CHAPTER XVII
THE FIGURES ON THE BED
'At anyrate,' remarked Miss Bewicke, as, turning the key in the lock,she shut herself and Miss Broad inside the dining-room, 'you can't getat us for a time.'
The two girls stood and listened. They heard the handle tried; therapping at the panel.
'You may knock, and knock, but it won't be opened. He's gone. That wasHorace, dear. How beautifully you knocked him down!'
'What does he want?'
'It's pretty plain. Uncle George's ruby has the attractiveness of theHoly Grail. This is another quest for it.'
'But they'll find it if we stop here.'
'And if we don't stop here, what do you propose to do? Fight them tothe death? Nothing else will be efficacious. They're not the persons,and they're not in the mood, to stick at trifles.'
'What a wretch he is! I've heard Guy speak of him, but I'd no idea hewas as bad as this.'
'My dear Letty, when a bad man is in a bad hole, you've no notion howbad that man can be. The question now is, Can we get out through thekitchen door, or can they get through the kitchen door to us?'
'Where does that door lead to?'
'Into Louise Casata's bedroom. The beauty of the average flat is thatyou can always pass from any one room into any other, which,sometimes, is convenient and sometimes isn't. I'm wondering whetherLouise is responsible for Horace Burton's presence here, and alsowhere she is. I've reasons for believing that it was not her intentionto go out to-night.'
'I shouldn't keep such a woman about my place, if I were you.'
'I don't intend to any longer. All the same, you've no idea how usefulshe has been. There have been times when I don't know what I shouldhave done without her. Still, I fancy that henceforth she and I partcompany.' She opened the door which led into Miss Casata's room, thengave utterance to a startled exclamation. 'Why! what is the matter?Letty, keep back!'
Returning to the dining-room, she leaned against the door, which shehad pulled to after her, as if she needed its support. For one whowas, as a rule, so completely mistress of herself, she showed strangeemotion. Miss Broad stared at her askance.
'What has happened now? What's in there?'
'I don't know. Don't ask me. Let me get my breath and think, and I'lltell you all about it.'
She pressed her hand against her side, as if to still the beating ofher heart. She seemed unhinged, thrown, in a second, completely offher balance. Her agitation was infectious. Probably, without herknowing it, Miss Broad's voice trembled and sank.
'Tell me--what it is.'
'Wait a minute, and I'll tell you--all.'
She made an evident effort to get the better of her infirmity. Bracingherself up against the door, the little woman looked Miss Broadstraight in the face.
'Letty, something horrible has happened.'
'What is it?'
'I don't quite know myself; I didn't stop to look.'
'Let me go and see.'
'It's Miss Casata and--a man.'
'A man? What man?'
'I can't say; I only saw it was a man. They're lying on the bed--sostill. Oh, Letty!'
'May!'
Miss Broad was probably wholly unaware that she had called hercompanion by her Christian name. The unknown horror in the other roomhad laid its grip on her. She was overcome by frightful imaginings,not knowing why. She gasped out an unfinished question.
'You don't mean--'
'I don't know what I mean. I only know that there's something there.'
The two girls had been speaking in whispers, as if they stood in apresence which compelled hushed voices. Now, suddenly, Miss Bewickeraised her tones, extending her small palm towards the door throughwhich they had entered.
'Oh! you wretches! wretches!'
She broke into a passion of tears.
'May, for goodness' sake, don't cry!'
'I'm not going to. I don't know why I am so silly, but, for themoment, I couldn't help it.' Her sobs ceased almost as rapidly as theycame. She dried her eyes. 'Letty, let's go and see what's happened.I'm afraid Miss Casata's--dead.'
'Dead?'
'Yes; and--the man.'
'The man?'
'They're so still. Let's go and see. Give me your hand.'
Miss Broad yielded her hand. Miss Bewicke opened the door. The twopeeped through.
The room was not a large one. On one side was an ordinary Frenchbedstead. A brass railing was on the head and foot. On this railingwere hung feminine odds and ends. These made it difficult for anyonestanding at the door to see clearly what was on the bed. Miss Broadperceived that on the outer edge there lay a woman.
'Who's that?'
'That's Louise Casata.'
'Perhaps she's sleeping.'
'She wouldn't sleep through all the noise.'
'She may be ill; I'll go and look at her.'
'Don't you see--that there's a man?'
Miss Broad moved further into the room. She saw what the other alludedto. As she did so, she gave utterance to that cry which Mr HoraceBurton heard, listening in the servants' room beyond--the cry in whichthere was such a mingling of emotions as they welled up to the lipsfrom the woman's heart.
Miss Casata lay almost on the extreme edge of the bed fully clothed.She was on her back. One arm dangled over the side; her head was alittle aslant upon the pillow, so that from a little distance itlooked as if her neck was broken. The whole pose was almost asuncomfortable a one as a human being could choose; indeed, theconviction was irresistibly borne in on the beholders that it was notself-chosen, unless she had sunk on to the bed in a drunken stupor;but Miss Bewicke knew that she was no drinker.
However, it was not Miss Casata's plight which had drawn from MissBroad that involuntary cry. Beside her, outlined beneath thebedclothes, was a figure, stiff and rigid. With the exception of oneplace, it was completely covered. Some one, curious, perhaps, to learnwhat the thing might mean, had drawn aside sufficient of thebedclothes to disclose a portion of the head and face. As a matter offact, the curious person was Mr Horace Burton. When relieving himselfof the burden of the lady who was once the object of his heart'saffection, he had been struck by the outlined form which lay socuriously still, and had wondered what it was, and had seen; andbecause of what he had seen, had gone back to his companions with thefashion of his countenance so changed.
Now Miss Broad saw. The man beside Miss Casata on the bed was MrHolland--Guy Holland--her Guy. It was when she perceived that it washe that her heart cried out. Miss Bewicke, who had only realised thatit was a man, without recognising what man it was, came to her sidetrembling, wondering. When she also knew, she also cried aloud; butthere was a material difference between the quality of her exclamationand Miss Broad's. Hers signified horror and amazement--perhapssomething of concern; Miss Broad's betokened so many other thingsbesides.
The two women went running to the bed; but when Miss Broad showed aninclination to lean over and to touch the silent man, the other, as iffearful of what actual contact might involve, caught her by the dress.
'No, no; take care!'
Even Miss Broad shrank a little back; for Miss Casata lay between.
'Move the bed!'
The suggestion was Miss Bewicke's. In a moment it had been put intoforce. The bed was wheeled more into the centre of the room, so as topermit of passage between it and the wall, and presently the girl wasat her lover's side. She knelt and looked, but still she did not touchhim. No tears were in her eyes; she seemed very calm; but her face waswhite, and she was speechless. On her face there was a look which waspast wonder, past pain, past fear, as if she did not understand whatit was which was in front of her. Miss Bewicke stood at her side, alsolooking; her dominant expression seemed sheer bewilderment.
He also lay on his back. The bedclothes were withdrawn, so that hisface was seen down to the chin. No marks of violence were visible. Hisexpression was one of complete quiescence. His eyes were closed, as if
he slept; but if he did, it was very soundly, for there was nothing toshow that he breathed.
Suddenly Miss Broad found her voice, or the ghost of it. Her lips didnot move, and the words came thinly from her throat.
'Is he dead?'
The other did not answer; but, leaning over, she drew the bedclothesmore from off him, and she whispered,--
'Guy!' They waited, but he did not answer. She called again, 'Guy!'
Yet no response. In that land of sleep in which he was, it was plainthat he heard no voices.
The further withdrawal of the bedclothes had revealed the fact that hewas fully dressed for dinner, as he was when Miss Bewicke had seen himlast, the night before. His black bow had come untied; the endsstrayed over his shirtfront, which was soiled and crumpled. His wholeattire was in disarray. There were stains of dirt upon his coat. Nowthat they were so close, they perceived that traces of dry mud were onhis face, as if it had been in close contact with the ground. Abouthis whole appearance there was much which was ominous.
The fact that this was so seemed to make a fresh appeal to MissBroad's understanding; probably to something else in her as well.
'Guy!' she cried.
Her tone was penetrating, poignant. If it did not reach theconsciousness of him to whom she called, in another direction it had acurious and unlooked-for effect. As if in response to an appeal whichhad been made directly to herself, Miss Casata, on the opposite sideof the bed, sat up. The girls clung to each other in startled terror.To them, for the moment, it was as if she had risen from the dead.
Although she had sat up, Miss Casata herself did not seem to knowexactly why. She seemed not only stupid, but a little stupefied, andgasped for breath, her respirations resembling convulsions as shestruggled with the after-effects of the narcotic. The two girlsobserved her with amazement, she, on her part, evidently not realisingtheir presence in the least.
It was Miss Bewicke who first attained to some dim comprehension ofthe meaning of the lady's antics.
'She's been drugged; that's what it is. Louise!'
Miss Casata heard, although she did not turn her head, but continuedto open and shut her mouth in very ugly fashion as she fought forbreath.
'Yes; I'm coming. Who's calling?'
'I! Look at me! Do you hear? Louise!'
This time, if she heard, Miss Casata gave no sign, but, sinking backon the bed, clutched at the counterpane, making a noise, as she gaspedfor breath, as if the walls of her chest would burst.
'Letty, let me go! I must do something. She'll relapse, or worse, ifwe don't take care.'
Miss Bewicke hastened to the wash-handstand. Emptying a jug of waterinto a basin, she took the basin in her hands and dashed the contents,with what force she could, into the lady's face.
The salutation was effectual. Miss Casata floundered, spluttering, onto the floor, more like herself.
Miss Bewicke confronted her, the basin still in her hands.
'Who did that?'
'I did. Louise, wake up!'
Miss Casata seemed to be endeavouring her utmost to obey the other'scommand.
'What's the matter?'
'That's what I want to know. In particular, I want to know what is themeaning of Mr Guy Holland's presence in your room?'
'Holland?' She put her hand up to her head in an effort to collect herthoughts. She spoke as if with an imperfect apprehension of what itwas she was saying. 'He was in the street--lying--on his face--so Ibrought him here--before the policeman came.'
'Before the policeman came? What do you mean? How did you know that hewas lying in the street?'
'I saw--the Flyman--from the window--knock him down--he took theruby.'
'The Flyman? Who is he?'
'A man--Horace knows--I knew--Horace had set him on. I didn't want himto get into trouble, so I brought him here. It was all I could do tocarry him up the stairs--he was so heavy.'
'And do you mean to say you've had Mr Holland hidden in your room allday and night?'
'All day--and night. He's dead. The Flyman killed him. Horace will getinto trouble--when it's known.'
Miss Casata, in her condition of semi-consciousness, said more thanshe had warrant for. Mr Holland was not dead. Even as she assertedthat he was, he showed that her assertion was an error. While thestill partly-stupefied woman struggled to get out of the darkness intothe light, there came a cry from the white-faced girl on the otherside of the bed.
'May, he moves!'
Startled into forgetfulness of what it was she held, Miss Bewickedropped the slippery basin from her hands. It broke into fragmentswith a clatter. The noise of the shattered ware seemed actually topenetrate to Mr Holland's consciousness. Miss Bewicke would alwayshave it that it was her breaking the basin which really brought himback to life. In an instant Miss Broad was half beside herself in afrenzy of excitement.
'May! May! he lives! Guy! Guy!'
Miss Bewicke, turning, saw that he was alive, but that, apparently,when that was said, one had said all.