the first I had ever heard from Lillian toward me. But I mentally
acknowledged their justice and braced myself to be more sensible, as
she guided me to her room, and helped me into bed.
I found her sitting by my bedside when I opened my eyes. Through the
lowered curtains I caught a ray of sunlight, and knew that it was
broad day.
"Dicky?" I asked wildly, staring up from my pillows.
Lillian put me back again with a firm hand.
"Lie still," she said gently. "Dicky is fine, and when you have eaten
the breakfast Betty has prepared and which Katie is bringing you, you
may go upstairs and take care of him all day."
"But it is daylight," I protested. "I must have slept all night. And
you? Have you slept at all?"
"Don't bother about me," she returned lightly. "I shall have a good
long nap as soon as you are ready to take care of Dicky."
"But I meant to sleep only two or three hours. I don't see how I ever
could have slept straight through the night."
I really felt near to tears with chagrin that I should have left Dicky
to the care of any one else while I soundly slept the night through.
Lillian looked at me keenly, then smiled.
"Can't you guess?" she asked significantly.
"You mean you put something in the mulled wine to make me sleep?"
"Of course. You have been through enough for any one woman. Dicky was
in no danger, and I had no desire to have you ill on my hands."
I flushed a bit resentfully. I was not quite sure that I liked her
high-handed way of disposing of me as if I were a child. Then as I
felt her keen eyes upon me I knew that she was reading my thoughts,
and I felt mightily ashamed of my childish petulance.
"You must forgive my arbitrary way of doing things," she resumed, a
bit formally.
I put out my hand pleadingly. "Don't, Lillian," I said earnestly.
"I'll be good, and I do thank you. You know that, don't you?"
Her face cleared. "Of course, goosie," she answered. "But I must help
you dress. Your breakfast will be here in a moment."
I sprang out of bed before she could prevent me, and gave her a
regular "bear hug."
"Help me dress!" I exclaimed indignantly. "Indeed, you will do no
such thing. I feel as strong as ever, and I am going to put you to bed
before I go to Dicky. But tell me, how is--"
She spared me from speaking the name I so dreaded.
"Miss Draper is no worse. Indeed, Dr. Pettit thinks she has rallied
slightly this morning. She is resting easily now, has been since about
3 o'clock, when Dr. Pettit went home."
I was hurrying into my clothes as she talked. "Have you found out yet
how it happened?" I asked.
"I know what Harry does," she answered. "He says that yesterday the
girl appeared as calm, even cheerful, as ever, went with him to the
manager's office, performed her dancing stunt as cleverly as she did
the other night, and in response to the very good offer the manager
made her, asked for a day to consider it. As she was leaving the
office, she asked Harry if Dicky were in his studio, saying she had
left there something she prized highly and would like to get it.
Something in the way she said it made Harry suspicious. Of course,
I had told him confidentially of her attempt to drown you, so he
remarked nonchalantly that he was also going to the studio. He said
she seemed nonplussed for a moment, then coolly accepted his escort.
"They went to the studio, and Harry stuck close to Dicky, never
permitting the Draper girl to be alone with him for a minute. After a
few moments she bade them a commonplace goodby and left, but she must
have stayed near by and cleverly shadowed them when they left.
"At any rate, she appeared at the door of our house shortly after
Harry and Dicky had entered--Harry wanted to get some things
before coming out to Marvin again--and asked Betty to see Dicky.
Unfortunately, Harry was in his rooms and did not hear the request,
so that Dicky went into the little sitting room off the hall with her,
and Betty says the girl herself closed the door. What was said no one
knows but Dicky and the girl.
"Harry heard a shot, rushed downstairs, and found Dicky, with the
blood flowing from his arm, struggling with the girl in an attempt
to keep her from firing another shot. Harry took the revolver away,
unloaded and pocketed it, and could have prevented any further tragedy
only for Dicky's growing faint from loss of blood.
"Harry turned his attention to Dicky, and the girl picked up a
stiletto, which Harry uses for a paper cutter--you know he has the
house filled with all sorts of curios from all over the world--and
drove it into her left breast. She aimed for her heart, of course, and
she almost turned the trick. I imagine she has a pretty good chance of
pulling through if infection doesn't develop. The stiletto hadn't been
used for some time, and there were several small rust spots on it. But
here comes your breakfast."
Her voice had been absolutely emotionless as she told me the story. As
she busied herself with setting out attractively on a small table the
delicious breakfast Katie had brought, I had a queer idea that if it
were not for the publicity that would inevitably follow, Lillian would
not very much regret the ultimate success of Grace Draper's attempt at
self-destruction.
XXIX
"BUT YOU WILL NEVER KNOW--"
I do not believe that ever in my life can I again have an experience
so horrible as that which followed the development of infection in the
dagger wound which Grace Draper had inflicted upon herself after her
unsuccessful attempt to shoot Dicky.
Against the combined protest of Dicky and Lillian, I shared the care
of the girl with the trained nurse whom Lillian's forethought had
provided and Dicky's money had paid for.
The reason for my presence at her bedside was a curious one.
At the close of the third day following the girl's attempt at murder
and self-destruction, Lillian came to the door of the room where I was
reading to Dicky, who was now almost recovered, and called me out into
the hall.
"Madge," she said abruptly, "that poor girl in there has been calling
for you for an hour. We tried every way we could think of to quiet
her, but nothing else would do. She must see you. I imagine she has
made up her mind she's going to die and wants to ask your forgiveness
or something of that sort."
"I will go to her at once," I said quietly. As I moved toward the door
my knees trembled so I could hardly walk.
Lillian came up to me quickly and put her strong arm around me.
We went down the hall to a wonderful room of ivory and gold, which I
knew must be Lillian's guest room. In a big ivory-tinted bed the girl
lay, a pitiful wreck of the dashing, insolent figure she had been.
Her face was as white as the pillows upon which she lay, while her
hands looked utterly bloodless as they rested listlessly upon the
coverlet. Only her eyes held anything of her old spirit. They looked
unusually brilliant. I wondered uneasily if their appearance was the
result of their contrast to her deathly white face or whether the
fever which the doctor dreaded had set in.
She looked at me steadily for a long minute, then spoke huskily--I was
surprised at the strength of her voice.
"Of course I have no right to ask anything of you, Mrs. Graham," she
said, "but death, you know, always has privileges, and I am going to
die."
I saw the nurse glance swiftly, sharply, at her, and then go quietly
out of the room.
"She's hurrying to get the doctor," the girl said, with the uncanny
intuition of the very sick, "but he can't do me any good. I'm going to
die and I know it. And I want you to promise to stay with me until the
end comes. I shall probably be unconscious, and not know whether you
are here or not, but I know you. You're the kind that if you give a
promise you won't break it, and I have a sort of feeling that I'd like
to go out holding your hand. Will you promise me that?"
Her eyes looked fiercely, compelling, into mine. I stepped forward and
laid my hand on hers, lying so weak on the bed.
"Of course I promise," I said pitifully.
There was a quick, savage gleam in her eyes which I could not fathom,
a gleam that vanished as quickly as it came. I told myself that the
look I had surprised in her eyes was one of ferocious triumph, and
that as my hand touched hers she had instinctively started to draw her
hand away from mine, and then yielded it to my grasp.
"All right," she said indifferently, closing her eyes. "Remember now,
don't go away."
"Dicky! Dicky! what have I done that you are so changed? How can
you be so cold to me when you remember all that we have been to each
other? Don't be so cruel to me. Kiss me just once, just once, as you
used to do."
Over and over again the plaintive words pierced the air of the room
where Grace Draper lay, while Dr. Pettit and the nurse battled for her
life.
The theme of all her delirious cries and mutterings was Dicky. She
lived over again all the homely little humorous incidents of their
long studio association. She went with him upon the little outings
which they had taken together, and of which I learned for the first
time from her fever-crazed lips.
"Isn't this delicious salad, Dicky?" she would cry. "What a
magnificent view of the ocean you can get from here? Wouldn't Belasco
envy that moonlight effect?"
Then more tender memories would obsess her. To me, crouching in my
corner, bound by my promise to stay in the room, it seemed a most
cruel irony of fate that I should be compelled to listen to this
unfolding of my husband's faithlessness to me within so short a time
of our tender reconciliation.
I do not think Dr. Pettit knew I was in the room when he first entered
it, anxious because of his imperative summons by the nurse. Lillian's
guest room had the alcove characteristic of the old-fashioned New York
houses, and she and I were seated in that.
The physician bent over the bed, carefully studying the patient.
Through his professional mask I thought I saw a touch of bewilderment.
He studied the girl's pulse and temperature, listened to her
breathing, then turned to the nurse sharply.
"How long has she been delirious?"
"Since just after I called you," the girl replied.
"Did you notice anything unusual about her before that? You said
something over the telephone about her talking queerly."
The nurse looked quickly over to the alcove where Lillian and I
sat. Dr. Pettit's eyes followed her glance. With a quick muttered
exclamation he strode swiftly to where we sat and towered angrily
above us.
"What does this mean?" he asked imperatively. "Why are you here
listening to this stuff? It is abominable."
"I agree with you, Dr. Pettit. It is abominable, but she made
Madge promise to stay," Lillian said quietly. She made an almost
imperceptible gesture of her head toward the bed, and her voice was
full of meaning. He started, looked her steadily in the eyes, then
nodded slightly as if asserting some unspoken thought of hers.
"Dicky darling," the voice from the bed rose pleadingly, "don't you
remember how you promised me to take me away from all this, how we
planned to go far, far away, where no one would ever find us again?"
Dr. Pettit turned almost savagely on me.
"Promise or no promise," he said, "I will not allow this any longer.
You must go out of this room and stay out."
I stood up and faced him unflinchingly.
"I cannot, Dr. Pettit," I answered firmly. "I must keep my promise."
"Then I will get your release from that promise at once," he said and
strode toward the bed.
I watched him with terrified fascination. Had he gone suddenly mad?
What did he mean to do?
As Dr. Pettit turned from Lillian and me, and strode toward the bed
where the sick girl lay, apparently raving in delirium, I called out
to him in horror.
"Oh, don't disturb that delirious, dying girl!"
I made an impetuous step forward to try to stop him when Lillian
caught my arm and whirled me into a recess of the alcove.
"You unsuspecting little idiot," she said, giving me a tender little
shake that robbed the words of their harshness, "can't you see that
that girl is shamming?"
For a moment I could not comprehend what she meant; then the full
truth burst upon me. If what Lillian said were true, if the girl was
pretending delirium that she might utter words concerning Dicky's
infatuation for her which would torture me, then it was more than
probable, almost certain, in fact, that there was no word of truth in
her pretended delirious mutterings.
Dicky was not faithless to me, as I had feared during the tortured
moments in which I had listened to, the girl's ravings.
The joy of the sudden revelation almost unnerved me. I believe I would
have swooned and fallen had not Lillian caught me.
"Listen," she said in my ear, pinching my arm almost cruelly to arouse
me, "listen to what Dr. Pettit is saying, and you'll see that I am
right."
My eyes followed hers to the bed where Dr. Pettit stood gazing
down upon the seemingly unconscious girl and speaking in measured,
merciless fashion.
"This won't do, my girl," he was saying, and his tone and manner
of address seemed in some subtle fashion to strip all semblance of
dignity from the girl and leave her simply a "case" of the doctor's,
of a type only too familiar to him.
"It _won't_ do," he repeated. "You are simply shamming this delirium,
and you are lessening your chances for life every minute you persist
in it. I'm sorry to be hard on you, but I'm going to give you an
ultimatum right now. Either you will release Mrs. Graham from her
promise at once and quit this nonsense, or I shall call an officer,
report the truth of this occurrence, and you will be arrested not only
upon a charge of attempted suicide, but of attempted murder.
"Of course, you will then be removed to the jail hospital, where I am
afraid you may not enjoy the skilful care you are getting now. And,
if you live, the after effects of these charges will be exceedingly
unpleasant for you."
My heart almost stopped beating as I listened to the physician's
relentless words.
Suppose Dr. Pettit was mistaken and the girl should be really
delirious, after all. But just as I had reached the point of torturing
doubt hardly to be borne, the girl stopped her delirious muttering,
opened her eyes and looted steadily up at the physician.
"You devil," she said, at last, with quiet malignity. "You've called
the turn. I throw up my hands."
"I thought so." This was the physician's only response. He stood
quietly waiting while the girl gazed steadily, unwinkingly at him.
"Tell me," she said at last, coolly, "am I going to die?"
"I do not know," the physician returned, as coolly. "You have a slight
temperature, and I am afraid infection has developed. But I can tell
you that your performance of the last hour or two has not helped your
chances any. You must be perfectly quiet and obedient, conserve every
bit of strength if you wish to live."
"How about that very chivalric threat you made just now," the girl
retorted, sneeringly. "If I live, are you going to have me arrested
for this thing?"
"Not if you behave yourself and promise to make no more trouble," the
physician replied gravely.
There was another long silence. The girl lay with eyes closed. The
physician stood watching her keenly. Presently she opened her eyes
again.
"Call Mrs. Graham over here," she said peremptorily.
"What are you going to say to her?" the physician shot back.
"That's my business and hers," Miss Draper returned, with a flash of
her old spirit. "If you want a release from that promise you'd better
let her come over here, otherwise I'll hold her to it."
Disregarding Lillian's clutch upon my arm I moved swiftly to the side
of the bed and looked down into the sick girl's eyes, brilliant with
fever.
"Did you wish to speak to me?" I asked gently.
"Yes," she said abruptly, "I release you from your promise, and you
are free to believe or not what I have said during my--delirium."
She emphasized the last word with a little mocking smile. The same
smile was on her lips as she added, slowly, sneeringly:
"But you will never know, will you, Madgie dear, just how much of what
I said was false and how much true?"
Her eyes held mine a moment longer, and the malignance in their
feverish brightness frightened me. Then she closed them wearily.
As I turned away from her bedside I realized that she had prophesied
only too truthfully. There would be times in my life when I would
believe Dicky only. But I was also afraid there would be others when
her words would come back to me with intensified power to sear and
scar.
XXX
THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED
Grace Draper did not die. Thanks to the assiduous care of Dr. Pettit
and the two trained nurses Dicky had provided she gradually struggled
up from the "valley of the shadow of death" in which she had lain to
convalescence.
As soon as she was able to travel she went to the home of the relative
in the country whom she had visited in the summer. One of the nurses
went with her to see that she was settled comfortably, and upon
returning reported that she was getting strong fast, and in a month or
two more would be her usual self again.
Neither Dicky nor I had seen her before she left. Indeed, Dicky
appeared to have taken an uncontrollable aversion to the girl since
her attempt to kill him and herself and disliked hearing even her name
mentioned. As for me, I had a positive dread of ever looking into the
girl's beautiful false face again.
It was Lillian who made all the necessary arrangements both for the
girl's stay in her own home and her transfer to the country.
But between the time of my mother-in-law's arrival at our house in
Marvin and the departure of Grace Draper from Lillian's home lay an
interval of a fortnight in which what we all considered the miraculous
happened. My mother-in-law grew to like Lillian Underwood.
For the first three or four days after the ultimatum which I had given
her that she should respect our guests if she stayed in our house she
was like a sulky child. She kept to her room, affecting fatigue, and
demanding her meals be carried up to her by Katie.
Of course Lillian and Harry wanted to go away at once, but Dicky and
I overruled them. I was resolved to see the thing through. I felt
that if my mother-in-law did not yield her prejudices at this time she
never would, and that I would simply have to go through the same thing
again later.
Lillian saw the force of my reasoning and agreed to stay, although
I knew that the sensitive delicacy of feeling which she concealed
beneath her rough and ready mask made her uncomfortable in a house
which held such a disapproving element as my mother-in-law.
Then, one day the little god of chance took a hand. Harry and Dicky
had gone to the city. It was Katie's afternoon off, and she and Jim,
who had become a regular caller at our kitchen door, had gone away
together.
Mother Graham was still sulking in her room, and Lillian was busy in
Dicky's improvised studio with some drawings and jingles which were a
rush order.
The day was a wonderful autumn one, and I felt the need of a walk.
"I think I will run down to the village," I said to Lillian. "This is
the day the candy kitchen makes up the fresh toasted marshmallows. I
think we could use some, don't you?"
"Lovely," agreed Lillian enthusiastically.
"I don't think Mother Graham will come out of her room while I'm
gone," I went on. "Just keep an eye out for her if she should need
you."
"She'd probably bite me if I offered her any assistance," returned
Lillian, laughing, "but I'll look out for her."
But when I came back with the marshmallows, after a longer walk than
I had intended, I found Lillian sitting by my mother-in-law's bedside,
watching her as she slept. When she saw me she put her finger to her
lips and stole softly out into the hall.
"She had a slight heart attack while you were gone, and I was
fortunate enough to know just what to do for her. It was not serious
at all. She is perfectly all right now and"--she hesitated and smiled
a bit--"I do not think she dislikes me any more."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" I exclaimed, ecstatically hugging her. "Everything
will come out all right now."
During the rest of the Underwoods' stay it seemed as if my words
had come true. The ice once broken, my mother-in-law's heart thawed
perceptibly toward Lillian.
By the time the day came when Harry and Lillian left us to go back
to their apartment the elder Mrs. Graham had so far gotten over
her prejudices as to bid Lillian a reluctant farewell and express a
sincere wish that she might soon see her again.
Toward Harry Underwood my mother-in-law's demeanor remained rigid.
She treated him with formal, icy politeness which irritated Dicky, but
appeared greatly to amuse Mr. Underwood. He took delight in paying her
the most elaborate attentions, laying fresh nosegays of flowers at
her plate at each meal. If he had been a lover besieging a beautiful
girl's heart he could not have been more attentive, while he was
absolutely impervious to all the chilling rebuffs she gave him.
I think that the touch of malice which is always a part of this man's
humor was gratified by the frigid annoyance which the elder Mrs.
Graham exhibited toward his attentions. At any rate, he kept them up
until the very hour of his departure.
It was when he happened to be alone with me on the veranda a few
moments before the coming of the taxi which was to bear them to their
homeward train that he gave me the real explanation of his conduct.
"Tell me, loveliest lady," he said, with the touch of exaggeration
which his manner always holds toward me, "tell me, haven't I squared
up part of your account with the old girl this last week?"
"Why, what do you mean?" I stammered.
"Don't pretend such innocence," he retorted. "If you want me to tell
you in so many words, I beg leave to inform you that I've been doing
my little best to annoy your august mother-in-law to pay her off for
her general cussedness toward you, and, incidentally, me."
"But she hasn't been cross to me," I protested.
"Not the last three or four days perhaps, but I'll bet you've had
quite a dose since she came to live at your house, and you'll have
another if she ever finds out my wicked designs upon you." He smiled
mockingly and took a step nearer to me. "Don't forget you owe me a
kiss," he said, with teasing maliciousness, referring to the time when
he had threatened to "kiss me under water." "Don't you think you had
better give in to me now?"
Dicky's step in the hall prevented my rebuking him as I wished. I
told myself that, of course, his persistent reference to that kiss was
simply one of mockery and I also admitted to myself that as much as I
loved Lillian I was glad that her husband was to be no longer a guest
in our house.
XXXI
A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER
"Well, my dear, what are you mooning over that you didn't see me come
in? I beg your pardon, Madge, what is the matter? Tell me."
Lillian Underwood stood before me a week after her visit to us.
Lillian, whose entrance into the small reception room of the Sydenham,
at which we had an appointment, I had not even seen. She stood looking
down at me with an anxious, alarmed expression in her eyes.
"There is nothing the matter," I returned, evasively.
"Don't tell me a tarradiddle, my dear," Lillian countered smoothly.
"You're as white as a sheet, and I can see your hands trembling this
minute. Something has happened to upset you. But, of course, if you'd
rather not tell me--"
There was a subtle hint of withdrawal in her tone. I was afraid that I
had offended her. After all, why not tell her of the stranger who had
so startled me?
"Look over by the door, Lillian," I said, in a low voice, "not
suddenly as if I had just spoken to you about it, but carelessly. Tell
me if there is a man still standing there staring at us."
Lillian whistled softly beneath her breath, a little trick she has
when surprised.
"Oh-h-h!" she breathed, and turning, she looked swiftly at the place I
had indicated.
"I see a disappearing back which looks as though it might belong to
a 'masher.' I just caught sight of him as he turned--well set-up man
about middle age, hair sprinkled with gray, rather stunning looking."
"Yes, that is the man," I returned, faintly, "but, Lillian, I'm sure
he isn't an ordinary 'masher.' He had the strangest, saddest, most
mysterious look in his eyes. It was almost as if he knew me or thought
he did, and I have the most uncanny feeling about him, as if he were
some one I had known long ago. I can't describe to you the effect he
had upon me."