Counsel for the Defense Part 54

Katherine moved slowly to the foot of the bed and gazed down. For a s.p.a.ce, one cause of her suspense was swept out of her being, and all her concern was for the flickering life before her. Elsie lay with eyes closed, and breathing so faintly that she seemed scarcely to breathe at all. So pale, so wasted, so almost wraithlike was she as to suggest that when her spirit fled, if flee it must, nothing could be left remaining between the sheets.

As she gazed down upon her friend, hovering uncertainly upon life's threshold, a tingling chill pervaded Katherine's body. Since her mother's loss in unremembering childhood, Death had been kind to her; no one so dear had been thus carried up to the very brink of the grave. All that had been sweet and strong in her friendship with Elsie now flooded in upon her in a mighty wave of undefined emotion. She was immediately conscious only of the wasted figure before her, and its peril, but back of consciousness were unformed memories of their girlhood together, of the inseparable intimacy of their young womanhood, and of that shy and tender time when she had been the confidante of Elsie's courtship.

There was a choking at her throat, tears slipped down her cheeks, and there surged up a wild, wild wish, a rebellious demand, that Elsie might come safely through her danger.

But, presently, her mind reverted to the special purpose that had brought her hither. She studied the face of Miss Sherman, seeking confirmation of the conjecture that had so aroused her--studying also for some method of approaching Miss Sherman, of breaking down her guard, and gaining the information she desired. But she learned nothing from the expression of those spare, self-contained features; and she realized that the lips of the Sphinx would be easier to unlock than those of this loyal sister of a fugitive brother.

That her conjecture was correct, she became every instant more convinced. She sensed it in the stilled atmosphere of the house; she sensed it in the glances of cold and watchful hostility Miss Sherman now and then stole at her. She was wondering what should be her next step, when Doctor West, who had felt Elsie's pulse and examined the temperature chart, drew Miss Sherman back to near where Katherine stood.

"Still nothing from Doctor Sherman?" he whispered in grave anxiety.

"Nothing," said Miss Sherman, looking straight into her questioner's eyes.

"Too bad, too bad!" sighed Doctor West. "He ought to be home!"

Miss Sherman let the first trace of feeling escape from her compressed being.

"But still there is a chance?" she asked quickly.

"A fighting chance. I think we shall know which it's to be within an hour."

At these words Katherine heard from behind her ever so faint a sound, a sound that sent a thrill through all her nerves. A sound like a stifled groan. For a minute or more she did not move. But when Doctor West and Miss Sherman had gone back to their places and Doctor West had begun the final fight for Elsie's life, she slowly turned about.

Before her was a door. Her heart gave a leap. When she had entered she had searched the room with a quick glance, and that door had then been closed. It now stood slightly ajar.

Some one within must have noiselessly opened it to hear Doctor West's decree upon the patient.

Swiftly and silently Katherine slipped through the door and locked it behind her. For a moment she stood in the darkness, striving to master her throbbing excitement.

At length she spoke.

"Will you please turn on the light, Doctor Sherman," she said.

There was no answer; only a black and breathless silence.

"Please turn on the light, Doctor Sherman," Katherine repeated. "I cannot, for I do not know where the electric b.u.t.ton is."

Again there was silence. Then Katherine heard something like a gasp.

There was a click, and then the room, Doctor Sherman's study, burst suddenly into light.

Behind the desk, one hand still upon the electric key, stood Doctor Sherman. He was very thin and very white, and was worn, wild-eyed and dishevelled. He was breathing heavily and he stared at Katherine with the defiance of a desperate creature brought at last to bay.

"What do you want?" he demanded huskily.

"A little talk with you," replied Katherine, trying to speak calmly.

"You must excuse me. With Elsie so sick, I cannot talk."

She stood very straight before him. Her eyes never left his face.

"We must talk just the same," she returned. "When did you come home?"

"Last night."

"Why did you not let your friends know of your return? All day, in fact for several days, they have been sending telegrams to every place where they could conceive your being."

He did not answer.

"It looks very much as if you were trying to hide."

Again he did not reply.

"It looks very much," she steadily pursued, "as if your sister discharged the nurse and the servant in order that you might hide here in your own home without risk of discovery."

Still he did not answer.

"You need not reply to that question, for the reply is obvious. I guessed the meaning of the nurse's discharge as soon as I heard of it.

I guessed that you were secretly hovering over Elsie, while all Westville thought you were hundreds of miles away. But tell me, how did you learn that Elsie was sick?"

He hesitated, then swallowed.

"I saw a notice of it in a little country paper."

"Ah, I thought so."

She moved forward and leaned across the desk. Their eyes were no more than a yard apart.

"Tell me," she said quietly, "why did you slip into town by night? Why are you hiding in your own home?"

A tremor ran through his slender frame. With an effort he tried to take the upperhand.

"You must excuse me," he said, with an attempt at sharp dignity. "I refuse to be cross-examined."

"Then I will answer for you. The reason, Doctor Sherman, is that you have a guilty conscience."

"That is not----"

"Do not lie," she interrupted quickly. "You realize what you have done, you are afraid it may become public, you are afraid of the consequences to yourself--and that is why you slipped back in the dead of night and lie hidden like a fugitive in your own house."

A spasm of agony crossed his face.

"For G.o.d's sake, tell me what you want and leave me!"

"I want you to clear my father."

"Clear your father?" he cried. "And how, if you please?"

"By confessing that he is innocent."