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32 chapters
Prologue.
Prologue.
Yes; it was utterly inexplicable. So strange, indeed, were all the circumstances, and so startling the adventures that befell me in my search after truth, that until to-day I have hesitated to relate the narrative, which is as extraordinary as it is unique in the history of any living man. If it were not for the fact that a certain person actively associated with this curious drama of our latter day civilisation, has recently passed to the land that lies beyond the human ken, my lips would have
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Chapter One.
Chapter One.
The knowledge I obtained by such general and varied practice, being always compelled to dispense my own prescriptions, was of course invaluable. But it was terribly uphill work, and a doctor’s drudge, as I was, can save no money. Appearances have always to be kept up, and one cannot put by very much on eighty or one hundred pounds a year. Indeed, one night, seven years after leaving Guy’s, I found myself again in London, wandering idly along the Strand, without prospects, and with only a single
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Chapter Two.
Chapter Two.
I glanced at him, but his face was only a grey blotch in the deep shadow. Of its expression I could observe nothing. Who, I wondered, was this man? “Then the patient is better, I presume?” “Better, but still in a precarious condition,” he replied, in a snapping voice. Then, after a moment’s pause, he added, in a more conciliatory tone, “I don’t know, doctor, whether you will agree with me, but I have a theory that, just as every medical man and lawyer has his fee, so has every man his price!” “I
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Chapter Three.
Chapter Three.
“I take it that you have objects in both your propositions—in your daughter’s marriage, and in her death?” I said, in a more conciliatory tone, hoping to learn something further of the motive of his dastardly proposal. “My object is my own affair,” he snapped. “And my conscience is my own,” I said. “I certainly do not intend that it shall be burdened by the crime for which you offer me this payment.” He fixed me with flaming eyes. “Then you refuse?” he cried. “Most certainly I refuse,” I respond
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Chapter Four.
Chapter Four.
He stood there barring my passage to that room wherein lay the unknown woman who had been so strangely united to me. Whoever she was, I was resolved to rescue her. Mystery surrounded her—mystery that I resolved at all hazards to penetrate. “You were in want of money, and I offered it to you,” the Tempter answered coldly. “You have refused, and the matter is ended.” “I think not,” I said warmly. “You will hear something more of this night’s work.” He laughed again, displaying an uneven row of dis
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Chapter Five.
Chapter Five.
Again I seated myself upon my mattress and tried to calmly review the situation. Of a sudden I bethought myself of the amulet I had taken from the neck of my dead wife, and thrusting my hand into my pocket, was gratified to find it still there, together with a pair of white gloves that the Tempter had given me. I took it out and carefully examined it. The chain was a very fine but strong one, and the curious little charm of plain gold on that side that would lay against the skin, was beautifully
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Chapter Six.
Chapter Six.
A third day passed, much as the second. The only person I saw was the sailor who brought me food from the cook’s galley in the morning and at evening—badly cooked sailors’ fare that I could scarcely touch. As the sun was sinking, we suddenly approached a blue line of coast, and continued to skirt it until it became swallowed up in the night mists. Then, wearied, I again lay down to sleep. I was awakened by the sudden stoppage of the engines, and found that it was already day again, and that we w
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Chapter Seven.
Chapter Seven.
“No, certainly not—only a clumsy imitation;” and taking up a pen, he wrote his signature and handed them both to me for comparison. At once I saw that several of the peculiarities of his handwriting were absent from Banfield’s orders. “The type-writing is done by a different machine to ours. We use Bar-Locks, while this has probably been written by a Remington,” he went on. “Besides, look at the edge of the paper, and you’ll see that it is badly cut. It is, without doubt, a sheet out of several
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Chapter Eight.
Chapter Eight.
She was a decidedly attractive woman, with the easy air and manner of one brought up in good society. “The craving for drink is the least dangerous of my ailments,” she responded. “It is the craving for love which is driving me to despair.” I remained silent for a moment, my eyes fixed upon her. “Pardon my remark,” I said, at last, in a low tone, “but I gather from your words that some man has come between yourself and your husband.” “Between myself and my husband!” she echoed in surprise. “Why,
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Chapter Nine.
Chapter Nine.
Neither our introduction nor the mention of my name had in the least disconcerted her. She remained perfectly frank and natural, betraying not the slightest surprise. Could it be possible that she was not aware of her marriage with me? I looked straight into her clear blue eyes. Neither appeared affected. Nevertheless, had I not, on that fatal night, seen the strange contraction of the pupil, which had rendered one—the left eye—sightless and so strange-looking? She was talking to her cousin, and
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Chapter Ten.
Chapter Ten.
“Without a doubt. Go down to Hounslow to-morrow and discover what you can regarding these friends of hers, the Chetwodes, and their associates. In inquiries of this sort you must carefully work back.” Now, I had for years rather prided myself upon my shrewdness. I had often set myself the task of clearing up those little unimportant mysteries of life which occur to every man; and more than once, while at the hospital, I had rendered service to the police in their inquiries. That same afternoon,
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Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Eleven.
This byway I took, and, hurrying down it, arrived at the point near the lodge fully five minutes before he appeared along the road. The gates were, however, closed. Would he ring and demand admittance? I wondered. When about two hundred yards from the gates he suddenly halted, glanced up and down the road as though to make certain that no one was watching, and then, bending down, squeezed himself through a hole in the wooden fencing and disappeared. He evidently knew that the gates were locked,
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Chapter Twelve.
Chapter Twelve.
“I was certainly not aware of it,” she responded. “It cannot be to my interest that you compel me to meet you here like this, at the risk of discovery. Would it not have been better if our meeting had taken place in London, as before?” “Necessity has driven me to make this appointment,” he responded. “To write to you is dangerous, and I wanted to give you warning so that you can place yourself in a position of security.” “A warning!—of what?” she asked breathlessly. “La Gioia is here.” “La Gioia
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Chapter Thirteen.
Chapter Thirteen.
“By a blow on the head, the police believe. Plummer says that there are lots of marks near the edge of the lake as though a struggle took place.” “Extraordinary!” I ejaculated. “You say he was quite dead when discovered. Was a doctor called?” “Yes; the police surgeon, Doctor Douglas. He declared that the poor Colonel had been murdered, and had been dead several hours.” “Is there no suspicion of the assassin?” I inquired, as the thought of the man whom I had watched in the Park dashed through my
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Chapter Fourteen.
Chapter Fourteen.
“At present I am unable to say,” I responded. “The natural conclusion is that it was caused by a blow from a life-preserver, yet a round knob could never have inflicted such a wound. I incline to the opinion that the wound might have been caused by a fall from the bridge upon the rough stones below.” By the aid of my probe I satisfied myself that the bone was not fractured, as it would have been by a deliberate blow dealt from behind. The nature of the wound, indeed, was very much as if it had b
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Chapter Fifteen.
Chapter Fifteen.
“What is your opinion?” I asked of my friend, the detective-inspector, when alone with him. “I have no opinion,” he responded, “except that that woman knows something more than she will tell us.” “Exactly?” I exclaimed. “I wonder what her object is in concealing any facts she knows?” “Ah, Doctor,” he replied, “women are funny creatures; one never knows what motive they may have. In this case we shall be compelled to act very warily, and, if possible, mislead her and place her off the scent. She
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Chapter Sixteen.
Chapter Sixteen.
“That’s so.” “Well,” I said, “Mr Ashwicke lived here until a short time ago, that’s very certain. I feel sure I haven’t mistaken the house; I used to be a visitor here. Would you mind me glancing at some of the rooms?” He eyed me with distinct suspicion. “No,” I laughed, “I’m not a swell mobsman, nor a burglar on the look-out for a likely house to rob—I’m a doctor.” And, to convince him, I took off my silk hat and displayed my stethoscope in the lining, as well as giving him a card. “Well,” he a
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Chapter Seventeen.
Chapter Seventeen.
All the startling events of my fateful wedding day came back to me. From that white throat that lay there exposed I had taken the tiny gold charm, which now hung round my own neck, reminding me ever of her. That sweet face, with the halo of gold-brown hair, was the same that I had seen lying dead upon the pillow in that house of mystery in Queen’s-gate Gardens, the same that I had bent and kissed. I took her hand again; there were rings upon it, but all were set with gems. The bond of matrimony
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Chapter Eighteen.
Chapter Eighteen.
“Oh!” she cried in desperation, “I ought to have told you everything at once, but I feared you would not believe it if I told you. A strange thing has occurred in this house, something very uncanny. It is as though the place is overshadowed by some evil influence.” “I don’t understand you,” I answered quickly interested; but ere the words had left my mouth there was a tap at the door, and the servant, ushered in my old friend and lecturer, Carl Hoefer. “Ah, my dear Doctor!” I cried eagerly, rush
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Chapter Nineteen.
Chapter Nineteen.
“And how do you intend to begin?” I inquired, raising myself, not without considerable difficulty. “By going into the room alone,” he answered briefly. “You, too, will risk your life?” I exclaimed. “Is it wise?” “Research is always wisdom,” he responded. Then, finding that I was recovering rapidly from the seizure, he gave me some technical direction how to treat him in case he lost consciousness. He arranged the tiny syringe, and the various drugs and tabloids, upon the hall table, and then, wi
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Chapter Twenty.
Chapter Twenty.
“That’s so; but how do you account for your own seizure nearly two hours after her departure?” “Ach!” he cried; “it is extraordinary—that is all we can say.” “The room is nothing less than a death-trap,” I remarked. “And yet the baneful influence is a mysterious one. I wish you could tell us the name of the sender of the message, Miss Wynd. It would materially assist us in our researches.” “I tell you that it was a friend who could have no object whatever in making any attack upon my life,” she
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Chapter Twenty One.
Chapter Twenty One.
“You’ll let me know if you elicit anything further?” he urged. “Of course,” I answered, although such was not my intention. Then I went forth walking out to the Hammersmith Road. The noon was stifling—one of those hot, close, oven-cast days of the London summer—when I was shown into the drawing-room of Gloucester Square, and, after the lapse of a few minutes, my love came forward gladly to meet me. “It’s awfully kind of you to call, Doctor,” she exclaimed, offering her thin little hand—that hand
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Chapter Twenty Two.
Chapter Twenty Two.
“I believe that is Nora’s intention,” she responded quickly, with a slight sigh of relief at the change in our conversation. “Have you many visitors there?” “Oh, about fifteen—all rather jolly people. It’s such a charming place. Nora must ask you down there.” “I should be delighted,” I said. Now that I had money in my pocket, and was no longer compelled to toil for the bare necessities of life, I was eager to get away from the heat and dust of the London August. This suggestion of hers was to me
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Chapter Twenty Three.
Chapter Twenty Three.
She had endeavoured to flirt with me. Faugh! Her beauty, her smartness, and her clever woman’s wiles might have turned the heads of the majority of men. But I loved Beryl, and she was mine—mine! Reader, I have taken you entirely into my confidence, and I am laying bare to you my secret. Need I tell you how maddening the enigma had now become, how near I always seemed to some solution and yet how far off the truth? Place yourself in my position for a single moment—adoring the woman who, although
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Chapter Twenty Four.
Chapter Twenty Four.
Little time, however, was afforded for rumination, save in the privacy of one’s room at night. The round of gaiety was unceasing, and as one guest left another arrived, so that we always had some fresh diversion and merriment. It was open house to all. We men were told that no formalities would be permitted. The tantalus was ever open, the glasses ready, the soda in the ice, and the cigars of various brands placed invitingly in the smoking-room. Hence, every one made himself thoroughly at home,
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Chapter Twenty Five.
Chapter Twenty Five.
The lock yielded, and, pushing open the door very slowly, she stole in on tiptoe, closing it after her. What should I do? My love was in deadly peril—of that I felt certain. She had defied the Major, and the revenge of that all-powerful but unknown person, La Gioia, was upon her. She was alone—asleep, and at her mercy! To dash in and seize her would be to alarm the house and, perhaps, compromise my loved one. Yet what could I do to save her? I had seen by the evil glint in her eyes that she was
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Chapter Twenty Six.
Chapter Twenty Six.
How charming she looked in her fresh cotton gown and large flop-hat of Leghorn straw trimmed with poppies. “And I prefer quiet and an interesting book to driving in this sun. I wonder they didn’t start about three, and come home in the sunset. But Nora’s always so wilful.” Though as merry as was her wont, I detected a tired look in her eyes. Where had she been during the long night—and with whom? The silence was only disturbed by the hum of the insects about us and the songs of the birds above.
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Chapter Twenty Seven.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
“Of course,” she laughed. “And how it rained too. My new frock was quite spoilt, and I had a bad cold for a fortnight afterwards. I’m not likely to easily forget that drive home.” “Because of the spoilt frock?” he laughed, raising his small eyes to me. “Yes, I suppose that’s what has impressed itself upon my memory. We women are never forgetful where clothes are concerned.” “And who’s here? Anybody I know?” he inquired. “Oh, there are the Pirries and the Tiremans, as usual, and, of course, Lady
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Chapter Twenty Eight.
Chapter Twenty Eight.
At sunrise I dressed, and on stepping from my room out into the fresh air of the corridor, I again felt that bewildering influence upon me, quite distinctly; yet not so strong as to cause me any inconvenience. The feeling was a kind of cold, creepy one, without any sudden shock. During the day I lounged at Beryl’s side, endeavouring to obtain from her the truth of her midnight escapade. But she would tell me absolutely nothing. The man who had posed as her father was undoubtedly her enemy, and s
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Chapter Twenty Nine.
Chapter Twenty Nine.
“I saw no one except the maid-servant who showed me into the drawing-room, and cannot in the least account for the strange sensation which held me helpless in the hands of my enemies. I saw the man I married at the church, but so mistily that I did not recognise you when we met again.” “But you knew the house in Queen’s-gate Gardens. Did you not afterwards return there, and seek an explanation of Tattersett?” “On discovering my whereabouts I rose and walked across the park to Gloucester Square.
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Chapter Thirty.
Chapter Thirty.
“To deny it is useless,” I said determinedly. “The insidious poison you have used is the vayana, and the only specimen in England bearing fruit is standing there in your greenhouse.” And as I uttered those words I closed the door leading beyond, and, locking it, placed the key in my pocket. Her teeth were firmly set. She glanced at me and tried to deny the allegation, but so utterly was she taken aback by my sudden denunciation that words failed her. A moment later, however, taking several paces
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Chapter Thirty One.
Chapter Thirty One.
“Speak!” urged La Gioia. “You can only save yourself by telling the truth.” “Save myself!” he cried in a tone of defiance. “You wish to force me to confession—you and this woman! You’ve acted cleverly. When she invited me here, this afternoon, I did not dream that she had outwitted me.” The woman had, however, made the appointment in ignorance of our intentions, therefore she must have had some other motive. But he was entrapped, and saw no way of escape. “I have worked diligently all these mont
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