Witness to the Deed Part 49

"There is a light in his room; he is at home."

There was not a soul visible as they crossed the little, silent, ill-paved courtyard, with its few flickering gas lamps and the buildings around standing up blank and bare, for the most part solitary and deserted looking, for hardly a blind showed a light behind.

Half-way along by the railings, beneath the great plane trees, a man was standing; and, as he took a step out into the light of the nearest lamp, Guest felt that Myra was ready to drop. But a whispered word or two roused her to make the last effort, and the next minute they were in the doorway; with the stone stairs looking dim and strange, visible where they stood, but gradually fading into the darkness above.

Guest stopped short in obedience to a pressure upon his arm, and Myra supported herself by grasping the great wooden bal.u.s.trade, while Edie uttered a sigh, and their escort began to feel some doubt as to the result of their mission, and wonder whether it was wise to have come, even going so far as to feel that he should not be sorry if his companions drew back.

Just then Edie whispered a few words to her cousin, who seemed to be spurred by them to fresh exertion, and, bearing hard upon Guest's arm once more, she ascended the silent staircase to the first floor, where Guest led them a little aside into Brettison's entry, while he went to reconnoitre.

All was dark, apparently, and he began to be in doubt as to whether Stratton really was there, when, to his great delight, he found that fate had favoured their visit, for the outer door was ajar, and, drawing it back, he stepped inside, to find the inner door only just thrust to, while, after opening it a little way, he could see Stratton seated at his writing table with his face resting upon his hands.

The lamp was before him, with the shade thrust on one side, so that the light was cast toward the window, and his face and hands were in darkness; and so motionless did he seem that Guest concluded that he must be asleep.

Guest gave a sharp look round, but the room was too dim for much to be seen. It did not, however, by that light appear to be neglected.

There was an angular look in Stratton's att.i.tude which startled Guest, and made him step forward with his heart beating heavily. The unfastened door was terribly suggestive of the entrance of a man who hardly knew what he was doing, and he now saw that a hat was lying on the floor as if it had fallen from the table. In an ordinary way such ideas would not have occurred to him, but he had twice over visited that room, and been startled by matters which had suggested Stratton's intention of doing away with his life.

All this made Guest walk quickly up behind his friend's chair, and his hand was raised to touch him, but he drew back, for a sigh, long-drawn and piteous, broke the silence of the dim room--such a sigh as escapes from a sleeping child lying exhausted after some pa.s.sionate burst of temper.

Guest, too, drew a long breath as he crept away softly, looking over his shoulder till he reached the doors, through which he pa.s.sed, and hurried over the few steps along the landing to where Myra and Edie stood shivering in the cold, dark entry leading to Brettison's chambers.

"Oh, how long you have been," whispered Edie, to whom Myra was clinging.

"Come, Mrs Barron," said Guest, without heeding the remark, as he took Myra's hand, which struck cold through her glove, and drew it through his arm.

"Wait there, Edie."

The girl uttered a faint e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, but said nothing, and Myra walked silently to Stratton's door, and as Guest raised his hand to draw it toward him she pressed it back.

"Wait," she said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "My brain seems to swim. Mr Guest, let me think for a moment of what I am going to do before it is too late."

Guest waited, half supporting her, for she hung heavily upon his arm, but she did not speak.

"I will tell you," he said gently; "you are going like some good angel to solace a man dying of misery and despair. I do not know the cause of all this, but I do know that Malcolm Stratton, who has always been as a brother to me, loves you with all his heart."

"Yes--yes," whispered Myra excitedly.

"And that some terrible event--some sudden blow, caused him to act as he did on his wedding morning. Myra Jerrold," he continued solemnly, "knowing Malcolm as I do, I feel that he must have held back for your sake, taking all the burden of his shame upon him so that you should not suffer."

"Yes," she said in her low, excited whisper; "that is what I have been feeling all these weary, weary days. It is that thought which has sustained me, and made me ready to sacrifice so much--pride, position, the opinion of my friends--in coming here like this."

"Your cousin is here," said Guest quickly. "We shall not leave."

"No, you will not leave me," she said, holding his arm with both her hands.

"Now, be firm," whispered Guest, "and think of why you have come."

"To forgive him," she said slowly.

"I believe there is nothing to forgive," said Guest warmly. "No: you come as his good angel to ask him by his love for you to be open and frank, and tell you why he has acted thus. He will not speak to me, his oldest friend: he cannot refuse you. But mind," he continued earnestly, "it must not be told you under the bond of secrecy; he must tell you truly, and leave it to us afterward to decide what is best to be done."

"Yes," she said, speaking more firmly now, "I understand. I have come to help the man who was to have been my husband, in his sore time of trial. The feeling of shame, degradation, and shrinking has pa.s.sed away. Percy Guest, I am strong now, and I know. It is no shameless stooping on my part: I ought to have come to him before."

"G.o.d bless you for that, Myra!" he whispered earnestly, and he bent down and kissed her hands. As he raised his head he found that Edie had crept forward, and was looking at him wildly from out of her little fur-edged hood.

For the moment Guest thought nothing of all this, but at a sign from Myra drew open the outer door, and she stood in the dimly lit entry as if framed; she let her hood fall back, and gazed straight before her into the quaintly furnished room as if wondering that she did not at once see the object of her thoughts.

Then they saw her take a couple steps forward, and, as if from habit, thrust to the inner door, shutting in the scene beyond, and leaving Guest and Edie in the gloom of the landing.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

FROM HOPE TO FEAR.

For a few moments nothing was said, and Guest paid no heed to his companion, but stood bent forward listening for some exclamation of surprise uttered by Stratton, or a word from Myra.

But all was silent as the grave, and, with his pulses increasing the rapidity of their beats, he gazed at the faint, narrow streak of light, almost within reach of his hand, where the edge of the inner door was within a quarter of an inch of the jamb.

"Ought I to have let her go in alone?" he asked himself. "Ought I not to have sent in Edie, too--is there any risk?"

Then, quick as lightning, followed thought after thought as to the peril to which, through his and Edie's scheming, Myra might be exposed; and he saw himself afterward face to face with father and aunt, bearing the brunt of their reproaches for what now began to seem a wild escapade.

He was brought back to himself in the midst of the semi-darkness by a low, catching sigh, and he turned sharply round to see behind him, as in another frame, the outlined figure of Edie. He took a step toward her quickly, but she drew back right to the great bal.u.s.trade of the landing, and supported herself against it.

"Edie," he whispered, trying to take her hand; but she repulsed him, and turned her back to look down the opening to the hall.

"Edie," he said again quickly; and this time he caught her hand.

"Don't touch me!" she said in a low, pa.s.sionate whisper.

"Nonsense, dear! There is no danger, I think. We must not stay here listening: it would be so unfair. Come and stand in Mr Brettison's pa.s.sage. You will be out of the draught and cold."

"Don't touch me, I say," she whispered angrily; and she drew her hand from his grasp with a sharp s.n.a.t.c.h.

"Don't be foolish," he said excitedly. "Come along here."

"No--no--no."

"But, Edie, dear!"

"How dare you!" she cried quite aloud.

"Edie! Can you not trust me?" he said reproachfully. "It was for your sake I spoke. People may be coming up or going down. Let's go back to Mr Brettison's door."

"No," she said hoa.r.s.ely; "I will stay here."

"But there is no need," he said gently. "I know what you feel in your anxiety about Myra; but really there is no need. Come."