The Great Secret Part 26

A cloud of anxiety seemed to have rolled away from his small brain. Adele pointed to him significantly.

"You see," she said, "his instinct is right. There are evil things between you and me. If I speak, there is no hope for you, and if I keep silent, there is danger for me, and I am a woman forsworn. If only I had never gone to Lord's and seen you play cricket!"

"Would that have helped us?" I asked.

"Of course! I should never have counted upon you as a possible tool! I saw you strain every nerve in your body to catch a ball, and I judged you by your pursuits, and--all this has come of it. Nagaski was right. We go ill together, you and I, and one of us must suffer."

"I can only pray then," I answered, as I handed her into the carriage, "that it may be I."

Nagaski sprang upon his mistress' lap, and his was the only farewell I received as the carriage drove away. His upper lip was drawn back over his red gums; there was something fiendish and uncanny in his snarl, and the hatred which shone from his tiny black eyes. I watched the carriage until it disappeared. He had not moved. He was still looking back at me.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE DEATH CHAMBER

I sat up suddenly in bed and turned on the light. It was barely two o'clock by my watch, but I felt sure that I had not been mistaken. Some one had knocked at my door.

In the act of springing out of bed the sound was repeated. This time there was certainly no mistake about it, and I heard my name called--

"Mr. Courage! Mr. Courage!"

I opened the door. The landing was dimly lit, and I could see little else except the figure of the woman who stood there. With one hand she was leaning against the wall, her face was as white as a sheet; she wore a hastily thrown on dressing-gown of dingy red. Her whole appearance was that of a person convulsed with fright.

"Who are you?" I asked. "What do you want?"

Her lips parted. She seemed to have the intention of speaking, but no words came. Her teeth began to chatter.

"Come," I said brusquely, "you must--why you are the nurse whom Dr. Rust sent, aren't you?" I asked, suddenly recognizing her. "What is the matter with you? Are you ill?"

All the time, although she was silent, her eyes, distended and terror-stricken, were fixed upon me. She nodded feebly.

"Something--is wrong!" she faltered at last. "Come!"

She turned away, still with one hand holding on to the wall. She evidently wished me to follow her.

"One moment," I said. "Wait while I put something on."

I turned back into my room and wrapped my dressing-gown around me. Then I followed her along the corridor. She led the way to the room which had been occupied by Leslie Guest. Outside the door she hesitated. She turned and faced me abruptly. She was white to the lips. Her appearance was horrible.

"I dare not go in!" she moaned. "I have been a nurse for fifteen years, and I have never known anything like this!"

"Like what?" I asked, bewildered. "What is it that has happened?"

She shivered, but she did not answer me. I was beginning to feel impatient.

"Are you hysterical?" I asked. "I wish you would try and tell me what is the matter."

"Go in," she answered; "go in, and see--if you can see anything."

I opened the door and entered. The room was dimly lit by a lamp, placed on the table near the window. Upon the bed, covered by a sheet, his waxen-like face alone visible, was the body of the man who had been my guest. Beyond, with the connecting door wide open, was the anteroom where the nurse had been sleeping. Except for the ticking of a clock, there was no sound to be heard; there was no sign anywhere of any disturbance or disorder. I looked back at the nurse for an explanation.

"What is it that has upset you so?" I asked. "I can see nothing wrong."

She pointed to the bed.

"His eyes!" she murmured. "Go and look!"

I walked over to the bedside, and leaned reverently over the still figure. Suddenly I felt as though I were turned to stone. The blood in my veins ran cold, I staggered back. My gaze had been met with an upturned gla.s.sy stare from a pair of wide-opened, deep-set eyes!

"Good G.o.d!" I cried, "his eyes are open!"

The nurse, who had gained a little courage, came to my side.

"I closed them myself," she whispered. "I closed them carefully. I thought that I heard a noise and I came in. I lit a lamp and I saw--what you can see! Fifteen years I have been a nurse, and I have watched by the dead more times than I can count. But I have never known that happen!"

Once more I approached the bedside. One arm was drawn up a little from under the clothes. I noticed its somewhat unnatural position and pointed it out to the nurse.

"Did you leave it like that?" I asked.

Her teeth chattered.

"No!" she answered, "The arms were quite straight. Some one has been in the room--or--"

"Or what?" Tasked.

"He must have moved," she whispered in an unnatural tone.

Once more I bent over the still form. The pupils of the wide-open eyes were slightly dilated; they seemed to meet mine with a horrible, unseeing directness. There was no sign about his waxen face or still, cold mouth that life had lingered for a moment beyond the stated period. And yet something of the nurse's terror was slowly becoming communicated to me. I felt that I was in close company with mysterious things.

I turned towards the nurse.

"Go to your room," I said, "and shut yourself in there. I am going to send for Dr. Rust. Understand it is you that are ill. I do not want a word of this to be spoken of amongst the servants."

She pa.s.sed into her room and closed the door without a word. I had a telephone from my room to the stables, and in a few moments I had succeeded in awakening one of the grooms.

"The nurse is ill," I told him. "Take a dog-cart and go down and fetch Dr. Rust. Ask him to come back with you at once."

I heard his answer, and a few minutes later the sound of wheels in the avenue. Then I put on my clothes, and going downstairs, fetched some brandy and took it up to the nurse. She, too, was dressed; and, although she was still pale, she had recovered her self-possession.

"I am very sorry to have been so foolish, sir," she said, declining the brandy. "I have never had an experience like this before, and it rather upset me."

"You think," I asked, "that he has lived, since--"

"I am sure of it," she answered. "His was a very peculiar illness, and I know that it puzzled the doctor very much. It was just the sort of illness to have led to a case of suspended animation."