cious. There was evil in them. I heard my mother's voice coming to me over the emptiness of space. "They were cursed, those pearls. They brought evil to everyone who possessed them." In the dream I caught the pearls and tried to tear them from my neck, to break them, to scatter them, to lose them forever. Then the dream changed. "Toby," I called. "Where are you, Toby? Why don't you come when you know I need you?" Then I saw him. He was there. He unclasped the necklace and I was sobbing with relief in his arms.
I awoke with reluctance from that dream. I wanted to stay in it . . . with Toby.
The pearls were in their case; Toby was far away; and I had heard nothing from him.
It was impossible to keep the pearls hidden. I told Clinton it was unwise for me to wear them.
"No," he said, "the people in the house think they are just a gift from a doting husband to his adoring wife. After all, I am in the business and the best of what is going would naturally fall into my hands."
"I would not want people to know I had the Ashington Pearls. I have to think of Clytie."
"Clytie has shown you that she can take care of herself. The only precaution you will have to take is not to wear them when you are going into the company of experts."
I took to wearing them in the evening when Clinton, Celia and I dined alone.
Celia greatly admired them. She liked to try them on. I did not tell her, of course, that they were the Ashington Pearls. She must merely think that Clinton had given me a handsome present. Leila used to stand, with her head on one side, and admire them when she was in the bedroom, putting things away or bringing hot water.
"They are beautiful. My sister Anula has some like them," she told me. "My sister has much beautiful jewelry." She looked sly and secretive, implying no doubt that this beautiful jewelry was a gift from her lover.
Celia was making her preparations to leave. She had booked her passage to Bombay and there she would join the big liner, the
Oranda, which would take her back to England. She was to leave Colombo on the smaller vessel, the Lankarta, which would take her to Bombay. I felt a faint quiver of uneasiness at the thought of her going. The house would seem lonely without her and I still had to discover whoever it was who was menacing me. The threat was still there even though I did now feel strong and ready to face it.
It was about a week after I had returned from the pearl fisheries. I planned to go over to Clytie in the late afternoon and return before dark. I set out in the dog cart and I had not been gone for more than a few minutes when I knew something was wrong.
The cart started to zigzag across the road. I pulled at the reins . . . and then suddenly in a split second I saw one of the wheels roll on ahead of me. It is amazing how, at such times of stress, so much can appear to happen in so short a time. It really was as though time had slowed down. I knew I was in great danger. I knew that one of the wheels had come off and that I was going to crash, but for a while it was as though everything stopped. Desperately I tried to think what I must do to save myself. Then the horse reared and I felt myself thrown into the air.
Swiftly darkness descended on me.
I was lying in bed. Clinton was there. So was Celia, Leila and one of the other servants. Chnton was seated on one side of the bed, Celia on the other.
"She's coming around." That was Clinton. ''Sarah . . . Sarah . . . can you hear me?"
I opened my eyes. My body felt heavy. I tried to remember. Then in my mind's eye I saw the wheel spinning along the road. I shut my eyes and was immediately lost in a haze of nothingness.
It was two days before I regained consciousness. I gathered then that I had had a very serious accident and I could count myself extremely lucky that I was still alive.
It was a simple matter. The wheel of the cart had come off. I had been thrown in the air and had landed on the road. My ankle was broken; I was bruised and battered and had suffered from severe concussion. Clinton had called in two doctors. I had been
gravely shaken. The ankle could be set and would probably give no great trouble. What was more serious was the fact that I had been unconscious for so long, due to concussion.
However, it seemed that there was no really serious damage and after a few days I was able to get up, but of course could not leave my bedroom. My ankle was the great affliction. I could hobble about with the aid of a stick, but I was warned by the doctor that I must take the utmost care not to jar it or put it to the ground if I wanted to return to absolute normality.
Clinton was with me a great deal and so was Celia, who was now most distressed at her imminent departure. I was glad of her company. She read to me and it was pleasant to talk to her. I began to dread her going. She was so calm and reasonable and I had begun to feel very uneasy again.
Clinton told me that he had tried to get to the bottom of the matter and he could not understand why the wheel of the dog cart had come off. The grooms were supposed to keep everything in order and they swore that they had examined all the carriages only a few days before.
"It's a bit of a myster}'," said Clinton. "Someone was careless, I don't doubt. I wish I could find out how it happened."
When the post came in, I looked for a letter from Toby. There was none.
Fear crept into my mind insidiously, like a fog. It was only mildly perceptible at first and then it was swirling about me, enveloping me with apprehension. I had not solved the mystery of the first phase of the attack on me which was intended to prove me mad. After having discovered Cobbler's eye, which discovery was followed by my visit to the pearl fisheries, I had been lulled into a feeling of false security. I had temporarily forgotten the important fact that somewhere, close to me, was a ruthless enemy.
I must find out who that person was and I was hardly in a state to do so. Why had the wheel of the dog cart come off when I was taking it out? I did take it out frequently. It was more or less looked upon as my vehicle because I used it more than anyone else. Had that "accident" been arranged? Was my enemy now cursing the fact that I had escaped what had surely been intended to kill me?
I could not walk in the woods now to try to find out who had a point of stalking me. But I must find out before the tricks started again. I could not know in what form they would come this time. Would there be more attempts to frighten me? Or would they take on a more sinister aspect? Had it really been an accident in the dog cart? Or was this all part of the diabolical scheme? If it was so, one thing was certain. Whoever it was would try again.
Clinton had become almost tender toward me. He had been very angry about the faulty wheel and had blamed them in the stables. They greatly feared his wrath and protested their innocence with passion. He was with me a great deal and insisted on carrying me from my chair to my bed each night, although I could manage to get across the room with the aid of my stick.
Clytie brought Ralph over to see me. Leila fussed around me shaking her head and talking—perhaps too volubly about the carelessness of those in the stable.
I would sit at the mirror and she would do my hair for me. She told me that her sister Anula had taught her how to make a lady look beautiful and had at times allowed her to serve her in this capacity. I asked how Anula was.
"Anula in good spirits, missee. Anula see the future and it is good for her."
"That pleases her, I dareisay."
'*She very content."
"Give her my congratulations on this wonderful future."
"What they, missee?"
"My pleasure in her good fortune."
"She like that, missee. She speak of you . . . much."
"About my accident."
"She say it was meant. It is sign."
"Sign of what, Leila?"
"I ask."
Once I fancied I smelled the faint odor of sandalwood in the room and when Celia came in I asked if she noticed it.
She shook her head.
"It's faint, I admit. But it's there ... as though someone wearing it had been in the room and it had lingered after
her."
"It's a strange scent," said Celia. "But I can't smell it now."
When Leila came in I asked if she could smell it. She shook her head. "My sister Anula use it. In her house it is smell. . . smell. Sandalwood here, sandalwood everywhere. It remind me of her."
When I was alone I kept thinking of it. I imagined I could smell it and when I turned to discover where, it was not there. Just an elusive odor that might have been in the memory.
I warned myself. I must not cultivate an obsession about the smell.
During the siesta hour the house was very quiet. Clinton was usually out for he would go out in the mornings and not return until evening. I would find myself lying on my bed listening to the sounds of the house. I would start suddenly when an insect struck the wire netting. I would find myself lying tense, listening. I knew then that I was becoming very frightened.
When I heard stealthy footsteps outside my room there was nothing I could do but lie there and wait for something to happen. If someone came into my room, threatened me, there was very little I could do about it. I was a prisoner now as I had not been before.
No one came into the room. I could have fancied I heard the footsteps, fancied I smelled the sandalwood.
Lying there, I asked myself many questions and the chief of these were: Who had tried to prove me mad? Who wishes me ill? Who tried to kill me in the dog cart?
Fear had come back into that room and I was helpless now . . . as I had not been before.
If Toby had written to me, if he had let me feel that he was not far off, if he would come here. ... I could talk to him as I could talk to no one else.
Oh yes, I was afraid, particularly at that time when the sun made its rapid drop below the horizon. I had told Leila that I wanted the lamps Hghted before daylight ended.
Once she forgot and I sat there in the darkness and was truly afraid. There was no moon. Nothing to lighten the darkness . . . and then suddenly the opening of the door, the second or so of silence before she came in.
"Why, you're all of the jumps, missee," she said with a deep chuckle.
And even when she lighted the lamps the fear stayed with me. I thought if someone came into this room to do me harm I should be unable to run for help.
Moreover, the days were passing and Celia would soon be leaving. I dreaded the day, for then I should be entirely alone. It occurred to me then that my enemy might be waiting for her departure.
Celia was to leave the following day. Everything was packed and ready to go. I felt very depressed because she was going and more than that. . . afraid.
She had been busy packing all day and sometimes I thought she avoided me because the thought of our parting saddened her as much as it did me, and she was one who hated to show emotion.
Leila came in to light the lamps.
"My sister Anula ask for you," she said. ''I tell her you do not Hke sandalwood. She say she will make a scent you do Hke."
"That's kind of her."
"My sister Anula so clever. She make many things . . . scent to make ladies loved . . . water to make skin beautiful . . . drink to make sleep. And she see future too."
"A very accomplished lady indeed."
I felt better with the lamps lighted.
Leila left me and almost immediately there was a gentle tap at the door. I started, my heart beating wildly.
"Who's there?" I cried rather shrilly.
The door opened and Ceha came in. The smile on her face faded as she looked at me.
"Is anything wrong?" she asked anxiously.
"No. . .no.Why?"
"I thought you looked startled."
"No. Come and sit down, Celia."
"How are you this evening?" she asked with obvious concern.
"I'm all right, thank you."
"I think you find it a little depressing to be confined to your room. I'm sorry I'm going. I wish I hadn't booked my passage. This will be our last evening together."
"I shall miss you, Celia." I shuddered, thinking what it would
be like without her. She had been such a good companion and had cheered me considerably. The thought which kept going round and round in my head was: And I shall be alone.
Sometimes it was late before Clinton came home. I would be alone in this house, apart from the servants, who would always seem alien to me, and the house had become like a prison to me because I could not escape from it. How helpless I should be when Celia was gonel
"I shall be thinking of you. You must write to me, Sarah," she was saying. "I'll send an address as soon as I have one. I wish I wasn't going. I hate leaving you now. But you'll be able to walk properly soon. What does the doctor say?"
"He has been a little cautious so far. But it's getting better, of course. It's so frustrating not to be able to get about."
"Clytie comes often though, doesn't she?"
"Oh yes."
"And I daresay she will come more often when I have gone."
"I suppose so."
There had been a slight difference in my relationship with Clytie since I had known about the pearls. I could not forget how distraught she had seemed when she had let me believe that Ralph had been kidnaped. Clytie was a good actress. The horrible thought came into my mind. If I died she and Seth would have the plantation.
I kept remembering Clinton's words: "Clytie would do a good deal for Seth."
"Now you mustn't be sad on our last night," said Celia. "You'll soon be about again and then you'll feel yourself. You are better, you know, than you were before you went away. Then I began to feel very worried about you. My dear Sarah, you have nothing to worry about. You are very lucky really."
Her eyes had taken on a wistful look and I thought then that hers had been a rather sad and lonely life. She talked little of the past but I had discovered that she had been devoted to her parents. What was her age now? I wondered. She must be in her late thirties. She was one of the millions of women who were devoted to their parents in the prime of their life and then in the end were left lonely.
I believed to cheer me up, she asked me to let her have a last look at the pearls. I took them out of their case, which I kept in the top dravi'er of my dressing table.
She held them in her hands and studied them intently.
"Your husband's gift to you," she said. "He must love you dearly. That is a comfort to you. How exquisite these pearls are! Each one matches the other perfectly. The clasp is as unusual as the pearls themselves," she said. "What a magnificent stone that emerald is. I saw Leila's sister in the gardens this afternoon. I suppose she was visiting Leila. She was wearing a beautiful necklace of what looked like emeralds. I suppose they weren't really, but they were excellent imitations. She is a beautiful creature . . . graceful like some jungle creature. There is a grace about these people, don't you agree?"
I did agree.
"A strange woman, that one. There are all sorts of rumors about her."
"W'liat sort of rumors?"
"I don't pay much attention. Leila talks about her often, saying how seductive she is. Men are supposed to threaten to commit murder for her! Poor Leila, she is very proud to be related to such a siren."
"I think they are a very devoted family."
"I am sure of it. Are you wearing the pearls tonight?"
"I wasn't intending to."
"Oh come . . . my last night. I love to see you wearing them. They seem to do something to you. Shall I put them on? The clasp is rather difficult to handle, isn't it?"
"Yes it is rather."
She clasped them around my neck and stood back to admire them.
"They are so becoming. Of course they need the most magnificent of ball dresses to set them off. When you go to England, which you will do, of course, if only for a holiday, you must give fantastic balls just for the sake of wearing your pearls."
I sat back in my chair. Every now and then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes were on the pearls. I was conscious of them, warm, clinging to
my flesh.
As we sat talking, Leila knocked. Nankeen was below. He wished to see me. Would I see him?
I asked that he be brought up.
"Shall I leave?" asked Celia.
"No need at all. He has some message from Clinton, I expect."
Nankeen came in, bowing, smiling, obsequious.
"Message from sahib, mem-sahib. He detained tonight. See you tomorrow."
"Thank you, Nankeen," I said.
"When he went out Celia looked at me anxiously.
"He is often detained in business, as you know," I said.
She nodded and I wondered if she was thinking of Anula's coming to the gardens that afternoon. For what purpose? Had she seen Clinton then?
"I'm glad you're here tonight, Celia," I said.
"I shall be gone before this time tomorrow."
"I'm going to miss you very much."
"Let's dine in your room together tonight, shall we? We'll talk about old times."
I said that would be very agreeable.
"I shan't expect you to wear your pearls," she said. "Let me take them off for you."
She did so and put them in the case.
Then she left me and came back later. We spent a pleasant evening, except for the fact that I was wondering whether Clinton was with Anula; and I was almost certain that he was. If I asked him, he would tell me the truth. He was unlike most unfaithful husbands in that.
I will not stay here, I thought. If Anula is in truth his mistress, I will not remain as his wife.
If only I could hear from Toby. Perhaps I should write another letter.
I slept deeply that night. I did have occasional dreams. One was that there was someone in the room, a shadowy figure who went to the dressing table, opened the drawer and took out the pearls.
I was half awake and thought I heard the door close.
It was nothing. . . only a dream.
In the morning the first thing I did was to go to the drawer. The case was there.
The Spring of the Tiger Page 35