'What do you mean by saying he wants you?'
'He wants--my life.'
Arthur gave a cry of dismay, but she put up her hand.
'It's no use resisting. It can't do any good--I think I shall be glad when the moment comes. I shall at least cease to suffer.'
'But you must be mad.'
'I don't know. I know that he is.'
'But if your life is in danger, come away for God's sake. After all, you're free. He can't stop you.'
'I should have to go back to him, as I did last time,' she answered, shaking her head. 'I thought I was free then, but gradually I knew that he was calling me. I tried to resist, but I couldn't. I simply had to go to him.'
'But it's awful to think that you are alone with a man who's practically raving mad.'
'I'm safe for today,' she said quietly. 'It can only be done in the very hot weather. If there's no more this year, I shall live till next summer.'
'Oh, Margaret, for God's sake don't talk like that. I love you--I want to have you with me always. Won't you come away with me and let me take care of you? I promise you that no harm shall come to you.'
'You don't love me any more; you're only sorry for me now.'
'It's not true.'
'Oh yes it is. I saw it when we were in the country. Oh, I don't blame you. I'm a different woman from the one you loved. I'm not the Margaret you knew.'
'I can never care for anyone but you.'
She put her hand on his arm.
'If you loved me, I implore you to go. You don't know what you expose me to. And when I'm dead you must marry Susie. She loves you with all her heart, and she deserves your love.'
'Margaret, don't go. Come with me.'
'And take care. He will never forgive you for what you did. If he can, he will kill you.'
She started violently, as though she heard a sound. Her face was convulsed with sudden fear.
'For God's sake go, go!'
She turned from him quickly, and, before he could prevent her, had vanished. With heavy heart he plunged again into the bracken.
When Arthur had given his friends some account of this meeting, he stopped and looked at Dr Porhoлt. The doctor went thoughtfully to his bookcase.
'What is it you want me to tell you?' he asked.
'I think the man is mad,' said Arthur. 'I found out at what asylum his mother was, and by good luck was able to see the superintendent on my way through London. He told me that he had grave doubts about Haddo's sanity, but it was impossible at present to take any steps. I came straight here because I wanted your advice. Granting that the man is out of his mind, is it possible that he may be trying some experiment that entails a sacrifice of human life?'
'Nothing is more probable,' said Dr Porhoлt gravely.
Susie shuddered. She remembered the rumour that had reached her ears in Monte Carlo.
'They said there that he was attempting to make living creatures by a magical operation.' She glanced at the doctor, but spoke to Arthur. 'Just before you came in, our friend was talking of that book of Paracelsus in which he speaks of feeding the monsters he has made on human blood.'
Arthur gave a horrified cry.
'The most significant thing to my mind is that fact about Margaret which we are certain of,' said Dr Porhoлt. 'All works that deal with the Black Arts are unanimous upon the supreme efficacy of the virginal condition.'
'But what is to be done?' asked Arthur is desperation. 'We can't leave her in the hands of a raving madman.' He turned on a sudden deathly white. 'For all we know she may be dead now.'
'Have you ever heard of Gilles de Rais?' said Dr Porhoлt, continuing his reflections. 'That is the classic instance of human sacrifice. I know the country in which he lived; and the peasants to this day dare not pass at night in the neighbourhood of the ruined castle which was the scene of his horrible crimes.'
'It's awful to know that this dreadful danger hangs over her, and to be able to do nothing.'
'We can only wait,' said Dr Porhoлt.
'And if we wait too long, we may be faced by a terrible catastrophe.'
'Fortunately we live in a civilized age. Haddo has a great care of his neck. I hope we are frightened unduly.'
It seemed to Susie that the chief thing was to distract Arthur, and she turned over in her mind some means of directing his attention to other matters.
'I was thinking of going down to Chartres for two days with Mrs Bloomfield,' she said. 'Won't you come with me? It is the most lovely cathedral in the world, and I think you will find it restful to wander about it for a little while. You can do no good, here or in London. Perhaps when you are calm, you will be able to think of something practical.'
Dr Porhoлt saw what her plan was, and joined his entreaties to hers that Arthur should spend a day or two in a place that had no associations for him. Arthur was too exhausted to argue, and from sheer weariness consented. Next day Susie took him to Chartres. Mrs Bloomfield was no trouble to them, and Susie induced him to linger for a week in that pleasant, quiet town. They passed many hours in the stately cathedral, and they wandered about the surrounding country. Arthur was obliged to confess that the change had done him good, and a certain apathy succeeded the agitation from which he had suffered so long. Finally Susie persuaded him to spend three or four weeks in Brittany with Dr Porhoлt, who was proposing to revisit the scenes of his childhood. They returned to Paris. When Arthur left her at the station, promising to meet her again in an hour at the restaurant where they were going to dine with Dr Porhoлt, he thanked her for all she had done.
'I was in an absurdly hysterical condition,' he said, holding her hand. 'You've been quite angelic. I knew that nothing could be done, and yet I was tormented with the desire to do something. Now I've got myself in hand once more. I think my common sense was deserting me, and I was on the point of believing in the farrago of nonsense which they call magic. After all, it's absurd to think that Haddo is going to do any harm to Margaret. As soon at I get back to London, I'll see my lawyers, and I daresay something can be done. If he's really mad, we'll have to put him under restraint, and Margaret will be free. I shall never forget your kindness.'
Susie smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
She was convinced that he would forget everything if Margaret came back to him. But she chid herself for the bitterness of the thought. She loved him, and she was glad to be able to do anything for him.
She returned to the hotel, changed her frock, and walked slowly to the Chien Noir. It always exhilarated her to come back to Paris; and she looked with happy, affectionate eyes at the plane trees, the yellow trams that rumbled along incessantly, and the lounging people. When she arrived, Dr Porhoлt was waiting, and his delight at seeing her again was flattering and pleasant. They talked of Arthur. They wondered why he was late.
In a moment he came in. They saw at once that something quite extraordinary had taken place.
'Thank God, I've found you at last!' he cried.
His face was moving strangely. They had never seen him so discomposed.
'I've been round to your hotel, but I just missed you. Oh, why did you insist on my going away?'
'What on earth's the matter?' cried Susie.
'Something awful has happened to Margaret.'
Susie started to her feet with a sudden cry of dismay.
'How do you know?' she asked quickly.
He looked at them for a moment and flushed. He kept his eyes upon them, as though actually to force his listeners into believing what he was about to say.
'I feel it,' he answered hoarsely.
'What do you mean?'
'It came upon me quite suddenly, I can't explain why or how. I only know that something has happened.'
He began again to walk up and down, prey to an agitation that was frightful to behold. Susie and Dr Porhoлt stared at him helplessly. They tried to think of something to say that would calm him.
'Surely if anything had occurred, we should have been informed.'<
br />
He turned to Susie angrily.
'How do you suppose we could know anything? She was quite helpless. She was imprisoned like a rat in a trap.'
'But, my dear friend, you mustn't give way in this fashion,' said the doctor. 'What would you say of a patient who came to you with such a story?'
Arthur answered the question with a shrug of the shoulders.
'I should say he was absurdly hysterical.'
'Well?'
'I can't help it, the feeling's there. If you try all night you'll never be able to argue me out of it. I feel it in every bone of my body. I couldn't be more certain if I saw Margaret lying dead in front of me.'
Susie saw that it was indeed useless to reason with him. The only course was to accept his conviction and make the best of it.
'What do you want us to do?' she asked.
'I want you both to come to England with me at once. If we start now we can catch the evening train.'
Susie did not answer, but she got up. She touched the doctor on the arm.
'Please come,' she whispered.
He nodded and untucked the napkin he had already arranged over his waistcoat.
'I've got a cab at the door,' said Arthur.
'And what about clothes for Miss Susie?' said the doctor.
'Oh, we can't wait for that,' cried Arthur. 'For God's sake, come quickly.'
Susie knew that there was plenty of time to fetch a few necessary things before the train started, but Arthur's impatience was too great to be withstood.
'It doesn't matter,' she said. 'I can get all I want in England.'
He hurried them to the door and told the cabman to drive to the station as quickly as ever he could.
'For Heaven's sake, calm down a little,' said Susie. 'You'll be no good to anyone in that state.'
'I feel certain we're too late.'
'Nonsense! I'm convinced that you'll find Margaret safe and sound.'
He did not answer. He gave a sigh of relief as they drove into the courtyard of the station.
14
Susie never forgot the horror of that journey to England. They arrived in London early in the morning and, without stopping, drove to Euston. For three or four days there had been unusual heat, and even at that hour the streets were sultry and airless. The train north was crowded, and it seemed impossible to get a breath of air. Her head ached, but she was obliged to keep a cheerful demeanour in the effort to allay Arthur's increasing anxiety. Dr Porhoлt sat in front of her. After the sleepless night his eyes were heavy and his face deeply lined. He was exhausted. At length, after much tiresome changing, they reached Venning. She had expected a greater coolness in that northern country; but there was a hot blight over the place, and, as they walked to the inn from the little station, they could hardly drag their limbs along.
Arthur had telegraphed from London that they must have rooms ready, and the landlady expected them. She recognized Arthur. He passionately desired to ask her whether anything had happened since he went away, but forced himself to be silent for a while. He greeted her with cheerfulness.
'Well, Mrs Smithers, what has been going on since I left you?' he cried.
'Of course you wouldn't have heard, sir,' she answered gravely.
He began to tremble, but with an almost superhuman effort controlled his voice.
'Has the squire hanged himself?' he asked lightly.
'No sir--but the poor lady's dead.'
He did not answer. He seemed turned to stone. He stared with ghastly eyes.
'Poor thing!' said Susie, forcing herself to speak. 'Was it--very sudden?'
The woman turned to Susie, glad to have someone with whom to discuss the event. She took no notice of Arthur's agony.
'Yes, mum; no one expected it. She died quite sudden like. She was only buried this morning.'
'What did she die of?' asked Susie, her eyes on Arthur.
She feared that he would faint. She wanted enormously to get him away, but did not know how to manage it.
'They say it was heart disease,' answered the landlady. 'Poor thing! It's a happy release for her.'
'Won't you get us some tea, Mrs Smithers? We're very tired, and we should like something immediately.'
'Yes, miss. I'll get it at once.'
The good woman bustled away. Susie quickly locked the door. She seized Arthur's arm.
'Arthur, Arthur.'
She expected him to break down. She looked with agony at Dr Porhoлt, who stood helplessly by.
'You couldn't have done anything if you'd been here. You heard what the woman said. If Margaret died of heart disease, your suspicions were quite without ground.'
He shook her away, almost violently.
'For God's sake, speak to us,' cried Susie.
His silence terrified her more than would have done any outburst of grief. Dr Porhoлt went up to him gently.
'Don't try to be brave, my friend. You will not suffer as much if you allow yourself a little weakness.'
'For Heaven's sake leave me alone!' said Arthur, hoarsely.
They drew back and watched him silently. Susie heard their hostess come along to the sitting-room with tea, and she unlocked the door. The landlady brought in the things. She was on the point of leaving them when Arthur stopped her.
'How do you know that Mrs Haddo died of heart disease?' he asked suddenly.
His voice was hard and stern. He spoke with a peculiar abruptness that made the poor woman look at him in amazement.
'Dr Richardson told me so.'
'Had he been attending her?'
'Yes, sir. Mr Haddo had called him in several times to see his lady.'
'Where does Dr Richardson live?'
'Why, sir, he lives at the white house near the station.'
She could not make out why Arthur asked these questions.
'Did Mr Haddo go to the funeral?'
'Oh yes, sir. I've never seen anyone so upset.'
'That'll do. You can go.'
Susie poured out the tea and handed a cup to Arthur. To her surprise, he drank the tea and ate some bread and butter. She could not understand him. The expression of strain, and the restlessness which had been so painful, were both gone from his face, and it was set now to a look of grim determination. At last he spoke to them.
'I'm going to see this doctor. Margaret's heart was as sound as mine.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Do?'
He turned on her with a peculiar fierceness.
'I'm going to put a rope round that man's neck, and if the law won't help me, by God, I'll kill him myself.'
'_Mais, mon ami, vous кtes fou_,' cried Dr Porhoлt, springing up.
Arthur put out his hand angrily, as though to keep him back. The frown on his face grew darker.
'You _must_ leave me alone. Good Heavens, the time has gone by for tears and lamentation. After all I've gone through for months, I can't weep because Margaret is dead. My heart is dried up. But I know that she didn't die naturally, and I'll never rest so long as that fellow lives.'
He stretched out his hands and with clenched jaws prayed that one day he might hold the man's neck between them, and see his face turn livid and purple as he died.
'I am going to this fool of a doctor, and then I shall go to Skene.'
'You must let us come with you,' said Susie.
'You need not be frightened,' he answered. 'I shall not take any steps of my own till I find the law is powerless.'
'I want to come with you all the same.'
'As you like.'
Susie went out and ordered a trap to be got ready. But since Arthur would not wait, she arranged that it should be sent for them to the doctor's door. They went there at once, on foot.
Dr Richardson was a little man of five-and-fifty, with a fair beard that was now nearly white, and prominent blue eyes. He spoke with a broad Staffordshire accent. There was in him something of the farmer, something of the well-to-do tradesman, and at the first glance his intellig
ence did not impress one.
Arthur was shewn with his two friends into the consulting-room, and after a short interval the doctor came in. He was dressed in flannels and had an old-fashioned racket in his hand.
'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but Mrs Richardson has got a few lady-friends to tea, and I was just in the middle of a set.'
His effusiveness jarred upon Arthur, whose manner by contrast became more than usually abrupt.
'I have just learnt of the death of Mrs Haddo. I was her guardian and her oldest friend. I came to you in the hope that you would be able to tell me something about it.'
Dr Richardson gave him at once, the suspicious glance of a stupid man.
'I don't know why you come to me instead of to her husband. He will be able to tell you all that you wish to know.'
'I came to you as a fellow-practitioner,' answered Arthur. 'I am at St Luke's Hospital.' He pointed to his card, which Dr Richardson still held. 'And my friend is Dr Porhoлt, whose name will be familiar to you with respect to his studies in Malta Fever.'
'I think I read an article of yours in the _B.M.J._' said the country doctor.
His manner assumed a singular hostility. He had no sympathy with London specialists, whose attitude towards the general practitioner he resented. He was pleased to sneer at their pretensions to omniscience, and quite willing to pit himself against them.
'What can I do for you, Mr Burdon?'
'I should be very much obliged if you would tell me as exactly as possible how Mrs Haddo died.'
'It was a very simple case of endocarditis.'
'May I ask how long before death you were called in?'
The doctor hesitated. He reddened a little.
'I'm not inclined to be cross-examined,' he burst out, suddenly making up his mind to be angry. 'As a surgeon I daresay your knowledge of cardiac diseases is neither extensive nor peculiar. But this was a very simple case, and everything was done that was possible. I don't think there's anything I can tell you.'
Arthur took no notice of the outburst.
The Magician Page 18
