CHAPTER II
THE MEADOW OF ILLUSION
I lay for a moment half stunned, my face buried in the moist depths ofthe grass. It was as if Earth had been suddenly engulfed in a wanderingstar, as if all known and familiar things had come to an instant end andI must gather my vague soul to face unimagined eternities.
Cautiously I raised my head and looked about. A meadow stretchedblooming before me. To my left loomed the absurd bulk of the upturnedtrolley, on its back with wheels in air, looking for all the world astupid mastodon puppy. A very much frightened conductor stood near by.
"Say," he asked hoarsely, "is yous all right? Kin you look after thingstill Joe an' me git back?"
"Look after things?" I repeated dully.
"Sure, the lydies, I mean. Sure you kin. We'll beat it right off, an' Ihope to gosh Joe sobers up on the way! So long."
He was gone before I could gather my wits for a question, anduncomprehendingly I watched the two blue-coated figures scrambling upthe steep, scarred sides of the viaduct. Frantically they scaled the topand made off down the tracks without so much as another glance in mydirection.
Then of a sudden memory came upon me, and my heart contracted with agreatness of fear that I had never known.
For a moment I could see her nowhere, then as I staggered to uncertainfeet I found her. She lay behind me, her hand pillowing her cheek as ifshe slept. And as I knelt beside her to listen fearfully at her heart Ilaughed with half a sob, for the beat came surely and with growingstrength.
The sudden easing of my fear came over me drowsily until it seemed as ifall the world lay in the hollow of the meadow about me and time had beenblotted out. In the grass beside her I sat down to wait.
To my bewildered sense we were two shadowy people in an impossibledream. A wayward tendril of dark hair had fallen across her eyes. Ismoothed it softly back and my fingers brushed her hair lightly andstrayingly, as my mother's had mine in bygone days, tenderly and as ifwe shared in the secret of sleep.
I do not know when her eyes opened, but looking down I found them turnedto mine. She smiled, sighed softly, and closed them. Then again theyopened.
"I think that I should like to sit up," she said.
I helped her carefully. "Are you all right?" I asked.
She smiled uncertainly. "I think so. I am very dizzy."
My arm was half about her, and for a long moment her head rested againstme. Then she sat up very straight and a little apart, busying herselfabout her dress, giving a practised touch to her hair and the laces ather neck, and smoothing the scarcely ruffled breadths of her skirt.
I gazed out across our meadow to where three black and white cows stoodsleepily knee-deep in a small pool. A meadow-lark rose and crossed thefield in erratic, wavering flight. A little cloud tempered thebrightness and passed.
"What happened?" she asked softly at last.
I pointed to where the trolley lay towering behind her.
She lost color a little and sprang to her feet, then she turned to melaughing.
"I never saw anything look so ashamed of itself in my life," she said."Speak to it kindly, Mr. Crosby; it can't lie there with its feet in theair for ever."
I shook my head ruefully. "I am afraid that it will have to stay therefor the afternoon, at least."
"But how are we--how am I--going to get home? Where are the crew, andwasn't there another passenger?"
I gasped. I had absolutely forgotten the other woman.
She was lying not far from us in a little hollow of the long grass, andfor the moment I thought that she was dead. The sallow, foreign face wasyellow white, the plump hands were gripped, as if in some pastconvulsive agony, above her head, and this same muscular rigidity seemedto underlie incongruously every formless line of the flabby body.
Miss Tabor's hand trembled upon my arm. "Do you think that she--that sheis dead?" she whispered.
I stooped to the woman's wrist. The pulse came faintly with a dull throbthat was unbelievably slow. But as I still fumbled the pulpy handcaught mine in a grip that made me wince, the bloodless lips stirred ina shuddering moan, and without opening her eyes she spoke.
"It is hard, hard," she said, "there is too much light. Will some oneturn down the light?" A long convulsive tremor ran over the entire bodyand the hand in mine struggled in anguish.
Miss Tabor shivered.
"I am afraid that she is very much hurt," I said as gently as I could. Iwas ashamed of myself, but fear seemed to clutch me. Then I gave myselfa mental shake and caught my hat from the ground. "You will have to staywith her, I suppose, while I get some water. You might loosen herdress." It was all that I could think of.
Miss Tabor knelt to the work without a word, and I made off across themeadow to the pool, running at my best speed.
In a moment I was back again and dashed what little water my hat stillheld over the twitching, yellow face.
The eyelids fluttered and lack-luster eyes looked into mine. The womangasped and sat up.
"That is a very dangerous thing to do, young man." The voice beneathits severity of tone was softly unctuous and vaguely Latin. "A verydangerous thing, indeed. Sudden shock has killed us many times. That iswell known."
Miss Tabor looked at her with pity. Evidently the woman was still out ofher head.
"If you will sit quietly for a little while you will be better," I said.
She nodded, looking curiously about her. Comprehension was coming back.She took out a crumpled handkerchief and wiped the water from her face.
"What on earth are we to do now?" Miss Tabor whispered. "We must dosomething, for they are expecting me home already." She glancedanxiously at the little watch at her wrist. "But I don't see how we canleave this poor woman here all by herself."
"No, I don't see how we can," I answered, "but perhaps she can walk. Doyou think that she could climb that bank, even if you could?"
Miss Tabor shook her head. "We must walk back and look for an easierplace. But I am afraid that the car will come before we can find one."
We had spoken in very low voices, but the woman looked up.
"You have ten minutes before the car will arrive. I will be myself bythen."
"Are you sure?" I asked, for I had not seen her look at a watch.
She smiled scornfully. "You have ten minutes. The car will arrive then.Have you lost anything in your fall?"
Mechanically I put my hand in my pocket, to find it empty. For a secondI was thunderstruck, then I stepped over to the place where I had fallenand poked about in the grass. My pocketbook, I found immediately, andafter a moment came upon my keys and change in a scarcely scatteredpile.
Miss Tabor was watching me. "Nothing missing," I said. "How about you?"
"Oh, all my things are in my bag." And she pointed to where it lay nearmine, in a tangle of blackberry vines.
But when I turned from rescuing them I found her standing with her handat her neck, searching distractedly among her laces.
"What! you have lost something?" I cried.
"Yes," she said, and it seemed to me that her eyes were afraid, "therewas a little gold chain that I wore. Oh, it can't be lost, it can'tbe!"
Her manner surprised me. To all my knowledge she had been so unruffled,had borne herself with such a certain serenity, that to see her now,with frightened eyes staring and full of tears, pain written clearbetween the lovely brows, and with hands that trembled at her breast,startled me out of my own composure.
"Certainly it's not lost," I said harshly, for I was puzzled. After all,there was nothing so tragic in the loss of a little chain. Then I knewbetter, knew that if she valued it so I would find it if it took me myvacation. "Come," I said more gently, "we will look."
She had gained some control over herself, and now began to search theground where we had fallen, carefully and on her knees. I thought thatshe was crying softly and glanced to see if the other woman noticed.
Her back was turned to us and her face seemed buried in her hands. As Ilooked at he
r she spoke.
"If you seek a small chain," she said listlessly, "you will find itclose beside the fallen car."
And there as I walked directly to it I saw the glimmer of a strand ofgold straggling from beneath the upturned roof.
"Here it is," I cried wonderingly and drew it forth. Then I stooddumbly, the thing in my hands, my mind reeling. For from the mangledclasp hung a woman's wedding-ring.
The Professor's Mystery Page 2