CHAPTER XIII
VISITORS FOR MISS CASATA
Miss Casata had a razor in her hand--an open razor. She examined itsedge.
'It is very sharp. Oh, yes, how sharp! One cut; it will all be over.Will it be over with one cut--that is it--or shall I have to hack, andhack, and hack? That would not be agreeable.'
She stood in front of a looking-glass, regarding her own reflection.
'I am not bad looking; no, I am not. I have a certain attractiveness,which is my own. To use the razor would be to make a mess. I should bea horrible sight. Would he care? He would not see me. If he did, hewould laugh, I know. He has what he calls a taste for the horrible. Itwould amuse him to behold me all covered with blood.'
She turned her attention to some articles which were on a table.
'Here is a revolver. The six barrels are all loaded. It would not needthem all to blow out my brains--that is, if I have any to blow. Hereis a bottle of hydrocyanic acid. What lies I had to tell to get it;what tricks I had to play! There is enough in this little bottle tokill the whole street. I have, therefore, the keys of death close tomy hand--painless, instant death. Three roads to eternal sleep, and Istand so much in need of rest. Yet I hesitate to use them. It is veryfunny. Is it because I am going mad--I did not use to be infirm ofpurpose--I wonder?'
She handled, one after another, the three objects--the razor, therevolver, the little bottle--as if endeavouring to make a selection.
'I am too optimistic. There is my fault--I always hope. It is anerror. I have always had in my life such evil fortune that, whenhappiness came, I should have known it would not endure--that thenight would be blacker because the sun once shone; that for me,henceforward, it would be always night. I was a fool; so happy Iforgot, so I pay for it. Well, I will take my fate into my own handsand make an ending when I choose. I should have liked to see thelittle one--my little one.' A softness came into the voice of whichone might hardly have thought it capable. 'To have held it in my arms;to press it to my breast; to touch its lips with mine. I should,indeed, have liked to be a mother. Yet better not; it might have beenlike its father. That would have been the worst of all. Which is it tobe--steel? lead? a little drink? Why is it I cannot decide? What'sthat?'
She had Miss Bewicke's dainty drawing-room to herself. An incongruousobject she seemed in it, she and her gruesome playthings. A soundappeared to have caught her ear. She put her right hand behind herback; in it, the three assistants of death. Moving to a door which wason the opposite side of the room, turning the handle softly, shepassed half-way through it, then stood and listened.
'Quite still, yet. The noise did not come from there. There was anoise. Ah!'
The interjection was in response to a rat-tat-tat on the knocker. Theroom was illuminated by a dozen electric lights. Disconnecting oneafter the other, she allowed but a single one to remain alight.Comparatively, the apartment was in darkness.
'That's not Ellen's knock, nor Jane's; she is not already back again.Besides, she also does not knock like that. Who is it?'
The knocking came again--slightly, more insistently than before.
'If it is some bothering visitors, they will have a short answer, Ipromise them. When I do not open, why do they not take a hint and go?I am not to be disturbed when I am making my arrangements to remainundisturbed for ever.'
The knocking was repeated for a third time.
'So, they persist! Well, I will show them. They shall see.'
Cramming her trio of treasures into the pocket of her dress, where onewould have supposed them to be in uncomfortable, not to say dangerous,juxtaposition, she strode to the door, intent on scarifying thepresumptuous caller. When, however, she perceived who stood without,surprise for the moment made her irresolute.
The visitor was Mr Horace Burton, at whom Miss Casata stared, as if hewere the very last person she had expected to see--which, probably, asa matter of fact, he was. Mr Burton, on the other hand, bestowed onher his blandest smile. He sauntered past her as if he had not theslightest doubt in the world that he would be regarded as a welcomeguest.
'Hollo, Lou! come to pay you a visit.'
His tone was light and airy, in striking contrast to her demeanour,which was about as tragic as it could be.
'Go! Do you hear me, go, before you are sorry, and I am sorry, too!'
Her manner seemed to leave him quite unmoved.
'Now, my dear girl, don't look at me like that; it isn't nice of you.I'm here as a friend--a friend, you understand--and something morethan a friend.'
'You are no friend of mine; no, you never can be. I tell you again togo at once, or you will be sorry. I have warned you.'
'That's all right; you'll change your tone when you hear what I haveto say. I've come here to bring sunshine into your life, to ask foryour forgiveness, to undo the past. Be sensible; there's a good girl.'
'Sensible? Oh, yes, I will be sensible. There's someone else here.'
'Yes, that's Cox; he's a friend of mine. He's come here to seefair-play and witness my repentance. Come in, Cox.' Mr Thomas Coxentered, looking, if the thing were possible, less like a Thomas Coxthan ever. 'Cox, let me present you to Miss Casata, the only woman Iever loved. There have been times when I have been forced to dissemblemy love. Hang it, Cox! you know how I've been pressed. When a man's insuch a hole as I've been in, he crushes down the love which he feelsfor a woman; he has to, if there's any manhood in him. He doesn't wantto drag her down into the ditch in which he lies. But, Cox, you knowhow I have loved her all the time.'
Mr Burton turned away his head--whether to hide a tear or a smile wasuncertain. He spoke with a degree of volubility which, under thecircumstances, was remarkable. As Miss Casata appeared to think, hertone remained inflexible.
'There still is someone else.'
'Ah, that's the Flyman; he's nothing and nobody; he doesn't count. Lethim have a chair, and he can wait in the hall, Lou, till you and Icome to an understanding.'
Mr Burton's suggestion was carried out. A chair was taken into thelittle hall, on which the Flyman placed himself. How long he remainedon it, when their backs were turned, was another matter. The outerdoor was closed, as also, Miss Casata having entered, was the doorinto the drawing-room. But that was of no consequence; the Flyman'sears were keen.
There was a curious glitter in the lady's eyes when she confronted herquondam lover. Now and then she touched her lips with the tip of hertongue, as if they were dry. Her hands continually opened and shut,apparently of their own volition. Occasionally one of them found itsway into her pocket, feeling if her treasures still were there. Shespoke as if her throat were sore.
'Well, what is it that you want? what new lie have you to tell?'
'I want to marry you; and, Lou, that's no lie.'
She was silent. One could see her bosom moving up and down. Then,becoming conscious of the two men's scrutiny, she drew herself upstraighter, as if resolute to keep herself in hand.
'You insolent!'
'Insolent! Now, Lou, that's not nice of you. A man's not insolent whowants to marry the woman whom he loves, and who loves him.'
'I love you? I?' She tapped her chest with her forefinger. 'I love youso much that I would like to tear you to pieces! That is the sort oflove I have for you. You--thing!'
'Lou, you're letting your temper get the better of you. I know Itreated you badly.'
'Badly!'
She laughed--a mirthless little laugh.
'I know you've a right to feel annoyed with me--'
'Annoyed with you? Oh, no, not that!'
'But I was forced to do what I did; I couldn't help myself.'
'No doubt!'
'But now it's different altogether. I see things in a new light. Iknow what a mistake I've made. I've found out that I love you evenmore than I thought I did, and I've come to ask you to give me anotherchance--to forgive me. You're a woman, Lou, the best of women, andyou've a forgiving heart; I know you have. Let
me be your husband.I'll treat you better in the future; really, now!'
'What does all this mean?'
'It means what I say. Doesn't your own heart tell you so?'
'Oh, yes, it tells me. It tells me all sorts of things. It is a fooland a liar. It is of you I ask what does it all mean? It is you I wantto tell me. Never mind what my heart says; we will leave my heartalone. I think we'd better.'
'Well, look here, I'll be candid. You're clear-sighted, whatever elseyou are, and level-headed; a cleverer woman I never met. I've told youso scores of times. With a woman of your type, candour's the bestpolicy, as you say. So here's the matter in a nutshell. I'm in a hole;you're in a hole. You help me out of the hole I'm in; I'll help youout of the hole you're in. That's what I've come to say to youto-night. You appreciate frankness; there you have it.'
'What is the hole you are in?'
'My dear Lou, you know quite well. I've never kept it secret from you;I've always made you my confidant. What I want is my uncle's ruby. Youtell me where it is, and help me to lay my hand upon it, and I'llmarry you in the morning. And there's the proof that I mean what Isay.'
He handed her an official-looking document, which purported to be anannouncement of the fact that notice had been given to a certainregistrar requiring him to perform the ceremony of marriage, byspecial licence, between Horace Burton and Louise Casata. The lady,however, scarcely glanced at it. She kept her eyes fixed on thegentleman.
'Your uncle's ruby!'
'That's it. As you know, if I can get it in my possession, it meansfortune; if I can't, it may mean misfortune of a bad type. As I'm nottaking any chances, if you'll help me to lay my hand on it, I'll marryyou in the morning.'
'What a liar you are!'
'My dear Lou, all men are liars; somebody else said it before you. Butwhere's the lie in this particular case? You've the proof in your handthat I mean business. Cox shall come with us and see it done. Won'tyou, Cox?'
Mr Thomas Cox bowed.
'Pleased to do anything to oblige a lady.'
'There you are! If you like, you needn't lose sight of me until we'remarried.'
'You say you want your uncle's ruby?'
'Of course, you know I do.'
'I know that you have it already.'
'I wish I knew as much. If I had it, I shouldn't be here to-night.There's another piece of candour.'
'I saw him take it.'
'Him? Who?'
'The man outside whom you call the Flyman. I saw him from a windowtake it last night from Mr Holland.'
Mr Burton turned to Mr Cox.
'There you are! There's one witness. How many more might there havebeen? The Flyman's a fool to transact a delicate piece of business ofthat description in a public thoroughfare!' He returned to MissCasata. 'My dear Lou, you saw him try to take it, unfortunatelywithout success.'
'He took everything Mr Holland had.'
'You appear to be well-informed upon the subject, though I don't knowfrom what quarter your information comes. Still, what you say ispretty accurate. He did take all he could. He even took a ruby. Hereit is for you to look at. Unluckily, it's not my uncle's. Hence thesetears.'
He handed her the ruby signet ring which the Flyman, when he turned MrHolland face downwards on the pavement, found that gentleman had beenlying on.