ALL IS OVER
That same evening, as Sophy was sitting alone in the veranda after
dinner, Lily ayah appeared, her fat arms uplifted in eloquent appeal.
“Oh, missy—you come with me—I think our mem-sahib soon, soon _die_!”
“Die!” exclaimed Sophy, springing to her feet.
“Yes, somehow these drug people are too clever—she has got cocaine. I
think that water man bring it; anyhow, mem-sahib has taken one big, big
dose, and lies as one gone from the world.”
“Send at once for Herr Krauss—he is in his office,” and Sophy ran
towards her aunt’s room and found, as Lily had described, that her
relative was passing away; indeed, save for her faint breathing, one
would have supposed that she had already crossed the border.
Herr Krauss cast one hurried glance, thundered out of the room, and
rang up the telephone; then he returned and stood gazing at his wife,
his face working with emotion.
“What has happened?” he asked, turning abruptly to Sophy. “_Why_ is she
like this? What does it mean?”
“I cannot tell.” A reply which could be taken in two ways.
“It must have been some sudden attack—her heart, I suppose. Marling,
the nearest doctor, will be here instantly.” And as he spoke a
square-shouldered, severe-looking man entered. Without a word, but in a
most business-like manner, he made an examination of the patient, felt
her pulse, turned back her eyelids, and then ejaculated an ominous:
“Ha!”
“What is it?” inquired Krauss; “what is the matter with my wife? Is it
serious?”
“Don’t you know?” demanded the doctor, turning on him sharply, “it is
cocaine poisoning—the last stage.”
“Cocaine!” echoed Krauss, and his large buff-coloured face turned to a
leaden hue. “You are mistaken. That is not _possible_!”
“Well, if you don’t believe me, get another opinion,” retorted the
doctor brusquely. “Judging from the slight examination I have made,
your wife has been taking the drug for _years_.”
“Impossible!” almost shouted Krauss.
“Not at all,” rejoined the doctor. “Cocaine has been poisoning people
in Rangoon by hundreds. Mrs. Krauss is not the only victim.”
Krauss, great heavy man that he was, was now trembling so violently
that he was obliged to lean against the wall for support, and, pointing
to the bed, he said:
“I had not the slightest suspicion—Gott bewahre, I had not. I thought
her ailment was neuralgia. I will pay any money, no matter what fee.
Surely, you can do something for her?”
“I am afraid not; Mrs. Krauss is beyond help, and can never recover
consciousness. She has been taking quantities of the drug for a long
time. Look at her arm!”—turning back the sleeve and revealing an
emaciated tell-tale limb.
“Did _you_ know?” said Krauss, appealing to Sophy, who stood at the
other side of the bed. The words came in short savage jerks.
“Yes,” she replied, “I only discovered it six weeks ago.”
“And never told _me_!” glaring at her with a furious expression.
“No—because Aunt Flora implored me to be silent. I was doing my best to
stop it and minimising the doses.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the doctor, “that accounts for this. She has been
starved and, with the cunning of these morphia maniacs, found means to
get a supply, and has absorbed an enormous quantity.”
“Ach Gott! it seems incredible,” moaned Krauss, now rising and coming
towards the bed, and lifting his wife’s limp hand. “What could have
made her take to it?”
“Illness—loneliness—depression; this enervating climate; having nothing
particular to do; an idle woman of forty has no business in Burma.”
“But surely you have some remedy?—something that will bring her to?
Gott in Himmel! you don’t tell me that she will _never_ see me, or
speak to me again!”
“No; cocaine is one of the most powerful drugs—the greatest curse in
our pharmacopoeia. It is better that she should go like this. Even if
she were to survive for a week, she would be a mere inanimate shadow.”
“Oh, my poor Flora, my heart’s joy! You must not go; you shall not
leave me without one word!” And Herr Krauss tumbled down upon his knees
and sobbed stertorously.
The doctor, who was surveying him with frigid amazement, suddenly
turned and, seizing Sophy by the arm, said:
“You can do no good here now; this is no place for you.”
Leading her to the door he closed it inexorably behind her.
Half an hour later she was joined by Lily, her round face wet with
tears.
“All is over now, Miss Sahib. My missis always so good to me—my missis
done die.”