Sally Gardiner grew deathly pale as Antoinette's words fell upon her
ear. Had she heard aright, or were her ears playing her a horrible
trick?
"Mr. Victor Lamont is in the grounds, my lady, hiding among the thick
alder-bushes down by the brook, and he vows he will stay there, be it
day, week, month, or year, until he gets an opportunity to see and speak
with you."
"You must manage to see him at once, Antoinette, and give him a message
from me. Tell him I will see him to-morrow night--at--at midnight, down
by the brook-side. I can not, I dare not, come before that, lest I might
attract the attention of the inmates of the house. If--if he should
question you about my affairs, or, in fact, about anything, make answer
that you do not know to all inquiries--all questions. Be off at once,
Antoinette. Delays are dangerous, you know."
As soon as she found herself alone, young Mrs. Gardiner turned the key
in the lock, and flew at once to her writing-desk. Antoinette had laid
several letters upon it. The letters--the writing upon two of which
seemed rather familiar to her--were from the gentlemen who had loaned
her the money a short time before at Newport. One stated that he should
be in that vicinity at the end of the week, asking if she could find it
convenient to pay part of the loan he had made to her when he called
upon her. The other letter stated that the writer would be obliged if
she could pay the money to his daughter when it became due. "She is a
great friend of Miss Margaret Gardiner's," he went on to state, "and has
decided to accept an invitation to spend a fortnight at the mansion, and
would arrive there the following week."
Sally Gardiner tore both letters into shreds, and cast them from her
with a laugh that was terrible to hear.
"I shall trust my wit to see me safely through this affair," she
muttered. "I do not know just how it is to be done, but I shall
accomplish it somehow."
There was a tap at the door. Thrusting the letters quickly in her desk,
she closed the lid, securely locked it, and put the key in the pocket of
her dress.
She was about to say "Come in," when she suddenly remembered that she
had fastened the door. When she opened it, she found Andrew, her
husband's valet, standing there with a very white, troubled face.
"I am sorry to hurry you, my lady," he said in a tremulous voice; "but
master seems so much worse we are sore afraid for him. Miss Margaret
bids me summon you without a moment's delay."
"I shall be there directly," replied the young wife; and the valet
wondered greatly at the cool way in which she took the news of her
husband's serious condition.
"Those pretty society young women have no hearts," he thought,
indignantly. "She married my poor young master for his money, not for
love; that is quite evident to me."
Young Mrs. Gardiner was just about to leave her _boudoir_, when
Antoinette returned.
"You saw him and delivered my message?" said Sally, anxiously.
"Oh, yes, my lady," returned the girl.
"Well," said Sally, expectantly, "what did he say?"
"He was raving angry, my lady," laughed Antoinette. "He swore as I told
him all; but at length he cooled down, seeing that his rage did not mend
matters. 'Take this to your mistress, my good girl,' he said, tearing a
leaf from his memorandum-book, and scribbling hastily, upon it. Here it
is, my lady."
As she spoke, she thrust a crumpled bit of paper into young Mrs.
Gardiner's trembling hand.
There was no date; the note contained but a few lines, and read as
follows:
"I shall be by the alder-bushes at midnight to-morrow
night, and shall expect you to be equally punctual. No
subterfuge, please. If for any reason you should fail
to keep your appointment, I shall call upon you
directly after breakfast the following morning, and
shall see you--_at any cost_!
"LAMONT."
She would not give herself any worry until she stood face to face with
Victor Lamont; then some sort of an excuse to put him off would be sure
to come to her.
There was another tap at the door. It was Andrew again, standing on the
threshold, shaking like an aspen leaf.
"Pardon me, my lady; Miss Margaret begs me to urge you to make all
possible haste."
"I am coming now," she answered; and, looking into her face, Andrew
marveled at the indifferent expression on it, and at the harshness of
her voice.
She followed him without another word. A frightened cry broke from her
lips as she hastily crossed the room, and bent over the couch on which
her husband lay.
He was marble white, and looked so strange, she thought he was certainly
dying.
"We have sent for all the doctors about here. They are expected every
moment," said Miss Margaret, touching her sister-in-law on the arm. "I
thought that in a consultation they would find some way to save him if
it lay in human power."
Sally looked up in affright into the calm white face beside her. She
tried to speak, but no sound fell from her cold, parched lips.
When the great doctors came, they would find that Jay Gardiner had not
taken the mild sleeping draught which poor Andrew believed he had
administered to him by mistake; but, instead, a most powerful drug, an
overdose of which meant death. Yes, they would find it out, and then----
She dared not think what would happen then.
"I have been looking carefully into this affair," continued Miss
Margaret, in that same calm, clear voice, "and I have reason to believe
there is something terribly wrong here. I have often taken the same
drops for sleeplessness that Andrew says has been administered to my
brother, and it never produced that effect upon me, and on several cases
I have taken an overdose."
"I--I--suppose--the--the--drug--acts differently upon different
constitutions," answered young Mrs. Gardiner.
Her eyes seemed fairly glued upon the still, white face lying back on
the not whiter pillow. She could not have removed her gaze if her very
life had been at stake.
"I have a strange theory," continued Miss Margaret, slowly, and in that
terribly calm voice that put Sally's nerves on edge. "A very strange
theory."
Margaret Gardiner saw her sister-in-law start suddenly and gasp for
breath, and her face grew alarmingly white as she answered, hoarsely:
"A theory of--of--how your brother's condition came about!" she
gasped, rather than spoke the words. "Then you--you--do
not--believe--Andrew's--statement?"
"No!" replied Margaret Gardiner, in that same high, clear, solemn voice
that seemed to vibrate through every pore of Sally's body. "I think
Andrew fully believes what he states to be the truth; but he has not
deceived. He has been most cleverly fooled by some one else."
"What--what--makes you--think that?" cried Sally, sharply. "Those are
strong words and a strange accusation to make, Miss Margaret."
"I am quite well aware of that," was the slow reply.
And as Jay's sister uttered the words, Sally could feel the strong gaze
which accompanied them burn like fire to the very depths of her beating
heart.
What did Margaret Gardiner suspect? Surely, she would never think of
suspecting that she--his bride--had any hand in Jay's illness? There
would be no apparent reason.
"Shall I tell you whom I suspect knows more of this than----"
"Doctor Baker, miss," announced one of the servants; and the coming of
the famous old doctor put a stop to all further conversation for the
present, much to Sally's intense relief.