Poison Island

by Arthur Quiller-Couch

  CHAPTER XXXIII.

  WE FIND THE TREASURE.

  "I've a strong sense of the right of property," said Miss Belcher,sipping her tea.

  We had gathered in Dr. Beauregard's deep verandah, at the cornerwhere it took the late afternoon sunshine. The level rays sparkledon the silver and delicate Worcester china of the Doctor's teaequipage, and fell through the open French window into the Doctor'sdrawing-room. A wonderful room it was, as everything in the housewas wonderful, a spacious, airy room, furnished in white and gold,with Dresden figures on the mantelshelf; Venetian mirrors, daintywater-colours sunk into the panels, cases of rare books (among them,as I remember, a set of the Cabinet des Fees, bound in rose-colouredmorocco and stamped with the Royal arms of France), stands of music,and a priceless harpsichord inlaid with ivory. Next to the airinessof the house, which stood high above reach of the valley mists withtheir malaria, what most sharply impressed me, and the ladies inparticular, was its exquisite cleanliness. Yet Dr. Beauregardassured us that he kept but one servant--the negress Rosa.

  At her master's call she had appeared in the verandah above us as wemounted the last terrace towards the house, and had stood therewatching our ascent with no trace of surprise, or, indeed, of anyemotion whatever, on her black, inscrutable face. Her eyes met mineas though she had never seen me before. To her care Dr. Beauregardhad given over the still unconscious Glass, and, with a sign to Mr.Rogers and Mr. Goodfellow to follow her with their burden, she hadled the way through the house to the bedroom at the back.There, in a bed between spotlessly clean sheets, they had laid thepatient, and been dismissed by her. It was she who, less than tenminutes later, had brought our tea to us in the verandah, and withour tea many little plates heaped with small cakes and sweetmeats--all fresh, as though she had been expecting us for hours, and couldcommand the resources of a city. I kept a sharp look-out, but of thestrange lady--the lady of the graveyard--I could detect no trace.Nothing indicated her presence, unless it were the dainty femininefurniture of the drawing-room.

  "I've a strong sense of the right of property," said Miss Belcher,sipping her tea and touching the oilskin wrapper, which lay in herlap unopened as Captain Branscome had handed it to her; and so hasJack Rogers here. You tell me, sir, that you hold Mortallone bygrant, and doubtless you can show your title."

  "Willingly, madam." Dr. Beauregard rose, and stepped to the Frenchwindow. "You can read Spanish?" he asked, turning there and pausing.

  "Not a word", answered Miss Belcher. The Doctor smiled. "It wouldimpart nothing it you could," said he, with a smile, "for I will ownto you frankly that Mortallone has always been under suspicion ofcontaining treasure, and in the grant all treasure-trove is expresslyreserved. I cannot say," he added, smiling again, "that I havestrictly observed the clause; but, as between you and me, it legallydisposes of my claim."

  "Thank you," said Miss Belcher; "but I don't own an equally tenderconscience towards Governments." Here Mr. Rogers winked at me, foras a patron of smugglers Miss Belcher enjoyed some reputation, evenfor a Cornish landowner. "We will leave Government out of thequestion; but as proprietor--lord of the manor, as we should say athome--you have a right to your share; and that, by English law--whichI suggest we follow--is one-third."

  Dr. Beauregard bowed. "I'm infinitely obliged to you, ma'am, and Imake no doubt that what you so generously promise you will ashonourably give--when I claim it. In truth, I have something morethan enough for my needs. There was a time (I will confess) when Ihad sold my soul, if I possessed such a thing, for a glimpse of whatlies written on that parchment. But I am old; and old age--"He broke off the sentence and did not resume it, but went onpresently, with a change of tone: "However, I still keep a sportinginterest in the treasure, which has baffled me all these years, themore so because I have a shrewd suspicion that it has lain all thewhile within a mile or so of where we sit at this moment."

  "It does, sir," said Miss Belcher, unfolding the chart and pointing.

  Dr. Beauregard adjusted a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses and benttowards it. The writing was indistinct, and he put out a hand as ifto take hold of the edge of the parchment and steady it. The hand, Inoticed, did not tremble at all.

  "Stay a moment, sir." Miss Belcher turned the chart over. "The clueis given here, upon the back. Listen." And she translated:--

  "'Right bank of river a mile and a half up from Gow Creek. Centre tree in clump of five: branch bearing north and half a point east: two forks--'"

  "My trees!" exclaimed the Doctor. "You remember my halting andpointing them out to you? Ah, yes, and I, too, remember now that youappeared to be disconcerted. You recognized them, of course?"

  "Yes, we recognized them," Miss Belcher admitted. But let mefinish:--"

  "'Right fork, four feet. Red cave under hill, four hundred and seventy-five yards from foot of tree, N.N.W. The stones here, under rock four spans, left side'"

  "--Which means, I suppose, that the cave lies some way up the face ofthe rock, and can only be seen by climbing out upon the right fork ofthe tree; and that the stones--that is to say, the jewels--are hiddenunder a rock to the left; which rock either measures four spans orlies, four spans within the entrance of the cave."

  "I know of no such cave, ma'am," said Dr. Beauregard, bending hisbrows. "Though, to be sure, the cliff is of a reddish colourthereabouts, due to a drip of water and the growth of some smallfungus."

  "I was a fool," said Captain Branscome, "to leave the tools in thegig. If we go back to fetch them, sunset will be upon us before weget to work."

  The Doctor rose, with a smile.

  "You might have guessed, sir, that I am not unprovided with spadesand picks, or with ropes and a ladder, which also I foresee we shallneed. Come; if you have drunk your tea, I will ask you to follow meinto the house--the ladies included--and choose your outfit."

  They went in after him. I was in the act of following--I had, infact, taken a couple of steps towards the French window--when aslight shiver seemed to run through my hair, and I stood still.

  "Little boy!"

  The words came in a whisper from the end of the verandah. I stoleback, and, leaning well across the rail, peered around the corner ofthe house.

  "Little boy!" whispered the voice again, and I saw the little lady ofthe graveyard. She was standing close back against theside-boarding, her body almost flattened against it. "Come," shewhispered, beckoning with a timid glance over her shoulder towardsthe rear of the house.

  I looked at her for a second or two, and shook my head.

  "But you must come," she insisted, still in a whisper, and took astep or two as if to entice me after her. Then she halted, and,seeing that I made no motion to follow, came tip-toeing back.

  "If you do not come," she said, "he will kill you! He willsar-tain-ly kill you all!"

  She nodded vehemently, and so, after another glance to right andleft, beckoned to me once again. Her face was white, almost as hermuslin frock, and something in it persuaded me to climb over theverandah-rail and follow her.

  About thirty yards from the corner of the house stood a clump ofodorous laurels, the scent of which we had been inhaling while we satat tea. For these she broke away at a run, nor looked back until shewas well within their shadow and I had overtaken her.

  "Good boy!" she said, nodding again and smiling at me with herdesperately anxious face. "I would wish--I would very much wish--tokiss you. But you mus' not come a-near"--she sighed--"it is nothealthy. Only you come with me. I dream of you, sometimes, all las'night. 'What a pity!' I dream, 'and you so pe-ritty boy!'Now you come with me, and I take you away so he never find you."

  The woman was evidently mad.

  "Please tell me what you have to say," I urged, "and let me go back.They will be missing me in a minute or so."

  "If they miss you, it is no matter now. He will kill them all, he isso strong . . . as he killed all those others . . . you remember?See, now, pe-ritty boy, w
hat I have done for you, to save you fromhim! He shut me up, in his other house--he has another house away upin the woods, beyond where we met." She waved a hand towards thehills. "But I break out, and come here to save you. He would killme also, if he knew."

  Mad though I believed her, I was growing pretty thoroughlyfrightened, remembering the graveyard under the trees. "You forgetmy friends," said I, speaking very simply, as to a child. "If hemeans to kill them, I ought to carry them warning."

  "He will not kill them till to-night," she answered, shaking herhead. "It is always at night-time, when they are at supper. Thereis no hurry, little boy; but he will sar-tain-ly kill them, all thesame."

  I turned my head, preparing to run, for I heard Captain Branscome'svoice in the verandah, calling my name.

  "They are starting after the treasure. I must go," I stammered.

  She drew close, and laid a hand on my arm. Again a dreadful odourwas wafted under my nostrils--an odour as of tuberoses, and I knownot what of corruption--and, as before in the graveyard, it turned meboth sick and giddy.

  "They will not find it," she said, nodding with an air of childishtriumph. "Shall I tell you why? _I_ have hidden it!" Here she fellback on her old litany. "He would kill me if he knew . . . I hidit--oh, years ago! But come, and I will show you; and you shall takea great deal--yes, as much as you can carry--if only you will goaway, and never be rash again."

  A second time I heard Captain Branscome's voice calling to me,demanding to know where I had disappeared.

  She put a finger to her lips, smiling. "Such treasure you never didsee. . . . Even Rosa does not know. . . . Come, little boy!"

  She pushed her way through the laurels, and I followed her. The edgeof the shrubbery overhung the dry bed of a torrent, in the cleft ofwhich, when we had lowered ourselves over the edge, we werecompletely hidden from the house. From the edge a slope of loosestones ran down to the bottom of the cleft, where a thin stream ofwater trickled. The stones slid with me, but not dangerously; and aswe scurried down--I in my thick boots, she in her diminutivedancing-shoes--I heard Plinny's voice join with Captain Branscome'sin calling my name. But by this time I was committed to theadventure, and by-and-by they desisted, supposing (as Plinny told melater) that I had taken French leave again, and run off to be firstat the clump of trees.

  We might not climb the slope directly in face of us; for, by so doing(even if it had been accessible, which I doubt), we should haveemerged into view. We therefore bent our way to the right up thebottom of the gorge, to a narrow tongue of rock dividing it, in theshelter of which we mounted the rough stairway of the torrent bedfrom one flat rock to another until we stepped out upon a shallowplateau where the contour of the hills shut off the house and itsterraces. We stood, as I judged, upon the reverse or northern sideof that ridge which to the south and west overlooked the valley ofthe treasure. Above the plateau a stone-strewn scarp of earth led tothe forest, which reached to the very summit of the ridge; andtowards the summit, after pausing for a second or two to pant andcatch her breath, my strange guide continued her climb.

  "What is your name, little boy?"

  I told her, and she repeated it once or twice, to get it by heart.

  "You may call me 'Metta," she said. "_He_ calls me 'Metta always,when he is pleased with me, and that is almost every day. He is kindto me; oh, yes, very kind--though terrible, of course. . . . Keep onmy left hand, Harry Brooks; so the breeze here will not blow from meto you."

  I drew up in a kind of giddiness, for that dreadful scent of deathhad touched me again. She, too, halted with a little cry of dismay,and a feeble motion of the hands, as if to wring them.

  "Ah, you must keep wide of me. . . . That is my suffering, HarryBrooks. I cannot bend over a flower but it withers, and thebutterflies die if they come near my breath . . . and that, too, is_his_ doing. He would be kind to me, he said, and would een-oculateme; yes, that is his word--een-oculate me, so that no poison couldever harm me. He knows the secrets of all the plants, and why peopledie of disease. Months at a time he used to leave me alone withRosa, and go to Havana, to the hospitals; and there he would studytill his body was wasted away with work; but at the end he would comeback, bringing visitors. Oh, many visitors! for he was rich, and thehouse had room for all. There were singers--he loves music--and menwho played all day at cards, and women who made me jealous. But hewould only laugh and say, 'Wait, little one.' So I waited, and inthe end they all died. Rosa said it was the yellow fever; but no."She held up both hands, and made pretence to pour something from animaginary bottle into an imaginary glass. "He can kill with one tinydrop. In his study he keeps a machine which makes water into ice.Rosa would carry round the ice with little glasses of curacoa, afterthe coffee was served; and all would say: 'What wonders are these?Ice in Mortallone!' and would drink his health. But _he_ nevertouched the ice. You tell that to your friends, little boy. But itwill not save them: for he will find some other way."

  As we went up the woods these awful confidences poured from her likechildish prattle, interrupted only by little ripples of laughter,half shy, half silly, and altogether horrible to hear. I hung back,divided between the impulse to tear myself away and the fearfulfascination of listening--between the urgent need to find and warn myfriends, and the forlorn hope to extract from her something thatmight save them. The toil of the climb had bathed me in sweat, andyet I shivered.

  I halted. We were close under the summit of the ridge, and hadreached a passing clearing where, between the trees, as I turnedabout, I could see the whole gorge in shadow at my feet, the sunlightwarm on its upper eastern slopes, and beyond these the sea. In halfan hour--in twenty minutes, maybe--I might reach the valley therebelow, and at least cry my warning. I faced round again to mycompanion.

  She had vanished.

  My mouth grew dry of a sudden. Was she a ghost? And her prattlingtalk--the voice yet singing in my brain--

  "Little boy! Little boy!"

  I parted the tall ferns. Beyond them a small hand beckoned, and,following it, I came face to face with a wall of naked rock fromwhich she lifted aside the creepers over a deep cleft--a cleft wideenough to admit a man's body if he turned sideways and stooped alittle.

  She clapped her hands at my astonishment. "You like my bower?" sheasked gleefully. "Ah, but wait, and I will show you wonders! No oneknows of it, not even Rosa."

  She wriggled her way through the cleft. I peered in, and went afterher cautiously, expecting, as the curtain of creepers fell behind me,to find myself in a dark cave or grotto. Dark it was, to be sure,but not utterly dark; and to my amazement, as my eyes grew accustomedto the gloom, the faint light came from ahead of me and seemed tostrike upwards from the bowels of the earth.

  "Do not be afraid, little boy! But hold your head low; and look toyour feet now, for it is steep hereabouts."

  Steep indeed it was. A kind of shaft, floored for the most part withslippery earth, but here and there with an irregular stairway ofrock; and still at the lower end of the tunnel shone a faint light.I would have given worlds by this time to retrace my steps. A slightdraught, blowing up the tunnel from my companion to me, bore theodour of death upwards under my nostrils; but this, while it dizziedand sickened me, seemed to clog my feet and take away all will toescape. I had nearly swooned, indeed, when my feet encountered levelearth again, and she put out a hand to steady me.

  "Is--is--this the end?"

  "It goes down--down, little boy; but we need not follow it.See, there is light, to the left of you; light, and fresh air,_and_ my pretty bower."

  I turned as her hand guided me. A puff of wind blew on my cheek,cold and infinitely pure. I stood blinking in a short gallery thatended suddenly in blue sky, and, staggering forward, I cast myselfdown on the brink.

  It was as though I lay on the sill of a great open window. Belowme--far below--waved great masses of forest, and beyond these--farbeyond--shone the blue sea. I cannot say to what depth the clifffell away belo
w me. It was more than sheer--it was undercut.I lay as one suspended over the void.

  "But see, pe-ritty boy! did I not promise you wonders?"

  As I faced around to the darkness of the gallery, she held aloftsomething which, for the moment, I mistook for a great green snakewith lines of fire running from scale to scale and sparkling as shewaved it before me. I rolled over upon my elbow and stared. It wasa rope of emeralds.

  She flung an end over one shoulder and looped it low over her breast;then, passing the other end about her neck, she brought it forwardover the same shoulder and let it dangle. It reached almost to herfeet.

  "Does it become me, little boy?" She made me a mock curtsey that setthe gems dancing with fire. "Come and choose, then!" She put outboth hands to the darkness by the wall, and a whole cascade of jewelscame sliding down and poured themselves with a rush about her feetand across the floor of the gallery. She laughed and thrust herhands again into the heap.

  "All these I found--I myself--and carried up here from the darkness.Take what you will, little boy, and run back to your ship.Is it diamonds you will choose, or rubies, or--see here--this chainof pearls? I do not like pearls, for my part; they mean sorrow.But--see here, again!--there were boxes and boxes, all heaped to thebrim, and long robes sown all over with pearls. Take what you like--_he_ will not know. He gives me diamonds sometimes. I adored themin the old days, in opera. And he remembers and gives me a stonefrom time to time, to keep me amused. I laugh to myself, then, whenI think of the store I keep, here in my bower. And he so clever!But he does not guess. Ah, child, if I had had but these to wearwhen I used to sing Eurydice!"

  She held out two handfuls of diamonds, and began to sing in a high,cracked voice, while she let them rain through her fingers.

  "But listen!" I cried suddenly.

  She ceased at once, and stood with her face half turned to thedarkness behind her, her arms rigid at her sides, the gems droppingas her hand slowly unclasped them. Below, where the tunnel ran downinto darkness, a voice hailed--

  "'Metta! Is that 'Metta?"

  It was the voice of Dr. Beauregard. The poor creature gazed at mehelplessly and ran for the stairway. But her feet sank in the looseheap of jewels; she stumbled; and, as she picked herself up, I sawthat she was too late; for already a light shone up from the tunnelbelow, and before she could gain the exit the Doctor stood there,lifting a torch, in the light of which I saw Mr. Rogers close behindhis shoulder.

  "'Metta!"

  I do not think he would have hurt her. But as the torch flared inher face and lit up the shining heap of jewels, she threw up bothhands and doubled back screaming. I believed that she called to meto hide. I put out a hand to catch her by the skirt, seeing that sheran madly; but the thin muslin tore in my clutch.

  "'Metta!"

  On the ledge, against the sky, the voice seemed to overtake andsteady her for a second; but too late. With a choking cry, she putout both hands against the void, and toppled forward; and in theentrance was nothing but the blue, empty sky.

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  DOCTOR BEAUREGARD.

  "Glass? My dear madam, pardon my remissness; he is dead.Rosa brought me the news before we sat down to table."

  I opened my eyes. In the words, as I came back to consciousness, Ifound nothing remarkable, nor for a few seconds did it surprise methat the dark gallery had changed into a panelled, lighted room, withcandles shining on a long, white table, and on flowers and crystaldecanters, and dishes heaped with fruit. The candles were shaded,and from the sofa where I lay I saw across the cloth the faces ofMiss Belcher and Captain Branscome intent on the Doctor.He was leaning forward from the head of the table and speaking toPlinny, who sat with her back to me, darkly silhouetted against thelight. Mr. Rogers, on Plinny's left, had turned his chair sidewaysand was listening too; and at the lower end of the board a tallepergue of silver partially hid the form of Mr. Goodfellow.

  "Yes, indeed, I ought to have told you," went on the Doctor's voice."But really no recovery could be expected. The man's heart wasutterly diseased."

  His gaze, travelling past Plinny, wandered as if casually towards me,where I lay in the penumbra. I felt it coming, and closed my eyes;and on the instant my brain cleared.

  Yes; Glass was dead, of course, poisoned by this man as ruthlessly asthese my friends would be poisoned if I cried out no warning. . . .Or perhaps it had happened already.

  I opened my eyes again, cautiously, little by little. The Doctor wasfilling Plinny's glass. Having filled it, he pushed the decanterstowards Mr. Rogers, and turned to say a word to Miss Belcher, on hisright. No; there was time. _It_ had not happened--yet.

  I wanted to start up and scream aloud. But some power, stronger thanmy will, held me down against the sofa-cushion. I had lost all gripof myself--of my voice and limbs alike. I could neither stir norspeak, but lay watching with half-closed eyes, while the room swamand in my ears I heard a thin voice buzzing: "Tell your friends-theice--_he_ never touches the ice. But it will not save them. He willfind some other way."

  The door opened, and its opening broke the spell. On the thresholdstood the tall negress with a tray of coffee-cups, and on the tray asalver with a number of little glasses and a glass bowl--a bowl ofice. Her master pushed back the decanters to make room for the traybefore him. She set it down, and the little glasses jingled softly.

  "Upon my word, sir," said Miss Belcher, "what wonder upon wonders isthis? Ice? And in Mortallone?"

  "It is Rosa's little surprise, madame, and she will be gratified byyour--"

  He pushed back his chair and, leaving the sentence unfinished, roseswiftly and came to me as I staggered up from the sofa. A cry workedin my throat, but before I could utter it his two hands were on myshoulders, and he had appealed to the company with a triumphantlittle laugh.

  "Did I not tell you the child would come to himself all right? Asimple sedative--after the fright he had. He's trembling now, poorboy. No, ma'am"--he turned to Plinny, who had risen, and was comingforward solicitously; "let him sit upright for a moment, while hecomes to his bearings. Or, better still, when you have finished yourcoffee--if Miss Belcher will be kind enough to pour it out for me--we will take him out into the fresh air. Yes, yes, and the soonerthe better, for I see that Mr. Rogers is fidgeting to be out andassure himself that the treasure has not taken wings."

  He forced me gently back to my seat, and walked to the table.

  "What were we saying? Ah, yes--to be sure--about the ice."He lifted his coffee-cup with a steady hand, and, his eyes travellingover it, fixed themselves on me, as though to make sure I wasrecovering. "The ice is a surprise of Rosa's, and I assure you sheis proud of it. But (you may go, Rosa) I advise you to contentyourselves with wondering; for the water on these hills, strange tosay, is not healthy."

  They voted the Doctor's advice to be good, and, having finished theircoffee, wandered out into the fresh air. Plinny took my arm, and,leading me to the verandah, found me a comfortable seat, where Icould recline and compose myself, for I was trembling yet.

  "They have stacked the treasure there beyond the last window," Plinnyinformed me, nodding towards the end of the verandah, where CaptainBranscome, Mr. Rogers, and Mr. Goodfellow were already gathered andbusy in conversation. "In bulk it is less than we expected, but invalue (the Doctor says) it goes beyond everything. Threehundredweight, they say, and in pure gems! He is to choose hisshare, by-and-by; and then we have to contrive how to take it down tothe ship."

  "Miss Plinlimmon," said the Captain, coming towards us, "you promisedme a word yesterday. I should wish to claim it now--that is, ifHarry can spare you."

  I observed that his voice shook a little, but this I set down toexcitement.

  "Did I? Yes, I remember."

  Miss Plinlimmon's voice, too, was tremulous. She hesitated, and hereyes in the dim light seemed to seek mine.

  I assured her that I was recovering fast, here in the fresh air, andthat it would be a k
indness, indeed, to leave me alone. She bentquickly and kissed me. I wondered why, as she stepped past theCaptain and he followed her down the verandah steps.

  I wished to be left alone. I was puzzled, and what puzzled mewas that neither Miss Belcher nor Dr. Beauregard had left thedining-room. In fact, as I passed out through the window, happeningto turn my head, I had caught sight of his face, and it had signalledto her to stay. I knew not why he should intend harm to Miss Belcherrather than to any other of our party. But I distrusted the man; andPlinny had scarcely left me before, having made sure that Mr. Rogersand Mr. Goodfellow were within easy call, I rose up softly, crept tothe dining-room window, and, dropping upon hands and knees close bythe wall, peered into the room.

  The Doctor and Miss Belcher had reseated themselves, He had pouredhimself out another glass of wine and was holding it up to the lightwith a steady hand, while she watched him, her elbows on the tableand her firm jaw resting on her clasped fingers. Her face, though itshowed no sign of fear, was pallid.

  "Yes," he was saying slowly; "it is too late at this hour to bediscussing what the priests would call the sin of it. You wouldnever convince me; and if you convinced me, I am too old--and tooweary--for what the priests call repentance. I am Martin--the sameman that outwitted Melhuish and his crew--the same that played Harrywith this Glass, and the man Coffin, and a drunken old ruffian theybrought with them from Whydah! The fools! to think to frighten _me_,that had started by laying out a whole ship's crew! And now you comealong; and I hold you all in the hollow of my palm. But I open myhand--so--and let you go."

  "Why?"

  "Why? I have told you. I am tired."

  "That is not all the truth," answered Miss Belcher, eyeing himsteadily.

  "No; it is not all the truth. No one tells all the truth in thisworld. But I am glad you challenge me, for you shall have a littlemore of the truth. I let you go because you were simpletons, and Ihad not dealt with simpletons before."

  "Is _that_ the truth?" she persisted.

  He laughed and sipped his wine.

  "No; I let you go because I saw in you--I who have killed many forwealth and more for the mere pleasure of power--something which toldme that, after all, I had missed the secret. From an outcast childin Havana I had made myself the sole king of this treasure ofMortallone. I went back and made slaves of men and women who hadtossed that child their coppers in contemptuous pity. I brought themhere, to Mortallone, to play with them; and as soon as they tired me,they--went. It was power I wanted; power I achieved; and in power,as I thought, lay the secret. The tools in this world say that apoisoner is always a coward: it is one of the phrases with whichfools cheat themselves. For long I was sure of myself; and then,when the thought began to haunt me that, after all, I had missed thesecret, I sought out the man who, in Europe, had made himself morepowerful than kings; and I found that _he_ had missed the secret too.Then I guessed that the secret is beyond a man's power to achieve,unless it be innate in him; that the gods themselves cannot help aman born in bastardy, as I was, or born with a vulgar soul, as wasNapoleon. One chance of redemption he has--to mate with a woman whohas, and has known from birth, the secret which he has missed.I guessed it--I that had wasted my days with singing-women, such aspoor 'Metta! Then I met you, and I knew. Yes, madam, you--you,whose life to-night I had almost taken with a touch--taught me that Ihad left women out of account. Ah, madam, if the world were twentyyears younger! . . . Will you do me the honour to touch glasses anddrink with me?"

  "Not on any account," said Miss Belcher, rising. "Not to put toofine a point upon it, you make me feel thoroughly sick; but"--shehesitated on the threshold of the window"--the worst of it is, Ithink I understand you a little."

  I drew back into the shadow. Her stiff skirt almost struck me on thecheek as she passed, and, crossing the verandah, leant with bothhands on the rail, while her face went up to the sky and the newlyrisen moon.

  A voice spoke to her from the moonlit terrace below.

  "Hallo!" she answered. "Is that Captain Branscome?"

  "It is, ma'am: _and_ Miss Plinlimmon--Amelia--as she allows me tocall her."

  Miss Belcher cut him short with a laugh. It rang out frank and freeenough, and only I, crouching by the wall, understood the hystericalsprings of it.

  "You two geese!" she exclaimed, and ran down the steps to them.

  "Was that Lydia?" demanded Mr. Rogers, a moment later, as he camealong the verandah.

  "It was," I answered.

  "I don't understand these people," grumbled Mr. Rogers, pausing andscratching his head. "There was to have been a meeting outside here,directly after supper, to divide off Doctor Beauregard's share; butconfound it if every one don't seem to be playing hide-and-seek!Where's the Doctor?"

  "In the dining-room," said I, nodding towards the window. . . .

  He stepped towards it. At that moment I heard a dull thud within theroom, and Mr. Rogers, his foot already on the threshold, drew backwith a cry. I ran to his elbow.

  On the floor, stretched at her master's feet, lay the negress Rosa.Dr. Beauregard stood by the corner of the table, and poured himself asmall glassful of curacoa. While we gazed at him he reached out ahand to the icebowl, selected a small piece, and dropped itdelicately into the glass. I heard it tingle against the rim.

  "Your good health, sirs!" said Dr. Beauregard.

  He sat back rigid in his chair.

  THE END.