AS General and Mrs. Abercrombie reached the vestibule, and the door
shut behind them, the latter, seeing, that her husband was going out
into the storm, which was now at its height, drew back, asking at
the same time if their carriage had been called.
The only answer made by General Abercrombie was a fiercely-uttered
imprecation. Seizing at the same time the arm she had dropped from
his, he drew her out of the vestibule and down the snow-covered step
with a sudden violence that threw her to the ground. As he dragged
her up he cursed her again in a cruel undertone, and then, grasping
her arm, moved off in the very teeth of the blinding tempest, going
so swiftly that she could not keep pace with him. Before they had
gone a dozen steps she fell again.
Struggling to her feet, helped up by the strong grasp of the madman
whose hand was upon her arm, Mrs. Abercrombie tried to rally her
bewildered thoughts. She knew that her life was in danger, but she
knew also that much, if not everything, depended on her own conduct.
The very extremity of her peril calmed her thoughts and gave them
clearness and decision. Plunging forward as soon as his wife could
recover herself again, General Abercrombie strode away with a speed
that made it almost impossible for her to move on without falling,
especially as the snow was lying deep and unbroken on the pavement,
and her long dress, which she had not taken time to loop up before
starting, dragged about her feet and impeded her steps. They had not
gone half a block before she fell again. A wild beast could hardly
have growled more savagely than did this insane man as he caught her
up from the bed of snow into which she had fallen and shook her with
fierce passion. A large, strong man, with an influx of demoniac,
strength in every muscle, his wife was little more than a child in
his hands. He could have crushed the life out of her at a single
grip.
Not a word or sound came from Mrs. Abercrombie. The snow that
covered the earth was scarcely whiter than her rigid face. Her eyes,
as the light of a flickering gas-lamp shone into them, hardly
reflected back its gleam, so leaden was their despair.
He shook her fiercely, the tightening grasp on her arms bruising the
tender flesh, cursed her, and then, in a blind fury, cast her from
him almost into the middle of the street, where she lay motionless,
half buried in the snow. For some moments he stood looking at the
prostrate form of his wife, on which the snow sifted rapidly down,
making the dark garments white in so short a space of time that she
seemed to fade from his view. It was this, perhaps, that wrought a
sudden change in his feelings, for he sprang toward her, and taking
her up in his arms, called her name anxiously. She did not reply by
word or sign, He carried her back to the pavement and turned her
face to the lamp; it was white and still, the eyes closed, the mouth
shut rigidly.
But Mrs. Abercrombie was not unconscious. Every sense was awake.
"Edith! Edith!" her husband cried. His tones, anxious at first, now
betrayed alarm. A carriage went by at the moment. He called to the
driver, but was unheard or unheeded. Up and down the street, the air
of which was so filled with snow that he could see only a short
distance, he looked in vain for the form of a policeman or citizen.
He was alone in the street at midnight, blocks away from his
residence, a fierce storm raging in the air, the cold intense, and
his wife apparently insensible in his arms. If anything could free
his brain from its illusions, cause enough was here. He shouted
aloud for help, but there came no answer on the wild careering
winds. Another carriage went by, moving in ghostly silence, but his
call to the driver was unheeded, as before.
Feeling the chill of the intensely cold air going deeper and deeper,
and conscious of the helplessness of their situation unless she used
the strength that yet remained, Mrs. Abercrombie showed symptoms of
returning life and power of action. Perceiving this, the general
drew an arm around her for support and made a motion to go on again,
to which she responded by moving forward, but with slow and not very
steady steps. Soon, however, she walked more firmly, and began
pressing on with a haste that ill accorded with the apparent
condition out of which she had come only a few moments before.
The insane are often singularly quick in perception, and General
Abercrombie was for the time being as much insane as any patient of
an asylum. It flashed into his mind that his wife had been deceiving
him, had been pretending a faint, when she was as strong of limb and
clear of intellect as when they left Mr. Birtwell's. At this thought
the half-expelled devil that had been controlling him leaped back
into his heart, filling it again with evil passions. But the wind
was driving the fine, sand-like, sharp-cutting snow into his face
with such force and volume as to half suffocate and bewilder him.
Turning at this moment a corner of the street that brought him into
the clear sweep of the storm, the wind struck him with a force that
seemed given by a human hand, and threw him staggering against his
wife, both falling.
Struggling to his feet, General Abercrombie cursed his wife as he
jerked her from the ground with a sudden force that came near
dislocating her arm. She gave no word of remonstrance nor cry of
pain or fear, but did all in her power to keep up with her husband
as he drove on again with mad precipitation.
How they got home Mrs. Abercrombie hardly knew, but home they were
at last and in their own room, the door closed and locked and the
key withdrawn by her husband, out of whose manner all the wild
passion had gone. His movements were quiet and his voice when he
spoke low, but his wife knew by the gleam of his restless eyes that
thought and purpose were active.
Their room was in the third story of a large boarding-house in a
fashionable part of the city. The outlook was upon the street. The
house was double, a wide hall running through the centre. There were
four or five large rooms on this floor, all occupied. In the one
adjoining theirs were a lady and gentleman who had been at Mr. and
Mrs. Birtwell's party, and who drove up in a carriage just as the
general and Mrs. Abercrombie, white with snow, came to the door.
They entered together, the lady expressing surprise at their
appearance, at which the general growled some incoherent sentences
and strode away from them and up the stairs, Mrs. Abercrombie
following close after him.
"There's something wrong, I'm afraid," said the gentleman, whose
name was Craig, as he and his wife gained their own room. "They went
in a carriage, I know. What can it mean?"
"I hope the general has not been drinking too much," remarked the
wife.
"I'm afraid he has. He used to be very intemperate, I've heard, but
reformed a year or two ago, A man with any weakness in this
direction would be in danger at an entertainment such as Mr. and
Mrs. Birtwell gave to-night."
"I saw the general taking wine with a lady," said Mrs. Craig.
"If he took one glass, he would hardly set that as a limit. It were
much easier to abstain altogether; and we know that if a man over
whom drink has once gained the mastery ventures upon the smallest
indulgence of his appetite he is almost sure to give way and to fall
again. It's a strange thing, and sad as strange."
"Hark!"
Mr. Craig turned quickly toward the door which when opened made a
communication between their apartment and that of General and Mrs.
Abercrombie. It was shut, and fastened on both sides, so that it
could not be opened by the occupants, of either room.
A low but quickly-stifled cry had struck on the ears of Mr. and Mrs.
Craig. They looked at each other with questioning glances for
several moments, listening intently, but the cry was not repeated.
"I don't like that," said Mr. Craig. He spoke with concern.
"What can it mean?" asked his wife.
"Heaven knows!" he replied.
They sat silent and listening. A sharp click, which the ear of Mr.
Craig detected as the sound made by the cocking of a pistol, struck
upon the still air. He sprang to his feet and took a step or two
toward the door leading into the hall, but his wife caught his arm
and clung to it tightly.
"No, no! Wait! wait!" she cried, in a deep whisper, while her face
grew-ashen pale. For some moments they stood with repressed
breathing, every instant expecting to hear the loud report of a
pistol. But the deep silence remained unbroken for nearly a minute;
then a dull movement of feet was heard in the room, and the opening
and shutting of a drawer.
"No, general, you will not do that," they heard Mrs. Abercrombie
say, in a low, steady tone in which fear struggled with tenderness.
"Why will I not do it?" was sternly demanded.
They were standing near the door, so that their voices could be
heard distinctly in the next room.
"Because you love me too well," was the sweet, quiet answer. The
voice of Mrs. Abercrombie did not betray a single tremor.
All was hushed again. Then came another movement in the room, and
the sound of a closing drawer. Mr. and Mrs. Craig were beginning to
breathe more freely, when the noise as of some one springing
suddenly upon another was heard, followed by a struggle and a
choking cry. It continued so long that Mr. Craig ran out into the
hall and knocked at the door of General Abercrombie's room. As he
did so the noise of struggling ceased, and all grew still. The door
was not opened to his summons, and after waiting for a little while
he went back to his own room.
"This is dreadful," he said. "What can it mean? The general must be
insane from drink. Something will have to be done. He may be
strangling his poor wife at this very moment. I cannot bear it. I
must break open the door."
Mr. Craig started toward the hall, but his wife seized hold of him
and held him back.
"No, no, no!" she cried, in a low voice. "Let them alone. It may be
her only chance of safety. Hark!"
The silence in General Abercrombie's room was again broken. A man's
firm tread was on the floor and it could be heard passing clear
across the apartment, then returning and then going from side to
side. At length the sound of moving furniture was heard. It was as
if a person were lifting a heavy wardrobe or bureau, and getting it
with some difficulty from one part of the room to the other.
"What can he be doing?" questioned Mrs. Craig, with great alarm.
"He is going to barricade the door, most likely," replied her
husband.
"Barricade the door? What for? Good heavens, Mr. Craig! He may have
killed his wife. She may be lying in there dead at this very moment.
Oh, it is fearful! Can nothing be done?"
"Nothing, that I know of, except to break into the room."
"Hadn't you better rouse some of the boarders, or call a waiter and
send for the police?"
The voice of Mrs. Abercrombie was heard at this moment. It was calm
and clear.
"Let me help you, general," she said.
The noise of moving furniture became instantly still. It seemed as
if the madman had turned in surprise from his work and stood
confronting his wife, but whether in wrath, or not it was impossible
to conjecture. They might hear her fall to the floor, stricken down
by her husband, or cry out in mortal agony at any moment. The
suspense was dreadful.
"Do it! I am ready."
It was Mrs. Abercrombie speaking again, and in a calm, even voice.
They heard once more and with curdling blood, the sharp click of a
pistol-lock as the hammer was drawn back. They held their breaths in
horror and suspense, not moving lest even the slightest sound they
made should precipitate the impending tragedy.
"I have been a good and true wife to you always, and I shall remain
so even unto death."
The deep pathos of her quiet voice brought tears to the eyes of Mr.
and Mrs. Craig.
"If you are tired of me, I am ready to go. Look into my eyes. You
see that I am not afraid."
It was still as death again. The clear, tender eyes that looked so
steadily into those of General Abercrombie held him like a spell,
and made his fingers so nerveless that they could not respond to the
passion of the murderous fiend that possessed him. That was why the
scared listeners did not hear the deadly report of the pistol he was
holding within a few inches of his wife's head.
"Let me put it away. It isn't a nice thing to have in a lady's
chamber. You know I can't bear the sight of a pistol, and you love
me too well to give me the smallest pain or uneasiness. That's a
dear, good husband."
They could almost see Mrs. Abercrombie take the deadly weapon from
the general's hand. They heard her dress trailing across the room,
and heard her open and shut and then lock a drawer. For some time
afterward they could hear the low sound of voices, then all became
silent again.
"Give me that pistol!" startled them not long afterward in a sudden
wild outbreak of frenzied passion.
"What do you want with it?" they heard Mrs. Abercrombie ask. There
was no sign of alarm in her tones.
"Give me that pistol, I say!" The general's voice was angry and
imperious. "How dared you take, it out of my hand!"
"Oh, I thought you wished it put away because the sight of a pistol
is unpleasant to me."
And they heard the dress trailing across the room again.
"Stop!" cried the general, in a commanding tone.
"Just as you please, general. You can have the pistol, if you want
it," answered Mrs. Abercrombie, without the smallest tremor in her
voice. "Shall I get it for you?"
"No!" He flung the word out angrily, giving it emphasis by an
imprecation. Then followed a growl as if from an ill-natured beast,
and they could hear his heavy tread across the floor.
"Oh, general!" came suddenly from the lips of Mrs. Abercrombie, in a
surprised, frightened tone. Then followed the sound of a repressed
struggle, of an effort to get free without making a noise or outcry,
which continued for a considerable time, accompanied by a low
muttering and panting as of a man in some desperate effort.
Mr. and Mrs. Craig stood with pale faces, irresolute and powerless
to help, whatever might be the extremity of their neighbor. To
attempt a forcible entry into the room was a doubtful expedient, and
might be attended with instant fatal consequences. The muttering and
panting ceased at length, and so did all signs of struggling and
resistance. The madman had wrought his will, whatever that might be.
Breathlessly they listened, but not a sound broke the deep silence.
Minutes passed, but the stillness reigned.
"He may have killed her," whispered Mrs. Craig, with white lips. Her
husband pressed his ear closely to the door.
"Do you hear anything?"
"Yes."
"What?"
They spoke in a low whisper.
"Put your ear against the door."
Mrs. Craig did so, and after a moment or two could hear a faint
movement, as of something being pulled across the carpet. The sound
was intermittent, now being very distinct and now ceasing
altogether. The direction of the movement was toward that part of
the room occupied by the bed. The listeners' strained sense of
hearing was so acute that it was able to interpret the meaning of
each varying sound. A body had been slowly dragged across the floor,
and now, hushed and almost noiselessly as the work went on, they
knew that the body was being lifted from the floor and placed upon
the bed. For a little while all was quiet, but the movements soon
began again, and were confined to the bed. Something was being done
with the dead or unconscious body. What, it was impossible to make
out or even guess. Mrs. Abercrombie might be lifeless, in a swoon or
only feigning unconsciousness.
"It won't do to let this go on any longer," said Mr. Craig as he
came back from the door at which he had been listening. "I must call
some of the boarders and have a consultation."
He was turning to go out, when a sound as of a falling chair came
from General Abercrombie's room, and caused him to stop and turn
back, This was followed by the quick tread of heavy feet going up
and down the chamber floor, and continuing without intermission for
as much as five minutes. It stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and
all was silent again. They knew that the general was standing close
by the bed.
"My God!" in a tone full, of anguish and fear dropped from his lips.
"Edith! Edith! oh, Edith!" he called in a low wail of distress.
"Speak to me, Edith! Why don't you speak to me?"
They listened, but heard no answer. General Abercrombie called the
name of his wife over and over again, and in terms of endearment,
but for all Mr. and Mrs. Craig could tell she gave back no sign.
"O my God! what have I done?" they heard him say, the words followed
by a deep groan.
"It is my time now;" and Mr. Craig ran out into the hall as he said
this and knocked at the general's door. But no answer came. He
knocked again, and louder than at first. After waiting for a short
time he heard the key turn in the lock. The door was opened a few
inches, and he saw through the aperture the haggard and almost
ghastly face of General Abercrombie. His eyes were wild and
distended.
"What do you want?" he demanded, impatiently.
"Is Mrs. Abercrombie sick? Can we do anything for you, general?"
said Mr. Craig, uttering the sentences that came first to his
tongue.
"No!" in angry rejection of the offered service. The door shut with
a jar, and the key turned in the lock. Mr. Craig stood for a moment
irresolute, and then went back to his wife. Nothing more was heard
in the adjoining room. Though they listened for a long time, no
voice nor sound of any kind came to their ears. The general had, to
all appearance, thrown himself upon the bed and fallen asleep.
It was late on the next morning when Mr. and Mrs. Craig awoke. Their
first thought was of their neighbors, General and Mrs. Abercrombie.
The profoundest silence reigned in their apartments--a silence
death-like and ominous.
"If he has murdered her!" said Mrs. Craig, shivering at the thought
as she spoke.
"I hope not, but I shouldn't like to be the first one who goes into
that room," replied her husband. Then, after a moment's reflection,
he said:
"If anything has gone wrong in there, we must be on our guard and
make no admissions. It won't do for us to let it be known that we
heard the dreadful things going on there that we did, and yet gave
no alarm. I'm not satisfied with myself, and can hardly expect
others to excuse where I condemn."