For the moment I had forgotten. "But what on earth are you going to do
with all that ready cash?"
"Carry out a brilliant idea. I conceived it after you had handed down
your verdict. Went around to the bank and quietly drew out the lot. I've
planned a wild and original orgy. A riot of dissipation in giving. Think
of the fun one can have with that much tangible money. Already to-day
I've struck one man dumb and reduced another to mental decay, by the
simple medium of a thousand-dollar bill. Miracles! Declare a vacation,
Chris, and come with me on my secret and jubilant bat, and we'll
work wonders."
"And after?" I asked.
"Oh, after! Well, there'll be no further reason for the 'permanent
possibility of sensation' on my part. That's your precious science's
best definition of life, I believe. It doesn't appeal to one as alluring
when the sensation promises to become--well, increasingly unpleasant."
There was no mistaking his meaning. "I can't have that, my son," I
protested.
"No? That's a purely professional prejudice of yours. Look at it from my
point of view. Am I to wait to be strangled by invisible hands, rather
than make an easy and graceful exit? Suicide! The word has no meaning
for a man in my condition. If you'll tell me there's a chance, one mere,
remote human chance--" He paused, turning to me with what was almost
appeal in his glance. How I longed to lie to him! But Ned Worth was the
kind that you can't lie to. I looked at him standing there so strong and
fine, with all the mirthful zest of living in his veins, sentenced
beyond hope, and I thought of those terrible lines of another man
under doom:
"I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day."
We medical men learn to throw a protective film over our feelings, like
the veil over the eagle's eye. We have to. But I give you my word, I
could not trust my voice to answer him.
"You see," he said; "you can't." His hand fell on my arm. "I'm sorry,
Chris," he said in that winning voice of his; "I shouldn't plague you
for something that you can't give me."
"I can tell you this, anyway," said I: "that it's something less than
courage to give up until the time comes. You didn't give your life. You
haven't the right to take it; anyway, not until its last usefulness
is over."
He made a movement of impatience.
"Oh, I'm not asking you to endure torture. I'd release you myself from
that, if it comes to it, in spite of man-made laws. But how can you tell
that being alive instead of dead next week or next month may not make an
eternal difference to some other life? Your part isn't played out yet.
Who are you to say how much good you may yet do before the curtain is
rung down?"
"Or how much evil! Well, as a suitable finish, suppose I go down into
that garden and kill Ely Crouch," he suggested, smiling. "That would be
a beneficial enough act to entitle me to a prompt and peaceful death,
wouldn't it?"
"Theoretically sound, but unfortunately impracticable," I answered,
relieved at his change of tone.
"I suppose it is." He looked at me, still smiling, but intent. "Chris,
what do you believe comes after?"
"Justice."
"A hard word for cowards. What do I believe, I wonder? At any rate, in
being sport enough to play the game through. You're right, old
hard-shell. I'll stick it out. It will only mean spending _this_"--he
swept the money back into its repository--"a little more slowly."
"I was sure I could count on you," I said. "Now I can give you the
talisman." I set on the desk before him a small pasteboard box. "Pay
strict attention. You see that label? That's to remind you. One tablet
if you can't sleep."
"I couldn't last night."
"Two if the pain becomes more than you can stand."
He nodded.
"But three at one time and you'll sleep so sound that nothing will ever
awaken you."
"Good old Chris!" Opening the box, he fingered the pellets curiously. "A
blessed thing, your science! Three and the sure sleep."
"On trust, Ned."
"On honor," he agreed. "Then I mustn't expunge old Crouch? It's a
disappointment," he added gayly.
He pushed the box away from him and crossed over to the upper window.
His voice came to me from behind the enshrouding curtains.
"Our friend has finished his promenade. The air is the sweeter for it.
I'll stay here and breathe it."
"Good!" said I. "I've five minutes of telephoning to do. Then I'll be
back."
Nobody can ever tell me again that there's an instinct which feels the
presence of persons unseen. On my way to the door I passed within
arm's-length of a creature tense and pulsating with the most desperate
emotions. I could have stretched out a hand and touched her as she
crouched, hidden in the embrasure of the lower window. It would seem as
if the whole atmosphere of the room must have been surcharged with the
terrific passion of her newborn and dreadful hopes. And I felt--nothing.
No sense, as I brushed by, of the tragic and concentrated force of will
which nerved and restrained her. I went on, and out unconscious.
Afterward she was unable to tell me how long she had been there. It must
have been for some minutes, for what roused her from her stupor of
terror was the word "Suicide." It was like an echo, a mockery to her, at
first; and then, as she listened with passionate attention to what
followed, my instructions about the poison took on the voice of a
ministering providence. The draperies had shut off the view of Ned, nor
had she recognized his voice, already altered by the encroachments of
the disease. But she heard him walk to the upper window, and saw me pass
on my way to the telephone, and knew that the moment had come. From what
she told me later, and from that to which I was a mazed witness on my
return, I piece together the events which so swiftly followed.
A wind had risen outside or Ned might have heard the footsteps sooner.
As it was, when he stepped out from behind the draperies of the upper
window those of the lower window were still waving, but the swift figure
had almost reached the desk. The face was turned from him. Even in that
moment of astonishment he noticed that she carried her left arm close to
her body, with a curious awkwardness.
"Hello!" he challenged.
She cried out sharply, and covered the remaining distance with a rush.
Her hand fell upon the box of pellets. She turned, clutching that little
box of desperate hopes to her bosom.
"Good God! Virginia!" he exclaimed. "Miss Kingsley!"
"Mr. Worth! Was it you I heard? Why--how are you here?"
"This is my house."
"I didn't know." Keeping her eyes fixed upon him like a watchful animal,
she slowly backed to interpose the table between herself and a possible
interference. Her arm, still stiffly pressed to her side, impeded her
fumbling efforts to open the box. Presently, however, the cover yielded.
He measured the chances of intervention, and abandoned the hope. His
brain hummed with a thousand conjectures, a thousand questions centering
upon her obvious and preposterous purpose. Suddenly, as her fingers
trembled among the tablets, his thoughts steadied and his stratagem
was formed.
"What do you want with my tonic?" he asked coolly.
"Tonic? I--I thought--"
"You thought it was the poison. Well, you've got the wrong box. The
poison box is in the drawer."
"In the drawer," she repeated. She spoke in the mechanical voice of one
desperately intent upon holding the mind to some vital project. Her
nerveless hands fumbled at the side of the desk.
He crossed quickly, caught up the box which she had just relinquished,
and dropped it into his pocket.
"Oh!" she moaned, and stared at him with stricken and accusing eyes.
"Then it _was_ the poison!"
"Yes."
"Give it back to me!" she implored, like a bereft child. "Oh, give it to
me!"
"Why do you want to kill yourself?"
She looked at him in dumb despair.
"How did you get here?" he demanded.
"Your fire escape."
"And to that from the garden wall, I suppose? So _you_ were Ely Crouch's
companion," he cried with a changed voice.
"Don't," she shuddered, throwing her right arm over her face.
"I beg your pardon," he said gently. "Take a swallow of this water.
What's the matter with your arm? Are you hurt?"
"No." Her eyes would not meet his. They were fixed obstinately upon the
pocket into which he had dropped the poison.
"It's incredible!" he burst out. "You with your youth and loveliness!
With everything that makes life sweet for yourself and others. What
madness--" He broke off and his voice softened into persuasion. "We were
almost friends, once. Can't I--won't you let me help? Don't you think
you can trust me?"
She raised her eyes to his, and he read in them hopeless terror. "Yes, I
could trust you. But there is only one help for me now. And you've taken
it from me."
"Who can tell? You've been badly frightened," he said in as soothing a
tone as he could command. "Try to believe that no harm can come to you
here, and that I--I would give the blood of my heart to save you from
harm or danger. You said you could trust me. What was your errand with
Ely Crouch?"
"Money."
"Money!" he repeated, drawing back.
"It was our own; my sister's and mine. Mr. Crouch had it. He had managed
our affairs since my father's death. I could never get an accounting
from him. To-day the doctor told me that Alice must go away at once for
an operation. And to-day Mr. Crouch made this appointment for to-night."
"Didn't you know his reputation? Weren't you afraid?"
"I didn't think of fear. When I told him how matters stood, he offered
me money, but--but--Oh, I can't tell you!"
"No need," he said quickly. "I know what he is. I was joking when I
spoke of killing him, a little while ago. By God, I wish I had killed
him! It isn't too late now."
"It _is_ too late."
Her eyes, dilated, were fixed upon his.
"Why? How--too late?" he stammered.
"I killed him."
"_You_! You--killed--Ely--Crouch?"
"He had a cane," she said, in a hurried, flat, half-whisper. "When he
caught at me, I tried to get it to defend myself. The handle pulled out.
There was a dagger on it. He came at me again. I didn't realize what I
was doing. All I could see was that hateful face drawing nearer. Then it
changed and he seemed to dissolve into a hideous heap. I didn't mean to
kill him." Her voice rose in the struggle against hysteria. "God knows,
I didn't mean to kill him."
"Hush!"
His hands fell on her shoulders and held her against the onset. Energy
and resolution quickened in his eyes. "Who knows of your being in
the garden?"
"No one."
"Any one see you climb the wall and come here?"
"No."
"Or know that you had an appointment with him?"
"No."
"Will you do exactly as I tell you?"
"What is the use?" she said dully.
"I'm going to get you out of here."
"I should have to face it later. I couldn't face it--the horror and
shame of it. I'd rather die a thousand times." She lifted her arms, the
coat opened, and the cane-handled blade dropped to the floor, and
rolled. She shuddered away from it. "I kept that for myself, but I
couldn't do it. It's got his blood on it. When I heard the doctor speak
of the poison, it seemed like a miracle of Providence sent to guide me.
Oh, give it to me! Is it"--she faltered--"is it quick?"
"Steady!" Stooping he picked up the weapon. "It needn't come to that, if
you can play your part. Have you got the courage to walk out of this
house and go home to safety? Absolute safety!"