Between the Dark and the Daylight Part 11

"Dr. Muir, I have come from Mr. Staunton. My name is Burgoyne. You are probably aware that I have married Mr. Staunton's daughter, Minnie. It is about my wife I wish to consult you." Dr. Muir simply nodded.

"During our honeymoon in Brittany she has stolen all these things."

Mr. Burgoyne opened the bag sufficiently to disclose its contents. Dr.

Muir scarcely glanced at them. He kept his eyes fixed on Mr. Burgoyne's face. There was a pause before he spoke.

"You were not informed of her--peculiarity?"

"I was not. I don't understand it now. It is because I wish to understand it that I have come to you."

"I don't understand it either."

"But I am told that you have always given the matter your attention."

"That is so, but I don't understand it any the more for that. I am not a specialist."

"Do you mean that she is mad?"

"I don't say that I mean anything at all; very shortly you will be quite as capable of judging of the case as I am. I've no doubt that if you wished to place her in an asylum, you would have no difficulty in doing so. So much I don't hesitate to say."

"Thank you. I have no intention of doing anything of the kind. Can you not suggest a cure?"

"I can suggest ten thousand, but they would all be experiments. In fact, I have tried several of them already, and the experiments have failed. For instance, I thought marriage might effect a cure. It is perhaps yet too early to judge, but it would appear that, so far, the thing has been a failure. Frankly, Mr. Burgoyne, I don't think you will find a man in Europe who, in this particular case, can give you help.

You must trust to time. I have always thought myself that a shock might do it, though what sort of shock it will have to be is more than I can tell you. I thought the marriage shock might serve. Possibly the birth shock might prove of some avail. But we cannot experiment in shocks, you know. You must trust to time."

On that basis--_trust in time_--Mr. Burgoyne arranged his household.

The bag with its contents was handed to his solicitor. The stolen property was restored to its several owners. It cost Mr. Burgoyne a pretty penny before the restoration was complete. A certain Mrs. Deal formed part of his establishment. She acted as companion and keeper to Mr. Burgoyne's wife. They never knew whether that lady realised what Mrs. Deal's presence really meant. And, in spite of their utmost vigilance, things were taken--from shops, from people's houses, from guests under her own roof. It was Mrs. Deal's business to discover where these things were, and to see that they were instantly restored.

Her life was spent in a continual game of hide and seek.

It was a strange life they lived in that Brompton house, and yet--odd though it may sound--it was a happy one. He loved her, she loved him--there is a good deal in just that simple fact. There was one good thing--and that in spite of Dr. Muir's suggestion that a birth shock might effect a cure--there were no children.

CHAPTER II

THE CURE

They had been married five years. There came an invitation from one Arthur Watson, a friend of Mr. Burgoyne's boyhood. After long separation they had encountered each other by accident, and Mr. Watson had insisted upon Mr. Burgoyne's bringing his wife to spend the "week-end" with him in that Mecca of a certain section of modern Londoners--up the river. So the married couple went to see the single man.

After dinner conversation rather languished. But their host stirred it up again.

"I have something here to show you." Producing a leather case from the inner pocket of his coat, he addressed a question to Mr. Burgoyne "Do much in mines?"

"How do you mean?"

"Because, if you do, here's a tip for you, and tips are things in which I don't deal as a rule--buy Mit.w.a.terstraand. There is a boom coming along, and the foreshadowings of the boom are in this case. Mrs.

Burgoyne, shut your eyes and you shall see."

Mrs. Burgoyne did not shut her eyes, but Mr. Watson opened the case, and she saw! More than a score of cut diamonds of the purest water, and of unusual size--lumps of light! With them, side by side, were about the same number of uncut stones, in curious contrast to their more radiant brethren.

"You see those?" He took out about a dozen of the cut stones, and held them loosely in his hand. "Are you a judge of diamonds? Well, I am. Hitherto there have been one or two defects about African diamonds--they cut badly, and the colour's wrong. But we have changed all that. I stake my reputation that you will find no finer diamonds than those in the world. Here is the stone in the rough. Here is exactly, the same thing after it has been cut; judge for yourself, my boy! And those come from the district of Mit.w.a.terstraand, Griqualand West. Take my tip, Burgoyne, and look out for Mit.w.a.terstraand."

Mr. Burgoyne did take his tip, and looked out for Mit.w.a.terstraand, though not in the sense he meant. He looked out for Mit.w.a.terstraand all night, lying in bed with his eyes wide open, his thoughts fixed on his wife. Suppose they were stolen, those shining bits of crystal?

In the morning he was up while she still slept. He dressed himself and went downstairs. He felt that he must have just one whiff of tobacco, and then return--to watch. A little doze in which he had caught himself had frightened him. Suppose he fell into slumber as profound as hers, what might not happen in his dreams?

Early as was the hour, he was not the first downstairs. As he entered the room in which the diamonds had been exhibited, he found Mr. Watson standing at the table.

"Hullo, Watson! At this hour of the morning who'd have thought of seeing you?"

"I--I've had a shock." There was a perceptible tremor in Mr. Watson's voice, as though even yet he had not recovered from the shock of which he spoke.

"A shock? What kind of a shock?"

"When I woke this morning I found that I had left the case with the diamonds in downstairs. I can't think how I came to do it."

"It was a careless thing." Mr. Burgoyne's tones were even stern. He shuddered as he thought of the risk which had been run.

"It was. When I found that it was missing, I was out of bed like a flash. I put my things on anyhow, and when I found it was all right"--he at that moment was holding the case in his hands--"I felt like singing a Te Deum." He did not look like singing a Te Deum, by any means. "Let's have a look at you, my beauties." He pressed a spring and the case flew open. "My G.o.d!"

"What's the matter?"

"They're gone!"

"Gone!"

They were, sure enough. The case was empty. The shock was too much for Mr. Burgoyne.

"She's taken them after all," he gasped.

"Who?"

"My wife!"

"Your wife!--Burgoyne!--What do you mean?"

"Watson, my wife has stolen them."

"Burgoyne!"

The empty case fell to the ground with a crash. It almost seemed as though Mr. Watson would have fallen after it. He seemed even more distressed than his friend. His face was clammy, his hands were trembling.

"Burgoyne, what--whatever do you mean?"

"My wife's a kleptomaniac, that's what I mean."

"A kleptomaniac! You--you don't mean that she has taken the stones?"

"I do. Sounds like a joke doesn't it?"