Poison Island Part 41

I observed that his voice shook a little, but this I set down to excitement.

"Did I? Yes, I remember."

Miss Plinlimmon's voice, too, was tremulous. She hesitated, and her eyes in the dim light seemed to seek mine.

I a.s.sured her that I was recovering fast, here in the fresh air, and that it would be a kindness, indeed, to leave me alone. She bent quickly and kissed me. I wondered why, as she stepped past the Captain and he followed her down the verandah steps.

I wished to be left alone. I was puzzled, and what puzzled me was that neither Miss Belcher nor Dr. Beauregard had left the dining-room. In fact, as I pa.s.sed out through the window, happening to turn my head, I had caught sight of his face, and it had signalled to her to stay. I knew not why he should intend harm to Miss Belcher rather than to any other of our party. But I distrusted the man; and Plinny had scarcely left me before, having made sure that Mr. Rogers and Mr. Goodfellow were within easy call, I rose up softly, crept to the dining-room window, and, dropping upon hands and knees close by the wall, peered into the room.

The Doctor and Miss Belcher had reseated themselves, He had poured himself out another gla.s.s of wine and was holding it up to the light with a steady hand, while she watched him, her elbows on the table and her firm jaw resting on her clasped fingers. Her face, though it showed no sign of fear, was pallid.

"Yes," he was saying slowly; "it is too late at this hour to be discussing what the priests would call the sin of it. You would never convince me; and if you convinced me, I am too old--and too weary--for what the priests call repentance. I am Martin--the same man that outwitted Melhuish and his crew--the same that played Harry with this Gla.s.s, and the man Coffin, and a drunken old ruffian they brought with them from Whydah! The fools! to think to frighten _me_, that had started by laying out a whole ship's crew! And now you come along; and I hold you all in the hollow of my palm. But I open my hand--so--and let you go."

"Why?"

"Why? I have told you. I am tired."

"That is not all the truth," answered Miss Belcher, eyeing him steadily.

"No; it is not all the truth. No one tells all the truth in this world. But I am glad you challenge me, for you shall have a little more of the truth. I let you go because you were simpletons, and I had not dealt with simpletons before."

"Is _that_ the truth?" she persisted.

He laughed and sipped his wine.

"No; I let you go because I saw in you--I who have killed many for wealth and more for the mere pleasure of power--something which told me that, after all, I had missed the secret. From an outcast child in Havana I had made myself the sole king of this treasure of Mortallone. I went back and made slaves of men and women who had tossed that child their coppers in contemptuous pity. I brought them here, to Mortallone, to play with them; and as soon as they tired me, they--went. It was power I wanted; power I achieved; and in power, as I thought, lay the secret. The tools in this world say that a poisoner is always a coward: it is one of the phrases with which fools cheat themselves. For long I was sure of myself; and then, when the thought began to haunt me that, after all, I had missed the secret, I sought out the man who, in Europe, had made himself more powerful than kings; and I found that _he_ had missed the secret too.

Then I guessed that the secret is beyond a man's power to achieve, unless it be innate in him; that the G.o.ds themselves cannot help a man born in b.a.s.t.a.r.dy, as I was, or born with a vulgar soul, as was Napoleon. One chance of redemption he has--to mate with a woman who has, and has known from birth, the secret which he has missed.

I guessed it--I that had wasted my days with singing-women, such as poor 'Metta! Then I met you, and I knew. Yes, madam, you--you, whose life to-night I had almost taken with a touch--taught me that I had left women out of account. Ah, madam, if the world were twenty years younger! . . . Will you do me the honour to touch gla.s.ses and drink with me?"

"Not on any account," said Miss Belcher, rising. "Not to put too fine a point upon it, you make me feel thoroughly sick; but"--she hesitated on the threshold of the window"--the worst of it is, I think I understand you a little."

I drew back into the shadow. Her stiff skirt almost struck me on the cheek as she pa.s.sed, and, crossing the verandah, leant with both hands on the rail, while her face went up to the sky and the newly risen moon.

A voice spoke to her from the moonlit terrace below.

"Hallo!" she answered. "Is that Captain Branscome?"

"It is, ma'am: _and_ Miss Plinlimmon--Amelia--as she allows me to call her."

Miss Belcher cut him short with a laugh. It rang out frank and free enough, and only I, crouching by the wall, understood the hysterical springs of it.

"You two geese!" she exclaimed, and ran down the steps to them.

"Was that Lydia?" demanded Mr. Rogers, a moment later, as he came along the verandah.

"It was," I answered.

"I don't understand these people," grumbled Mr. Rogers, pausing and scratching his head. "There was to have been a meeting outside here, directly after supper, to divide off Doctor Beauregard's share; but confound it if every one don't seem to be playing hide-and-seek!

Where's the Doctor?"

"In the dining-room," said I, nodding towards the window. . . .

He stepped towards it. At that moment I heard a dull thud within the room, and Mr. Rogers, his foot already on the threshold, drew back with a cry. I ran to his elbow.

On the floor, stretched at her master's feet, lay the negress Rosa.

Dr. Beauregard stood by the corner of the table, and poured himself a small gla.s.sful of curacoa. While we gazed at him he reached out a hand to the icebowl, selected a small piece, and dropped it delicately into the gla.s.s. I heard it tingle against the rim.

"Your good health, sirs!" said Dr. Beauregard.

He sat back rigid in his chair.

THE END.