She remembered how they had prayed for Lisa that Sunday night at the Shannons' and how she had let her mind picture what it would be if Lisa could be saved and change her way of living, could perhaps grow loving and motherlike. While they were praying it had all seemed too impossible ever to happen. But now the thought came to her with a great throb of regret. Oh, was it too late forever? Was Lisa dead?
Yet she did not seem dead. Her body was warm. Oh, was there nothing she could do to save her life, to have a chance perhaps even yet to tell her about Jesus who would save to the uttermost, who had saved even herself?
Then came Bella with the doctor. Coralie looked at her with a wan smile of gratitude. Good Bella.
The doctor knelt beside Lisa and examined her, and then looked up.
"No, she is not dead," he said in answer to the question in Coralie's frightened eyes. "Not yet."
He opened his case and put something in a teaspoon, administering it drop by drop, till Lisa drew a brief breath and moaned.
"We must get her to her bed," said the doctor quickly. "Where is that maid?"
Then to Bella: "Call my office and tell my nurse to come at once."
Coralie knelt beside Lisa and held her hand until the butler and the doctor lifted her and carried her to her room. Then she arose and looked wanly around her.
There lay Ivor, huddled in that ghastly heap on the rug only a few steps away! She gave him one frightened glance and hurried after Lisa, Lisa being carried so carefully, and lying limp and white with one beautiful arm falling down inertly at her side.
She was aware of men with measured tread coming after Ivor. She did not wait to look back. It was all a stark, awful happening, shooting in their apartment! Three involved in it. Or was it Lisa? Could it be that Dinsmore had truly cared for her, and to see her drinking intimately with Ivor had stirred his jealously to all lengths? Perhaps Ivor was the cause. Oh, it was a terrible mess, and her heart sickened at it all.
Then it came to her sharply that she might have been involved in it, too, as definitely as Lisa, if Dana had never come. If she had never gone to the meeting, and if she had not talked with Bruce and found another way of life! She might, she probably would have been a part of it all!
But--ah--these were not real thoughts she was thinking. It was as if her mind had strayed away and snatched up this thought and that and tossed them into the dreadful vacancy of the moment. Perhaps she was to blame, too. And Errol! What had become of him? Drunk, probably! Suppose she had been in that room drinking with the rest! Suppose she had been stupid with liquor!
She hurried to Lisa's room, but Lisa was lying there like a broken lily in her sheath of white satin, with the awful crimson streak down the side that was blood, and that strange blank look on her face.
Lisa, her mother, who had run away from her home and her motherhood and had made an imperious court for herself where she might have her own way! Now it had all ended by her lying broken and the room as still as death.
The nurse had come. She was going swiftly about making quiet preparations for the doctor, slitting down the costly dress that Lisa had been so pleased with when it came from the shop! Flinging the pieces in a heap on a paper on the floor, a discarded froth of white with that terrible crimson staining it!
Coralie stood at one side watching, shivering, in her little plain black satin dress, the tears running down unbeknownst to her, her hands gripping each other, her lips quivering.
Another nurse came in presently. The first nurse spoke to her in a low tone, and then she came over to Coralie.
"They think if you would go in the other room and lie down it would be better," she said gently.
"No," said Coralie. "I must stay with Lisa till I know. Is she--"
"Yes, she's living," said the nurse, and her voice was grave and dependable, "but--we can't tell the outcome yet until the doctor has made an examination. Can't I take you to your room?"
"No!" said Coralie. "No! I can't lie down! I must go and telephone someone. Then I will come back."
The nurse watched her go unsteadily out of the door. She turned and gave a sad little twisted smile toward the other nurse.
There were officers out in the hall, but Coralie did not notice them as she went by. They were alien, like the walls and furniture. They did not mean anything to her yet except as something that had to be endured with all the rest.
As she stood in the hall by the telephone booth, one of the officers walked behind her, hovered near her, but she was not noticing him. The door of the booth was propped open, but she did not trouble to release it. What difference did it make?
"Is that you, Dana? Oh, Dana! Something awful has just happened! Dinsmore Collette has shot Lisa! No, they say she isn't dead yet, but they don't know whether she will live or not. And there were two more. Dinsmore shot Ivor Kavanaugh, and Ivor shot Dinsmore. No, I don't know whether they were killed or not. They both fell down and lay very still. Yes, I saw it all! I had been asleep in my room when I heard Lisa scream, and I ran out and saw it all. . . . Oh, Dana! Can't you come? I'm so frightened. . . . What? . . . Yes, there are policemen here! . . . Yes, there is a doctor and two nurses. I don't know who sent for them, perhaps the butler, or the maid. . . . Yes, there were other people here, guests of Lisa's. They all seem to have gone."
She lifted tear-filled eyes and looked across the hall through the open doorway and noticed that Ivor was no longer lying on the floor. Where had they taken him?
The officer stepped closer as she hung up the receiver.
"You saw the shooting?" he asked severely.
"Yes," said Coralie.
"You knew the man? The men?"
"Yes, I knew who they were."
"Well, the chief will want to talk with you when he gets back."
She gave him a sad, helpless look and went back to Lisa's room, but she found that the doctor had given orders that nobody should come in until he gave permission. So she stood sorrowfully leaning against the wall outside the door until Bella, passing that way, brought her a chair and asked if there was anything she could do. Bella was frightened and tearful, and gave her a compassionate look.
"Tell me, Bella, when did Mr. Collette come in?" she asked in a low tone.
"I ain't just sure," said Bella. "I think he came up just a few minutes before the shooting. The butler would know. He saw him come in. Shall I ask him?"
"No," said Coralie with a weary sigh, leaning her head back against the wall and partly closing her eyes. Then suddenly she opened them again.
"Are the guests all gone, Bella?"
"Yes, every one," said the girl with satisfaction. "And high time it was, too. Some of 'em went so fast they didn't take their overnight bag nor their wraps."
"And--what of the two--who--were shot?"
Bella gave her a startled, hard look.
"Oh, them!" she said with a shrug. "They've took them away."
"Away?" said Coralie with a strange, puzzled look. "You mean--mean----?"
"They took that Mr. Kavanaugh to the morgue, but they took the other one to the hospital in the jail!" There was a kind of grim satisfaction in Bella's tone.
"Then--is--he still living?" There was shock in her voice.
"Oh, sure! He's a tough one, he is! Though they do say he won't likely last till morning. Still they weren't taking any chances!"
"But--how did they know--who did it?"
"Oh, the butler and we all told the chief, and anyway the officer that stood behind you when you telephoned heard what you said. Besides, those officers ain't so dumb. There was the guns and there was the bullets, and the fingerprints and all. It didn't take much brains to see what had happened, even if the butler hadn't told them about his hanging round the place these several days. There! There's the elevator. I gotta go."
"Listen, Bella, if Mr. Barron or Mr. Carbury come, bring them right here to me, please."
It seemed ages before Dana arrived, and Bruce with him, and got through the cordon of police who
seemed like a hedge about the apartment. As Dana put his arm comfortingly about her shoulder and gave her a tender, sympathetic look, Coralie suddenly felt that she could not keep the tears back any longer.
Then Bruce's warm handclasp and earnest solicitude nearly broke her down again.
"Oh, it's so good to have you both here!" she sobbed softly. "It's been so dreadful!"
"You poor little girl!" said Bruce warmly.
"Dear little sister!" murmured Dana gently. "It must have been awful. But--how is she? Is there any hope at all?"
"Oh, I don't know yet," she quivered. "The doctor won't let anyone in the room yet. He has two nurses with him."
"Oh! Then they'll be doing everything possible!" said Dana with relief. "We've been praying all the way down. And now, hadn't you better tell us in just a few words how it all happened? Because if we're to hang around here, we probably ought to understand. Will that be too hard for you?"
"Oh, no," said Coralie. "I'd rather tell you. It seems that the whole thing is locked up in my mind somewhere, and perhaps if I tell it I can get away from it a little. It seems as if my head is going to burst."
She pressed her hands frantically on her temples.
Dana drew her arm within his own, and Bruce walked on the other side, and together they went down the hall to the door where Coralie had first looked into the reception room.
The tears were coursing down her cheeks now and her face was very white, her eyes bright with excitement. She told the story vividly as they stood in the doorway, and she pointed out where Lisa had stood as she screamed, and where Dinsmore had stood with the pistol, and Ivor, unsteadily with his glass.
They sat down together on a handsome formal couch, Dana pushing aside a low table littered with half-filled glasses. The couch was large enough for them all. Coralie sat in the middle, and Dana and Bruce one on each side giving utmost attention, deep sympathy in their eyes. From time to time a policeman would stroll past the door, keeping careful watch without seeming to do so. The butler presently entered and began to gather up the clutter from the hasty exit of the frightened guests, taking away overturned tables and trays of glasses, and brushing up broken glass. But the three talked on in low, sad tones, waiting, as death hovered nearby.
Then all at once the nurse came quietly among them.
"It is over," she said quietly. "He has found the bullet. It was a very delicate operation. The shot had gone so near to the heart that it was a question if the bullet could be removed, but it is out at last, and she is resting. No, she has not regained consciousness, and of course it is a serious question whether she will be able to hold out. The next few days will decide that. It is a miracle that she was not killed instantly. And now the doctor says there is no reason why you should not go to bed and get a good sleep," she said turning to Coralie. "You look as if you needed it. Would you like me to go and help you get into your bed?"
"Oh, no, thank you," said Coralie. "I don't think I could sleep now."
"You'll have to," said the nurse calmly. "You'll need your strength later, and you must be ready. And there is no reason whatever why you should sit up now. You know there is no immediate danger, since she seems to have come through the operation well. Her pulse is all that could be desired, and we will, of course, watch her every minute, so you need not worry. I will have you called at once should there be the slightest change."
She looked with an appealing glance at the two young men for a seconding, and Dana spoke up at once.
"Of course you will go and rest, at least, Coralie, even if you cannot get to sleep," he said earnestly. "And we'll stay here tonight, anyway."
"Of course," said Bruce. "Something might be needed."
"I don't think that will be in the least necessary," said the nurse rather stiffly, eyeing the two severely. "The servants are here, you know."
Dana smiled sadly.
"I should say that the servants had had rather a strenuous night of it," he said, "and besides," he gave another wan little smile, "the woman who was hurt is my mother!" He looked the nurse in the eyes steadily.
"Oh!" she said, changing her severity into graciousness. "That makes it quite different, of course."
"Yes," said Dana. "Now, Coralie, go and rest at once. I'll have you called if there is the slightest necessity. I'll stay till I have to go to the office in the morning, and even then, if there is any reason why I am needed here I'll arrange to stay of course."
"Yes," said Bruce quietly, "and any time when he can't come, I'll arrange to be here, so there will always be someone for you to call on if there is need."
"Oh!" said Coralie, her lip trembling into a ghost of a smile. "That will be wonderful of you both! I won't feel so lost if one of you is here."
So Coralie went back to her room, and the nurse to the sickroom. The doctor presently left, and Bruce and Dana settled down in the great room, each finding a comfortable couch and turning the lights out till the room was lighted only by a distant hall lamp.
Perhaps neither of the two young men slept at all the rest of the night, and Dana at least lay thinking of his beautiful mother. Would she live? And would God somehow speak to her heart?
Coralie lay in her bed staring at the night and thinking what a change had come in the little time since she had lain there before. She did not dare to sleep. She was fearful of the morning and what might come then, even though Dinsmore Collette was lodged in a prison hospital and Ivor Kavanaugh, the other man of whom she had been so afraid, was lying dead. She shivered as she remembered him huddled on the floor, a broken wineglass by his side! How unready he had been to go from this world! How unready all of them were, for the matter of that!
If Dinsmore lived, there would likely be a trial, and they would all have to testify. Perhaps there would be anyway. She knew so little about the law! How frightful it all was! Why did Dinsmore want to shoot Lisa? Did he really care enough about her to be jealous of Ivor drinking there beside her? Surely not that. Perhaps this was the revenge he had threatened if she did not send him the money! Oh, should she have sent it? Was all this awful happening her fault? And if Lisa died would she have killed her?
Then she remembered what Bruce had whispered to her as she left them for the night. Dana had been asking the nurse a few questions about Lisa's condition, and Bruce had taken her hand in a brief clasp and whispered:
"Remember the Lord knows all about it and is caring for you every minute. Remember He is close beside you through it all!"
Well, since that was so, she would just trust God for all the days that were to follow and rest back on that! Whatever was coming tomorrow could only come through His permission. Bruce had told her that the other day, and it came to her now with startling comfort, as if she heard his voice again speaking the words. How good it was to have a friend like Bruce Carbury who seemed to know just what was troubling her and just what would comfort! How good it was to have a brother like Dana! And what would it have been to have had a father such as her own must have been?
Suddenly a new thought came. How good it was to have a God like their God, like her God, who loved her no matter what she had been!
The thought enfolded her like loving arms that held her close, and thus she drifted into sleep.
Chapter 19
The two young men were gone in the morning when Coralie woke up. They had talked with the nurse and found that Lisa was at least holding her own. They had left their telephone numbers so that they might be called at their offices, if needed, and had promised to return, one of them at least, as soon as they could arrange matters.
Coralie was wan and white when she came on the scene. It had been hard for her to believe when she awoke that the happenings of the night before had been real, but when she met the nurse and heard the report about Lisa everything stood out vividly in her mind again, and she was suddenly sure of details she had not noticed last night. She could visualize where each person had sat as she had entered the room the night before, and now she went and
looked in the door again. Then she turned away with a shudder as she remembered Ivor so utterly unalive as he lay on the floor, as if life must have been extinguished in him the instant that bullet touched him. How terrible! Murder right before her eyes. She had been afraid of him, she had dreaded him, but she had never wanted such an awful fate of him! Oh, he wasn't fit to die!
And then she thought of Dinsmore and wondered how it was with him this morning. Would he live? And would there have to be a lot of publicity and a murder trial? Oh how fearful to think about. Poor Dana! And his friend Bruce. They had been so kind. And now if she got them into a thing like this! Oh, why had she called them while the police were here? She ought to have thought of them, to have protected them. Of course, Dana's name wouldn't be known in New York, and most people knew her as Corinne Collette. They wouldn't connect her with the name of Barron, not unless some reporter got hold of it. Even then the few friends Dana had here in New York would understand. But Dana was so fine and sensitive he couldn't help but hate all that publicity, if the matter went to trial.
She was standing there sadly looking over that big empty tragic room when a hand was laid on her shoulder, and there stood Bruce beside her!
"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously, and suddenly her heart thrilled with his gentleness, his care for her.
She turned eagerly.
"Oh, yes, I'm all right," she answered with a catch in her voice. "I'm only thinking what a fool I was to get you and Dana into this terrible thing. I should have had my head about me."
"You did perfectly right," said Bruce warmly. "We wouldn't have wanted to remain out of it for anything. We would have chosen to be called at once, and to be here for at least a show of being your natural protectors."
"How sweet of you!" said Coralie, trying to stop the trembling of her lips. "But--I shouldn't have done it. And you mustn't feel that you must stay here all the time. It wouldn't be right at all. The nurse has been telling me that Lisa may be a long time hovering in this state, even if she rallies. She says her pulse is still very good, but there are so many complications that may follow a wound like this, and it depends so much on her own physical state, that it may be even weeks before we know whether she will live or die. Oh! Poor Lisa! How she would have hated all this. She never liked to be dependent. She wanted her own proud way. She liked to dominate every situation. But I hope you and Dana won't feel tied down to dance attendance on me till this is over. I couldn't bear to feel I was hampering you."