"Here we are, safe and sound," cheerily said the driver of the huge
black ambulance, as he pulled up before the piazza of Crestdale, the
beautiful villa whose tower had been tantalizing the travelers for
several miles.
A party of five descended from the wagon as the wide doors were flung
open by the housekeeper, and a kindly welcome greeted them, as well as
comfortable fires.
"My! how cold it is," exclaimed a fresh young voice, as the speaker
hurried close to the generous heater.
"Be careful, dear, or you will burn your coat," warned an older lady,
while a stalwart young fellow tenderly loosed the seal wrap in question.
Placing the fair wearer in a great arm-chair, he said: "There,
Mademoiselle Jessie, be a good girl--if you can. Now, sister ours, what
can I do for you?" turning gallantly to the other lady.
"Thanks, you foolish boy," was the pleasant rejoinder; "look after
those parcels and those live commodities shivering there."
The live commodities were a maltese cat, a canary bird, and two raw
recruits from Erin; and the "foolish boy" at once set about assigning
places for people and things.
"There's a kitchen somewhere back here; come along, Michael. All right,
Katie, follow me, and fetch the menagerie with you."
Duly installing them in their domain, the young man made his way back
through the wide, chilly rooms that intervened, and joined the ladies
who were fast making themselves at home.
"A trifle bleak this, isn't it?" he said, rubbing his hands before the
blazing logs. "But just take note of that fragrant beefsteak. Say,
girls, I don't see any table set anywhere;" and he looked ruefully
around.
"Give us time, sir," remonstrated the elderly lady. "Here is a move in
the right direction already," she added, as the housekeeper entered with
the tea tray.
"Mabel, can't we have muffins?" pleaded the young voice.
"Muffins! Not on such short notice; but you may have toast and eggs."
"You'll disenchant me with your enormous appetite," chaffed the young
fellow, and got a saucy slap for his pains.
"Riding hours and hours on that horrid train is enough to starve any
one," was the ready defense; "you only came from New York. Come on,
everybody, while the steak is hot." And they gathered round to do
justice to the repast.
Mabel and Jessie Winthrop were orphan sisters, the one fifteen years the
elder, and was mother as well as sister to her idolized charge. Her own
life romance was a buried chapter, and now she was chiefly concerned for
the happiness of the two young persons seated there.
George Randolph was a distant cousin, and was to be married to Jessie
Winthrop in two weeks' time. They had come down to make ready the
seaside villa, which was their favorite home. It stood upon a winding
river close to shore, and commanded a view of the surrounding country
for many miles.
It was an immense house, containing some twenty-five rooms, and
full of unexpected niches, nooks, and crannies. It was kept furnished
throughout, but was locked up in the winter months. An unlooked-for cold
wave, speeding from the northwest, had made the coming of the
prospective bridal party a somewhat dreary affair.
A few happy touches here and there transformed the gloom into cheer, and
it was with renewed animation that they arose from their repast an hour
later.
George was to return to the city next day, but would run down frequently
before the wedding day. Meanwhile this, their first evening, passed
quickly and agreeably for all.
The ensuing week was a busy one. A whole army of sweepers, dusters and
renovators were turned loose in and about the villa, and the good work
went on with a will.
Michael took charge of a pony phaeton, and the sisters often drove in to
the village shops, two miles away, where the nearest railroad station
was. It was necessary, however, that Mabel should make a final trip to
the city to purchase some articles, and she arranged her time so that
George could return with her on the evening train.
"You won't be afraid, darling?" was Mabel's fond question, as she made
out her list.
"Afraid?" echoed the other. "Why, no; what is there to be afraid of? It
is perfectly safe here."
"Yes, I know; otherwise, I would not leave you even for the day."
"The house is big," said Jessie, "but we have near neighbors. Besides,
there's Mike and Katie, and Mrs. Lawrence. Oh, I'm all right, Mabel
dear."
"See that the house is securely fastened;" was Mabel's parting
injunction as she kissed her sister goodbye. "Look for us at the sound
of the whistle to-night."
"Indade, Miss Jessie," said Katie a little later, her face in a pucker,
"indade it's not right for the loikes af yees to be here all alone."
"Why, Katie, what's the matter," laughed the girl; "you don't call this
being alone, do you?"
"Ah, but haven't yees heard the quare noises in the tower, Miss Jessie?
An' shure there's a ghost in this house--Holy Mother defind us!" and
Katie piously crossed herself in real terror.
"A ghost, Katie! I'm ashamed of you. It is only the wind. It blows here
fearfully. You might turn a regiment loose in the house, and they could
scarcely make more noise than these big, rattling windows."
"Arrah, me jewel," protested Katie; "there's a turrible walkin' about in
the tower ivery night these two noights. An' didn't yees hear about the
awful murther in the town over beyant us an' the murtherer iscapin'?
Sich a quare murther, too, with the finger rings all left on, and the
money purse in the pocket. Ah, Miss Jessie, a murtherin' ghost won't
niver be laid."
"You silly Kate!" said Jessie merrily. "Don't be afraid, I'll take care
of the ghosts. We are all right."
After a cup of tea and a bit of toast, Jessie repaired to her chamber
on the second floor and picked up some trifle she was embroidering, to
beguile the time of waiting. Mabel and George would get in about nine,
when they were to relate the day's doings around a good warm supper.
Katie was to follow and sit with her mistress, after she had done some
righting up down stairs. Mike was bent upon routing an army of rats in
the barn. Mrs. Lawrence had retired to her room with a nervous headache.
The high winds from the sea had lulled, and for once the house was
utterly quiet--so quiet that the stillness became oppressive. Meanwhile
the young girl sat in her bower of luxury, softly humming a favorite
air, and very happy in thoughts of her approaching marriage. While deep
in her smiling reverie, a stealthy footstep distinctly sounded outside
her door.
Raising her head, she had not time to feel a sensation of real fear,
when cautiously her doorknob was turned and a head intruded itself which
struck her as dumb as though Medusa had appeared, and drove the
life-blood in a frozen current to her head.
The face was ghastly, the hair black and curling upon high, narrow
shoulders, the figure slight and spare, and a pair of restless black
eyes were glittering swiftly and cunningly around the room.
"Hist!" he said to the horror-stricken girl, softly closing the door
and turning the key; and if Jessie had a distinct thought in that awful
moment, it was of thankfulness that the winter dampness had so warped
the door that the key would not fairly catch in the lock,--a bit of
repairing thus far overlooked in the wedding preparations.
"Don't be frightened," he continued, in his sibilant whisper; "you will
take care of me, won't you?"
But the girl's eyes only riveted themselves in more hopeless, helpless
terror upon the apparition. Every muscle seemed paralyzed.
He drew a chair to the open grate as if the fire were most welcome.
"You see," he said in his quaint, soft voice, "if they track me here
they may hang me, and they would be wrong--all wrong. I did not intend
to kill her, but she would not hold still."
At this he gave a blood-curdling laugh, and the horrible truth burst
upon the listener's dazed senses. She was alone with a maniac. All the
stories she had ever read rushed to her memory, and the only clear
idea she had was the conviction that she must, if possible, humor his
vagaries till help came. She was a petted, spoiled darling, but she
had great strength of will, and she now called it into requisition.
She hurriedly glanced at the clock, and calculated how long it would be
before the train whistle could signal the coming of her dear ones. Alas!
it was just eight. What, oh, what must she do? Of whom did he speak?
Kill her? Kill whom? Then the mystery of the murdered girl darted into
her mind. Katie had been right then. There was in truth a murdered girl.
Was this awful creature her slayer?
Suddenly, with a confidential gesture he bade her sit down with him.
"I'll tell you about it," he said; "if she had only kept still! But she
screamed and tried to run away, I can't stand noise!" He clapped his
hands over his ears as if to shut out the echo of it. "I must have this
blood--this pure, young, life-giving stream. But she would not listen to
me. Poor thing! It was too bad, wasn't it? Hey? Speak!" and he grasped
her delicate wrist with a grip of steel.
Trembling at the sound of her own voice, the girl commanded herself to
say:
"Yes; who was she?"
"I don't know," he replied, seriously. "She was beautiful and fresh; she
was almost as fair as you," letting his wild eyes roam over her. "I was
getting away from that cursed place. Think of confining a man of my
learning in a madhouse! But that was just it. I had mastered the new
theory--the transfusion of blood. They wanted to steal my glory, so they
locked me in. But I outwitted them; I captured these and ran away."
Laughing wildly but still under his breath, he took from his jacket a
black case of bright, new surgical instruments.
"These were what I needed," he continued, with a low chuckle; "I could
not attain the goal without these beauties." Caressingly he went over
them. "Lancet, probe, trocar, bistoury, tourniquet,"--mentioning the
collection, while he passed his fingers affectionately along the small
sharp knives.
"For years and years," he went on, "I have studied this theory. The only
thing is to find a young, strong, healthy subject; I found her. I was
hiding in the bushes; she was on the highway; but she would not listen
to me."
"You did not kill her?" the girl forced her dry lips to ask.
"Nay, nay; that is an ugly word. I had to sacrifice her--I did not kill.
Then the foolish mob came and I fled hither. But I had a bit of bread
and meat; she dropped her basket of lunch. I've been hiding in yonder
tower," pointing upward. "I thought I might find what I want; and now,
my dear, you will help me, won't you?" This he said coaxingly.
"Help you? What can I do?"
"Such a simple thing. Hold very still while I draw the rich red blood
from your pretty white throat."
"You would not spoil my throat?" pleaded Jessie in winning tones, with
the courage born of despair; "such a very little throat," clasping her
soft fingers about it in unconscious paraphrase of King Hal's hapless
queen.
"But where else can I find the glorious stream so rich and red?" he
argued, with a perplexed frown. "It must be transfused into my own
veins, that I, too, may be young again."
"But not the throat! I could not sing any more then."
"Ah, so--I heard you singing; it was not loud; it pleased me. Yes,
'twould be a pity. Well, I'll tell you what I will do. I'll open a vein
in your arm--just here," laying his finger on the round white member.
"This will quicken the nervous centers. Then I will cut my own arm and
insert your blood at the opening till the two life-currents mingle in
one stream."
He paused and reflected a moment. The generous warmth of the fire,
together with the terrified girl's enforced quiet manner, were evidently
soothing to him.
"Listen now, very closely: Here is my greatest scientific discovery. I
do not mean to impart the secret to another. It is the _transfusion of
brain!_ Some other man's head got on to my shoulders, and my brain is
all wrong. Now with your red blood charged in my veins, and your young
active brain absorbed into my own uncertain head, I shall find the
elixir of life, and you will not have lived in vain."
Gracious Heaven! Did she hear aright? She had submitted to blood-letting
once to gratify an old family physician, who insisted upon the remedy;
and she felt almost brave enough to endure the operation again, if it
would only kill time and satisfy her tormentor. But to cut into her
brain! Merciful God! What should she do? She could not escape, for he
watched her with cat-like vigilance. Scream she dare not, for so did the
other frightened victim. She _must_ try to gain time.
With a rapt expression he continued: "Since the days of Esculapius there
has been no such transcendent theory as this which is to make me famous.
All my weary nights of thought and days of study are to be rewarded at
last. Come child, are you ready? It will not hurt you. Only a little
pin-prick, and no pain. I would not pain you my dear."
What if he should let her bleed to death! Oh sister, oh lover, come, or
she would die of horror, if not the knife! And Katie--why didn't she
come! At this moment the sound of the train whistle in the distance
broke on the stillness of the night. How could she gain ten minutes
more? The man had not noticed the sound.
"What do you wish?" she asked sweetly, "What shall I get for you?"
"Only a handkerchief and a basin," he replied coolly, still fingering
a sharp lancet. "You are not afraid? Good girl; now for my crowning
victory!"
As a sleep-walker she procured the articles and bared her arm. Tenderly
he was binding it above the blue veins, when she said in winning tones:
"Let me tell you how I think would be the best way to do this--may I?"
and she fixed her large eyes upon him in entreaty. He paused, and she
continued:
"Now let me tie your arm in the same way. You open your own vein with
the lancet, then open mine, and quickly after mix the two while the
blood is warm. Do you see? You can't fail if you do it that way."
He looked at her. She did not flinch.
"Perhaps you are right; very well."
She arose as deliberately as she dared and went to her dresser for
another handkerchief. At the moment she opened the linen case her ears,
strained to the utmost, caught a murmur from below stairs. Turning
quickly to see if the man also had heard, the door was pushed open and
Katie's neat cap filled the aperture.
* * * * *
"Get on as fast as you can, driver," said George Randolph, as he and
Mabel took seats in the village stage. Then turning to his companion, he
said in reassuring tones: "Don't be frightened, dear; she is all right."
"I know it is foolish," said Mabel, half crying; "but those wretched
placards made me nervous, and all that talk about escaped murderers and
lunatics. I am fairly beside myself; do hurry!"
As the wide portals of Crestdale appeared, Mabel cried, in sudden
terror:
"Something is wrong, George; see how dim the lights are! She would never
welcome us like this. Don't wait to ring; open the doors!"
As George fitted his key in the lock and swung wide the door, a shrill
scream from above made their blood curdle. Shriek upon shriek followed,
as Katie came bounding down the stairs, almost knocking backward the
two who ran past her to Jessie's room. White and lifeless they found
her, prostrate, her arm still bound with the handkerchief. She had risen
nobly to the awful emergency, but succumbed when relief came.
In vain Katie continued a shriek that a murtherer was in the room. The
anxious watchers bent over their stricken darling, who was now lying on
her own bed and beginning to show signs of life.
Before they could ascertain what had happened, for Katie was crazed and
incoherent from fright, a furious ringing of the bell sounded long and
loud. Michael opened the door to a party of men who were in pursuit of
a strange-looking person whose face had been seen at the tower window;
whether an escaped lunatic from the state asylum, or an escaped murderer
for whom a large reward was offered, remained to be proved.
The search was instituted with George Randolph at the head. The victim
was soon unearthed, but in a moment, laughing wildly in the frenzy of
madness, he darted out upon the roof and, rather than be captured,
dashed himself to the pavement below.
All night they sat beside the brave girl, and bit by bit heard her
story. For days she was ill from the shock of her fearful experience.
The wedding was very quiet, but George refused to have it deferred.
It was months before the bride could summon courage to live at
Crestdale, and she was a much older woman before she could refer with
composure to Katie's murtherin' ghost.