The Beetle: A Mystery

by Richard Marsh

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE LADY RAGES

  Dora Grayling stood in the doorway.

  'I told your servant he need not trouble to show me in,--and I've comewithout my aunt. I hope I'm not intruding.'

  She was--confoundedly; and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell herso. She came into the room, with twinkling eyes, looking radiantlyhappy,--that sort of look which makes even a plain young womanprepossessing.

  'Am I intruding?--I believe I am.'

  She held out her hand, while she was still a dozen feet away, and whenI did not at once dash forward to make a clutch at it, she shook herhead and made a little mouth at me.

  'What's the matter with you?--Aren't you well?'

  I was not well,--I was very far from well. I was as unwell as I couldbe without being positively ill, and any person of common discernmentwould have perceived it at a glance. At the same time I was not goingto admit anything of the kind to her.

  'Thank you,--I am perfectly well.'

  'Then, if I were you, I would endeavour to become imperfectly well; alittle imperfection in that direction might make you appear to moreadvantage.'

  'I am afraid that that I am not one of those persons who ever do appearto much advantage,--did I not tell you so last night?'

  'I believe you did say something of the kind,--it's very good of you toremember. Have you forgotten something else which you said to me lastnight?'

  'You can hardly expect me to keep fresh in my memory all the follies ofwhich my tongue is guilty.'

  'Thank you.--That is quite enough.--Good-day.'

  She turned as if to go.

  'Miss Grayling!'

  'Mr Atherton?'

  'What's the matter?--What have I been saying now?'

  'Last night you invited me to come and see you this morning,--is thatone of the follies of which your tongue was guilty?'

  The engagement had escaped my recollection--it is a fact--and my facebetrayed me.

  'You had forgotten?' Her cheeks flamed; her eyes sparkled. 'You mustpardon my stupidity for not having understood that the imitation was ofthat general kind which is never meant to be acted on.'

  She was half way to the door before I stopped her,--I had to take herby the shoulder to do it.

  'Miss Grayling!--You are hard on me.'

  'I suppose I am.--Is anything harder than to be intruded on by anundesired, and unexpected, guest?'

  'Now you are harder still.--If you knew what I have gone through sinceour conversation of last night, in your strength you would be merciful.'

  'Indeed?--What have you gone through?'

  I hesitated. What I actually had gone through I certainly did notpropose to tell her. Other reasons apart I did not desire to seemmadder than I admittedly am,--and I lacked sufficient plausibility toenable me to concoct, on the spur of the moment, a plain tale of thedoings of my midnight visitor which would have suggested that thenarrator was perfectly sane. So I fenced,--or tried to.

  'For one thing,--I have had no sleep.'

  I had not,--not one single wink. When I did get between the sheets,'all night I lay in agony,' I suffered from that worst form ofnightmare,--the nightmare of the man who is wide awake. There wascontinually before my fevered eyes the strange figure of that NamelessThing. I had often smiled at tales of haunted folk,--here was I one ofthem. My feelings were not rendered more agreeable by a strengtheningconviction that if I had only retained the normal attitude of ascientific observer I should, in all probability, have solved themystery of my oriental friend, and that his example of the genus ofcopridae might have been pinned,--by a very large pin!--on a piece--amonstrous piece!--of cork. It was galling to reflect that he and I hadplayed together a game of bluff,--a game at which civilisation was oncemore proved to be a failure.

  She could not have seen all this in my face; but she sawsomething--because her own look softened.

  'You do look tired.' She seemed to be casting about in her own mind fora cause. 'You have been worrying.' She glanced round the biglaboratory. 'Have you been spending the night in this--wizard's cave?'

  'Pretty well'

  'Oh!'

  The monosyllable, as she uttered it, was big with meaning. Uninvited,she seated herself in an arm-chair, a huge old thing, of shagreenleather, which would have held half a dozen of her. Demure in it shelooked, like an agreeable reminiscence, alive, and a little up-to-date,of the women of long ago. Her dove grey eyes seemed to perceive so muchmore than they cared to show.

  'How is it that you have forgotten that you asked me to come?--didn'tyou mean it?'

  'Of course I meant it.'

  'Then how is it you've forgotten?'

  'I didn't forget.'

  'Don't tell fibs.--Something is the matter,--tell me what it is.--Is itthat I am too early?'

  'Nothing of the sort,--you couldn't be too early.'

  'Thank you.--When you pay a compliment, even so neat an one as that,sometimes, you should look as if you meant it.--It is early,--I knowit's early, but afterwards I want you to come to lunch. I told auntthat I would bring you back with me.'

  'You are much better to me than I deserve.'

  'Perhaps.' A tone came into her voice which was almost pathetic. 'Ithink that to some men women are almost better than they deserve. Idon't know why. I suppose it pleases them. It is odd.' There was adifferent intonation,--a dryness. 'Have you forgotten what I came for?'

  'Not a bit of it,--I am not quite the brute I seem. You came to see anillustration of that pleasant little fancy of mine for slaughtering myfellows. The fact is, I'm hardly in a mood for that just now,--I'vebeen illustrating it too much already.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well, for one thing it's been murdering Lessingham's cat.'

  'Mr Lessingham's cat?'

  'Then it almost murdered Percy Woodville.'

  'Mr Atherton!--I wish you wouldn't talk like that.'

  'It's a fact. It was a question of a little matter in a wrong place,and, if it hadn't been for something very like a miracle, he'd be dead.'

  'I wish you wouldn't have anything to do with such things--I hate them.'

  I stared.

  'Hate them?--I thought you'd come to see an illustration.'

  'And pray what was your notion of an illustration?'

  'Well, another cat would have had to be killed, at least.'

  'And do you suppose that I would have sat still while a cat was beingkilled for my--edification?'

  'It needn't necessarily have been a cat, but something would have hadto be killed,--how are you going to illustrate the death-dealingpropensities of a weapon of that sort without it?'

  'Is it possible that you imagine that I came here to see somethingkilled?'

  'Then for what did you come?'

  I do not know what there was about the question which was startling,but as soon as it was out, she went a fiery red.

  'Because I was a fool.'

  I was bewildered. Either she had got out of the wrong side of bed, or Ihad,--or we both had. Here she was, assailing me, hammer and tongs, sofar as I could see, for absolutely nothing.

  'You are pleased to be satirical at my expense.'

  'I should not dare. Your detection of me would be so painfully rapid.'

  I was in no mood for jangling. I turned a little away from her.Immediately she was at my elbow.

  'Mr Atherton?'

  'Miss Grayling.'

  'Are you cross with me?'

  'Why should I be? If it pleases you to laugh at my stupidity you arecompletely justified.'

  'But you are not stupid.'

  'No?--Nor you satirical.'

  'You are not stupid,--you know you are not stupid; it was onlystupidity on my part to pretend that you were.'

  'It is very good of you to say so.--But I fear that I am an indifferenthost. Although you would not care for an illustration, there may beother things which you might find amusing.'

  'Why do you keep on snubbing me?'

  'I keep on snubbing you!'<
br />
  'You are always snubbing me,--you know you are. Some times I feel as ifI hated you.'

  'Miss Grayling!'

  'I do! I do! I do!'

  'After all, it is only natural.'

  'That is how you talk,--as if I were a child, and you were,--oh I don'tknow what.--Well, Mr Atherton, I am sorry to be obliged to leave you. Ihave enjoyed my visit very much. I only hope I have not seemed toointrusive.'

  She flounced--'flounce' was the only appropriate word!--out of the roombefore I could stop her. I caught her in the passage.

  'Miss Grayling, I entreat you--'

  'Pray do not entreat me, Mr Atherton.' Standing still she turned to me.'I would rather show myself to the door as I showed myself in, but, ifthat is impossible, might I ask you not to speak to me between this andthe street?'

  The hint was broad enough, even for me. I escorted her through the hallwithout a word,--in perfect silence she shook the dust of my abode fromoff her feet.

  I had made a pretty mess of things. I felt it as I stood on the top ofthe steps and watched her going,--she was walking off at four miles anhour; I had not even ventured to ask to be allowed to call a hansom.

  It was beginning to occur to me that this was a case in which anotherblow upon the river might be, to say the least of it, advisable--and Iwas just returning into the house with the intention of putting myselfinto my flannels, when a cab drew up, and old Lindon got out of it.