madness. Continue your rest, and you will be quite right againin the morning."
"You are extremely kind," I protested, "but I really couldn't think ofremaining longer."
"Would you like to repay me for what you so very generously term mykindness?" she asked. "If so, I would only ask one little favour."
"Certainly. I will grant it if it lies within my power," I responded.
"Well, it is that you would scribble your name here, in this birthdaybook of mine. It will be a little souvenir of this evening."
"But I cannot write well nowadays. I can't see, you know," I protested.
"But you can write your signature. If the handwriting is uneven I willforgive you, in the circumstances," the voice said merrily; and a momentlater she placed a pen with a handle of ivory or pearl within my hand.
"What day of the month?" inquired the sweet voice.
"The second of July," I answered, laughing; and my unknown friend,having opened the book at that page, guided my hand to the paper,whereon I scrawled my name.
She took both pen and book, and by the departing swish of her skirts Iknew that she had left me and had passed into the adjoining room.
A strange picture arose in my mind. Was she beautiful? At any rate hersurroundings were elegant, and her low musical voice was that of a youngand refined girl of twenty or so.
I listened, lying there helpless and sorely puzzled. Again curiouswhisperings in subdued tones sounded from beyond, but almost at thatsame moment some one commenced to play upon the piano Chopin's"Andante-Spinato," which prevented me from distinguishing either thewords uttered or the trend of the discussion.
For several minutes the sound of the piano filled the room, the touch,light and delicate, seeming to be that of a woman, when, of a sudden,there was a loud smashing of glass, and a woman's shrill, piercingscream rang out, accompanied by the sound of some heavy object fallingto the floor.
In an instant the music ceased, and at the same moment I heard a man'svoice cry wildly--
"Good God! You've--why, you've killed her!"
Next second there sounded a rapid scuffling of feet, a chair wasoverturned and broken, and from the quick panting and mutteredejaculations it seemed as though two persons had closed in deadlyembrace. In their frantic, desperate struggle they advanced into theroom where I was, and I, still utterly helpless, with only a dark voidabout me, raised myself in horror and alarm. The man's words held meappalled.
Some terrible tragedy had occurred. My kind protectress had beenmurdered.
The other two persons, whoever they were, fought fiercely quite close tome, and I could distinctly detect from the vain efforts to shout made bythe weaker, that the stronger held him by the throat, and wasendeavouring to strangle him.
Of a sudden there was a quick, dull thud, the unmistakable sound of aheavy blow, followed by a short agonised cry.
"Ah-h!" shrieked the voice of the person struck; and at the same instanta great weight fell back inertly upon me as I was lying, nearly crushingthe breath from me.
I passed my sensitive hands over it quickly. It was the body of a man.Blood ran warm over my fingers.
He had been stabbed to the heart.
CHAPTER THREE.
THE HOUSE WITH THE PORTICO.
The weight of the inert body oppressed me, and in striving to extricatemyself it slipped from the couch and slid to the ground; but such afeeling of dread overcame me that I reached down and pushed the warmbody under the couch.
The faint sound of some one moving stealthily across the thick pilecarpet caused me to lie rigid, holding my breath. I heard the movementdistinctly, and curiously enough it sounded as though it were a woman,for there was just a faint rustling as though her skirts trailed uponthe ground. My quick ear told me that the person was approaching. Bythe panting breath I knew that it was the assassin. Was I, too, to falla victim?
I tried to call out, but in that moment of agony and horror my tonguerefused to articulate. It seemed to cleave to the roof of my mouth.
The sound of movement ceased, and I knew that the person was quite closeto me. My eyes were wide open, held fixed in expectant horror.
I felt a warm breath upon my cheeks, and knew that the unknown assassinwas peering into my eyes. In a few moments I had an instinctive feelingof something being held a few inches from my face.
Then the words that had been spoken by my protectress recurred to me.She had declared to her companions that I was blind, and urged them totest me by holding something to my head.
This was now being done. The truth of my statement was being proved,possibly by a revolver being held to my brow. If so, my only chance ofsafety rested in unflinching coolness. My position was certainly a mostunenviable one.
For a few moments the panting heart of the assassin thumped close to me;then, apparently satisfied, the unknown person moved off in silencewithout uttering a single word.
My first impulse was to jump up and arrest the progress of the assassin,but on reflection I saw that to do so would only be to invite death.What could I do, blind as I was?
Only could I sit and listen, trying to distinguish every detail of themystery.
Yes, I became convinced more than ever that the person leaving the roomwas not a man--but a woman.
Could it be the same individual whose cool, sympathetic hand had only aquarter of an hour before soothed my brow? The thought held medumbfounded.
I had all along believed that the assassin had been a man, but it wascertain by that swish of silken flounces that it was a woman.
As I listened I heard the click of an electric-light switch at the doorof the room, and a couple of minutes later a heavy door closed. Fromthe bang of the knocker I knew that the street door had been shut bysome person who had left the house.
I still sat listening. All was silent. Only the low ticking of theclock broke the dead stillness of the night. The mysterious woman whohad thus made her exit had evidently switched off the light, leaving mein total darkness with the hideous evidences of her crime.
For some short time longer I listened, my ears open to catch everysound, but, hearing nothing, I now knew that I was alone. Therefore,rising to my feet, I groped about until my hands touched the prostratebody of the man, and as I did so he heaved a long sigh, and a quickshudder ran through his frame. The wound had evidently not causedinstant death, but, placing my hand quickly over the heart, I found thatit had now ceased its beating with the final spasm.
Slowly, and with utmost care, I passed both my hands over the dead man'sface, in order to obtain some mental picture of his appearance. Hishair seemed thick and well parted at the side, his features those of ayoung man shaven save for the moustache, which was long and welltrained. He was in evening clothes, and wore in his shirt a singlestud, which, to my touch, seemed of very peculiar shape. I tried tomake out its design, but in vain, when suddenly I remembered that if Itook it, it might afterwards give me some clue to its dead owner'sidentity. So I took it from the stiff shirt-front and placed it in thepocket of my vest.
His watch-chain was an ordinary curb, I found, with a watch which hadthe greasy feel of silver. In his pockets were a couple of sovereignsand some loose silver, but no letters nor card-case, nothing indeed tolead me to a knowledge of who he really was. In one pocket I found asmall pencil-case, and this I also took for my own purposes.
Half a dozen times I placed my hand upon his heart, whence the blood wasslowly oozing, but there was no movement.
My investigations showed that he was about twenty-eight years of age;probably fair, by the softness of the hair and moustache, with eventeeth, rather sharp jawbones and cheeks a trifle thin. Havingascertained this much, I groped forward with both hands in the directionof the room wherein the woman had been so swiftly done to death. It wasin darkness, I have no doubt, but to me darkness was of no account, forI was ever in eternal gloom. The furniture over which I stumbled hereand there was covered with silk brocade, the woodwork being of thatsmoothnes
s which had led me to believe that it must be gilded. It waswithout doubt a fine spacious drawing-room where I had been lying, forthe dimensions of the place were quite unusual, and the objects withwhich my hands came into contact were always of a character magnificent,and in keeping with the grandeur of the place. The house was evidentlyone of those fine mansions with which the West End of London abounds,and certainly this apartment, even though I could not see it, was theacme of comfort and luxury.
I at last found the entrance to the adjoining room, but the door waslocked.
This sudden check to my investigations caused me to pause. That a womanhad been first struck down by a cowardly blow appeared evident. Theloud agonised shriek which had emanated from that inner room was, I feltconvinced, that of the tender, sweet-voiced woman who had administeredto my wants. It seemed, now that I recollected, as though she had beenseated at the piano when the fatal blow was dealt. The scream and thecessation of the music had occurred
The Wiles of the Wicked Page 4
