I did not see Barker again for nearly three weeks, when one night my
bell was rung with unusual violence, and I heard an excited voice in my
hall. "Be quick, John; hurry," it said, "and tell the doctor I must see
him at once. Tell him it is Roland Barker."
John had evidently demurred at calling me at so late an hour.
"All right, Barker; I'll be down in a moment," I called from above. "No,
come up. You can tell me what is the matter while I dress. Is it for
yourself? There, go in that side room, I can hear you, and I'll be
dressed in a moment."
"Hurry, hurry," he said, excitedly, "I'll tell you on the way. I have my
carriage. Don't wait to order yours, only hurry, hurry, hurry."
Once in the carriage, I said: "Barker, you are going to use yourself up,
this way. You can't keep this sort of thing up much longer. You'd better
go abroad."
"Drive faster," he called, to the man on top. Then to me, "If you are
not the first doctor there? there will be a dreadful scene. They will
most likely arrest her for murder."
"Whom?" said I. "You have told me nothing, and how can I prevent that if
a murder has been committed?"
"By giving her a regular death certificate," said he, coolly, "saying
that you attended the case, and that it was a natural death. I depend
upon you, Gordon; it would be simply infamous to make her suffer any
more. I cannot help her now, but you can, you _must_. No one will know
the truth but us, and afterwards we can help her--to forget. She is not
an old woman; there may be something in life for her yet."
"Is it the Lady of the Club?" I asked. We had always called her that
"What has she done?"
"Yes," he said, "it is the 'Lady of the Club.' and she has poisoned her
husband."
"Good God!" exclaimed I; "and you want me to give her a regular death
certificate and say I attended the case?"
"You must," he said; "it would be infamous not to. She could not bear it
any longer. She found herself breaking down, and she would not leave him
alive without her care and love. He had become almost helpless, except
when short violent spells came on. These left him exhausted. He almost
killed her in the last one. Her terror was that he would do so and
then regain his reason--that he would know it afterwards and perhaps be
dragged through the courts. She had been working in a chemist's office,
it seems, when she was able to do anything. She took some aconitine, and
to-night she put everything in perfect order, gave him the best supper
she could, got him to bed, and then--gave him that. She sent for me and
told me as calmly as--God! it was the calm of absolute desperation.
She sat there when I went in, holding his poor dead hand and kissing it
reverently. She laid it down and told me what I tell you. There was
not a tear, a moan, a sigh. She said: 'Here is the money you left--all
except what I paid for his supper to-night. We had gotten down to that
before I had the chance to steal the poison or the courage to give it to
him. I had not meant to use any of the money; the rest is here. I would
like it used--if you are willing--to bury him decently, not in the
Potter's Field, and I would like--if you will take the trouble--to have
it done absolutely privately. We have borne enough. I cannot bear for
even his ashes to be subjected to any further humiliation.'"
Roland Barker paused to command himself. "Of course I promised her," he
went on, after a time. "She does not realize that she may be arrested
and have his poor body desecrated to find the cause of death. That would
make her insane--even if-- Drive faster!" he called out again to the
man outside. When we reached the house he said: "Be prepared to see her
perfectly calm. It is frightful to witness, and I tremble for the result
later on."
When we knocked on her door there was no response. I pushed it open and
entered first. The room was empty. We went to the inner doer and rapped
gently, then louder. There was no sound. Barker opened the door, and
then stepped quickly back and closed it. "She is kneeling there by his
bed," he said; "write the certificate here and give it to me. Then I
will bring an undertaker and--he and I can attend to everything else. I
did want you to see her. I think you should give her something to make
her sleep. That forced calm will make her lose her mind. She is so
shattered you would not recognize her."
"Stay here, Barker," I said; "I want to see her alone for a moment. I
will tell her who I am and that you brought me--if I need to."
He eyed me sharply, but I stepped hastily into the inner room. I touched
the shoulder and then the forehead of the kneeling form. It did not
move. "Just as I expected," I muttered, and lifting the lifeless body
in my arms I laid it gently beside her husband. In one hand she held
the vial from which she had taken the last drop of the deadly drug, and
clasped in the other her husband's fingers. She had been dead but a few
moments, and both she and her husband were robed for the grave.
When I returned to the outer room I found Barker with a note in his
hand, and a shocked and horrified look on his face. He glanced up at me
through his tears.
"We were too late," he said. "She left this note for me. I found it here
on the table. She meant to do it all along, and that is why she was so
calm and had no fears for herself."
"I thought so when you told me what she had done," said I.
"Did you? I did not for a moment, or I would have stayed and tried to
reason her out of it."
"It is best as it is," said I, "and you could not have reasoned her out
of it. It was inevitable--after the rest. Take this certificate too; you
will need both."
When all was safely over, as we drove home from the new graves two days
later, Barker said: "Is this the solution?"