CHAPTER V
PERPLEXITIES
Minutes passed, each dragging a train of monstrous fancies beforeHelen's mental vision. The tips of her fingers shut out all soundsfrom her ears, but the laughter still dinned and echoed in herimagination. It reminded her of the haunting strains of glee that hadcome from Virginia Darrow's dying lips. Somehow this laughter wasdifferent, but the difference was so subtle that she could but vaguelysense it. It was loud and delirious, in contrast to the gentle,dirgelike notes that had characterized the other.
She could stand the suspense no longer. Sped on by fear, she ran inthe direction where she thought the door was. She brought up against astairway instead. A noise caused her to lift her head. Down thestairs, lurching and sliding, came a woman. Her hair was wildlytousled and her clothing in disorder, and peal after peal of harshlaughter cut through the silence as she scurried down the steps.
Then she saw Helen, and she stopped as abruptly as if she had dashedagainst a material barrier. Clutching the railing with one hand, shewagged drunkenly from side to side. Her face was ashen, but her skinwas clear and smooth as a young girl's. The eyes, unnaturally wide andbright, stared down at Helen with fierce intensity. She had ceasedlaughing, but the lips were still agape, as if suddenly frozen intorigidity.
Helen forgot her fears as she saw the strange look in the woman'sface. She wondered whether it meant madness, terror, or intoxication.It seemed to be neither, but rather a blending of all three. Slowly,with the outspread fingers of one hand pressing against her breast,the woman came down the remaining steps. Her great eyes were stillfixed on Helen, but the mad flame in their depths was graduallyyielding to a look of sanity.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded. Her voice was dry, and shespoke with little hissing sounds, as if each word were exhausting herbreath.
Helen winced as the woman clutched her arm. Streaks of gray in thetumbled masses of her black hair clashed sharply with her youthfullyrounded face, and Helen guessed that the contrast had been broughtabout by some terrifying experience.
"Do you know where you are?" the woman went on, tightening her grip onHelen's arm.
"This is Azurecrest, isn't it?" Helen's words voiced an indefinitedoubt that had been stirring faintly in the back of her mind since shesaw the face at the window. "I came here to see the Gray--to see Mr.Vanardy."
"Azurecrest?" The woman's mind seemed to be slowly struggling out of adaze. "Yes--that's what they call the place. But there is no Mr.Vanardy here. You have been deceived, just as I was. Those monsters!Do you know what will happen to you if you remain here?"
Helen shrugged as if to fight off a stupor that seemed to be graduallyinfolding body and mind.
"They'll inject the fever into your veins," the woman told her,without waiting for an answer. "The fever that always kills. Sometimesit kills quickly, but most the time very slowly, just as it is killingme. You will not feel much pain. You will laugh and sing and dreamstrange dreams. Those are always the symptoms. At first, before thefever reaches the last stage, you will laugh loud and hilariously--likethis." She threw back her head, and then came an outburst of screaminglaughter that made Helen shudder. "That's how it sounds at first. Butlater, when the fever has burned out your strength and destroyed yourreason, the laughter will be low and soft and lilting. Then it soundslike this." She gave a series of low, tinkling sounds that were like arequiem set to laughter.
Helen shivered. Just so had Virginia Darrow gone laughing to herdeath. The coincidence seemed rather weird. The stark realism of theimitation gripped her, and yet she wondered whether she were dreamingor whether the woman beside her were reveling in the fancies of amaniac.
The other stiffened suddenly. She seemed to recall something which herencounter with Helen had temporarily blotted from her mind. Placingtwo fingers across her lips, she cast a swift glance up the stairs.For a brief space she stood tense, listening.
"The woman who watches me went to sleep and I stole away from her,"she whispered. "We must try to get out before they begin looking forme. You must come, too. It won't do for you to remain a moment longer.S-sh!"
Silent as a wraith she stole down the hall. Helen, scarcely knowingwhat she was doing, followed dazedly. She did not know what to think,but there was an undertow of vague dread in her jumbled thoughts andemotions. What she had just heard sounded wildly fantastical, like theraving of a deranged mind. Yet she had a feeling that something wasdreadfully wrong. The strange laughter and the face at the windowappeared to give a background of reality to what the woman had said.They seemed to suggest, too, that there was a connecting link betweenAzurecrest and the tragedy in the Thelma Theater. It was thiscircumstance, bewildering and almost unbelievable, that clogged thefunctioning of Helen's mind and rendered her willing to be led alongby her guide.
The door was unlocked and they passed unhindered into the open. In adull and indifferent fashion Helen thought it strange that the woman'sloud laughter had not already betrayed them, but then it occurred toher that perhaps such outbursts were common at Azurecrest. After whatshe had already seen and heard, nothing would have surprised hergreatly. She wondered how her companion meant to overcome theobstacles of the locked gate and the high picket fence. Perhaps, inher beclouded state of mind and eagerness to escape, she was not evengiving them a thought. Or perhaps----
Her guide stopped so abruptly that Helen, who had been following closebehind, nearly ran into her. Out of the mist and shadows came a low,rumbling growl. A huge, black shape bounded toward them.
"The dog!" exclaimed the other. "I forgot--oh!"
The beast, rearing on hind legs, sprang at her throat and felled her.She lay prone on the ground, the dog crouching over her with jawsslavering and forefeet pawing her body. Helen stood motionless in hertracks. The dog's eyes and teeth gleamed menacingly in the moonlight,and she knew that the slightest move would precipitate an attack uponher. Her mind, clearing rapidly under the stress of danger, wasseeking a way out of the predicament when hurried footsteps came downthe walk.
"Caesar!" called a gruff voice.
The dog let go its hold as a man came running toward them. He stoppedand gathered the fallen woman in his arms, and Helen recognized theindividual who had met her at the gate on her arrival. With scarcely aglance in her direction, he turned and walked toward the house withhis burden. Helen feeling the gleaming eyes of the beast on her face,dared not move. As she stood wondering what to do, a shadow fellacross the graveled walk and a second man came toward her.
"Back to your kennel, Caesar!" he commanded, and the dog obedientlyslunk away. "Excellent watchdog, but a bit ferocious when he is kepton half rations. Won't you come inside, Miss--er, Hardwick? Hawkes toldme about you. I am Mr. Slade. Sorry to have kept you waiting."
His manner and appearance were pleasant enough; yet Helen felt animpulse to run. The things she had seen and heard since coming toAzurecrest were highly mystifying, and they had left a number ofquestions and suspicions in her mind. She glanced quickly toward thepicket fence, then in the direction whence Caesar had disappeared.Something told her that a whistle would set the dog snapping andsnarling at her heels if she should try to break away. She decidedthat her hope lay in diplomacy rather than flight.
As if he had read her thoughts, Slade touched her arm and escorted herto the house. She sensed that a trying ordeal was ahead of her, andshe was already steeling her nerves for it. She had faced danger manytimes, and her buoyant nature always responded to the demands of acrisis with a quickening of wits and rising courage.
"I trust Miss Neville didn't annoy you" murmured Slade apologeticallyas he opened the door and conducted her down the hall. "A verydifficult case of paranoia. She gets quite violent at times, and sheis subject to all sorts of hallucinations. To-night she broke awayfrom her nurse and would no doubt have attempted to scale the fence ifCaesar hadn't interrupted her."
Helen walked beside him in silence. She had already wondered whetherMiss Neville could be quite sane. Oddly enough, Slade's word
s almostconvinced her that the woman was of sound mind, though perhaps she wassuffering from the effects of illness and shock. Helen had conceivedan immediate and instinctive distrust of Slade, despite hissmooth-flowing speech and suave manners.
He ushered her into the same room she had left so hurriedly uponhearing the laughter, and placed a chair for her. A look at his facein the electric light gave edge to her misgivings, but at first shecould not tell what there was about him that repelled her. Accordingto all standards, he should have attracted her and inspired confidencein her. His personality contained that blend of strength andgentleness which she had liked in men ever since her days ofinconsequential hero worship. He had the strong jaw and high foreheadthat often go with aggressiveness and mental keenness, and he carriedhis tall figure with the easy grace of a man of the world. Hispresence would have been quite magnetic if only---- But Helen could notfinish the thought. There was an unnamable something about him thateluded her mental grasp.
"Quite a sad case, that of Miss Neville," he continued. "She was oncea very brilliant woman, but her genius was consumed by its own fire,so to speak. I might as well tell you that she is my half-sister. Forher own good and to avoid unpleasant notoriety, I am keeping her hereunder the care of a physician. Her friends believe that she istraveling abroad, and so far I have succeeded in keeping the truestate of affairs secret. There is a possibility, though a very remoteone, that she will recover."
Helen made no comment. Though his eyes were lowered seemingly on thefloor, she felt he was watching her and wondering whether she believedhim. She thought it strange that he should have taken her into hisconfidence in regard to matters which one usually does not divulge tostrangers. There were a number of questions on the tip of her tongue,but she thought it better to hold them back.
"I suppose," Slade went on in melancholy tones, "that she told you theusual story of mistreatment and persecution?"
"She seemed very excited." Helen weighed her words with care. "I don'tremember all she told me, but she said something of a fever that wasgradually killing her, and she seemed very anxious to get away fromthis place."
"Yes, the fever is one of her hallucinations. She imagines that she issuffering from a strange disease. And not only that but she thinkseverybody around her afflicted with the same mysterious malady. Theidea is firmly rooted in her mind that the disease has beendeliberately communicated to her by enemies. No doubt she told you ofa queer kind of laughter that is supposed to be one of the symptoms ofthe strange ailment."
"She not only mentioned it, but she gave me a demonstration. Itsounded a bit--creepy."
"I can readily believe it. It must have been very unpleasant for you.I take it that she told the story convincingly enough to make animpression on you, or you would not have started to run away withher."
He smiled as he spoke, and all at once Helen saw the reason for herinstinctive dislike of him. The smile was of the lips only. There wasno responsive gleam in his eyes. And his eyes, she now perceived, werehard and dispassionate as bits of porcelain.
"She frightened me, and I didn't know what to think," she guardedlyadmitted. "I suppose I followed her on the impulse of the moment. I domost things on impulse, you see."
"That's the privilege of youth." He laughed, but his eyes were asglossy and expressionless as fish scales and seemed to veto his vocalmerriment. "Luckily you wouldn't have got further than the gate, evenif Caesar hadn't intervened. It would be very embarrassing if MissNeville should escape from us some night and expose her condition tothe world. There is slight danger of that, though. I have taken allnecessary precautions. However, your meeting Miss Neville here andnoticing the state she is in, makes the situation rather awkward. Ishould dislike to have the matter get into the newspapers. I have beenfrank with you, hoping you would see the delicacy of the situationfrom my point of view."
"I never gossip about people's misfortunes," declared Helen withemphasis.
"Thank you. I know I can depend on you, Miss Hardwick. I hope Caesardidn't frighten you. By the way," and suddenly he seemed to remembersomething, "my secretary told me you were inquiring for Mr. Vanardy."
Helen started slightly. For an hour she had been wondering why she hadseen nothing of The Gray Phantom and why her request to see him hadbeen met with evasions and cross-questioning.
Slade regarded her with polite curiosity. "I have seen your name inthe newspapers, Miss Hardwick. You wrote the play that Vincent Starrproduced at his theater. Only a little while ago I was reading of thepeculiar tragedy that interrupted the first performance last night. Iwonder whether your visit here has anything to do with thatoccurrence."
It was a strange question, Helen thought. "I--I would rather talk overmy errand with Mr. Vanardy in person," she stammered. She was chilledand confused by his steady gaze. "Isn't he here?"
Slade's lips twitched. "You know, of course, that Mr. Vanardy is thegenial rascal who used to be known as The Gray Phantom. You needn'tanswer; I see that you do. It strikes me as rather odd that a younglady of your evident refinement and culture should be associated witha man of that type. Pardon my impertinence. The fact of the matter isthat Mr. Vanardy is not here. He left Azurecrest some time ago."
"What?" Helen half rose from the chair. With a great exertion of willpower she steadied herself. "Mr. Vanardy not here? Then where is he?"
"That I don't know. I purchased Azurecrest from him through a broker.I never had any dealings with the man himself. In fact, at the time Ibought the place I didn't know that it had been occupied by The GrayPhantom. You see, I had been looking for a secluded spot where MissNeville could live quietly and without fear of unwelcome intrusions.Azurecrest seemed to answer the requirements, and so I bought it."
Helen stared at him, unable to disguise her bewilderment. Slade'sstatement amazed and shocked her. She had not been in correspondencewith The Gray Phantom, but at their last meeting he had told her tocommunicate with him at Azurecrest if she should ever need him. Shethought it strange that he had not sent her word of his removal.
Slade was sauntering leisurely back and forth across the floor. Nowand then, as he looked at her, his eyes gave her a chill. She made astrong effort to gather her thoughts and master her feelings.Something, she did not know just what, told her that the occasiondemanded a cool head and steady nerves.
A motor horn sounded in the distance. Evidently a car was winding itsway up the hill. The thought gave her a vague sense of comfort. Shesat up straight.
"I told the man who met me at the gate that I wished to see Mr.Vanardy," she remarked. "Later I told Hawkes the same thing. Neitherone intimated that Mr. Vanardy was no longer here. I was asked a lotof useless questions and asked to wait. Then--"
"My dear Miss Hardwick," smoothly interrupted Slade, "you mustunderstand that the circumstances under which my half-sister andmyself are living here make it necessary for me to be very cautiouswith regard to visitors. My servants have orders to subject allcallers to careful inspection and cross-examination. For instance, howdo I know that you are not a newspaper reporter looking for asensation?"
Helen smiled; the suggestion seemed so absurd. Once more the blare ofa horn sounded in the distance.
"And that reminds me," Slade went on in slightly altered tones, "thatyou have not yet explained your presence here. I asked you a momentago whether it had anything to do with what happened at the ThelmaTheater."
"So you did." Helen's smile, though tantalizing, was the kind withwhich one masks an inner turbulence.
"I am waiting for your answer." Slade seemed as suave and urbane asbefore, but his eye was a trifle frostier and his tone carried aperemptory note. Helen glanced at the window. A glare like that of amotor car's headlight was approaching the house.
"Your question is very peculiar," she replied with a haughtiness whichshe did not quite feel, "and I see no reason why I should answer it."
"No?" Slade had ceased his pacing of the floor, and Helen wonderedwhether it was by design or accident that he had stopped wi
th his backto the door. "Perhaps the question will seem less peculiar if I wordit differently. What did you mean when you told Hawkes that thebusiness you wished to discuss with Vanardy had to do with Mr. Shei?"
Helen felt a tingle of suspense. There was a sneer on Slade's lips andhis frigid eyes filled her with a vague dread. She tried to parry thequestion with banter, but the words would not come. She twisted in herchair, and suddenly, as the door behind Slade's back came open, hergaze grew rigid and a look of consternation filled her eyes. Shegripped the arms of her chair and very slowly raised herself to herfeet, all the while staring intently at the figure whose arrival hadbeen heralded a few minutes ago by the headlight's glare.
The newcomer seemed startled at first, then he smiled. Slade steppedaside and bowed deferentially to the man in the doorway. Then henoticed Helen's transfigured face.
"You two seem to have met before," he remarked.
Helen advanced a step. She drew a long, trembling breath. A staggeringrealization flashed through her mind as she gazed rigidly into thenewcomer's smiling face. It was the same realization that had come toher with such unnerving force in the Thelma Theater. It had grown hazyand vague during the intervening hours, and the quick succession ofevents had left her wondering. Now she knew that her first intuitivesuspicion had been correct. Her mind seemed to reel and spin. Shehardly knew that her lips were moving, but her voice, hoarse andscarcely audible, was uttering a name:
"Mr. Shei!"
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