I ASK MISS TEMPLE A QUESTION
"Miss Temple," I said, as we sat beside each other on the big
leather-covered settle facing the fire, "I want to thank you with all my
heart for going up to London to see me. I know why you went and can
never tell you how deeply I appreciate it."
She looked at me with her bewitching smile, which somehow made me feel
both delightfully happy and yet vaguely uncertain of myself. "I had to
come, Mr. Morgan," she said. "As soon as I knew the police were
fastening their suspicions upon you, I knew I should be obliged to tell
what I had seen. Yet I felt horrified at the thought of accusing my
father. I could not understand his being where I imagined I saw him. I
knew his mad desire for the jewel and was filled with dismay at the
thought that he would attempt to secure it by such means. Of course I
had no thought then of Mr. Ashton's death. I ran to my room, threw off
my wet clothes, and appeared in the hall just as your cries aroused the
house. Li Min must have re-entered the house just after I retired to my
room. I did not look into the hallway of the west wing. I avoided doing
so purposely, as I did not wish to humiliate my father by letting him
know that I had seen him on the roof. Of course I was deceived by the
long coat and cap. My father is of about the same height as Li Min, and
I had been so accustomed to seeing him in that particular coat and
cap--he invariably wore them when walking about the grounds--that I felt
no doubt whatever as to his identity. Had I found you in London, Mr.
Morgan, I should have told you everything and been guided by your
advice."
"I wish you had found me there," I said, "but, as it is, everything has
turned out well. Only I am sorry that you should have had to undergo
such a terrible experience."
"Oh, it wasn't so bad. They gave me a very comfortable room at the
police station in London, and the matron was extremely kind. I might
have enjoyed the experience thoroughly, had I not been so terribly
worried about my father." The dark shadow which fell across her face
reminded me forcibly of the suffering she had undergone. I hastened to
change the subject.
"Sometime I hope to show you London and my studio under different
circumstances," I said. "I've got a lot of interesting old things there
that I've picked up. You must surely come."
"Oh, I should love to. And your pictures! You must show me those, too."
"I'll be glad to. We will get up a party, some time. I've lots of
delightful friends among the painters and musical people. You'd like
them, I know."
"It's the life I've always dreamed of," she said, her cheeks flushing
with excitement. "I've been to so many places, Rome and Paris, and
Vienna and Cairo, and the East, you know, but I really know very little
about them. The outside I have seen, of course, but the real life--that
I have missed. And now we are stuck down here, where we don't know
anybody, because father fancies it is good for his health. I suppose it
is, but it isn't real, joyous living. I hardly feel alive."
"But you go to London, don't you? Your father spoke of his house there."
"Oh, yes, we are there a great deal, but father's friends are mostly
professors of Assyriology and Egyptology, and people of that sort, and
they come and stay for hours and talk about scarabs and hieroglyphics
and mummies, and all that sort of thing. Sometimes I feel almost as
though I were about to become a mummy myself."
She certainly did not look it, with her wonderful color, heightened by
the firelight and her large and brilliant eyes. I could not help looking
deep into them as I replied.
"We must prevent that, at all costs. Let me show you what it is to
really live."
"Isn't that rather a large order? And we have known each other for so
short a time, too." She laughed nervously, but did not seem displeased
at my remark.
"I think the experiences of the past week have caused us to know each
other very well," I said, gravely, "and I hope you may think as much of
the friendship which has come to us as I do."
"Are we then really friends?" she said slowly. "I never had a man
friend--nor very many of any sort, I fear. We have always moved about so
much from place to place."
I regretted my choice of words. I could readily believe that she would
not find it easy to have a man friend, for he would at once proceed to
fall head over heels in love with her, as I had done. "Perhaps not
friends," I said, and, as I did so, I placed my hand over hers, which
lay beside me upon the leather seat of the settle. "At least not friends
only. I suppose, Miss Temple, that you will be very much surprised, when
I tell you that I have never thought of you in that way. I have always
dreamed, all my life, of a woman like you, who would be close beside me,
and share all my hopes and dreams, and be the cause of them all as well,
and be glad of my successes and not think the less of me because of my
failures. But a woman to be all that must be more than a man's friend,
Miss Temple--she must be his wife."
The color flooded her cheeks as I said this, but she did not draw away
her hand. "A woman would have to be very greatly loved by a man, and
love him very greatly in return, to be all that to him," she said.
"I can only speak for myself, Miss Temple--Muriel. I love you very
greatly, so much indeed, that I am telling you of it now--when I have
the opportunity--instead of waiting, as no doubt you think I should.
But, were I to wait, I do not know what trick of fate might intervene to
prevent me. Your father might suddenly be seized with the idea of going
to India, or Japan, or somewhere else, and I should be unable to tell
you what has been singing in my heart ever since the first moment I saw
you. We have passed through much trouble, you and I, and that has
brought us closer to each other than years of formal acquaintanceship
might ever have done. I want you--I need you--I love you, and I shall
always love you." I drew her to me, unresisting. "Do you love me, dear?"
I said, and, when she put her arms about my neck and her head upon my
breast I knew what her answer was, and that I had found my heart's
desire.
It must have been half an hour later when Major Temple burst into the
library, in a great state of excitement. We heard him coming along the
hall, and I had made up my mind to ask his consent to our marriage as
soon as he came in. I failed to do so, because he seemed much excited,
and asked us at once if we had seen anything of Boris, his favorite
mastiff. He had missed the dog that morning, before setting out for
Exeter he said, but his mind was so troubled by the prospect of the
hearing, and his daughter's arrest, that he gave the matter but scant
thought. He had suddenly realized, a few moments ago, while writing some
letters in his study, that the dog was not in his favorite place upon
the hearthrug and that in fact he had not seen him since his return from
Exeter. He made inquiries at once, but none of the servants had seen the
dog since the day before. I remembered at once the howling that I had
heard during the night and spoke of it. The Major thought for a moment,
then raised his head with a sudden look of comprehension. "Don't you
remember, Mr. Morgan, that Boris was with us when we made our
examination of the green room last night? I do not recollect seeing him
after that. We all left the room very hurriedly, you will remember,
having just learned that my daughter could not be found. The poor fellow
has no doubt been locked in there ever since, and it was his howls that
you heard. Wait until I see if I can find another key--there are two
about the house somewhere. Sergeant McQuade has the one usually left in
the door."
He disappeared for a few moments, then returned with several keys upon a
wire ring. "One of these will open it, I think," he said, and led the
way to the green room, Muriel and I following him. "Poor dog," he said
as we hastily ascended the stairs, "he must be dying for food, or a
drink of water."
Upon our arrival at the door, Major Temple tried several of the keys
before finding one that would open it. At last the lock turned, however,
and he attempted to push open the door. It refused to open, and felt, he
said, as though some heavy object had been placed against it, upon the
inside of the room. I went to his assistance and by pushing with our
united strength forced the door inward sufficiently to allow us to
enter. The Major took a candle from the room occupied by myself, across
the hall, and we squeezed our way into the room with some difficulty,
Muriel remaining outside. What was our astonishment to see lying upon
the floor, his head close to the door, as though struck down in an
effort to escape, the Major's mastiff, Boris, stone dead, his eyes wide
open and staring, his mouth distended and still covered with foam, his
face wearing an expression of intense fear. It was a horrible sight,
and we looked at each other in alarm. "My God," said the Major--"this
room is accursed. Let us go." He started for the door.
"Shall I come in?" we heard Muriel asking from the hall without.
"No--no!" the Major commanded. "We will be with you in a moment." He
motioned to me to go ahead, and he followed me and closed the door.
"What is the matter?" asked his daughter as she saw our startled faces.
"Isn't Boris there?"
"Yes, he is there." The Major's tone was grave and solemn. "He is there,
Muriel, and he is dead. I do not know what is the secret of that room,
but I shall never enter it again." He turned from us, and led the way
down the hall.
"Dead!" said Muriel, turning to me. "Is it really true?"
I assured her that it was.
She glanced at me with a scared sort of a look. "Do you think," she
said, slowly, "that Li Min's story of the vengeance of Buddha could
really be true, after all?"
"No, I do not," I said, though I was not so absolutely sure as I
pretended to be. "It is hardly likely that Buddha would turn his
vengeance upon an inoffensive dog, who had certainly done nothing to
incur it. It is a curious and unfortunate coincidence, that is all. The
dog has no doubt died of fright, caused by his unusual situation,
coupled perhaps with lack of food, water and air. Or he may have dashed
himself against the door in his struggles and died of apoplexy. I've
frequently heard of dogs dying from some such cause, especially old
ones. How old was Boris?"
"About four years," said Muriel, and I knew from the way in which she
spoke that she did not believe my explanation of the affair in the
least.
When we reached the floor below, the Major directed Gibson and one of
the other servants to remove the dog's body from the room, and we all
retired to the library, where we discussed the matter for a long time.
Major Temple, on sober thought, was inclined to agree with my view of
the matter, but in spite of our attempts to regard the event in a
common-sense light, we could not shake off a mysterious feeling of dread
at the thought of these two creatures, a man and a dog having so
inexplicably come to their ends in this room. In Ashton's case, at
least, there was a tangible enough evidence of the cause of death, but
in the case of Boris there was none. Major Temple stepped out and
examined the dog's body when the men brought it down from above, and
upon his return reported that there was no wound or mark of any sort
upon the animal that could account for its death.
Miss Temple essayed a few airs upon the piano, but our thoughts were not
attuned to music, and presently, as it was close to eleven o'clock, she
said good-night to us both and left us. As she passed me on her way from
the room, she leaned over and kissed me upon the forehead, and I turned
to find the Major staring at me in perplexity. Poor man, so many strange
things had happened during the course of this eventful day that I fear
he would not have been greatly surprised had I suddenly stood upon my
head and attempted to recite the Jabberwock backward. I at once told him
of my love for Muriel, and of her feelings toward me, and asked his
consent to our marriage. "It is a bit sudden, I'll admit, Sir," I
concluded, "but none the less real and true for all that."
"But, my dear Sir," gasped the Major, evidently very much taken aback by
my flow of words, and my earnest and somewhat excited manner, "I hardly
know you. How can you expect me to reply to such a question, to give my
consent to your marriage with my daughter, when I know absolutely
nothing of your position, your prospects, or your income?"
I expected his objections and answered them at once. "You are quite
right, Sir, of course," I answered. "As for my income, I am making close
to a thousand pounds a year from my profession, which, as you may know,
is that of an illustrator for books and for the magazines. In addition
to that, I have an income from my father's estate of 800 pounds a year.
At my mother's death I shall have as much more. My father was Edward
Morgan, of whom you may perhaps have heard. He was a well-known civil
engineer, and railway constructor, and distinguished himself in India,
in the construction of the great sea-wall at Calcutta. My mother is
still living, and I know she would be most happy to welcome Muriel as a
daughter, for I have no brothers or sisters, and she is very lonely."
At the mention of my profession and my income I noticed that Major
Temple's frown relaxed somewhat, but when I mentioned my father's name
and the fact of his having spent a part of his life in India, he fairly
beamed.
"Are you really the son of Edward Morgan?" he cried, rising. "Why, my
boy, I knew him well. I was in the Indian service for fifteen years, and
who did not know him, who has spent much time in that benighted country?
Many's the time I've dined with him at our club in Calcutta. He was a
fine man, and, if I remember rightly, he refused a knighthood for his
services." He came up to me and took my hand. "It's all very sudden, I
must say, but I should be very glad to see Muriel happily married, and,
if she believes you to be the right man, I shall interpose no
objections. But I should advise that you both wait a reasonable time,
until you are certain that you have not made any mistake. As for me, I
am an old man, and I have traveled all over the world, but the only
real happiness I have ever found was in the love of my wife. She went
out to India with me, and she never came back." He turned and gazed into
the fire to hide his emotions. "I have become half-mad over this
business of collecting antiquities and curios," he resumed, presently,
"but it isn't real, it's only an insane hobby after all, and I have only
just realized how selfish it all is, and how selfish I have been as
well, to consider for a moment bartering my daughter's happiness for a
miserable Chinese idol to which I never had any right in the first
place." He drew a cigar from his pocket and lighted it hurriedly.
I thanked him for his attitude toward my suit, and agreed to leave the
setting of our marriage day entirely in the hands of himself and Muriel.
Then, seeing that he was tired out after the long strain of the day, I
bade him good-night and retired to my room.
As I stopped at my doorway, I noticed that the door of the green room
stood partly open, and, filled with a curious fascination, I once more
peered into its dark and silent interior. I could see only the faint
outlines of the tall, old-fashioned bed, against the dim night light of
the sky without the windows. I stepped inside, acting upon the impulse
of the moment, and striking a wax taper lit one of the gas jets in the
heavy, old-fashioned bronze chandelier. The room seemed comfortable
enough, although I felt that peculiar stifling sensation which I had
noticed upon my first entering it. I looked about, and wondered for the
thousandth time what strange secret lay concealed within its walls, what
mysterious influence existed which was potent to strike down man or
beast alike without warning, as though by the hand of death itself. I
longed to penetrate to the heart of this mystery, to satisfy myself, at
least, that what had occurred herein had not been supernatural, the
action of unknown forces, but merely some working of well-known natural
laws, obscure perhaps, but none the less understandable, if but the
secret could once be grasped. Suddenly I was seized with an idea. Why
should I not spend the night here, instead of in the room across the
hall, and possibly thus determine the grim secret, which had set our
reason and common sense at naught. The idea grew upon me, and so
strongly was I possessed with it that I at once returned to my own room,
undressed, put on my pajamas, and, taking from my dressing-case, which
had been sent down from London, a small pocket revolver that I always
carried with me and had never yet used, I crossed the hall into the room
opposite, carrying with me some extra coverings for my bed. I did not
feel at all sleepy, so, after closing the door and climbing, not without
difficulty, into the high poster bed, I lay back comfortably upon the
pillows and proceeded to occupy myself in reading a magazine which I had
found lying upon the table in my own room.