THE _Coup de Grâce_
Then for a brief space of time the studio remained deserted, save for
the prostrate figure lying motionless upon the couch. A big blue-bottle
fly buzzed around the open window, flinging itself at intervals noisily
against the glass. From the street without arose the low hum of passing
traffic. Otherwise a dull, peaceful silence held sway.
But in the adjoining chamber sat one from whom all peace was far remote.
Even as Pallister had darted down the front stairs, Evarne had entered
from Langthorne Place and gained the plaster-room. An irresistible force
had drawn her back to the vicinity of her lover and her enemy; but still
unwilling to make her presence known to them, she had crept softly into
the one little room to which access was possible without entering the
studio.
As she sat there waiting--waiting for she knew not what--every nerve in
her body thrilled painfully. Restless nights and lack of food had
rendered her unfitted to cope with the continuous train of cruel,
tearing emotions that had fallen to her lot that morning. The gnawing
anxiety of the last half-hour had been nigh unendurable. A very few
seconds of this further suspense, this acute nerve-strain, and she
uttered an audible groan, forced from her lips by both mental and
physical distress.
Startled by the sound, she tried to turn her thoughts from the present
to all that was most bright in the future.
"So--we are to be married to-morrow. Oh, Geoff, Geoff, my darling!"
But anxiety and apprehension beset her too closely to be avoided. Close
upon this blissful reflection followed another.
"Then--after that--not only my dear one's happiness, but my life--my
very life--depend upon that vile creature here, to whom nothing is
sacred. Am I doing right by Geoff? Oh, if I could only rid myself of
these doubts!"
She sighed and twisted her hands together. Then composed herself to
thought once more.
"But my mind was fully convinced, my conscience upheld me surely enough
until Morris came. Would to Heaven the vessel that brought him to
England had sunk to the bottom of the sea, and that he lay silenced
forever beneath the waters."
Again she sighed. Again she thought.
"Ah me! If these were but the times when witches reigned, gladly would I
sell my very soul to the powers of evil in return for a charm--a
spell--to ensure that man's eternal silence."
Under the stress of such desperate desires, she found it impossible to
remain quietly seated. Rising, she moved restlessly and without object
to and fro from end to end of the little room. Suddenly she noticed that
her dress had brushed against the table, and become slightly soiled with
plaster. It was but a trifling matter, but as she shook and brushed it
clean again, a sudden hot anger burned in her veins.
"It is outrageous!" she said fiercely within herself--"outrageous, that
I should be thus forced to hide, with fear and trembling, in back rooms!
Oh, how I hate that man! How he degrades me! How he has cursed my life!
From the very first hour we met he has dragged me steadily downwards,
and now--now--he is going to use his own sin to damn all the remainder
of my life!
"Promises--what does that word mean to Morris Kenyon? Did he not
promise my father to watch over me--to guard me--and how did he keep
his word? And what promises did he not make to me--oh, again and
again!--in what tender, earnest tones; and then--liar, liar! Morris
talking morality to me! What right has he to do that? What about
himself? What injustice, what evil, equals that of a man--middle-aged,
wise in the world, strong, clever--using every advantage to win a
young girl, and then--then--pretending that, even in his eyes, his own
success renders the girl, not himself, infamous for ever?"
She clenched her hands violently. The bright colour that had flooded her
cheeks mounted to her temples.
"I hate him--I loathe him! But, Heaven, how I fear him! If he
should--oh, if he dares! If he only dares, I'll--I'll...."
In the heat of this sudden but enduring paroxysm of anger she lost the
power of further thought. Her throat swelled, and before she could
control herself she had given utterance to a series of half-sobbing,
half-moaning cries of misery and baffled rage. Frantically she pressed
both hands with desperate energy across her lips. She had but little
self-control left; only by physical force could she possibly stay those
cries of fear and anguish.
Then she stood motionless, glued to the spot by apprehension. Surely the
men in the next room must have heard that wild lamentation? She strained
her ears for the sound of footsteps. Her breast shook with the
convulsive pantings of rage that is forced to subdue itself. Every throb
of her heart came as a sharp pang.
No sound--no sound whatsoever. Suddenly she reeled against the table,
clutching at it for support. A terrible idea--a conviction--had now
assailed her. Morris was doubtless even at this moment telling her
secret to his cousin. Ah--she knew! A whispered conversation was going
on in that strangely silent studio. Once again she was being cruelly
betrayed by that man. This was surely more than flesh and blood could be
called upon to endure.
In an instant all the tigress in her nature sprang eager and palpitating
to the fore. Without a moment's hesitation she rushed wildly into the
passage, and flung open the door of the studio.
On the threshold she stopped short in amazement. Solitude, save for the
prostrate form upon the couch.
"Wherever are Geoff and Mr. Hardy and Pallister? Where can they have
gone, to leave Morris alone in this manner?"
Even in the midst of her excitement, a plausible reason for the absence
of at least one of the trio suggested itself.
"Oh, of course, Geoff had doubtless gone down to Doctors Commons to get
that licence."
Then, shaken by a fresh access of indignation:
"And because of this vile creature here it may prove futile--a mere
piece of waste paper! Or it may turn out to be really my death-warrant.
Oh, my God, I cannot endure to look at him--to be beneath the same
roof!"
And then, such are the powers of imagination, that, believing the man
who lay before her to be him whom she had such ample cause to fear and
hate, she instinctively knit her brows and drew a sharp breath audibly
between her teeth, huddling her hands together on her chest with an
actual shudder of repulsion.
And verily, even Love's penetration could scarce be blamed for not here
discerning the truth. Even had Evarne been told to distinguish between
her lover and her enemy under such conditions, the task would have
bordered upon the impossible. With face and head completely covered,
with hands strangely identical, with height and build so similar, and
yet further disguised by an all-concealing painting-blouse, the most
loving eye might easily have blundered.
But Evarne did not doubt--did not question. The very last words she had
heard spoken in that studio were to the effect that Morris had come on
purpose to submit himself to this operation. What room, then, was there
for suspicion regarding the identity of this man whose face was
concealed with the plaster mask? Upon the first glance she averted her
eyes, standing trembling. After a minute of enduring this agony of
repulsion she spoke aloud--unconsciously aloud--quite softly to herself.
Her voice, though low, was curiously discordant and hoarse, pulsating
with the powerful emotions that were so rapidly proving more than she
could bear.
"Oh, it's wicked--it's cruel--it's unjust! He will tell everything after
I'm married. He will glory in it. I know him. He is a devil incarnate!
What have we done, Geoff and I, that we should be tortured here on
earth? Oh, what can I do to save us both--what can I do? To be so
helpless--to be driven utterly helpless into a corner like this--oh, I
can't--I can't endure it! What am I to do? Tell me--tell me! I want
help--help of any kind. Is there nothing Here or There can hear and help
me?"
Her voice faded away. She stood, turning her head from side to side,
looking around wildly. Her brow contracted itself into deeper furrows.
In the silence she unconsciously bit at her finger-nails, tearing one
down to the quick--yet she felt no pain.
Quite suddenly there awoke in her memory an almost obliterated
recollection. Loudly and wrathfully she cried--
"Sekhet--you have failed me--you have forsaken me! I prayed to you once.
Now you must answer my prayer, for I invoke you. You are great now as
ever. I demand your help--demand it! How can I ensure that man's eternal
silence? Tell me--tell me!"
She stood for a moment with trembling forefinger outstretched,
indicating the motionless form upon the divan. Did she expect some
mystic voice to respond to her appeal? No sound broke the silence, save
the fly which hummed and buzzed and flung itself with blind unavailing
endeavour against the window-panes.
But into her brain--that poor brain so tortured and goaded by cruel
anxiety, by a bitter insult, by a great, passionate love threatened with
destruction--sprang the instinctive thought of that primæval resource:
"Death! Death! Only death can bring eternal silence!"
Swiftly, yet very surely, a strange, unfamiliar influence had enwrapped
this rebel against Fate. Who can declare authoritatively what supreme
Power behind the Veil she had not summoned in that moment's distraught
and reckless invocation? Be that as it may, she became obsessed by one
of those all-mighty, dominating impulses that conquer the will, the
judgment, even the desire; that crush down previously accepted ideas of
right and wrong, forcing a fresh, oft-times dreaded, idea masterfully
into a shrinking heart and mind.
And the message that had come to Evarne was terrible--terrific!
"Call Death to your aid! Kill your enemy! Kill him while there is yet
time!"
Even through the passion of rage that shook her, she felt a momentary
subduing chill of horror. She pressed her hands to either cheek, and
with strained features, parted lips and staring, dilated eyes, gazed
wildly into vacancy.
But this horrible inspiration was as a white light suddenly illuminating
the dense dark path along which she had been groping. She laughed--a low
laugh--terrible, for there was no ring of mirth therein.
"It is only justice--justice--justice--justice!" she cried, her voice
rising upon every word. "He is the devil's emissary. The world will be
well rid of him. It is justice--justice--justice!"
She had no more consecutive thoughts, no more reflection, no more
hesitation. But one word rang in her mind. Justice! Justice! Justice!
She rushed across the room with wild haste, and seized upon Andromache's
golden fetter that lay upon a chair. With anger, fiery indignation and
hatred, terror and mad love raging within her brain, all other emotions
were effectively excluded. Pity, caution, lawfulness, fear of
consequences--none of these found any place within her spirit in that
dreadful hour. If the souls of the dead can verily watch over those they
loved in life, broken indeed must be their heavenly peace and happiness.
Rather they must be oft-times in hell.
Softly she fastened one fetter around a strong portion of the openwork
carved wooden back of the couch; then, without a moment's warning, the
handcuff at the other end of the chain was snapped round the nearest
wrist of the prostrate figure. Futile was the immediate startled effort
of the death-doomed man to rise. In an instant Evarne had dragged away
those two quills through which was drawn the breath of life, and had
pressed the still slightly unset plaster over the tiny holes. Then
sinking on her knees, she seized her victim's remaining arm, clutching
it to her breast with a desperate vigour.
Her eyes were convulsively shut, her lips parted over clenched teeth, as
for what seemed an interminable period she was flung to and fro by the
frenzied struggles of the strong arm she held captive. But gradually her
task grew easier. Very soon that dire deed had taken its place amid the
record of things done.
Cautiously she slackened her grasp. The arm, released, drooped heavily
downwards from its shoulder, the hand resting inertly upon the floor.
Evarne rose to her feet. Unfastening both ends of the golden fetter, she
flung it back upon the chair, then left the studio without another
glance at the twisted, distorted form of that dead man whose lips would
speak no more words, either of devotion or of malice.
Deliberately she washed the plaster from her fingers. Her glance was
firm and high, her bearing resolute and undaunted. Yet, as she dried her
hands, she suddenly paused, and, leaning heavily on the edge of the
little sink, uttered a long, trembling sigh such as can well up only
from a cruelly over-burdened heart--a low, piteous moan--a stifled wail
of despair.
"Oh, Geoff, Geoff! What am I? What have I become for your sake?"
She went out again into Langthorne Place and walked away. Only about
five minutes had passed since she trod that pavement before, yet now...?
Her pulses throbbed wildly, but she was assailed by no regret, no trace
of self-reproach. She was appalled by, yet exalted in, her desperate
deed. She was triumphant. She had conquered!
* * * * *
Jack, hastily returning, almost collided with Pallister, who issued from
the side-street.
"So we've lost your unique 'Belle Dame,' worse luck to us! And a
precious couple we must look out here, with no hats, and smeared
painting-blouses and...."
But the remaining words died away at the sight of Jack's expression of
undisguised alarm.
"Pallister! You surely haven't left Geoff alone! How infamous! Oh, how
could you?"
Without waiting for any answer he darted across the road and ran with
all speed for the studio.
"It doesn't matter," declared Pallister, somewhat subdued, hurrying
after him. "He's all right. What's the trouble?"
"Oh, don't speak to me! How could you leave him?" was the sole response.
"Well, you seem to forget you did it yourself, if it's such a crime,"
Pallister replied tartly.
"More blame to me! But I left him in your charge; you left him
alone--surely that makes all the difference. Good gracious,
though--whatever possessed me? You're as irresponsible as a child, and I
knew it--I knew it!"
He turned into the garden, and in a minute was bounding upstairs,
closely followed by the indignant Pallister.
* * * * *
A quarter of an hour later, Evarne, pale yet supremely beautiful in her
blush-rose gown, in her turn mounted the stairs. As she came in sight of
the front door of the flat she saw that it stood wide open. From it was
wafted faintly a piteous sound of sobbing and wailing.
"I suppose some will mourn Morris. I did not remember that," she
reflected, as she entered and closed the front door behind her. Then,
making her way across the hall to the studio, she went in, inquiring in
splendidly feigned surprise and alarm, "What is the matter? What has
happened?"
Poor Pallister was lying prostrate on the floor near the window, his
hands, flung over his head, convulsively grasping great masses of fur
that he had torn from the bearskin rug by which he lay. His whole body
was writhing beneath choking, rending sobs. From him, Evarne slowly
turned her gaze on Jack, who was seated near the couch. He, too, was
shaking violently from head to foot; but as regards fixity of
expression, hue and voluntary action, he might have been a figure of
despair cut from marble.
A sudden pain darted through Evarne's brow. Unnerved by the display of
such unexpected and unrestrained emotion, she was forced to lean against
the side of the doorway for support, while her white face grew paler
still.
"What--oh, I--what?"
None responded to her incoherent words. A cold chill encircled her. In
the hot studio she shivered as in wintry weather.
"What has happened to Lord Winborough? Oh--where's? I want him quickly.
I must see him, I tell you. Where is he?"
Jack rose from his chair.
"Go away--go away!" he breathed. "I--I can't--you mustn't know. Go
away!"
Evarne was fast losing her forced calmness. She was assailed by a
desperate longing to gain new courage from the ever-tender eyes of the
man who loved her.
"I will go! I want to! I'm frightened here! But where is Geoff? Tell me,
Jack--tell me! Send for him!"
"Geoff! Geoff!" wailed Pallister.
Evarne gave a violent start, and without moving from the doorway against
which she was leaning, she bent her body forward in Pallister's
direction.
"Why do you also call for him?" she queried.
The only response was a farther lament.
"Geoff, come back! Oh, Geoff, how could I leave you?"
Still bending forward, she swayed round towards Jack. Then her reluctant
glance wandered from him to the form upon the couch. The mask had been
removed, exposing a terrible face beneath, distorted somewhat,
disfigured with fearsome livid patches and blue swollen lips. Around the
mouth and nose clung mucus froth.
Evarne choked, struggling with sickness; but suddenly she sprang forward
and seized Jack by the shoulders with unnatural strength.
"If you don't tell me where Geoff is, I'll--I'll----"
The menacing tones ceased abruptly, as Jack put out his shaking hands
and grasped her wrists.
"I see you must be told. Well, then--this is it! He took his cousin's
place, Evarne, and we--we left him alone--and--and something happened!"
For one long minute absolute silence reigned within the room. Pallister
ceased sobbing and held his breath. Evarne did not speak, but stared at
Jack with unwinking gaze. He saw a fearsome change steal over her face.
Every feature seemed to alter, to be transformed under his very eyes,
becoming unrecognisable--horrible! Without warning, she pushed him
violently away, and with a few rapid steps was by the side of the dead
man. She laid her hand upon the fair hair.
"So it is you I have killed, Geoff!" she said, quietly enough.
"God in Heaven, what?" shouted Jack at the top of his voice.
Evarne did not speak, but suddenly plunging her hands through her damp
hair she began to scream--wild, piercing shrieks that chilled the blood
of those who heard. Nothing could stay her--until her voice gave way.
Still she screamed on spasmodically, producing merely horrible and
discordant sounds.
Loud shouts arose from the street. A policeman's shrill whistle blew
frantically again and again.
And then Evarne commenced to laugh, a hoarse, derisive gurgle.
"Do you hear that laughter?" she cried huskily. "It is Morris Kenyon. It
is funny for him, isn't it? And it's--yes--I see--that cat-faced
goddess--Sekhet! So you all think the game is played out, do you? We'll
see."
She clasped her arms around the dead form, pressing it tightly to her
breast. She laid her cheek to Geoff's, and so rose with her white,
distorted face besmeared and sullied.
Now loud continuous blows were resounding on the outer door. The
electric bell rang forth unintermittently.
With swaying steps Evarne crossed the room. Pallister instinctively
shrank back as the terrible spectacle advanced in his direction. At this
a pair of bloodshot eyes were turned upon him, while a strained voice
whispered calmly enough--
"Avoid Sekhet--tell everyone what I said. Never, never love too much. It
is always dreadful in some way--always! Sooner or later--always! I must
go now and tell Geoff everything myself."
Then, ere they could realise what was next to happen, she had put one
knee on the window-sill and flung up her arms wildly. Instinctively both
men rushed forward, but, happily, too late!
In another instant a broken mass lay peacefully unconscious forever upon
the green bosom of Earth--our Mother.
Transcriber Notes:
Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.
Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS.
Throughout the document, the oe ligature was replaced with "oe".
Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the
speakers. Those words were retained as-is.
The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up
paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate. Thus
the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in
the List of Illustrations, and the order of illustrations may not be the
same in the List of Illustrations and in the book.
Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected
unless otherwise noted.
On page 5, a period was added after "rendered it congenial enough".
On page 13, a period was added after "ingratiate herself into his
regard".
On page 19, "hiterto" was replaced with "hitherto".
On page 26, the single quotation mark before "Cold now" was replaced
with a double quotation mark.
On page 27, a period was added after "rendered it congenial enough".
On page 30, "hiterto" was replaced with "hitherto".
On page 96, a period was added after "and entering, ordered something to
eat".
On page 98, "but he did look as" was replaced with "but she did look
as".
On page 102, "desplay" was replaced with "display".
On page 108, "find" was replaced with "fine".
On page 109, "mangeresses" was replaced with "manageresses".
On page 114, the quotation mark was removed after "conceal the true
state of affairs".
On page 121, a period was added after "to my way o' thinking, miss".
On page 143, "comgenial" was replaced with "congenial".
On page 159, a quotation mark was added after "Caledonia's Bard".
On page 173, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double
quotation mark.
On page 181, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double
quotation mark.
On page 190, a period was added after "the extent of this debt of
gratitude".
On page 192, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double
quotation mark.
On page 195, "somethimg" was replaced with "something".
On page 195, a quotation mark was added after "I am so pleased about
it."
On page 225, "h:s" was replaced with "his".
On page 243, "under-its" was replaced with "under its".
On page 259, "t me" was replaced with "time".
On page 261, an extra single quotation mark after "no love from those
above...." was removed.
On page 267, a period was added after "he had brought from Italy".
On page 290, the comma was removed after "I can't even think".
On page 290, a comma was added after "in somewhat triumphant tones".
On page 291, a period was added after "everyone will be on his side".
On page 304, "re-recital" was replaced with "recital".
On page 304, "how dare you" was replaced with "How dare you".
On page 312, "enlightment" was replaced with "enlightenment".
On page 350, the period after "he said" was replaced with a comman.