By dint of persistent effort I rose, dragged myself across the room, drew aside the heavy silken curtain, and opening the window leaned out into the cold air, gasping for breath.
Where was Mr. De Gex?
For about five minutes I remained there, yet even the night air gave me little relief. My throat had become contracted until I seemed to be choking.
By the exercise of greater effort I staggered back, aghast at the sudden and unaccountable attack, and pressed the electric bell beside the fireplace to summon my host or the estimable Horton. Then I sank back into the arm-chair, my limbs paralysed.
How long I remained there I cannot tell for that pungent odour had, at last, dulled my brain. I had heard of cocaine, of opium, and of other drugs, and it occurred to me that I might be under the influence of one or the other of them. Yet the idea was absurd. I was Mr. De Gexs guest, and I could only suppose that my sudden seizure was due to natural causes to some complication of a mental nature which I had never suspected. The human brain is a very complex composition, and its strange vagaries are only known to alienists.
I seemed stifled, and I sat clutching the arms of the big leather chair when my host at last entered, smiling serenely and full of apologies.
Im awfully sorry to have left you, Mr. Garfield, but my agent called to do some very urgent business. Pray excuse me, wont you?
I Im awfully sorry! I exclaimed. But I I dont feel very well. I must apologize, Mr. De Gex, but would you ask your man to order me a taxi? I well, Ive come over strangely queer since youve been out.
Bah! my dear fellow, he laughed cheerily. Youll surely be all right in a few minutes. Stay here and rest. Im sorry you dont feel well. Youll be better soon. Ill order my car to take you home in half an hour.
Then he crossed to the telephone, rang up a number, and ordered his car to be at the house in half an hour.
Then he rang for Horton, who brought me a liqueur glass of old brandy, which at my hosts suggestion I swallowed.
Mr. De Gex, standing upon the thick Turkey hearthrug with his cigar between his lips, watched me closely. Apparently he was considerably perturbed at my sudden illness, for he expressed regret, hoping that the brandy would revive me.
It, however, had the opposite effect. The strong perfume like pot-pourri had confused my senses, but the brandy dulled them still further. I felt inert and unable to move a muscle, or even to exercise my will power. Yet my sense of sight was quite unimpaired.
I recollect distinctly how the dark keen-faced aristocrat-looking man stood before me alert and eager, as he gazed intently into my face as though watching the progress of my seizure which had so completely paralysed me.
Of a sudden a loud shriek sounded from the adjoining room a womans wild shriek of terror.
My hosts thin lips tightened.
The scream was repeated, and continued.
Excuse me, he exclaimed as he left the room hastily.
I sat with ears alert. It was surely most strange that the well-known millionaire, whose name was on everyones lips, had confided in me as he had done. Why had he done so?
The screams of terror continued for about half a minute. Then they seemed stifled down to heavy sobbing. They seemed to be hysterical sobs, as of someone who had suffered from some great shock.
I was full of wonderment. It was unusual, I thought, that such noises should be heard in a sedate West End mansion.
There was a long-drawn-out sob, and then silence. A dead silence!
A few moments later Mr. De Gex came in looking very flushed and excited.
My troubles are ever on the increase, he exclaimed breathlessly. Come, Mr. Garfield. Come with me.
He assisted me to my feet and led me out into the corridor and into the adjoining room.
To my surprise it was a great handsomely furnished bedroom with heavy hangings of yellow silk before the windows, and a great dressing-table with a huge mirror with side wings. Along one side were wardrobes built into the wall, the doors being of satinwood beautifully inlaid.
In the centre stood a handsome bed, and upon it lay a young and beautiful girl wearing a dark blue serge walking dress of the latest mode. Her hat was off, and across her dark hair was a band of black velvet. The light, shining upon her white face a countenance which has ever since been photographed upon my memory left the remainder of the room in semi-darkness.
My poor niece! Mr. De Gex said breathlessly. She she has been subject to fits of hysteria. The doctor has warned her of her heart. You heard her cries. I I believe shes dead!
We both moved to the bed, my host still supporting me. I bent cautiously and listened, but I could hear no sound of breathing. Her heart has ceased to beat!
He took a hand mirror from the dressing-table and held it over her mouth. When he withdrew it it remained unclouded.
Shes dead dead! he exclaimed. And well, I am in despair. First, my wife defies me and now poor Gabrielle is dead! How would you feel?
I really dont know, I whispered.
Come back with me into the library, he urged. We cant speak here. I well I want to be perfectly frank with you.
And he conducted me back to the room where we had been seated together.
I had resumed my seat much puzzled and excited by the tragedy that had occurred the sudden death of my hosts niece.
Now, look here, exclaimed Mr. De Gex, standing upon the hearthrug, his sallow face pale and drawn. Your presence here is most opportune. You must render me assistance in this unfortunate affair, Mr. Garfield. I feel that I can trust you, and I well, I hope you can trust me in return. Will you consent to help me?
In what way? I asked.
Im in a hole a desperate hole, he said very anxiously. Poor Gabrielle has died, but if it gets out that her death is sudden, then there must be a coroners inquiry with all its publicity photographs in the picture-papers, and, perhaps, all sorts of mud cast at me. I want to avoid all this and you alone can help me!
How? I inquired, much perturbed by the tragic occurrence.
By giving a death certificate.
But Im not a doctor!
You can pass as one, he said, looking very straight at me. Besides, it is so easy for you to write out a certificate and sign it, with a change of your Christian name. There is a Gordon Garfield in the Medical List. Wont you do it for me, and help me out of a very great difficulty? Do! I implore you, he urged.
But I I
Please do not hesitate. You have only to give the certificate. Here is pen and paper. And here is a blank form. My niece died of heart disease, for which you have attended her several times during the past six months.
I certainly have not!
No, he replied, grinning. I am aware of that. But surely five thousand pounds is easily earned by writing out a certificate. Ill write it you only just copy it, and he bent and scribbled some words upon a slip of paper.
Five thousand pounds! It was a tempting offer in face of the fact that I had just lost practically a similar sum.
But how do I know that Miss
Miss Engledue, he said.
Well, how do I know that Miss Engledue has not well, has not met with foul play? I asked.
You dont, my dear sir. That I admit. Yet you surely do not suspect me of murdering my niece the girl I have brought up as my own daughter, and he laughed grimly. Five thousand pounds is a decent sum, he added. And in this case you can very easily earn it.
You dont, my dear sir. That I admit. Yet you surely do not suspect me of murdering my niece the girl I have brought up as my own daughter, and he laughed grimly. Five thousand pounds is a decent sum, he added. And in this case you can very easily earn it.
By posing as a medical man, I remarked. A very serious offence!
Again my host smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.
Well, he said, after a pause. Here is the certificate for you to copy. Reject my offer if you like; but I think you must agree that it is a most generous one. To me, money is but little object. My only concern is the annoying publicity which a coroners inquiry must bring.
I confess that I was wavering. The shrewd, clever man at once realized the position, and again he conducted me to the chamber where the young girl was lying cold and still.
I shall ever recollect that beautiful face, white and cold like chiselled marble it seemed, for rigor mortis was apparently already setting in.
Back again in the library Oswald De Gex took from his safe a bundle of hundred-pound Bank of England notes, and counted them out fifty of them.
He held them in his hand with a sheet of blank notepaper bearing an address in Queen Anne Street, Cavendish Square, and a blank form. Thus he tempted me and and at last I fell!
When I had written and signed the certificate, he handed me the bundle of notes.
I now remember that, at that moment, he took some pastilles from his pocket and placed one in his mouth. I thought perhaps they were throat lozenges. Of a sudden, however, the atmosphere seemed to be overpoweringly oppressive with the odour of heliotrope. It seemed a house of subtle perfumes!
The effect upon me was that of delirious intoxication. I could hear nothing and I could think of nothing.
My senses were entirely confused, and I became utterly dazed.
What did it all mean?
I only know that I placed the wad of bank notes in the inner pocket of my waistcoat, and that I was talking to the millionaire when, of a sudden, my brain felt as though it had suddenly become frozen.
The scent of verbena became nauseating even intoxicating. But upon Oswald De Gex, who was still munching his pastille, the odour apparently had no effect.
All I recollect further is that I sank suddenly into a big arm-chair, while my hosts face grinned demoniacally in complete satisfaction. I slowly lapsed into blank unconsciousness.
Little did I at the time dream with what amazing cleverness the trap into which I had fallen had been baited.
But what happened to me further I will endeavour to describe to you.
CHAPTER THE SECOND
THE SISTERS STORY
A strange sensation crept over me, for I suddenly felt that my brain, dazed by that subtle odour of pot-pourri, was slowly unclouding ever so slowly until, to my amazement, I found myself seated upon a garden chair on a long veranda which overlooked a sloping garden, with the blue-green sunlit sea beyond.
Of the lapse of time I have no idea to this day; nor have I any knowledge of what happened to me.
All I am able to relate is the fact that I found myself in overcoat and hat seated upon a long terrace in the noon sunlight of winter.
I gazed around, utterly astonished. The clothes I wore seemed coarse and unfamiliar. My hand went to my chin, when I found that I had grown a beard! My surroundings were strange and mysterious. The houses on either side were white and inartistic, with sloping roofs and square windows. They were foreign evidently French!
The shrill siren of a factory sounded somewhere, releasing the workers. Far away before me a steamer away on the horizon left a long trail of smoke behind, while here and there showed the brown sails of fishing boats.
I rose from my seat, filled with curiosity, and glanced at the house before which I stood. It was a big square building of red brick with many square windows. It seemed like a hospital or institution.
That it was the former was quickly revealed, for a few moments after I had risen, a nursing-sister in a tri-winged linen head-dress appeared and spoke kindly to me, asking in French how I felt on that glorious morning.
I am quite all right, was my reply in French. But where am I? I inquired, utterly dazed.
Never mind, msieur, where you are, replied the stout, middle-aged woman in blue uniform and broad collar. You have only to get better.
But I am better, I protested. I lost consciousness in London and now I awake here to find myself where?
You are in good hands, so why trouble? asked the Sister very kindly. You are upset, I know. Do not worry. Take things quite easily. Do not try to recall the past.
The past! I cried. What has passed eh? What has happened since I went through Stretton Street the other night?
The Sister smiled at me. She seemed inclined to humour me as she would a child.
Do not perturb yourself, I beg of you, she said in a sympathetic voice. There is really no need for it. Only just remain calm and all will be right.
But you do not explain, Sister, I said. Why am I here? And where am I? I asked, gazing vacantly around me.
You are with friends friends who have looked after you, was her reply. We are all very sorry for your motor accident.
Motor accident! I echoed. I have had no motor accident.
Again the dark-eyed woman smiled in disbelief, and it annoyed me. Indeed, it goaded me to anger.
But you told us all about it. How you started out from the Quay at Boulogne late at night to drive to Abbeville, and how your hired chauffeur held you up, and left you at the roadside, she said. Yet the curious fact about your strange story is the money.
Money! What money? I gasped, utterly astounded by the Sisters remark.
The money they found upon you, a packet of bank notes. The police have the five thousand pounds in English money, I believe.
The police! Why? I asked.
No, she said, smiling, and still humouring me as though I were a child. Dont bother about it now. You are a little better to-day. To-morrow we will talk of it all.
But where am I? I demanded, still bewildered.
You are in St. Malo, was her slow reply.
St. Malo! I echoed. How did I get here? I have no remembrance of it.
Of course you have not, replied the kindly woman in the cool-looking head-dress. You are only just recovering.
From what?
From loss of memory, and well, the doctors say you have suffered from a complete nervous breakdown.
I was aghast, scarce believing myself to be in my senses, and at the same time wondering if it were not all a dream. But no! Gradually all the events of that night in Stretton Street arose before me. I saw them again in every detail Oswald De Gex, his servant, Horton, and the dead girl, pale but very beautiful, as she lay with closed eyes upon her death-bed.
I recollected, too, the certificate I had given for payment those notes which the police held in safe custody.
The whole adventure seemed a hideous nightmare. And yet it was all so real.
But how did I come to be in St. Malo? How did I travel from London?
Sister, I said presently. What is the date of to-day?
The eleventh of December, she replied.
The affair at Stretton Street had occurred on the night of November 7th, over a month before!
And how long have I been here?
Nearly three weeks, was her answer.