have read in the newspapers, reports of the terrible tragedy atWhitton. It was her husband who was murdered, was it not?"
"Yes," she answered in a tone rather unusual. Then she pursed her lipsand held her breath for a single instant. "She has been staying withher sister in Taunton since the awful affair occurred, and came to townpurposely to meet me."
"I think, if I mistake not, both you and your cousin were at Whitton atthe time of the tragedy," I observed with affected carelessness.
"Oh no; fortunately we were not," she answered quickly. "We left theday previously."
That certainly was not the truth--at least, Beryl had been there at fouro'clock in the afternoon. But I made no remark. It would not be policyto tell this woman of my visit to Whitton and of all I had overheard andseen.
"Well, and to-day? Did your friend Mrs Chetwode call?"
Again she hesitated, and that aroused within me a further suspicion.
"Yes," she replied. "She remained an hour, then left."
"Alone?"
"No; we went with her?"
"Where?"
"To visit a friend in Cadogan Place."
"And how long did you remain?"
"About half an hour."
"Cannot you tell me the name of this friend?"
"No," she answered; "it is of no account."
"Did you or your cousin eat or drink anything today, except here in yourown house?"
"Nothing. The person whom we visited offered us port wine, but neitherof us accepted."
"No tea?"
"None," she answered. "We afterwards returned home, arriving about fiveo'clock, took tea here, and dined at half-past six. An hour later, justas we had finished dinner, the servant handed Beryl a card; and sherose, excusing herself on the plea that her dressmaker had called, and,saying that she would return in a moment, left me alone to finish mydessert. I waited for her return for fully twenty minutes, then wentacross to the morning-room. The light had been switched off, and, whenI turned it on, I saw to my horror that she was lying full length on thefloor, apparently dead. We carried her here, and then I at once went insearch of you."
"And is that all you know?" I inquired rather incredulously.
"Everything," she assured me. "I found Beryl lying helpless andinsensible, just as she is now."
"And that was an hour and a half ago?" I remarked.
"Yes."
"But who was this caller? Surely you are able to ascertain that? Theservant asked the person in."
"It was a woman, and she asked for my cousin."
"Then you don't actually know that it was the dressmaker?"
"The servant can give no accurate description, except that she wasmiddle-aged, dressed in deep mourning, and wore a veil. She said shewas the dressmaker."
"Then the woman escaped from the house without being seen?"
"Yes," her ladyship replied. "No one heard a sound after poor Berylentered the room. What occurred there no one knows."
"We only know what occurred by the effects," I said. "A desperateattempt was made upon her life. This is no mere fainting-fit."
"But who could this mysterious woman have been?" her ladyship exclaimed."It is absolutely astounding!" A thought flashed across my mind atthat moment. Could the visitor in black actually have been that dreadedperson of whom even Tattersett had spoken with bated breath--La Gioia?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
THE MYSTERY OF THE MORNING-ROOM.
My eyes wandered from the face of the trembling woman before me to theblanched countenance of my love. In an instant I detected a changethere. While I had been speaking the muscles had relaxed until thatface I adored had become blank and quite expressionless. No deepmedical knowledge was necessary to detect the awful truth. It was theexact counterpart of the photograph which had been in the Colonel'spossession.
With a cry of despair I sank upon my knees, touching her cheeks andchafing her hands. I held the mirror against her mouth. But the jawhad dropped, and when I looked eagerly for signs of respiration, therewere none. Beryl, my mysterious, unknown wife, was dead.
I pressed her hand, I called her by name, and, aided by her cousin Nora,frantically tried the various modes of artificial respiration. But allin vain. Her frail life had flickered out even while we had beenfencing with each other. All was useless. She had, as the Major hadpredicted during that memorable interview at Whitton, been struck downswiftly and secretly in some manner that was impossible to determine.
"She's dead!" I cried, still holding her thin, cold hand, and turningto the woman who had brought me to her side. "Dead--dead!"
"Impossible!" she gasped. "No, don't tell me that. Do your best tosave her, Doctor. You must save her--you must!"
"But she is beyond human aid!" I declared. "Respiration has ceased.She has been murdered!"
"By that woman in black!" she shrieked. "But how?"
"That I do not know," I responded very gravely. "There is no wound;nothing whatever to account for death."
"Oh!" she cried in desperation, "I ought to have told you everything atonce, but I feared you would not believe it if I told you. A strangething has occurred in this house, something very uncanny. It is asthough the place is overshadowed by some evil influence."
"I don't understand you," I answered quickly interested; but ere thewords had left my mouth there was a tap at the door, and the servant,ushered in my old friend and lecturer, Carl Hoefer.
"Ah, my dear Doctor!" I cried eagerly, rushing forward to welcomehim--"You will excuse me calling you so unexpectedly, and at this hour,but something very unusual has transpired--a matter in which I requireyour assistance."
"Ach!" he answered, shaking my hand, "I was surprised to get your kart,my frient. But, you see, I haf come to you at once."
He was a stout, ill-dressed man, broad-shouldered, short-legged,big-headed, heavy-jowled, about fifty-five, with scraggy yellowish hairupon his furrowed face, a pair of big eyes which blinked through largegold-rimmed spectacles, and a limp shirt-front secured by a couple ofcommon pearl studs. Typically German in figure and manner, he spokewith a strong accent, his English grammar being often very faulty, buthe was nevertheless a burly, good-natured man, possessing a keen senseof humour.
I introduced him briefly to the baronet's wife, and then, indicating theinanimate body of my love, gave him a short, technical account of hersymptoms. He bent over her, examined her face, and grunted dubiously.
"It looks as though the young lady were dead," he said with his strongaccent, his great sleepy-looking eyes blinking at us through hisspectacles.
"I see no sign of life," I responded. "What is your opinion?"
He went down on his knees, grunting over the effort, and while I heldthe lamp for him, examined her throat and neck carefully, as thoughlooking for some mark or other.
"And how did it all happen?" he inquired presently, after a long,thoughtful silence.
I exchanged glances with her ladyship, and then related him the storyjust as she had told it to me.
"Her ladyship wishes that it should be kept a profound secret," I added.
"Secret!" he snorted. "How are you going to hoodwink the coroner?"
"Then you think poor Beryl is really dead?" her cousin gasped.
"She is dead," the old fellow answered gruffly.
"But can you do nothing?" I urged in desperation.
"If she's dead, that's impossible," he declared.
"No," I said. "I refuse to believe that she is actually beyond youraid. To us she may appear dead, but her state may be only a catalepticone."
He shook his great shaggy head dubiously, but made no response. Thisman, one of the greatest chemists of the age, who had been recognised as_private docent_ of pathological anatomy and bacteriology at theUniversity of Naples, and was renowned throughout the world for hisexcursions into the queer byways of medicine, was a man of few words.
His grunts were full of expression, and his fleshy face with the dulle
yes was absolutely sphinx-like. The story he had heard regardingBeryl's sudden seizure did not convince him. His expressive grunt toldme so. He had ripped up the tight sleeves of her dress, and wasexamining the inside of the arms at the elbows, but what he saw did notsatisfy him.
I told him of the mirror-test, of the artificial respiration which I hadtried, and he listened to me in silence. With his finger he opened theleft eye and looked long and earnestly into the pupil. Then after along suspense he suddenly spoke.
"Ach! we have been meestake; she is not dead."
"Not dead?" I cried joyfully. "Thank God for that! Do your best torestore her to us. Doctor--for my sake! How can I assist you?"
"By remaining quiet," he growled reprovingly.
And again he recommenced the examination of the inside of the elbowsafter having ordered other lights to be brought. Then, without sayingwhere he was going, he left us, promising to return in a few minutes.He was a queer old fellow, very eccentric, and with a method that was ascurious as the particular branch of the profession in which he was aspecialist.
Not more than ten minutes passed before he returned grunting, puffing,and carrying a small packet in his hand. He had evidently been to thenearest chemist's.
"Some water!" he commanded--"warm water."
This was at once brought, and, arranging several little packets on theglass-topped table, he seated himself leisurely, and commenced to openand examine the contents of each very slowly.
"You have a hypodermic syringe?" he inquired. I took it from my pocketcase and handed it to him. He grunted and made a disparaging remarkabout the make--German needles were so much better, he declared. Then,having cleaned the syringe, he mixed a solution with the utmost care,and then administered a subcutaneous injection in Beryl's arm.
He took a chair and sat beside the cold, inanimate form, eagerlywatching the effects of the drug he had administered.
Her ladyship stood near, her dark eyes, framed by the white agitatedcountenance, fixed immovably upon us.
Hoefer glanced at his cheap metal watch, and, grunting, crossed to thetable and mixed a second injection, grumbling all the time at theinferior quality of my hypodermic syringe. So rough, unpolished inmanner, and unsparing in criticism was he, that her ladyship drew backfrom him in fear.
The second injection proved of as little avail as the first, and fromthe great man's grave expression I began to fear the worst. No sign oflife asserted itself. To all appearance my adored had passed away.
Suddenly he rose, and, turning to her ladyship, said in broken English--
"Now, madam, you will tell me, please, how this occurred."
"I do not know. Doctor Colkirk has told you all I know about it."
"But, just as Doctor Hoefer entered, you were telling me about somethingmysterious that had happened here. What was that?"
She pursed her lips for a moment, and glanced quickly at the old German.
"It is a most serious thing. I cannot make it out. There is somemystery in the morning-room."
"Ach!" exclaimed Hoefer, with a grunt--"a mystery! The symptoms of thelady are in themselves mysterious. Please explain the mystery of theroom."
"Well," she answered, "when I entered, after the departure of thevisitor, and discovered my cousin lying on the floor unconscious, I wasquite well; but when I left I experienced a most curious sensation, justas though all my limbs were benumbed. I, too, almost lost consciousnesswhile in the cab in search of Doctor Colkirk. But the most curious partof the affair is that my maid and the housemaid, who rushed in when Iraised the alarm, experienced the very same sensation. It was as thoughwe were struck by an icy hand--the Hand of Death."
"There is something very uncanny about that," I observed, puzzled.
"To me it seems as though poor Beryl were struck down in the same way asmyself."
"But you say that you felt nothing on entering--only on leaving?"inquired Hoefer, his eyes seeming to grow larger behind his greatglasses.
"Only on leaving," she assured him.
"Strange!" he ejaculated. "Let us see the room. We may, perhaps,obtain a clue to this mysterious ailment from which your cousin issuffering."
"But she is not dead?" I asked in doubt.
"No," he responded. "The last injection must be given time to takeeffect. We can only hope for the best."
"But the electric battery?" I suggested. "Could we not try that?"
"Useless, my dear friend," he responded; "it would kill her. Let us seethe room of mystery."
The baronet's wife conducted us along the hall to the further end, whereshe opened the door, herself drawing back.
"What!" I inquired. "You fear to enter?"
"Yes," she faltered. "I will remain here."
"Very well. We will go in," I laughed, for the idea seemed so absurdthat both Hoefer and myself put it down to her excited imagination.
What ill effect could the mere entry into a room have upon the humansystem, providing there were no foul gases? Therefore we both wentforward, sniffing suspiciously, and walking to the window, opened itwidely.
The half-dozen lights in the electrolier illuminated the place brightly,revealing a fine, handsome room furnished with taste and comfort. Onlooking round we certainly saw nothing to account for the extraordinaryphenomena as described by the trembling woman who stood upon the matoutside.
While we made a careful examination of the place in which my love hadmet her strange visitor, the door, creaking horribly, swung slowly to,as doors often will when badly hung. Hoefer examined the floorcarefully, seeking to discover whether the unknown woman in black haddropped anything that might give a clue to her identity, while Isearched the chairs for the same purpose. We, however, found nothing.
What, I wondered, was the nature of the interview that had taken placethere a couple of hours before? Who was the woman who had called andrepresented herself as Beryl's dressmaker? Could it have been the womanwhose vengeance was so feared, the woman whose very name had beenuttered by that miscreant with bated breath--La Gioia?
With her ladyship standing in the hall watching us we searched high andlow. Neither of us felt any curious sensation, and I began to thinkthat the story was merely concocted in order to add mystery to Beryl'sunique seizure. Yet, from that woman's face, it was neverthelessevident that she stood there in fear lest any evil should befall us.
"Do you experience any queer feeling?" she inquired of us at last.
"None whatever," I responded.
"It is only on leaving," she replied.
"Very well," I answered with a laugh, scouting the idea, and then boldlypassing out into the hall.
"Good Heavens?" I gasped a few moments later, almost as soon as I hadreached her side. "Hoefer! come here quickly. There's somethingdevilish, uncanny in this. I've never felt like this before."
The old German dashed out of the room and was in an instant beside me.
"How do you feel?" he inquired.
I heard his voice, but it sounded like that of some one speaking in thefar distance. The shock was just as though an icy hand had struck me asI had emerged from the hall. I was cold from head to foot, shiveringviolently, while my lower limbs became so benumbed that I could not feelmy feet.
I must have reeled, for Hoefer in alarm caught me in his arms andsteadied me...
"Tell me--what are your symptoms?"
"I'm cold," I answered, my voice trembling and my teeth chatteringviolently.
He seized my wrist, and his great fingers closed upon it.
"Ach!" he cried in genuine alarm, "your pulse is failing. And youreyes!" he added, looking into them. "You are cold--your legs arerigid--you have the same symptoms, exactly the same, as the young lady?"
"And you?" I gasped. "Do you feel nothing?"
"Nothing yet," he responded--"nothing."
"But what is it?" I cried in desperation. "The feeling is truly asthough the Angel of Death had passed and struck me down. Cannot yougive
me something, Hoefer? Give me something--before I lose allconsciousness!"
The woman near me stood rooted to the spot in absolute terror, while theold German placed me upon an oaken settle in the hall, and ran along tothe boudoir, returning with the syringe filled with the same injectionwhich he had administered to my love. This he gave me in the arm, thenstood by breathlessly anxious as to the result.
The feelings I experienced during the ten minutes that followed areindescribable. I can only compare them to the excruciating agony ofbeing slowly frozen to death.
Through it all I saw Hoefer's great fleshy face with the big spectaclespeering into mine. I tried to speak, but could not. I tried to raisemy hand to make signs, but my muscles had suddenly become paralysed.Truly the mystery of that room was an uncanny one.
It ran through my mind that, the house being lit by electric light, thewires were perhaps not properly isolated, and any person leaving theplace received a paralysing shock. This theory was, however, completelynegatived by my symptoms, which were not in any way similar to thoseconsequent on electric shock.
Hoefer looked anxiously at his watch, then, after a lapse of a fewminutes, gave me a second injection, which rendered me a trifle easier.I could detect, by his manner and his