Devil's Dice
Page 37
Having dismissed him Iopened the letter, finding to my surprise and intense satisfaction thatit was a sanely-worded note from Dora saying that she had beendangerously ill, but was now very much better, and desired to see mewithout delay if I could make it convenient to call that afternoon.
Almost instantly I set forth to respond to her invitation, and half anhour later found her in her mother's drawing-room, radiant and quiteherself again. Lady Stretton was not present, therefore she greeted mein her frank, hoydenish way, as of old, led me to a seat, and taking oneherself, proceeded to describe her malady.
"But, of course, you have heard how unwell I've been, so I need not tellyou," she added. "I'm quite right again now. For days my head wasstrangely muddled, and I had no idea that I was at home. I fanciedmyself in some queer horrid place surrounded by all sorts of terrors;but suddenly, early yesterday morning, this feeling--or hallucination itwas, I suppose--left me, and the doctor today said I was recoveringrapidly. Where is Jack? Have you seen him?"
This was a question I had been momentarily expecting and feared toanswer.
"Yes," I said hesitatingly; "I have seen him."
"Then tell me quickly," she cried excitedly; "tell me, is it true whatthe papers say, that the police are trying to arrest him, and that hehas fled abroad?"
She had read in the papers what I had feared to tell her, lest her mindshould again become unhinged.
"Yes, Dora," I said sympathetically. "I am afraid it is true."
She knit her brows, and her nervous fingers hitched themselves in thelace trimming of her dress.
"They would arrest him for the murder of Gilbert Sternroyd, Iunderstand," she said. "The police think that Jack shot him."
"They have, unfortunately, evidence in support of their theory, Ibelieve."
"Do you suspect him?" she asked, looking seriously into my eyes.
"I am his friend, Dora. I cannot give an impartial opinion."
"Ah! I understand; you, like the others, think he is guilty," she saidin a tone of bitter reproach. "Some enemy has denounced him and set thebloodhounds of the law upon him. They will follow the scent, and soondiscover him. But is he guilty?"
"I can only tell you one fact, Dora, much as I regret it," I answered."The detective who has the case in hand, one of the most renownedexperts in his profession, holds evidence against him of a mostconclusive character."
"In what way? What is the nature of the evidence?" she demanded.
"There is a witness," I replied slowly. "A person discovered Gilbertlying dead in Jack's chambers immediately after the crime. On thefollowing night the same person visited the place secretly, and theremet Jack, who was apparently engaged in getting rid of all traces of themurder. This witness desired to enter one of the rooms, but Jack lockedthe door in his face. In that room it will be proved the body of themurdered man was still lying."
"It will not be so easy to prove that last fact as you imagine," shesaid very seriously.
"Then Jack has already told you the truth!" I exclaimed.
"He told me something before--before I fell ill," she answered.
It was on my lips to ask her for an explanation of the cause that led toher brain trouble, but, remembering the strict injunctions of the greatspecialist, I deferred my question.
"Then you believe he is innocent?" I asked eagerly. "The police maybring forward an array of whatever witnesses they choose, but I willshow them that Jack is no murderer," she said firmly. "I do not wonderthat you, in common with others, suspect him, but when the truth is madeclear you will be amazed at the villainy that has been resorted to bythose responsible for Sternroyd's death."
"Do you, then, allege that there was more than one person?"
"That point will be made clear at the trial," she answered briefly."But tell me, you know something of Jack's movements. When do youanticipate he will be arrested?"
"To-night most probably," I said. "Perhaps he is already detained."
"He is at some little out of-the-world place in Germany, isn't he?"
"Yes; how did you ascertain that?"
"I had a letter from him to-day," she replied; "but we have no time tolose. Ah!" And she stood with both hands suddenly pressed to her brow."My head throbs so painfully now and then. Sometimes it seems as if myforehead must really burst."
"Can I assist you?" I asked, rising quickly and standing beside her,but as I did so the door opened and the Earl of Fyneshade was announced.
"Ah! my dear Dora," he cried effusively, as he strode into the room. "Ionly returned from Paris this morning, and hearing you were unwell camealong to inquire. The account I had of you was that you were delirious,with all sorts of other complications, but I'm glad you are not so illas reported."
"Thanks very much," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm very much betterto-day."
Then I exchanged greetings with the Earl. He looked spruce and well,and by his casual question whether Mabel had been there often during hisabsence, no one would have suspected him of any serious disagreementwith his young wife. For a quarter of an hour we chatted, when, findingLady Stretton was out driving, he rose and left.
"I'm so thankful he's gone," Dora exclaimed with a grimace, as soon asthe door had closed. "He's such a dreadful old bore. I wonder Mabelever fell in love with him; but there, ill-disposed persons say shedidn't."
And we both laughed.
"But we haven't any time to gossip," she exclaimed, rising with a suddenimpetuosity. "You will go with me, won't you?"
"Where?"
"Not far. I want to convince you that what I have said regarding Jack'sinnocence is the absolute truth."
"I am, of course, open to conviction," I said eagerly. "If I could onlysee him cleared of this terrible suspicion I should be happy."
"Then you shall," she said, laying her hand tenderly on my arm, andadding with earnestness, "Stuart, you told me on one occasion that youhad loved a true, honest woman, and that your life had been blighted byher death."
"Yes," I said, "I remember I spoke to you once of her."
"Have you ceased to remember her?" she asked mysteriously.
"Never. Daily, hourly she is in my thoughts. There has, alas! been nobrightness in my life since the well-remembered day when I lost her," Iexclaimed fervently.
"If what I hear be true, she puzzles you. You knew nothing of herparentage, of her past, of the reason for the strange ceremony of yourmarriage," she said in a soft voice.
"Nothing. I have ever since sought to penetrate the mystery andignominiously failed in every effort."
She paused and, looking steadfastly into my face, exclaimed in a strangevoice full of suppressed excitement: "Then to-night I will take you to aplace where you may ascertain the truth. At all hazards I will saveJack the indignity of falling into the hands of the police, and at thesame time reveal to you certain facts that will astound you."
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
RECONCILIATION.
Of her French maid, who appeared in answer to her summons, Dora orderedher hat and coat, but ere these could be brought she again placed herhands convulsively to her brow and, pacing the room in feverish haste,complained of the recurrence of excruciating pains.
Not knowing how to relieve her I stood watching, fearing lest she shouldbe seized with another attack of mental aberration. She pushed her hairback from her brow, and suddenly halting before me, said:
"It is as I feared. My head is reeling and I cannot think. My mind isgrowing as confused as it was the other day. I--I cannot imagine whatails me."
"Shall I send for Dr Fothergill?" I suggested anxiously. She hadpromised to make a revelation, and I foresaw the possibility that if hermind became unhinged I should learn nothing.
"No," she answered, wearily sinking into a chair. "Forgive me. I amafraid I miscalculated my strength. I thought I had quite recovered,but the slight exertion of trying to recall the past brings back thosefearful pains that have of late so tortured me. The blow must havein
jured my brain."
"The blow! What blow?" I cried.
"Cannot you see?" she said, placing her hand to her hair and parting itat the side.
I bent to examine, and there saw, half concealed by the skillful mannerin which her hair had been dressed by her maid, unmistakable signs of aterrible blow that had been dealt her. It was strange. I also had beenfelled at the moment I had discovered her creeping silently into thatmysterious room in Gloucester Square. Had she also fallen by the sameunknown hand? Evidently the injury to her brain was the