's secret, +but only part. I felt somehow that I was on the verge of some tragical +discovery which might vitally affect not only my own existence, but +that of others. + +I saw Rosa on the morning after my interview with Yvette. She was in +perfect health and moderately good spirits, and she invited me to dine +with her that evening. "I will tell her after dinner," I said to +myself. The project of telling her seemed more difficult as it +approached. She said that she had arranged by telephone for another +rehearsal at the Opera Comique at three o'clock, but she did not +invite me to accompany her. I spent the afternoon at the Sorbonne, +where I had some acquaintances, and after calling at my hotel, the +little Hotel de Portugal in the Rue Croix des Petits Champs, to dress, +I drove in a fiacre to the Rue de Rivoli. I had carefully considered +how best in conversation I might lead Rosa to the subject of Lord +Clarenceux, and had arranged a little plan. Decidedly I did not +anticipate the interview with unmixed pleasure; but, as I have said, I +felt bound to inform her that her former lover's death was a fiction. +My suit might be doomed thereby to failure,--I had no right to expect +otherwise,--but if it should succeed and I had kept silence on this +point, I should have played the part of a--well, of a man "of three +letters." + +"Mademoiselle is not at home," said the servant. + +"Not at home! But I am dining with her, my friend." + +"Mademoiselle has been called away suddenly, and she has left a note +for monsieur. Will monsieur give himself the trouble to come into the +salon?" + +The note ran thus: + + "Dear Friend:--A thousand excuses! But the enclosed will + explain. I felt that I must go--and go instantly. She might + die before I arrived. Will you call early to-morrow? + + "Your grateful + "Rosa" + +And this was the enclosure, written in French: + + "VILLA DES HORTENSIAS, + "RUE THIERS, PANTIN, PARIS. + + "Mademoiselle:--I am dying. I have wronged you deeply, and I + dare not die without your forgiveness. Prove to me that you + have a great heart by coming to my bedside and telling me + that you accept my repentance. The bearer will conduct you. + + "Carlotta Deschamps." + +"What time did mademoiselle leave?" I inquired. + +"Less than a quarter of an hour ago," was the reply. + +"Who brought the note to her?" + +"A man, monsieur. Mademoiselle accompanied him in a cab." + +With a velocity which must have startled the grave and leisurely +servant, I precipitated myself out of the house and back into the +fiacre, which happily had not gone away. I told the cabman to drive to +my hotel at his best speed. + +To me Deschamps' letter was in the highest degree suspicious. Rosa, of +course, with the simplicity of a heart incapable of any baseness, had +accepted it in perfect faith. But I remembered the words of Yvette, +uttered in all solemnity: "She is dangerous; you must take care." +Further, I observed that the handwriting of this strange and dramatic +missive was remarkably firm and regular for a dying woman, and that +the composition showed a certain calculated effectiveness. I feared a +lure. Instinctively I knew Deschamps to be one of those women who, +driven by the goad of passionate feeling, will proceed to any length, +content to postpone reflection till afterwards--when the irremediable +has happened. + +By chance I was slightly acquainted with the remote and sinister +suburb where lay the Villa des Hortensias. I knew that at night it +possessed a peculiar reputation, and my surmise was that Rosa had been +decoyed thither with some evil intent. + +Arrived at my hotel, I unearthed my revolver and put it in my pocket. +Nothing might occur; on the other hand, everything might occur, and it +was only prudent to be prepared. Dwelling on this thought, I also took +the little jewelled dagger which Rosa had given to Sir Cyril Smart at +the historic reception of my Cousin Sullivan's. + +In the hall of the hotel I looked at the plan of Paris. Certainly +Pantin seemed to be a very long way off. The route to it from the +centre of the city--that is to say, the Place de l'Opera--followed the +Rue Lafayette, which is the longest straight thoroughfare in Paris, +and then the Rue d'Allemagne, which is a continuation, in the same +direct line, of the Rue Lafayette. The suburb lay without the +fortifications. The Rue Thiers--every Parisian suburb has its Rue +Thiers--was about half a mile past the barrier, on the right. + +I asked the aged woman who fulfils the functions of hall-porter at the +Hotel de Portugal whether a cab would take me to Pantin. + +"Pantin," she repeated, as she might have said "Timbuctoo." And she +called the proprietor. The proprietor also said "Pantin" as he might +have said "Timbuctoo," and advised me to take the steam-tram which +starts from behind the Opera, to let that carry me as far as it would, +and then, arrived in those distant regions, either to find a cab or to +walk the remainder of the distance. + +So, armed, I issued forth, and drove to the tram, and placed myself on +the top of the tram. And the tram, after much tooting of horns, set +out. + +Through kilometre after kilometre of gaslit clattering monotony that +immense and deafening conveyance took me. There were cafes everywhere, +thickly strewn on both sides of the way--at first large and lofty and +richly decorated, with vast glazed facades, and manned by waiters in +black and white, then gradually growing smaller and less busy. The +black and white waiters gave place to men in blouses, and men in +blouses gave place to women and girls--short, fat women and girls who +gossiped among themselves and to customers. Once we passed a cafe +quite deserted save for the waiter and the waitress, who sat, head on +arms, side by side, over a table asleep. + +Then the tram stopped finally, having covered about three miles. There +was no sign of a cab. I proceeded on foot. The shops got smaller and +dingier; they were filled, apparently, by the families of the +proprietors. At length I crossed over a canal--the dreadful quarter of +La Villette--and here the street widened out to an immense width, and +it was silent and forlorn under the gas-lamps. I hurried under railway +bridges, and I saw in the distance great shunting-yards looking grim +in their blue hazes of electric light. Then came the city barrier and +the octroi, and still the street stretched in front of me, darker now, +more mischievous, more obscure. I was in Pantin. + +At last I descried the white and blue sign of the Rue Thiers. I stood +alone in the shadow of high, forbidding houses. All seemed strange and +fearsome. Certainly this might still be called Paris, but it was not +the Paris known to Englishmen; it was the Paris of Zola, and Zola in a +Balzacian mood. + +I turned into the Rue Thiers, and at once the high, forbidding houses +ceased, and small detached villas--such as are to be found in +thousands round the shabby skirts of Paris--took their place. The +Villa des Hortensias, clearly labelled, was nearly at the far end of +the funereal street. It was rather larger than its fellows, and +comprised three stories, with a small garden in front and a vast +grille with a big bell, such as Parisians love when they have passed +the confines of the city, and have dispensed with the security of a +concierge. The grille was ajar. I entered the garden, having made sure +that the bell would not sound. The facade of the house showed no light +whatever. A double stone stairway of four steps led to the front door. +I went up the steps, and was about to knock, when the idea flashed +across my mind: "Suppose that Deschamps is really dying, how am I to +explain my presence here? I am not the guardian of Rosa, and she may +resent being tracked across Paris by a young man with no claim to +watch her actions." + +Nevertheless, in an expedition of this nature one must accept risks, +and therefore I knocked gently. There was no reply to the summons, and +I was cogitating upon my next move when, happening to press against +the door with my hand, I discovered that it was not latched. Without +weighing consequences, I quietly opened it, and with infinite caution +stepped into the hall, and pushed the door to. I did not latch it, +lest I might need to make a sudden exit--unfamiliar knobs and springs +are apt to be troublesome when one is in a hurry. + +I was now fairly in the house, but the darkness was blacker than the +pit, and I did not care to strike a match. I felt my way along by the +wall till I came to a door on the left; it was locked. A little +further was another door, also locked. I listened intently, for I +fancied I could hear a faint murmur of voices, but I was not sure. +Then I startled myself by stepping on nothing--I was at the head of a +flight of stone steps; down below I could distinguish an almost +imperceptible glimmer of light. + +"I'm in for it. Here goes!" I reflected, and I crept down the steps +one by one, and in due course reached the bottom. To the left was a +doorway, through which came the glimmer of light. Passing through the +doorway, I came into a room with a stone floor. The light, which was +no stronger than the very earliest intimation of a winter's dawn, +seemed to issue in a most unusual way from the far corner of this +apartment near the ceiling. I directed my course towards it, and in +the transit made violent contact with some metallic object, which +proved to be an upright iron shaft, perhaps three inches in diameter, +running from floor to ceiling. + +"Surely," I thought, "this is the queerest room I was ever in." + +Circumnavigating the pillar, I reached the desired corner, and stood +under the feeble source of light. I could see now that in this corner +the ceiling was higher than elsewhere, and that the light shone dimly +from a perpendicular pane of glass which joined the two levels of the +ceiling. I also saw that there was a ledge about two feet from the +floor, upon which a man would stand in order to look through the +pane. + +I climbed on to the ledge, and I looked. To my astonishment, I had a +full view of a large apartment, my head being even with the floor of +that apartment. Lying on a couch was a woman--the woman who had +accosted me on Dover Pier--Carlotta Deschamps, in fact. By her side, +facing her in a chair, was Rosetta Rosa. I could hear nothing, but by +the movement of their lips I knew that these two were talking. Rosa's +face was full of pity; as for Deschamps, her coarse features were +inscrutable. She had a certain pallor, but it was impossible to judge +whether she was ill or well. + +I had scarcely begun to observe the two women when I caught the sound +of footsteps on the stone stair. The footsteps approached; they +entered the room where I was. I made no sound. Without any hesitation +the footsteps arrived at my corner, and a pair of hands touched my +legs. Then I knew it was time to act. Jumping down from the ledge, I +clasped the intruder by the head, and we rolled over together, +struggling. But he was a short man, apparently stiff in the limbs, and +in ten seconds or thereabouts I had him flat on his back, and my hand +at his throat. + +"Don't move," I advised him. + +In that faint light I could not see him, so I struck a match, and held +it over the man's face. We gazed at each other, breathing heavily. + +"Good God!" the man exclaimed. + +It was Sir Cyril Smart. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SHEATH OF THE DAGGER + + +That was one of those supremely trying moments which occur, I suppose, +once or twice in the lives of most men, when events demand to be fully +explained while time will on no account permit of the explanation. I +felt that I must know at once the reason and purpose of Sir Cyril's +presence with me in the underground chamber, and that I could do +nothing further until I had such knowledge. And yet I also felt that +explanations must inevitably wait until the scene enacting above us +was over. I stood for a second silent, irresolute. The match went out. + +"Are you here to protect her?" whispered Sir Cyril. + +"Yes, if she is in danger. I will tell you afterwards about things. +And you?" + +"I was passing through Paris, and I heard that Deschamps was +threatening Rosa. Everyone is talking of it, and I heard of the +scene at the rehearsal, and I began to guess.... I know Deschamps +well. I was afraid for Rosa. Then this morning I met Yvette, Rosa's +maid--she's an old acquaintance of mine--and she told me everything. I +have many friends in Paris, and I learnt to-night that Deschamps had +sent for Rosa. So I have come up to interfere. They are up-stairs, are +they not? Let us watch." + +"You know the house, then?" + +"I have been here before, to one of Deschamps' celebrated suppers. She +showed me all over it then. It is one of the strangest houses round +about Paris--and that's saying something. The inside was rebuilt by a +Russian count who wanted to do the Louis Quinze revelry business over +again. He died, and Deschamps bought the place. She often stays here +quite alone." + +I was putting all the questions. Sir Cyril seemed not to be very +curious concerning the origin of my presence. + +"What is Rosa to you?" I queried with emphasis. + +"What is she to you?" he returned quickly. + +"To me she is everything," I said. + +"And to me, my young friend!" + +I could not, of course, see Sir Cyril's face, but the tone of his +reply impressed and silenced me. I was mystified--and yet I felt glad +that he was there. Both of us forgot to be surprised at the +peculiarity of the scene. It appeared quite natural that he should +have supervened so dramatically at precisely the correct moment, and I +asked him for no more information. He evidently did know the place, +for he crept immediately to the ledge, and looked into the room above. +I followed, and stood by his side. The two women were still talking. + +"Can't we get into the room, or do something?" I murmured. + +"Not yet. How do we know that Deschamps means harm? Let us wait. Have +you a weapon?" + +Sir Cyril spoke as one in command, and I accepted the assumption of +authority. + +"Yes," I said; "I've got a revolver, and a little dagger." + +"Who knows what may happen? Give me one of them--give me the dagger, +if you like." + +I passed it to him in the darkness. Astounding as it may seem, I am +prepared solemnly to assert that at that moment I had forgotten the +history of the dagger, and Sir Cyril's connection with it. + +I was just going to ask of what use weapons could be, situated as we +were, when I saw Deschamps with a sudden movement jump up from her +bed, her eyes blazing. With an involuntary cry in my throat I hammered +the glass in front of us with the butt of my revolver, but it was at +least an inch thick, and did not even splinter. Sir Cyril sprang from +the ledge instantly. Meanwhile Rosa, the change of whose features +showed that she divined the shameful trick played upon her, stood up, +half-indignant, half-terrified. Deschamps was no more dying than I +was; her eyes burned with the lust of homicide, and with uplifted +twitching hands she advanced like a tiger, and Rosa retreated before +her to the middle of the room. + +Then there was the click of a spring, and a square of the centre of +the floor, with Rosa standing upon it, swiftly descended into the room +where we were. The thing was as startling as a stage illusion; yes, a +thousand-fold more startling than any trick I ever saw. I may state +here, what I learnt afterwards, that the room above was originally a +dining-room, and the arrangement of the trap had been designed to +cause a table to disappear and reappear as tables were wont to do at +the notorious banquets of King Louis in the Petit Trianon. The glass +observatory enabled the kitchen attendants to watch the progress of +the meals. Sir Cyril knew of the contrivance, and, rushing to the +upright pillar, had worked it most opportunely. + +The kitchen, as I may now call it, was illuminated with light from the +room above. I hastened to Rosa, who on seeing Sir Cyril and myself +gave a little cry, and fell forward fainting. She was a brave girl, +but one may have too many astonishments. I caught her, and laid her +gently on the floor. Meanwhile Deschamps (the dying Deschamps!) stood +on the edge of the upper floor, stamping and shouting in a high fever +of foiled revenge. She was mad. When I say that she was mad, I mean +that she was merely and simply insane. I could perceive it instantly, +and I foresaw that we should have trouble with her. + +Without the slightest warning, she jumped down into the midst of us. +The distance was a good ten feet, but with a lunatic's luck she did +not hurt herself. She faced Sir Cyril, shaking in every limb with +passion, and he, calm, determined, unhurried, raised his dagger to +defend himself against this terrible lioness should the need arise. + +But as he lifted the weapon his eye fell on it; he saw what it was; he +had not observed it before, since we had been in darkness. And as he +looked his composure seemed to desert him. He paled, and his hand +trembled and hung loosely. The mad woman, seizing her chance, snatched +the dagger from him, and like a flash of lightning drove it into his +left breast. Sir Cyril sank down, the dagger sticking out from his +light overcoat. + +The deed was over before I could move. I sprang forward. Deschamps +laughed, and turned to me. I closed with her. She scratched and bit, +and she was by no means a weak woman. At first I feared that in her +fury she would overpower me. At length, however, I managed to master +her; but her strength was far from exhausted, and she would not yield. +She was mad; time was passing. I could not afford to be nice in my +methods, so I contrived to stun her, and proceeded to tie her hands +with my handkerchief. Then, panting, I stood up to survey the floor. + +I may be forgiven, perhaps, if at that frightful crisis I was not +perfectly cool, and could not decide on the instant upon the wisest +course of action to pursue. Sir Cyril was insensible, and a little +circle of blood was forming round the dagger; Deschamps was +insensible, with a dark bruise on her forehead, inflicted during our +struggle; Rosa was insensible--I presumed from excess of emotion at +the sudden fright. + +I gazed at the three prone forms, pondering over my handiwork and that +of Chance. What should be the next step? Save for my own breathing, +there was a deathlike silence. The light from the empty room above +rained down upon us through the trap, illuminating the still faces +with its yellow glare. Was any other person in the house? From what +Sir Cyril had said, and from my own surmises, I thought not. Whatever +people Deschamps might have employed to carry messages, she had +doubtless dismissed them. She and Rosa had been alone in the building. +I can understand now that there was something peculiarly attractive to +the diseased imagination of Deschamps in the prospect of inviting her +victim to the snare, and working vengeance upon a rival unaided, +unseen, solitary in that echoing and deserted mansion. I was horribly +perplexed. It struck me that I ought to be gloomily sorrowful, but I +was not. At the bottom of my soul I felt happy, for Rosa was saved. + +It was Rosa who first recovered consciousness, and her movement in +sitting up recalled me to my duty. I ran to Sir Cyril, and, kneeling +down so as to screen his body from her sight, I drew the dagger from +its sheath, and began hastily, with such implements as I could +contrive on the spur of the moment, to attend to his wound. + +"What has happened?" Rosa inquired feebly. + +I considered my reply, and then, without turning towards her, I spoke +in a slow, matter-of-fact voice. + +"Listen carefully to what I say. There has been a plot to--to do you +injury. But you are not hurt. You are, in fact, quite well--don't +imagine anything else. Sir Cyril Smart is here; he's hurt; Deschamps +has wounded him. Deschamps is harmless for the moment, but she may +recover and break out again. So I can't leave to get help. You must +go. You have fainted, but I am sure you can walk quite well. Go up the +stairs here, and walk along the hall till you come to the front door; +it is not fastened. Go out into the street, and bring back two +gendarmes--two, mind--and a cab, if you can. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, but how--" + +"Now, please go at once!" I insisted grimly and coldly. "We can talk +afterwards. Just do as you're told." + +Cowed by the roughness of my tone, she rose and went. I heard her +light, hesitating step pass through the hall, and so out of the house. + +In a few minutes I had done all that could be done for Sir Cyril, as +he lay there. The wound was deep, having regard to the small size of +the dagger, and I could only partially stop the extravasation of +blood, which was profuse. I doubted if he would recover. It was not +long, however, before he regained his senses. He spoke, and I remember +vividly now how pathetic to me was the wagging of his short gray beard +as his jaw moved. + +"Foster," he said--"your name is Foster, isn't it? Where did you find +that dagger?" + +"You must keep quiet," I said. "I have sent for assistance." + +"Don't be a fool, man. You know I'm done for. Tell me how you got the +dagger." + +So I told him. + +"Ah!" he murmured. "It's my luck!" he sighed. Then in little detached +sentences, with many pauses, he began to relate a history of what +happened after Rosa and I had left him on the night of Sullivan's +reception. Much of it was incomprehensible to me; sometimes I could +not make out the words. But it seemed that he had followed us in his +carriage, had somehow met Rosa again, and then, in a sudden frenzy of +remorse, had attempted to kill himself with the dagger in the street. +His reason for this I did not gather. His coachman and footman had +taken him home, and the affair had been kept quiet. + +Remorse for what? I burned to ask a hundred questions, but, fearing to +excite him, I shut my lips. + +"You are in love with her?" he asked. + +I nodded. It was a reply as abrupt as his demand. At that moment +Deschamps laughed quietly behind me. I turned round quickly, but she +lay still; though she had come to, the fire in her eyes was quenched, +and I anticipated no immediate difficulty with her. + +"I knew that night that you were in love with her," Sir Cyril +continued. "Has she told you about--about me?" + +"No," I said. + +"I have done her a wrong, Foster--her and another. But she will tell +you. I can't talk now. I'm going--going. Tell her that I died in +trying to protect her; say that--Foster--say--" He relapsed into +unconsciousness. + +I heard firm, rapid steps in the hall, and in another instant the +representatives of French law had taken charge of the house. Rosa +followed them in. She looked wistfully at Sir Cyril, and then, +flinging herself down by his side, burst into wild tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE THING IN THE CHAIR + + +On the following night I sat once more in the salon of Rosa's flat. +She had had Sir Cyril removed thither. He was dying; I had done my +best, but his case was quite hopeless, and at Rosa's urgent entreaty I +had at last left her alone by his bedside. + +I need not recount all the rush of incidents that had happened since +the tragedy at the Villa des Hortensias on the previous evening. Most +people will remember the tremendous sensation caused by the judicial +inquiry--an inquiry which ended in the tragical Deschamps being +incarcerated in the Charenton Asylum. For aught I know, the poor +woman, once one of the foremost figures in the gaudy world of +theatrical Paris, is still there consuming her heart with a futile +hate. + +Rosa would never refer in any way to the interview between Deschamps +and herself; it was as if she had hidden the memory of it in some +secret chamber of her soul, which nothing could induce her to open +again. But there can be no doubt that Deschamps had intended to murder +her, and, indeed, would have murdered her had it not been for the +marvellously opportune arrival of Sir Cyril. With the door of the room +locked as it was, I should assuredly have been condemned, lacking Sir +Cyril's special knowledge of the house, to the anguish of witnessing a +frightful crime without being able to succor the victim. To this day I +can scarcely think of that possibility and remain calm. + +As for Sir Cyril's dramatic appearance in the villa, when I had learnt +all the facts, that was perhaps less extraordinary than it had seemed +to me from our hasty dialogue in the underground kitchen of Deschamps' +house. Although neither Rosa nor I was aware of it, operatic circles +had been full of gossip concerning Deschamps' anger and jealousy, of +which she made no secret. One or two artists of the Opera Comique had +decided to interfere, or at any rate seriously to warn Rosa, when Sir +Cyril arrived, on his way to London from the German watering-place +where he had been staying. All Paris knew Sir Cyril, and Sir Cyril +knew all Paris; he was made acquainted with the facts directly, and +the matter was left to him. A man of singular resolution, originality, +and courage, he had gone straight to the Rue Thiers, having caught a +rumor, doubtless started by the indiscreet Deschamps herself, that +Rosa would be decoyed there. The rest was mere good fortune. + +In regard to the mysterious connection between Sir Cyril and Rosa, I +had at present no clue to it; nor had there been much opportunity for +conversation between Rosa and myself. We had not even spoken to each +other alone, and, moreover, I was uncertain whether she would care to +enlighten me on that particular matter; assuredly I had no right to +ask her to do so. Further, I was far more interested in another, and +to me vastly more important, question, the question of Lord Clarenceux +and his supposed death. + +I was gloomily meditating upon the tangle of events, when the door of +the salon opened, and Rosa entered. She walked stiffly to a chair, +and, sitting down opposite to me, looked into my face with hard, +glittering eyes. For a few moments she did not speak, and I could not +break the silence. Then I saw the tears slowly welling up, and I was +glad for that. She was intensely moved, and less agonizing experiences +than she had gone through might easily have led to brain fever in a +woman of her highly emotional temperament. + +"Why don't you leave me, Mr. Foster?" she cried passionately, and +there were sobs in her voice. "Why don't you leave me, and never see +me again?" + +"Leave you?" I said softly. "Why?" + +"Because I am cursed. Throughout my life I have been cursed; and the +curse clings, and it falls on those who come near me." + +She gave way to hysterical tears; her head bent till it was almost on +her knees. I went to her, and gently raised it, and put a cushion at +the back of the chair. She grew calmer. + +"If you are cursed, I will be cursed," I said, gazing straight at her, +and then I sat down again. + +The sobbing gradually ceased. She dried her eyes. + +"He is dead," she said shortly. + +I made no response; I had none to make. + +"You do not say anything," she murmured. + +"I am sorry. Sir Cyril was the right sort." + +"He was my father," she said. + +"Your father!" I repeated. No revelation could have more profoundly +astonished me. + +"Yes," she firmly repeated. + +We both paused. + +"I thought you had lost both parents," I said at length, rather +lamely. + +"Till lately I thought so too. Listen. I will tell you the tale of all +my life. Not until to-night have I been able to put it together, and +fill in the blanks." + +And this is what she told me: + +"My father was travelling through Europe. He had money, and of course +he met with adventures. One of his adventures was my mother. She lived +among the vines near Avignon, in Southern France; her uncle was a +small grape-grower. She belonged absolutely to the people, but she was +extremely beautiful. I'm not exaggerating; she was. She was one of +those women that believe everything, and my father fell in love with +her. He married her properly at Avignon. They travelled together +through France and Italy, and then to Belgium. Then, in something less +than a year, I was born. She gave herself up to me entirely. She was +not clever; she had no social talents and no ambitions. No, she +certainly had not much brain; but to balance that she had a heart--so +large that it completely enveloped my father and me. + +"After three years he had had enough of my mother. He got restive. He +was ambitious. He wanted to shine in London, where he was known, and +where his family had made traditions in the theatrical world. But he +felt that my mother wouldn't--wouldn't be suitable for London. Fancy +the absurdity of a man trying to make a name in London when hampered +by a wife who was practically of the peasant class! He simply left +her. Oh, it was no common case of desertion. He used his influence +over my mother to make her consent. She did consent. It broke her +heart, but hers was the sort of love that suffers, so she let him go. +He arranged to allow her a reasonable income. + +"I can just remember a man who must have been my father. I was three +years old when he left us. Till then we had lived in a large house in +an old city. Can't you guess what house that was? Of course you can. +Yes, it was the house at Bruges where Alresca died. We gave up that +house, my mother and I, and went to live in Italy. Then my father sold +the house to Alresca. I only knew that to-day. You may guess my +childish recollections of Bruges aren't very distinct. It was part of +the understanding that my mother should change her name, and at Pisa +she was known as Madame Montigny. That was the only surname of hers +that I ever knew. + +"As I grew older, my mother told me fairy-tales to account for the +absence of my father. She died when I was sixteen, and before she died +she told me the truth. She begged me to promise to go to him, and said +that I should be happy with him. But I would not promise. I was +sixteen then, and very proud. What my mother had told me made me hate +and despise my father. I left my dead mother's side hating him; I had +a loathing for him which words couldn't express. She had omitted to +tell me his real name; I never asked her, and I was glad not to know +it. In speaking of him, of course she always said 'your father', 'your +father', and she died before she got quite to the end of her story. I +buried my mother, and then I was determined to disappear. My father +might search, but he should never find me. The thought that he would +search and search, and be unhappy for the rest of his life because he +couldn't find me, gave me a kind of joy. So I left Pisa, and I took +with me nothing but the few hundred lire which my mother had by her, +and the toy dagger--my father's gift--which she had always worn in her +hair. + +"I knew that I had a voice. Everyone said that, and my mother had had +it trained up to a certain point. I knew that I could make a +reputation. I adopted the name of Rosetta Rosa, and I set to work. +Others have suffered worse things than I suffered. I made my way. Sir +Cyril Smart, the great English impresario, heard me at Genoa, and +offered me an engagement in London. Then my fortune was made. You know +that story--everyone knows it. + +"Why did I not guess at once that he was my father? I cannot tell. And +not having guessed it at once, why should I ever have guessed it? I +cannot tell. The suspicion stole over me gradually. Let me say that I +always was conscious of a peculiar feeling towards Sir Cyril Smart, +partly antagonistic, yet not wholly so--a feeling I could never +understand. Then suddenly I knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that +Sir Cyril was my father, and in the same moment he knew that I was his +daughter. You were there; you saw us in the portico of the +reception-rooms at that London hotel. I caught him staring at the +dagger in my hair just as if he was staring at a snake--I had not worn +it for some time--and the knowledge of his identity swept over me like +a--like a big wave. I hated him more than ever. + +"That night, it seems, he followed us in his carriage to Alresca's +flat. When I came out of the flat he was waiting. He spoke. I won't +tell you what he said, and I won't tell you what I said. But I was +very curt and very cruel." Her voice trembled. "I got into my +carriage. My God! how cruel I was! To-night he--my father--has told me +that he tried to kill himself with my mother's dagger, there on the +pavement. I had driven him to suicide." + +She stopped. "Do you blame me?" she murmured. + +"I do not blame you," I said. "But he is dead, and death ends all +things." + +"You are right," she said. "And he loved me at the last. I know that. +And he saved my life--you and he. He has atoned--atoned for his +conduct to my poor mother. He died with my kiss on his lips." + +And now the tears came into my eyes. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed, and the pathos of her ringing tones was +intolerable to me. "You may well weep for me." Then with abrupt change +she laughed. "Don't you agree that I am cursed? Am I not cursed? Say +it! say it!" + +"I will not say it," I answered. "Why should you be cursed? What do +you mean?" + +"I do not know what I mean, but I know what I feel. Look back at my +life. My mother died, deserted. My father has died, killed by a mad +woman. My dear friend Alresca died--who knows how? Clarenceux--he too +died." + +"Stay!" I almost shouted, springing up, and the suddenness of my +excitement intimidated her. "How do you know that Lord Clarenceux is +dead?" + +I stood before her, trembling with apprehension for the effect of the +disclosure I was about to make. She was puzzled and alarmed by the +violent change in me, but she controlled herself. + +"How do I know?" she repeated with strange mildness. + +"Yes, how do you know? Did you see him die?" + +I had a wild desire to glance over my shoulder at the portrait. + +"No, my friend. But I saw him after he was dead. He died suddenly in +Vienna. Don't let us talk about that." + +"Aha!" I laughed incredulously, and then, swiftly driven forward by an +overpowering impulse, I dropped on my knees and seized her hands with +a convulsive grasp. "Rosa! Rosa!"--my voice nearly broke--"you must +know that I love you. Say that you love me--that you would love me +whether Clarenceux were dead or alive." + +An infinite tenderness shone in her face. She put out her hand, and to +calm me stroked my hair. + +"Carl!" she whispered. + +It was enough. I got up. I did not kiss her. + +A servant entered, and said that some one from the theatre had called +to see mademoiselle on urgent business. Excusing herself, Rosa went +out. I held open the door for her, and closed it slowly with a sigh of +incredible relief. Then I turned back into the room. I was content to +be alone for a little while. + +Great God! The chair which Rosa had but that instant left was not +empty. Occupying it was a figure--the figure of the man whose portrait +hung on the wall--the figure of the man who had haunted me ever since +I met Rosa--the figure of Lord Clarenceux, whom Rosa had seen dead. + +At last, oh, powers of hell, I knew you! The inmost mystery stood +clear. In one blinding flash of comprehension I felt the fullness of +my calamity. This man that I had seen was not a man, but a malign and +jealous spirit--using his spectral influences to crush the mortals +bold enough to love the woman whom he had loved on earth. The death of +Alresca, the unaccountable appearances in the cathedral, in the train, +on the steamer--everything was explained. And before that coldly +sneering, triumphant face, which bore the look of life, and which I +yet knew to be impalpable, I shook with the terrified ague of a +culprit. + +A minute or a thousand years might have passed. Then Rosa returned. In +an instant the apparition had vanished. But by her pallid, drawn face +and her gray lips I knew that she had seen it. Truly she was cursed, +and I with her! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE MENACE + + +From the moment of my avowal to Rosa it seemed that the evil spirit of +the dead Lord Clarenceux had assumed an ineffable dominion over me. I +cannot properly describe it; I cannot describe it all. I may only say +that I felt I had suddenly become the subject of a tyrant who would +punish me if I persisted in any course of conduct to which he +objected. I knew what fear was--the most terrible of all fears--the +fear of that which we cannot understand. The inmost and central throne +of my soul was commanded by this implacable ghost, this ghost which +did not speak, but which conveyed its ideas by means of a single +glance, a single sneer. + +It was strange that I should be aware at once what was required of me, +and the reasons for these requirements. Till that night I had never +guessed the nature of the thing which for so many weeks had been +warning me; I had not even guessed that I was being warned; I had +taken for a man that which was not a man. Yet now, in an instant of +time, all was clear down to the smallest details. From the primal hour +when a liking for Rosa had arisen in my breast, the ghost of Lord +Clarenceux, always hovering uneasily near to its former love, had +showed itself to me. + +The figure opposite the Devonshire Mansion--that was the first +warning. With regard to the second appearance, in the cathedral of +Bruges, I surmised that that only indirectly affected myself. +Primarily it was the celebration of a fiendish triumph over one who +had preceded me in daring to love Rosetta Rosa, but doubtless also it +was meant in a subsidiary degree as a second warning to the youth who +followed in Alresca's footsteps. Then there were the two appearances +during my journey from London to Paris with Rosa's jewels--in the +train and on the steamer. Matters by that time had become more +serious. I was genuinely in love, and the ghost's anger was quickened. +The train was wrecked and the steamer might have been sunk, and I +could not help thinking that the ghost, in some ineffectual way, had +been instrumental in both these disasters. The engine-driver, who said +he was "dazed," and the steersman, who attributed his mistake at the +wheel to the interference of some unknown outsider--were not these +things an indication that my dreadful suspicion was well grounded? And +if so, to what frightful malignity did they not point! Here was a +spirit, which in order to appease the pangs of a supernatural +jealousy, was ready to use its immaterial powers to destroy scores of +people against whom it could not possibly have any grudge. The most +fanatical anarchism is not worse than this. + +Those attempts had failed. But now the aspect of affairs was changed. +The ghost of Lord Clarenceux had more power over me now--I felt that +acutely; and I explained it by the fact that I was in the near +neighborhood of Rosa. It was only when she was near that the jealous +hate of this spectre exercised its full efficacy. + +In such wise did I reason the matter out to myself. But reasoning was +quite unnecessary. I knew by a sure instinct. All the dark thoughts +of the ghost had passed into my brain, and if they had been +transcribed in words of fire and burnt upon my retina, I could not +have been more certain of their exact import. + +As I sat in my room at the hotel that night I speculated morosely upon +my plight and upon the future. Had a man ever been so situated before? +Well, probably so. We go about in a world where secret influences are +continually at work for us or against us, and we do not suspect their +existence, because we have no imagination. For it needs imagination to +perceive the truth--that is why the greatest poets are always the +greatest teachers. + +As for you who are disposed to smile at the idea of a live man crushed +(figuratively) under the heel of a ghost, I beg you to look back upon +your own experience, and count up the happenings which have struck you +as mysterious. You will be astonished at their number. But nothing is +so mysterious that it is incapable of explanation, did we but know +enough. I, by a singular mischance, was put in the way of the nameless +knowledge which explains all. At any rate, I was made acquainted with +some trifle of it. I had strayed on the seashore of the unknown, and +picked up a pebble. I had a glimpse of that other world which +permeates and exists side by side with and permeates our own. + +Just now I used the phrase "under the heel of a ghost," and I used it +advisedly. It indicates pretty well my mental condition. I was cowed, +mastered. The ghost of Clarenceux, driven to extremities by the brief +scene of tenderness which had passed in Rosa's drawing-room, had +determined by his own fell method to end the relations between Rosa +and myself. And his method was to assume a complete sway over me, the +object of his hatred. + +How did he exercise that sway? Can I answer? I cannot. How does one +man influence another? Not by electric wires or chemical apparatus, +but by those secret channels through which intelligence meets +intelligence. All I know is that I felt his sinister authority. During +life Clarenceux, according to every account, had been masterful, +imperious, commanding; and he carried these attributes with him beyond +the grave. His was a stronger personality than mine, and I could not +hide from myself the assurance that in the struggle of will against +will I should not be the conqueror. + +Not that anything had occurred, even the smallest thing! Upon +perceiving Rosa the apparition, as I have said, vanished. We did not +say much to each other, Rosa and I; we could not--we were afraid. I +went to my hotel; I sat in my room alone; I saw no ghost. But I was +aware, I was aware of the doom which impended over me. And already, +indeed, I experienced the curious sensation of the ebbing of +volitional power; I thought even that I was losing my interest in +life. My sensations were dulled. It began to appear to me unimportant +whether I lived or died. Only I knew that in either case I should love +Rosa. My love was independent of my will, and therefore the ghost of +Clarenceux, do what it might, could not tear it from me. I might die, +I might suffer mental tortures inconceivable, but I should continue to +love. In this idea lay my only consolation. + +I remained motionless in my chair for hours, and then--it was soon +after the clocks struck four--I sprang up, and searched among my +papers for Alresca's letter, the seal of which, according to his +desire, was still intact. The letter had been in my mind for a long +time. I knew well that the moment for opening it had come, that the +circumstances to which Alresca had referred in his covering letter had +veritably happened. But somehow, till that instant, I had not been +able to find courage to read the communication. As I opened it I +glanced out of the window. The first sign of dawn was in the sky. I +felt a little easier. + +Here is what I read: + + "My dear Carl Foster:--When you read this the words I am + about to write will have acquired the sanction which belongs + to the utterances of those who have passed away. Give them, + therefore, the most serious consideration. + + "If you are not already in love with Rosetta Rosa you soon + will be. I, too, as you know, have loved her. Let me tell you + some of the things which happened to me. + + "From the moment when that love first sprang up in my heart I + began to be haunted by--I will not say what; you know without + being told, for whoever loves Rosa will be haunted as I was, + as I am. Rosa has been loved once for all, and with a passion + so intense that it has survived the grave. For months I + disregarded the visitations, relying on the strength of my + own soul. I misjudged myself, or, rather, I underestimated my + adversary--the great man who in life had loved Rosa. I + proposed to Rosa, and she refused me. But that did not quench + my love. My love grew; I encouraged it; and it was against + the mere fact of my love that the warnings were directed. + + "You remember the accident on the stage which led to our + meeting. That accident was caused by sheer terror--the terror + of an apparition more awful than any that had gone before. + + "Still I persisted--I persisted in my hopeless love. Then + followed that unnamed malady which in vain you are seeking to + cure, a malady which was accompanied by innumerable and + terrifying phenomena. The malady was one of the mind; it + robbed me of the desire to live. More than that, it made life + intolerable. At last I surrendered. I believe I am a brave + man, but it is the privilege of the brave man to surrender + without losing honor to an adversary who has proved his + superiority. Yes, I surrendered. I cast out love in order + that I might live for my art. + + "But I was too late. I had pushed too far the enmity of this + spectral and unrelenting foe, and it would not accept my + surrender. I have dashed the image of Rosa from my heart, and + I have done it to no purpose. I am dying. And so I write this + for you, lest you should go unwarned to the same doom. + + "The love of Rosa is worth dying for, if you can win it. (I + could not even win it.) You will have to choose between Love + and Life. I do not counsel you either way. But I urge you to + choose. I urge you either to defy your foe utterly and to the + death, or to submit before submission is useless. + + "Alresca." + +I sat staring at the paper long after I had finished reading it, +thinking about poor Alresca. There was a date to it, and this date +showed that it was written a few days before his mysterious disease +took a turn for the better. + +The communication accordingly needs some explanation. It seems to me +that Alresca was mistaken. His foe was not so implacable as Alresca +imagined. Alresca having surrendered in the struggle between them, the +ghost of Lord Clarenceux hesitated, and then ultimately withdrew its +hateful influence, and Alresca recovered. Then Rosa came again into +his existence that evening at Bruges. Alresca, scornful of +consequences, let his passion burst once more into flame, and the +ghost instantly, in a flash of anger, worked its retribution. + +Day came, and during the whole of that day I pondered upon a phrase in +Alresca's letter, "You will have to choose between love and life." But +I could not choose. Love is the greatest thing in life; one may, +however, question whether it should be counted greater than life +itself. I tried to argue the question calmly, dispassionately. As if +such questions may be argued! I could not give up my love; I could not +give up my life; that was how all my calm, dispassionate arguments +ended. At one moment I was repeating, "The love of Rosa is worth dying +for;" at the next I was busy with the high and dear ambitions of which +I had so often dreamed. Were these to be sacrificed? Moreover, what +use would Rosa's love be to me when I was dead? And what use would my +life be to me without my love for her? + +A hundred times I tried to laugh, and said to myself that I was the +victim of fancy, that I should see nothing further of this prodigious +apparition; that, in short, my brain had been overtaxed by recent +events, and I had suffered from delusions. Vain and conventional +self-deceptions! At the bottom of my soul lay always the secret and +profound conviction that I was doomed, cursed, caught in the toils of +a relentless foe who was armed with all the strange terrors of the +unknown; a foe whose onslaughts it was absolutely impossible for me to +parry. + +As the hours passed a yearning to see Rosa, to be near her, came upon +me. I fought against it, fearing I know not what as the immediate +consequence. I wished to temporize, or, at any rate, to decide upon a +definite course of conduct before I saw her again. But towards evening +I felt that I should yield to the impulse to behold her. I said to +myself, as though I needed some excuse, that she would have a great +deal of trouble with the arrangements for Sir Cyril's funeral, and +that I ought to offer my assistance; that, indeed, I ought to have +offered my assistance early in the day. + +I presented myself after dinner. She was dressed in black, and her +manner was nervous, flurried, ill at ease. We shook hands very +formally, and then could find nothing to say to each other. Had she, +with a woman's instinct, guessed, from that instant's view of the +thing in the chair last night, all that was involved for me in our +love? If not all, she had guessed most of it. She had guessed that the +powerful spirit of Lord Clarenceux was inimical, fatally inimical, to +me. None knew better than herself the terrible strength of his +jealousy. I wondered what were her thoughts, her secret desires. + +At length she began to speak of commonplace matters. + +"Guess who has called," she said, with a little smile. + +"I give it up," I said, with a smile as artificial as her own. + +"Mrs. Sullivan Smith. She and Sullivan Smith are on their way home +from Bayreuth; they are at the Hotel du Rhin. She wanted to know all +about what happened in the Rue Thiers, and to save trouble I told +her. She stayed a long time. There have been a lot of callers. I am +very tired. I--I expected you earlier. But you are not listening." + +I was not. I was debating whether or not to show her Alresca's letter. +I decided to do so, and I handed it to her there and then. + +"Read that," I murmured. + +She read it in silence, and then looked at me. Her tender eyes were +filled with tears. I cast away all my resolutions of prudence, of +wariness, before that gaze. Seizing her in my arms, I kissed her again +and again. + +"I have always suspected--what--what Alresca says," she murmured. + +"But you love me?" I cried passionately. + +"Do you need to be told, my poor Carl?" she replied, with the most +exquisite melancholy. + +"Then I'll defy hell itself!" I said. + +She hung passive in my embrace. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE STRUGGLE + + +When I got back to my little sitting-room at the Hotel de Portugal, I +experienced a certain timid hesitation in opening the door. For +several seconds I stood before it, the key in the lock, afraid to +enter. I wanted to rush out again, to walk the streets all night; it +was raining, but I thought that anything would be preferable to the +inside of my sitting-room. Then I felt that, whatever the cost, I must +go in; and, twisting the key, I pushed heavily at the door, and +entered, touching as I did so the electric switch. In the chair which +stood before the writing-table in the middle of the room sat the +figure of Lord Clarenceux. + +Yes, my tormentor was indeed waiting. I had defied him, and we were +about to try a fall. As for me, I may say that my heart sank, sick +with an ineffable fear. The figure did not move as I went in; its back +was towards me. At the other end of the room was the doorway which +led to the small bedroom, little more than an alcove, and the gaze of +the apparition was fixed on this doorway. + +I closed the outer door behind me, and locked it, and then I stood +still. In the looking-glass over the mantelpiece I saw a drawn, pale, +agitated face in which all the trouble of the world seemed to reside; +it was my own face. I was alone in the room with the ghost--the ghost +which, jealous of my love for the woman it had loved, meant to revenge +itself by my death. + +A ghost, did I say? To look at it, no one would have taken it for an +apparition. No wonder that till the previous evening I had never +suspected it to be other than a man. It was dressed in black; it had +the very aspect of life. I could follow the creases in the frock coat, +the direction of the nap of the silk hat which it wore in my room. How +well by this time I knew that faultless black coat and that impeccable +hat! Yet it seemed that I could not examine them too closely. I +pierced them with the intensity of my fascinated glance. Yes, I +pierced them, for showing faintly through the coat I could discern the +outline of the table which should have been hidden by the man's +figure, and through the hat I could see the handle of the French +window. + +As I stood motionless there, solitary under the glow of the electric +light with this fearful visitor, I began to wish that it would move. I +wanted to face it--to meet its gaze with my gaze, eye to eye, and will +against will. The battle between us must start at once, I thought, if +I was to have any chance of victory, for moment by moment I could feel +my resolution, my manliness, my mere physical courage, slipping away. + +But the apparition did not stir. Impassive, remorseless, sinister, it +was content to wait, well aware that all suspense was in its favor. +Then I said to myself that I would cross the room, and so attain my +object. I made a step--and drew back, frightened by the sound of a +creaking board. Absurd! But it was quite a minute before I dared to +make another step. I had meant to walk straight across to the other +door, passing in my course close by the occupied chair. I did not do +so; I kept round by the wall, creeping on tiptoe and my eye never +leaving the figure in the chair. I did this in spite of myself, and +the manner of my action was the first hint of an ultimate defeat. + +At length I stood in the doorway leading to the bedroom. I could feel +the perspiration on my forehead and at the back of my neck. I fronted +the inscrutable white face of the thing which had once been Lord +Clarenceux, the lover of Rosetta Rosa; I met its awful eyes, dark, +invidious, fateful. Ah, those eyes! Even in my terror I could read in +them all the history, all the characteristics, of Lord Clarenceux. +They were the eyes of one capable at once of the highest and of the +lowest. Mingled with their hardness was a melting softness, with their +cruelty a large benevolence, with their hate a pitying tenderness, +with their spirituality a hellish turpitude. They were the eyes of two +opposite men, and as I gazed into them they reconciled for me the +conflicting accounts of Lord Clarenceux which I had heard from +different people. + +But as far as I was concerned that night the eyes held nothing but +cruelty and disaster; though I could detect in them the other +qualities, those qualities were not for me. We faced each other, the +apparition and I, and the struggle, silent and bitter as the grave, +began. Neither of us moved. My arms were folded easily, but my nails +pressed in the palms of my clenched hands. My teeth were set, my lips +tight together, my glance unswerving. By sheer strength of endeavor I +cast aside all my forebodings of defeat, and in my heart I said with +the profoundest conviction that I would love Rosa though the seven +seas and all the continents gave up their dead to frighten me. + +So we remained, for how long I do not know. It may have been hours; it +may have been only minutes; I cannot tell. Then gradually there came +over me a feeling that the ghost in the chair was growing larger. The +ghastly inhuman sneer on his thin widening lips assaulted me like a +giant's malediction. And the light in the room seemed to become more +brilliant, till it was almost blinding with the dazzle of its +whiteness. This went on for a time, and once more I pulled myself +together, collected my scattering senses, and seized again the courage +and determination which had nearly slipped from me. + +But I knew that I must get away, out of sight of this moveless and +diabolic figure, which did not speak, but which made known its +commands by means of its eyes alone. "Resign her!" the eyes said. +"Tear your love for her out of your heart! Swear that you will never +see her again--or I will ruin you utterly, not only now, but forever +more!" + +And though I trembled, my eyes answered "No." + +For some reason which I cannot at all explain, I suddenly took off my +overcoat, and, drawing aside the screen which ran across the corner of +the room at my right hand, forming a primitive sort of wardrobe, I +hung it on one of the hooks. I had to feel with my fingers for the +hook, because I kept my gaze on the figure. + +"I will go into the bedroom," I said. + +And I half-turned to pass through the doorway. Then I stopped. If I +did so, the eyes of the ghost would be upon my back, and I felt that I +could only withstand that glance by meeting it. To have it on my +back!... Doubtless I was going mad. However, I went backwards through +the doorway, and then rapidly stepped out of sight of the apparition, +and sat down upon the bed. + +Useless! I must return. The mere idea of the empty sitting-room--empty +with the ghost in it--filled me with a new and stranger fear. Horrible +happenings might occur in that room, and I must be there to see them! +Moreover, the ghost's gaze must not fall on nothing; that would be too +appalling (without doubt I was mad); its gaze must meet something, +otherwise it would travel out into space further and further till it +had left all the stars and waggled aimless in the ether: the notion of +such a calamity was unbearable. Besides, I was hungry for that gaze; +my eyes desired those eyes; if that glance did not press against them, +they would burst from my head and roll on the floor, and I should be +compelled to go down on my hands and knees and grope in search for +them. No, no, I must return to the sitting-room. And I returned. + +The gaze met me in the doorway. And now there was something novel in +it--an added terror, a more intolerable menace, a silent imprecation +so frightful that no human being could suffer it. I sank to the +ground, and as I did so I shrieked, but it was an unheard shriek, +sounding only within the brain. And in reply to that unheard shriek I +heard the unheard voice of the ghost crying, "Yield!" + +I would not yield. Crushed, maddened, tortured by a worse than any +physical torture, I would not yield. But I wanted to die. I felt that +death would be sweet and utterly desirable. And so thinking, I faded +into a kind of coma, or rather a state which was just short of coma. I +had not lost consciousness, but I was conscious of nothing but the +gaze. + +"Good-by, Rosa," I whispered. "I'm beaten, but my love has not been +conquered." + +The next thing I remembered was the paleness of the dawn at the +window. The apparition had vanished for that night, and I was alive. +But I knew that I had touched the skirts of death; I knew that after +another such night I should die. + +The morning chocolate arrived, and by force of habit I consumed it. I +felt no interest in any earthly thing; my sole sensation was a dread +of the coming night, which all too soon would be upon me. For several +hours I sat, pale and nerveless, in my room, despising myself for a +weakness and a fear which I could not possibly avoid. I was no longer +my own master; I was the slave, the shrinking chattel of a ghost, and +the thought of my condition was a degradation unspeakable. + +During the afternoon a ray of hope flashed upon me. Mrs. Sullivan +Smith was at the Hotel du Rhin, so Rosa had said; I would call on +her. I remembered her strange demeanor to me on the occasion of our +first meeting, and afterwards at the reception. It seemed clear to me +now that she must have known something. Perhaps she might help me. + +I found her in a garish apartment too full of Louis Philippe +furniture, robed in a crimson tea-gown, and apparently doing nothing +whatever. She had the calm quiescence of a Spanish woman. Yet when she +saw me her eyes burned with a sudden dark excitement. + +"Carl," she said, with the most staggering abruptness, "you are +dying." + +"How do you know?" I said morosely. "Do I look it?" + +"Yet the crystal warned you!" she returned, with apparent but not real +inconsequence. + +"I want you to tell me," I said eagerly, and with no further pretence. +"You must have known something then, when you made me look in the +crystal. What did you know--and how?" + +She sat a moment in thought, stately, half-languid, mysterious. + +"First," she said, "let me hear all that has happened. Then I will +tell you." + +"Is Sullivan about?" I asked. I felt that if I was to speak I must not +be interrupted by that good-natured worldling. + +"Sullivan," she said a little scornfully, with gentle contempt, "is +learning French billiards. You are perfectly safe." She understood. + +Then I told her without the least reservation all that had happened to +me, and especially my experiences of the previous night. When I had +finished she looked at me with her large sombre eyes, which were full +of pity, but not of hope. I waited for her words. + +"Now, listen," she said. "You shall hear. I was with Lord Clarenceux +when he died." + +"You!" I exclaimed. "In Vienna! But even Rosa was not with him. How--" + +"Patience! And do not interrupt me with questions. I am giving away a +secret which carries with it my--my reputation. Long before my +marriage I had known Lord Clarenceux. He knew many women; I was one of +them. That affair ended. I married Sullivan. + +"I happened to be in Vienna at the time Lord Clarenceux was taken with +brain fever. I was performing at a music-hall on the Prater. There was +a great rage then for English singers in Vienna. I knew he was alone. +I remembered certain things that had passed between us, and I went to +him. I helped to nurse him. He was engaged to Rosa, but Rosa was far +away, and could not come immediately. He grew worse. The doctors said +one day that he must die. That night I was by his bedside. He got +suddenly up out of bed. I could not stop him: he had the strength of +delirium. He went into his dressing-room, and dressed himself fully, +even to his hat, without any assistance. + +"'Where are you going?' I said to him. + +"'I am going to her,' he said. 'These cursed doctors say I shall die. +But I sha'n't. I want her. Why hasn't she come? I must go and find +her.' + +"Then he fell across the bed exhausted. He was dying. I had rung for +help, but no one had come, and I ran out of the room to call on the +landing. When I came back he was sitting up in bed, all dressed, and +still with his hat on. It was the last flicker of his strength. His +eyes glittered. He began to speak. How he stared at me! I shall never +forget it! + +"'I am dying!' he said hoarsely. 'They were right, after all. I shall +lose her. I would sell my soul to keep her, yet death takes me from +her. She is young and beautiful, and will live many years. But I have +loved her, and where I have loved let others beware. I shall never be +far from her, and if another man should dare to cast eyes on her I +will curse him. The heat of my jealousy shall blast his very soul. He, +too, shall die. Rosa was mine in life, and she shall be mine in death. +My spirit will watch over her, for no man ever loved a woman as I +loved Rosa.' Those were his very words, Carl. Soon afterwards he +died." + +She recited Clarenceux's last phrases with such genuine emotion that I +could almost hear Clarenceux himself saying them. I felt sure that she +had remembered them precisely, and that Clarenceux would, indeed, have +employed just such terms. + +"And you believe," I murmured, after a long pause, during which I +fitted the remarkable narration in with my experiences, and found that +it tallied--"you believe that Lord Clarenceux could keep his word +after death?" + +"I believe!" she said simply. + +"Then there is no hope for me, Emmeline?" + +She looked at me vaguely, absently, without speaking, and shook her +head. Her lustrous eyes filled with tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE INTERCESSION + + +Just as I was walking away from the hotel I perceived Rosa's victoria +drawing up before the portico. She saw me. We exchanged a long look--a +look charged with anxious questionings. Then she beckoned to me, and +I, as it were suddenly waking from a trance, raised my hat, and went +to her. + +"Get in," she said, without further greeting. "We will drive to the +Arc de Triomphe and back. I was going to call on Mrs. Sullivan +Smith,--just a visit of etiquette,--but I will postpone that." + +Her manner was constrained, as it had been on the previous day, but I +could see that she was striving hard to be natural. For myself, I did +not speak. I felt nervous, even irritable, in my love for her. +Gradually, however, her presence soothed me, slackened the tension of +my system, and I was able to find a faint pleasure in the beauty of +the September afternoon, and of the girl by my side, in the smooth +movement of the carriage, and the general gaiety and color of the +broad tree-lined Champs Elysees. + +"Why do you ask me to drive with you?" I asked her at length, abruptly +yet suavely. Amid the noise of the traffic we could converse with the +utmost privacy. + +"Because I have something to say to you," she answered, looking +straight in front of her. + +"Before you say it, one question occurs to me. You are dressed in +black; you are in mourning for Sir Cyril, your father, who is not even +buried. And yet you told me just now that you were paying a mere visit +of etiquette to my cousin Emmeline. Is it usual in Paris for ladies in +mourning to go out paying calls? But perhaps you had a special object +in calling on Emmeline." + +"I had," she replied at once with dignity, "and I did not wish you to +know." + +"What was it?" + +"Really, Mr. Foster--" + +"'Mr. Foster!'" + +"Yes; I won't call you Carl any more. I have made a mistake, and it +is as well you should hear of it now. I can't love you. I have +misunderstood my feelings. What I feel for you is gratitude, not love. +I want you to forget me." + +She was pale and restless. + +"Rosa!" I exclaimed warningly. + +"Yes," she continued urgently and feverishly, "forget me. I may seem +cruel, but it is best there should be no beating about the bush. I +can't love you." + +"Rosa!" I repeated. + +"Go back to London," she went on. "You have ambitions. Fulfil them. +Work at your profession. Above all, don't think of me. And always +remember that though I am very grateful to you, I cannot love +you--never!" + +"That isn't true, Rosa!" I said quietly. "You have invited me into +this carriage simply to lie to me. But you are an indifferent liar--it +is not your forte. My dear child, do you imagine that I cannot see +through your poor little plan? Mrs. Sullivan Smith has been talking to +you, and it has occurred to you that if you cast me off, the anger of +that--that thing may be appeased, and I may be saved from the fate +that overtook Alresca. You were calling on Emmeline to ask her advice +finally, as she appears to be mixed up in this affair. Then, on seeing +me, you decided all of a sudden to take your courage in both hands, +and dismiss me at once. It was heroic of you, Rosa; it was a splendid +sacrifice of your self-respect. But it can't be. Nothing is going to +disturb my love. If I die under some mysterious influence, then I die; +but I shall die loving you, and I shall die absolutely certain that +you love me." + +Her breast heaved, and under the carriage rug her hand found mine and +clasped it. We did not look at each other. In a thick voice I called +to the coachman to stop. I got out, and the vehicle passed on. If I +had stayed with her, I should have wept in sight of the whole street. + +I ate no dinner that evening, but spent the hours in wandering up and +down the long verdurous alleys in the neighborhood of the Arc de +Triomphe. I was sure of Rosa's love, and that thought gave me a +certain invigoration. But to be sure of a woman's love when that love +means torture and death to you is not a complete and perfect +happiness. No, my heart was full of bitterness and despair, and my +mind invaded by a miserable weakness. I pitied myself, and at the +same time I scorned myself. After all, the ghost had no actual power +over me; a ghost cannot stab, cannot throttle, cannot shoot. A ghost +can only act upon the mind, and if the mind is feeble enough to allow +itself to be influenced by an intangible illusion, then-- + +But how futile were such arguments! Whatever the power might be, the +fact that the ghost had indeed a power over me was indisputable. All +day I had felt the spectral sword of it suspended above my head. My +timid footsteps lingering on the way to the hotel sufficiently proved +its power. The experiences of the previous night might be merely +subjective--conceptions of the imagination--but they were no less +real, no less fatal to me on that account. + +Once I had an idea of not going to the hotel that night at all. But of +what use could such an avoidance be? The apparition was bound by no +fetters to that terrible sitting-room of mine. I might be put to the +ordeal anywhere, even here in the thoroughfares of the city, and upon +the whole I preferred to return to my lodging. Nay, I was the victim +of a positive desire for that scene of my torture. + +I returned. It was eleven o'clock. The apparition awaited me. But this +time it was not seated in the chair. It stood with its back to the +window, and its gaze met mine as I entered the room. I did not close +the door, and my eyes never left its face. The sneer on its thin lips +was bitterer, more devilishly triumphant, than before. Erect, +motionless, and inexorable, the ghost stood there, and it seemed to +say: "What is the use of leaving the door open? You dare not escape. +You cannot keep away from me. To-night you shall die of sheer terror." + +With a wild audacity I sat down in the very chair which it had +occupied, and drummed my fingers on the writing-table. Then I took off +my hat, and with elaborate aim pitched it on to a neighboring sofa. I +was making a rare pretence of carelessness. But moment by moment, +exactly as before, my courage and resolution oozed out of me, drawn +away by that mystic presence. + +Once I got up filled with a brilliant notion. I would approach the +apparition; I would try to touch it. Could I but do so, it would +vanish; I felt convinced it would vanish. I got up, as I say, but I +did not approach the ghost. I was unable to move forward, held by a +nameless dread. I dropped limply back into the chair. The phenomena of +the first night repeated themselves, but more intensely, with a more +frightful torture. Once again I sought relief from the agony of that +gaze by retreating into the bedroom; once again I was compelled by the +same indescribable fear to return, and once again I fell down, smitten +by a new and more awful menace, a kind of incredible blasphemy which +no human thought can convey. + +And now the ghost moved mysteriously and ominously towards me. With an +instinct of defence, cowed as I was upon the floor, I raised my hand +to ward it off. Useless attempt! It came near and nearer, +imperceptibly moving. + +"Let me die in peace," I said within my brain. + +But it would not. Not only must I die, but in order to die I must +traverse all the hideous tortures of the soul which that lost spirit +had learnt in its dire wanderings. + +The ghost stood over me, impending like a doom. Then it suddenly +looked towards the door, startled, and the door swung on its hinges. A +girl entered--a girl dressed in black, her shoulders and bosom +gleaming white against the dark attire, a young girl with the +heavenliest face on this earth. Casting herself on her knees before +the apparition, she raised to that dreadful spectre her countenance +transfigured by the ecstasy of a sublime appeal. It was Rosa. + +Can I describe what followed? Not adequately, only by imperfect hints. +These two faced each other, Rosa and the apparition. She uttered no +word. But I, in my stupor, knew that she was interceding with the +spectre for my life. Her lovely eyes spoke to it of its old love, its +old magnanimity, and in the name of that love and that magnanimity +called upon it to renounce the horrible vengeance of which I was the +victim. + +For long the spectre gazed with stern and formidable impassivity upon +the girl. I trembled, all hope and all despair, for the issue. She +would not be vanquished. Her love was stronger than its hate; her love +knew not the name of fear. For a thousand nights, so it seemed, the +two remained thus, at grips, as it were, in a death-struggle. Then +with a reluctant gesture of abdication the ghost waved a hand; its +terrible features softened into a consent, and slowly it faded away. + +As I lay there Rosa bent over me, and put her arms round my neck, and +I could feel on my face the caress of her hair, and the warm baptism +of her tears--tears of joy. + + * * * * * + +I raised her gently. I laid her on the sofa, and with a calm, blissful +expectancy awaited the moment when her eyes should open. Ah! I may not +set down here the sensation of relief which spread through my being as I +realized with every separate brain-cell that I was no longer a victim, +the doomed slave of an evil and implacable power, but a free man--free +to live, free to love, exempt from the atrocious influences of the +nether sphere. I saw that ever since the first encounter in Oxford +Street my existence had been under a shadow, dark and malign and always +deepening, and that this shadow was now magically dissipated in the +exquisite dawn of a new day. And I gave thanks, not only to Fate, but to +the divine girl who in one of those inspirations accorded only to +genius had conceived the method of my enfranchisement, and so nobly +carried it out. + +Her eyelids wavered, and she looked at me. + +"It is gone?" she murmured. + +"Yes," I said, "the curse is lifted." + +She smiled, and only our ardent glances spoke. + + * * * * * + +"How came you to think of it?" I asked. + +"I was sitting in my room after dinner, thinking and thinking. And +suddenly I could see this room, and you, and the spectre, as plainly +as I see you now. I felt your terror; I knew every thought that was +passing in your brain, the anguish of it! And then, and then, an idea +struck me. I had never appealed in vain to Lord Clarenceux in +life--why should I not appeal now? I threw a wrap over my shoulders +and ran out. I didn't take a cab, I ran--all the way. I scarcely knew +what I was doing, only that I had to save you. Oh, Carl, you are +free!" + +"Through you," I said. + +She kissed me, and her kiss had at once the pure passion of a girl and +the satisfied solicitude of a mother. + +"Take me home!" she whispered. + +Outside the hotel an open carriage happened to be standing. I hailed +the driver, and we got in. The night was beautifully fine and mild. In +the narrow lane of sky left by the high roofs of the street the stars +shone and twinkled with what was to me a new meaning. For I was once +more in accord with the universe. I and Life were at peace again. + +"Don't let us go straight home," said Rosa, as the driver turned +towards us for instructions. "It seems to me that a drive through +Paris would be very enjoyable to-night." + +And so we told the man to proceed along the quays as far as he could, +and then through the Champs Elysees to the Bois de Boulogne. The Seine +slept by its deserted parapets like a silver snake, and only the low +rumble of the steam-car from Versailles disturbed its slumber. The +million lights of the gas-lamps, stretching away now and then into the +endless vistas of the boulevards, spoke to me of the delicious +companionship of humanity, from which I had so nearly been snatched +away. And the glorious girl by my side--what of her companionship? Ah, +that was more than a companionship; it was a perfect intercourse which +we shared. No two human beings ever understood one another more +absolutely, more profoundly, than did Rosa and myself, for we had been +through the valley and through the flood together. And so it happened +that we did not trouble much with conversation. It was our souls, not +our mouths which talked--talked softly and mysteriously in the +gracious stillness and obscurity of that Paris night. I learnt many +things during that drive--the depth of her love, the height of her +courage, the ecstasy of her bliss. And she, too, she must have learnt +many things from me--the warmth of my gratitude to her, a warmth which +was only exceeded by the transcendent fire of my affection. + +Presently we had left the borders of the drowsy Seine, which is so +busy by day, so strangely silent by night. We crossed the immense +Place de la Concorde. Once again we were rolling smoothly along the +Champs Elysees. Only a few hours before we had driven through this +very avenue, Rosa and I, but with what different feelings from those +which possessed us now! How serene and quiet it was! Occasionally a +smooth-gliding carriage, or a bicyclist flitting by with a Chinese +lantern at the head of his machine--that was all. As we approached +the summit of the hill where the Arc de Triomphe is, a new phenomenon +awaited us. The moon rose--a lovely azure crescent over the houses, +and its faint mild rays were like a benediction upon us. Then we had +turned to the left, and were in the Bois de Boulogne. We stopped the +carriage under the trees, which met overhead; the delicatest breeze +stirred the branches to a crooning murmur. All around was solitude and +a sort of hushed expectation. Suddenly Rosa put her hand into mine, +and with a simultaneous impulse we got out of the carriage and +strolled along a by-path. + +"Carl," she said, "I have a secret for you. But you must tell no one." +She laughed mischievously. + +"What is it?" I answered, calmly smiling. + +"It is that I love you," and she buried her face against my shoulder. + +"Tell me that again," I said, "and again and again." + +And so under the tall rustling trees we exchanged vows--vows made more +sacred by the bitterness of our experience. And then at last, much to +the driver's satisfaction, we returned to the carriage, and were +driven back to the Rue de Rivoli. I gave the man a twenty-franc +piece; certainly the hour was unconscionably late. + +I bade good night, a reluctant good night, to Rosa at the entrance to +her flat. + +"Dearest girl," I said, "let us go to England to-morrow. You are +almost English, you know; soon you will be the wife of an Englishman, +and there is no place like London." + +"True," she answered. "There is no place like London. We'll go. The +Opera Comique will manage without me. And I will accept no more +engagements for a very, very long time. Money doesn't matter. You have +enough, and I--oh, Carl, I've got stacks and piles of it. It's so +easy, if you have a certain sort of throat like mine, to make more +money than you can spend." + +"Yes," I said. "We will have a holiday, after we are married, and that +will be in a fortnight's time. We will go to Devonshire, where the +heather is. But, my child, you will be wanting to sing again soon. It +is your life." + +"No," she replied, "you are my life, aren't you?" And, after a pause: +"But perhaps singing is part of my life, too. Yes, I shall sing." + +Then I left her for that night, and walked slowly back to my hotel. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ghost, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST *** + +***** This file should be named 17176.txt or 17176.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/7/17176/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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