All during the afternoon of the day upon which she had first met her
husband during his confinement at Dr. Hartmann's, Grace Duvall wandered
about the place, looking for him, waiting with growing fears for his
appearance. When evening came, and she had failed to find him, she
became greatly alarmed. In her excitement, she forgot the word she had
agreed to send into Brussels by the boy who drove the delivery wagon,
and was just returning to the house when she heard someone calling to
her from the drive. She turned and saw that it was the bread boy, who
had stopped his cart some little distance from the veranda.
"Mademoiselle," he called, "you have dropped your handkerchief." He
pointed with his whip to a white object which lay in the roadway close
beside the wheels of the cart. She had not dropped her handkerchief--she
knew that it was at that moment tightly clenched in her left hand, but
she understood.
"Thank you," she called, and hurried toward him. The boy, meanwhile, had
climbed down from the wagon, and picking up the handkerchief, which he
had himself secretly dropped, handed it to her, with a polite bow. She
felt, as she clutched the bit of linen, that within it lay a note.
"He is here," she said quickly, in an undertone. "The box is safe. It is
hidden. They have not yet discovered it. But I am afraid something
terrible has happened to Mr. Duvall. Tell them to send help, quick." She
turned away, and the boy mounted his box, whistling gayly, and at once
drove off.
Grace hurried to her room, to examine the note within the handkerchief.
She could hardly wait to see what it contained. The contents were a
great disappointment to her. "Leave the house about ten o'clock
to-morrow morning," it said. That was all. She had already decided to do
this, in order to effect, if possible, her husband's release. So far as
the snuff box was concerned, she felt that she did not care whether the
doctor discovered it or not, if only she might know that Richard was
safe. All during the evening she wandered aimlessly about the house,
hoping each minute that she might come upon him, but her search was in
vain. Richard Duvall seemed to have vanished completely.
Once she met the doctor, just as she had given up in despair and was
returning to her room. He spoke pleasantly enough, asked her how she
felt, and showed much concern that she had refused to eat any supper.
"You must eat, mademoiselle," he told her. "Have you taken regularly the
tonic I prescribed?" She nodded, not considering it necessary to inform
him that she had carefully poured it, dose by dose, into the sink. For a
moment she thought of asking him what had become of Mr. Brooks, but she
feared to rouse his suspicions. "I'm feeling somewhat out of sorts," she
said. "I'll be all right in the morning."
"I am gratified to observe," he remarked, as she left him, "that you had
no tendency to walk in your sleep last night. I trust the improvement
will continue. Good-night." She could not determine whether or not there
lay any hidden meaning back of his words. His mirthless smile somehow
made her feel uncomfortable.
His words, however, inspired her to form a new plan. She would go to the
laboratory that night, if she could by any means escape the vigilance of
the woman on guard in the hall, and find out, if possible, whether or
not Richard was confined there. From the windows of her room, which
faced the rear of the house, she could see plainly the small square
brick building in which the laboratory was located. There were lights in
the floor on a level with her windows--that, she knew, was the room in
which she had seen Hartmann sitting at his desk, on the night of her
arrival. But there were, she knew, rooms both above and below this one,
and in the latter lay hidden the Ambassador's snuff box. Was Richard
confined there, as well? She determined to find out.
The woman who sat on watch in the hall came to her room at half-past ten
and looked in to see if she required anything. Grace, who was just
getting into bed, told her that she did not, said good-night sleepily,
and asked her to turn off the lights. The woman did so, and closing the
door softly, retired.
Grace lay in bed a long time, wondering how she could get down the hall,
and into the passageway leading to the laboratory, without being
observed. There seemed no possible way of accomplishing this, yet she
was determined to attempt it. Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint
ringing of an electric bell. She knew it was the one in the hall, near
where the nurse sat, by which any of the patients, desiring her presence
during the night, might summon her to their rooms. Grace slipped out of
bed, opened her door the slightest crack, so that she could command a
view of the hall, and peered out. She saw the nurse coming toward her
with a glass of water in her hand. She disappeared for a moment into a
room across the corridor, then reappeared almost at once and resumed her
seat at the head of the stairs.
Grace was disappointed. She had been on the point of starting out, when
the woman's reappearance prevented her. She crouched on the floor beside
her door, waiting until the nurse should again be summoned away.
She waited for hours. She heard the church bells in the city, far off
and muffled, booming the hour of midnight. The nurse on the chair yawned
and nodded. After what seemed an eternity, she heard one o'clock strike,
and then two. The house was shrouded in silence. Her knees were cramped
and cold, from contact with the floor; her whole body seemed sore, from
the nervous tension of her position. She almost screamed, when the
electric bell suddenly rang out again, its sound intensified by the
stillness until it seemed as though it must wake everyone in the house.
The nurse rose sleepily, glanced at the indicator on the wall which
informed her from which room the summons had come, and started down the
corridor toward the west wing of the building. As she passed beyond the
circle of light cast by the electric globe in the central hall, Grace
pushed her door open and slipped noiselessly out. For a moment she
hesitated, saw the woman enter a room midway of the corridor, then flew
like the wind toward the door which gave entrance to the passageway
leading to the laboratory. Her bare feet made no sound, she gained the
door without being discovered, and in an instant had swung it open, and
was standing in the long covered way outside. She drew the door to after
her noiselessly, then sank upon her knees and listened. In a short while
she heard the nurse come shuffling down the corridor, and the creaking
of her chair as she sank heavily into it. So far, she felt that she was
safe.
She advanced along the corridor with great caution. Her chief fear was
that the door of the laboratory might be locked, in which case, she
would be unable to proceed further. When she reached it, and felt it
yield as she slowly turned the knob, she heaved a sigh of relief. In a
moment she was in the laboratory.
The room was unlighted, save for a faint glow which came from a small
black box in the center of the floor. She had no idea what this box was,
but noticed that heavy wires ran to it, from each side, and that there
were several protuberances upon its top, which shone like brass. She did
not stop to examine it further, however, but looked about for some means
of reaching the room below. The idea of recovering the snuff box had
suddenly occurred to her. With that in her possession, Richard, she
believed, need no longer hesitate to escape at the first opportunity. He
had told her that it was hidden in the room beneath. She ran quickly
down the steps which she observed in one corner, feeling a glow of
excitement at the daring of her quest.
At the bottom of the stairs she found a narrow little corridor with a
heavy door opening on it which she judged led into the room she desired
to enter. The corridor was lighted by a single window at the end
opposite the staircase, through which came a faint light from without.
She groped about in the semi-darkness until she found the knob of the
door and slowly turned it, pressing her weight against the panels. It
did not yield. With a sickening feeling of disappointment she realized
that it was locked.
She stood still for a moment, wondering what she should do next.
Suddenly she shuddered, and a horrible faintness came over her. From
within the room she distinctly heard the slow moaning of someone
evidently in great pain. Thoughts of Richard at once rushed through her
mind; she flung herself on her knees, in an agony of fear, and sought
frantically for the keyhole. At last she found it, and looked into the
room. The sight that met her gaze sent her reeling backward. There lay
Richard, her husband, upon the floor, his face encircled by a ring of
blinding light, by which she could see, with frightful distinctness, the
ghastly expression of his features, the lines of agony about his eyes
and mouth.
For a moment she beat frantically upon the door, calling to him
incoherently. She thought he did not hear her, for he did not turn his
head. Then she stopped, frightened at what she had done. Suppose the
doctor were to overhear her? Everything would be lost. There was but one
chance for Richard now, she felt, and that lay with her. She would leave
the house, in the morning, proceed at once to the Minister's, and tell
him the whole story. Snuff box or no snuff box, she was determined to
rescue her husband from his present situation, if it was not already too
late.
For a long time she looked into the room, watching the face, grim and
silent in the circle of light. She called to him over and over, softly,
telling him of her plans, of her love for him, of her sorrow, but he
seemed not to hear. But for the twitching of his face, and the low moans
which he uttered from time to time, she might have supposed him dead.
How she got back to her room, she could scarcely have told. She
staggered up the stairs into the laboratory, out along the corridor, and
at last reached the door leading into the main building. She pushed this
silently open, and gazed cautiously into the hall. The nurse sat in her
chair, apparently asleep. With the utmost care, Grace managed to enter
the hall, and to close the door behind her. Then seeing that the woman
was rousing, she determined upon a bold plan. She opened her eyes wide,
trying to give them a vacant, staring appearance, and with arms extended
started toward the nurse.
The latter rose with an exclamation of alarm, then recognizing the
sudden apparition as Grace, came up to her, took her by the arm, and led
her back to her room. She sank helplessly upon the bed, and pretended to
fall asleep. Whether the woman suspected her or not, she could not
tell--she noticed that she locked the door, on leaving the room.
The hours until dawn seemed interminable. She lay in bed, praying that
there might yet be time in which to save Richard from Hartmann's
machinations. What it was that the latter was doing to him, she could
not guess, but the look of agony on Duvall's face told her that his
sufferings, from some cause, were very great.
After a long time the day broke, and she dressed and managed to choke
down a little breakfast. She kept in her room until long after nine
o'clock, not daring to leave the house before ten. Dr. Hartmann came in
just as she was preparing to go. She saw him glance quickly toward her
hat, as she put it on. "I'm going in to the city, this morning, doctor,"
she said, carelessly. "There are a few things I must get at one of the
shops."
He nodded, as though the matter were quite unimportant. "You had another
attack, last night, Miss Ellicott," he said. "I regret that the symptoms
have recurred."
"Did I? What did I do?" she inquired, wide-eyed.
"Nothing, luckily. Walked down the corridor a short distance, the nurse
tells me. She stopped you before you got very far." He regarded her with
his keen professional look. "Strange--you do not appear abnormally
nervous. I fear I shall have to begin the hypnotic treatment at once."
She paid but scant attention. If she could accomplish what she hoped,
this morning, neither Dr. Hartmann nor his treatments would matter in
the least to her. "I am sorry it will be necessary," she said, "but of
course you know best."
When she left the grounds, she watched carefully to see if she was being
followed, but there was nothing to indicate that such was the case. At
the corner below, a small, youngish-looking man turned in behind her. He
appeared to have been walking rapidly, but she had no particular reason
to believe that he was following her.
She made at once for the center of the town, determined to walk the
distance rather than wait to find a cab. On the way she passed several
stores, and it occurred to her to stop in at one of them and buy a pair
of gloves, to lend color to her excuses. She did so, and was just going
out again when she suddenly came face to face with the young man she had
thought was following her. "Miss Ellicott," he said, raising his hat,
and as his hand was poised before her eyes, she saw on his finger a ring
similar to the one which had been given her in Paris by Monsieur
Lefevre, on the day of her departure. She colored, started to pass on,
then stopped. "Good-morning," she gasped, faintly.
"I'm so glad to see you," he rattled on. "Don't you remember our being
introduced, at dinner one night, in Paris. I'm delighted to meet you
again. On your way down-town, I suppose?" His remark seemed a question.
She answered it at once. "Yes, a little shopping to do, and then I
thought of stopping at the house of some friends--the United States
Minister," she added, by way of explanation.
The stranger bowed. "May I have the pleasure of accompanying you?" he
asked. "I also am going in that direction."
Grace assented, and they went out together. At the door the man summoned
a cab. "It is safer," he whispered. "We may be observed."
Once inside the cab, which was a closed one, the young man began to ply
Grace with questions. "I am one of Monsieur Lefevre's men," he told her,
noting her momentary hesitation. "Be quite frank, please, and tell me
everything."
When she had finished her story, he sat in silence for a long time. Then
he turned to her with a question which made her think he had suddenly
lost his mind. "Has Dr. Hartmann a phonograph in the house?" he
inquired.
"A phonograph?" she looked at him curiously.
"Yes--yes." His voice betrayed his excitement. "We must send a message
to Mr. Duvall. Your windows overlook the room where he is confined. He
may hear it. It is the only way."
"Yes," she said, after a moment's thought. "There is a phonograph in the
library--a small one. It is seldom used. But Dr. Hartmann--"
"Listen to me," he interrupted, "and do exactly as I say. Pretend to be
ill. Ask Dr. Hartmann's permission to have the instrument moved to your
room. Then play the records which I am about to get for you."
She gazed at him, scarcely understanding. "But--" she began.
"Of course you will play other records, as well, but this one you must
play often--as often as possible. I do not know that Mr. Duvall will
understand what the message is--it is a chance, but we must take it. I
myself do not understand it very clearly, but the suggestion comes from
Monsieur Lefevre himself. You know him. He has your husband's safety at
heart." He leaned out, giving a few rapid instructions to the cabman,
and then once more turned to Grace.
"Do not visit the house of the United States Minister. It will be most
unwise. As soon as he learns that Mr. Duvall and yourself are at Dr.
Hartmann's house as spies, he will of necessity refuse to assist you
further. Should he not do so, should he demand Mr. Duvall's release,
nothing would be gained, since the snuff box would of necessity be left
behind. Dr. Hartmann will not injure your husband--he is too anxious to
get possession of the snuff box for that. We will try the phonograph,
to-day, and if that means is unsuccessful, we must make an attempt to
regain the box, and release your husband by force."
As he finished speaking, the cab drew up at a music store. The stranger
sprang out, and in a few moments reappeared with a small package in his
hand. He handed it to her, then removed his hat and bowed. "I would
suggest, mademoiselle, that you return at once, and make use of this as
I have directed. If anything further occurs, send word by the delivery
boy to-night." He bowed, and walked rapidly down the street.
Grace sadly ordered the cabman to return to Dr. Hartmann's, and then sat
back, her mind torn by conflicting emotions. The whole thing seemed
inexplicably mysterious and confusing. Here was Richard, her husband,
suffering she knew not what agonies at Dr. Hartmann's hands, and these
people, who ought to be attempting to liberate him, asked her to play
upon the phonograph. She tore open the package which the young man had
handed her, and glanced at it eagerly. Its title told her no more than
the stranger himself had done. She read it over and over, aimlessly. It
was _The Rosary_.