IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT.
The story flashed like lightning from one end of London to the other.
Leona Lalage had been an important personage. Her face was familiar to
the society paper window; no report of a great function was complete
without a description of her dress. She was a constant source of
"copy" to the paragraphists; her dinners and her parties were things
to imitate and envy. And now the crash had come.
It was the sensation of the hour. Every penny paper had a portrait of
sorts of Leona Lalage. The wildest rumours were afloat. As far as
anybody knew for the present, the Countess was not at home, and the
servants could give no clue as to her whereabouts.
Tomorrow a whole hoard of tradesmen would be down upon Lytton Avenue,
but for the present Hetty was left in peace. Mamie was very far from
well, flushed and feverish, so that at eleven o'clock she decided to
call in Bruce. She rang the bell, but no servant appeared. She rang
again, and went down presently into the basement to investigate.
There was no sign of a servant to be seen anywhere. They had all
packed up their boxes, and fled, as rats quit a sinking ship.
Hetty was alone in the house. At any rate there was the telephone. Dr.
Bruce was out, they told her, but expected in shortly, when he should
have the message. It was not nice to be alone in so large a house with
a sick child, but Hetty had no fear. All the horrors and all the
tragedies had gone with the Countess. It was quite late when Bruce
arrived. He asked no questions, as Hetty let him in herself. And Hetty
said nothing of the fact that she had been deserted. It would only
make Gordon uneasy, and she was certain that she could manage alone.
"Of course you can, darling," Bruce said fondly. "If ever there was a
born nurse you are one. I don't like the look of the child at all. She
ought to be got away from here to the seaside. Fresh air and salt
water is what she wants."
The child lay between waking and sleeping. Her cry was for water.
"Not too much water," said Bruce. "A little now, and some fresh cold
water later on. I shall give her a few of those drops I prescribed for
her last week. Four now, and four in an hour's time. But be very
careful as to the dose."
Hetty produced the little phial marked "poison," and examined the
label. She had administered the medicine before, usually she kept it
locked up. As she poured out the drops she had a curious sensation
that she was being watched. Her hand shook so that she had to try
again before she was satisfied.
"Are you nervous tonight?" Bruce asked.
"Not more than usual," said Hetty. "Once I get away from this house I
shall be all right, and that looks as if it won't be long."
Bruce lingered as if loth to depart. The house seemed wonderfully
silent. Bruce went down the stairs presently, accompanied by Hetty.
"Good night, my darling," he said, as he kissed her fondly. "You'll be
compelled to leave here tomorrow, and I only hope the child will be
better. Thank goodness, Gilbert Lawrence will be only too glad to have
you."
Hetty fastened the door carefully. Now that she was alone she was
feeling more horribly nervous than ever. She locked most of the
downstairs doors, and it was only sheer self-contempt that prevented
her from fastening her bedroom door. It required a deal of courage to
sleep in a large, empty house.
Mamie had half-dropped asleep, but she opened her eyes again as Hetty
entered.
"You have been so long," she said, pitifully, "so very long. And why
didn't you come when I heard you standing by the door."
"I wasn't standing by the door," Hetty said, quietly.
"But indeed you were. I called out and you said 'Hush' very quietly.
Then I heard the rustle of your dress as you went down the stairs."
Hetty murmured something to the effect that she had forgotten. There
was no reason to contradict and argue over a child's fancies. Mamie
murmured again.
"Take the drops first," Hetty suggested.
Mamie declined fretfully. She wanted water, and that on the table was
quite warm. With a patient smile Hetty went downstairs to get more.
Mamie drank thirstily. Hetty picked up the little bottle to pour out
the drops.
By sheer habit she looked at the label. It was the same, and not the
same. Hetty stifled a cry of surprise. She had made no mistake
before--of that she was certain. Then what could possibly have
happened? Somebody had crept into the room in her absence and changed
the bottles!
There could be no doubt about that. The label had the same chemist's
name on it, with the red caution of "Poison" underneath. The girl put
the bottle to her nostrils and noticed the difference in the smell.
The discovery turned her sick and faint. That any one should
deliberately try and take an innocent life like this filled her with
loathing.
Mamie had dropped into what looked like a sound sleep. Hetty lay on
the bed with the light out. She had the switch to her hand, she could
lie there with the chance that the fiend who had done this thing would
come back. More than one person in the house had known that that
medicine was an experiment. If Mamie died it would do Bruce
incalculable harm. And she herself might suffer. A thousand horrors
rose out of the darkness and mocked at Hetty.
She lay there waiting patiently. Soon it seemed to her that somebody
was in the room. She could hear breathing that was not her own, and
the creep, creep of drapery. There was a faint rattle on the stand
where the medicine stood, so faint that it would not have been heard
by any but strained ears.
Hetty could stand it no longer. Her fingers went out to the electric
switch, there was a sudden snap, and the room was bathed in light.
There was a startling cry from a woman who stood just under the light
with a bottle in her hand--the real bottle, as Hetty could see quite
plainly.
"Now I have got you, murderess!" Hetty cried.
The woman reached up a long white hand, and taking the bulb of the
swinging electric light in her grasp desperately, crushed it to
pieces. Then there was swift darkness again and the rush of flying
feet.