The Jewel of Seven Stars / Stoker, Bram, 1847-1912

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Title: The Jewel of Seven Stars

Author: Bram Stoker

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by Bram Stoker
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Produced by Sue Asscher





The Jewel of Seven Stars
by Bram Stoker

To Eleanor and Constance Hoyt

Contents

I      A Summons in the Night
II     Strange Instructions
III    The Watchers
IV     The Second Attempt
V      More Strange Instructions
VI     Suspicions
VII    The Traveller's Loss
VIII   The Finding of the Lamps
IX     The Need of Knowledge
X      The Valley of the Sorcerer
XI     A Queen's Tomb
XII    The Magic Coffer
XIII   Awaking From the Trance
XIV    The Birth-Mark
XV     The Purpose of Queen Tera
XVI    The Cavern XVII Doubts and Fears
XVIII  The Lesson of the "Ka"
XIX    The Great Experiment





Chapter I
A Summons in the Night





It all seemed so real that I could hardly imagine that it had ever
occurred before; and yet each episode came, not as a fresh step in the
logic of things, but as something expected.  It is in such a wise that
memory plays its pranks for good or ill; for pleasure or pain; for weal
or woe.  It is thus that life is bittersweet, and that which has been
done becomes eternal.

Again, the light skiff, ceasing to shoot through the lazy water as when
the oars flashed and dripped, glided out of the fierce July sunlight
into the cool shade of the great drooping willow branches--I standing up
in the swaying boat, she sitting still and with deft fingers guarding
herself from stray twigs or the freedom of the resilience of moving
boughs.  Again, the water looked golden-brown under the canopy of
translucent green; and the grassy bank was of emerald hue.  Again, we
sat in the cool shade, with the myriad noises of nature both without and
within our bower merging into that drowsy hum in whose sufficing
environment the great world with its disturbing trouble, and its more
disturbing joys, can be effectually forgotten.  Again, in that blissful
solitude the young girl lost the convention of her prim, narrow
upbringing, and told me in a natural, dreamy way of the loneliness of
her new life. With an undertone of sadness she made me feel how in that
spacious home each one of the household was isolated by the personal
magnificence of her father and herself; that there confidence had no
altar, and sympathy no shrine; and that there even her father's face was
as distant as the old country life seemed now.  Once more, the wisdom of
my manhood and the experience of my years laid themselves at the girl's
feet.  It was seemingly their own doing; for the individual "I" had no
say in the matter, but only just obeyed imperative orders.  And once
again the flying seconds multiplied themselves endlessly.  For it is in
the arcana of dreams that existences merge and renew themselves, change
and yet keep the same--like the soul of a musician in a fugue.  And so
memory swooned, again and again, in sleep.

It seems that there is never to be any perfect rest.  Even in Eden the
snake rears its head among the laden boughs of the Tree of Knowledge.
The silence of the dreamless night is broken by the roar of the
avalanche; the hissing of sudden floods; the clanging of the engine bell
marking its sweep through a sleeping American town; the clanking of
distant paddles over the sea....  Whatever it is, it is breaking the
charm of my Eden.  The canopy of greenery above us, starred with
diamond-points of light, seems to quiver in the ceaseless beat of
paddles; and the restless bell seems as though it would never cease....

All at once the gates of Sleep were thrown wide open, and my waking ears
took in the cause of the disturbing sounds.  Waking existence is prosaic
enough--there was somebody knocking and ringing at someone's street door.

I was pretty well accustomed in my Jermyn Street chambers to passing
sounds; usually I did not concern myself, sleeping or waking, with the
doings, however noisy, of my neighbours.  But this noise was too
continuous, too insistent, too imperative to be ignored.  There was some
active intelligence behind that ceaseless sound; and some stress or need
behind the intelligence.  I was not altogether selfish, and at the
thought of someone's need I was, without premeditation, out of bed.
Instinctively I looked at my watch.  It was just three o'clock; there
was a faint edging of grey round the green blind which darkened my room.
It was evident that the knocking and ringing were at the door of our own
house; and it was evident, too, that there was no one awake to answer
the call.  I slipped on my dressing-gown and slippers, and went down to
the hall door. When I opened it there stood a dapper groom, with one
hand pressed unflinchingly on the electric bell whilst with the other he
raised a ceaseless clangour with the knocker.  The instant he saw me the
noise ceased; one hand went up instinctively to the brim of his hat, and
the other produced a letter from his pocket.  A neat brougham was
opposite the door, the horses were breathing heavily as though they had
come fast.  A policeman, with his night lantern still alight at his
belt, stood by, attracted to the spot by the noise.

"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sorry for disturbing you, but my orders was
imperative; I was not to lose a moment, but to knock and ring till
someone came.  May I ask you, sir, if Mr. Malcolm Ross lives here?"

"I am Mr. Malcolm Ross."

"Then this letter is for you, sir, and the bro'am is for you too, sir!"

I took, with a strange curiosity, the letter which he handed to me.  As
a barrister I had had, of course, odd experiences now and then,
including sudden demands upon my time; but never anything like this.  I
stepped back into the hall, closing the door to, but leaving it ajar;
then I switched on the electric light.  The letter was directed in a
strange hand, a woman's.  It began at once without "dear sir" or any
such address:

"You said you would like to help me if I needed it; and I believe you
meant what you said.  The time has come sooner than I expected.  I am in
dreadful trouble, and do not know where to turn, or to whom to apply. An
attempt has, I fear, been made to murder my Father; though, thank God,
he still lives.  But he is quite unconscious. The doctors and police
have been sent for; but there is no one here whom I can depend on.  Come
at once if you are able to; and forgive me if you can.  I suppose I
shall realise later what I have done in asking such a favour; but at
present I cannot think.  Come!  Come at once! MARGARET TRELAWNY."

Pain and exultation struggled in my mind as I read; but the mastering
thought was that she was in trouble and had called on me--me!  My
dreaming of her, then, was not altogether without a cause.  I called out
to the groom:

"Wait!  I shall be with you in a minute!"  Then I flew upstairs.

A very few minutes sufficed to wash and dress; and we were soon driving
through the streets as fast as the horses could go.  It was market
morning, and when we got out on Piccadilly there was an endless stream of
carts coming from the west; but for the rest the roadway was clear, and
we went quickly.  I had told the groom to come into the brougham with me
so that he could tell me what had happened as we went along.  He sat
awkwardly, with his hat on his knees as he spoke.

"Miss Trelawny, sir, sent a man to tell us to get out a carriage at
once; and when we was ready she come herself and gave me the letter and
told Morgan--the coachman, sir--to fly.  She said as I was to lose not a
second, but to keep knocking till someone come."

"Yes, I know, I know--you told me!  What I want to know is, why she sent
for me. What happened in the house?"

"I don't quite know myself, sir; except that master was found in his
room senseless, with the sheets all bloody, and a wound on his head.
He couldn't be waked nohow. Twas Miss Trelawny herself as found him."

"How did she come to find him at such an hour?  It was late in the
night, I suppose?"

"I don't know, sir; I didn't hear nothing at all of the details."

As he could tell me no more, I stopped the carriage for a moment to let
him get out on the box; then I turned the matter over in my mind as I
sat alone.  There were many things which I could have asked the servant;
and for a few moments after he had gone I was angry with myself for not
having used my opportunity.  On second thought, however, I was glad the
temptation was gone.  I felt that it would be more delicate to learn
what I wanted to know of Miss Trelawny's surroundings from herself,
rather than from her servants.

We bowled swiftly along Knightsbridge, the small noise of our well-
appointed vehicle sounding hollowly in the morning air.  We turned up
the Kensington Palace Road and presently stopped opposite a great house
on the left-hand side, nearer, so far as I could judge, the Notting Hill
than the Kensington end of the avenue.  It was a truly fine house, not
only with regard to size but to architecture.  Even in the dim grey
light of the morning, which tends to diminish the size of things, it
looked big.

Miss Trelawny met me in the hall.  She was not in any way shy.  She
seemed to rule all around her with a sort of high-bred dominance, all
the more remarkable as she was greatly agitated and as pale as snow.  In
the great hall were several servants, the men standing together near the
hall door, and the women clinging together in the further corners and
doorways.  A police superintendent had been talking to Miss Trelawny;
two  men in uniform and one plain-clothes man stood near him.  As she
took my hand impulsively there was a look of relief in her eyes, and she
gave a gentle sigh of relief.  Her salutation was simple.

"I knew you would come!"

The clasp of the hand can mean a great deal, even when it is not
intended to mean anything especially.  Miss Trelawny's hand somehow
became lost in my own.  It was not that it was a small hand; it was fine
and flexible, with long delicate fingers--a rare and beautiful hand; it
was the unconscious self-surrender.  And though at the moment I could
not dwell on the cause of the thrill which swept me, it came back to me
later.

She turned and said to the police superintendent:

"This is Mr. Malcolm Ross."  The police officer saluted as he answered:

"I know Mr. Malcolm Ross, miss.  Perhaps he will remember I had the
honour of working with him in the Brixton Coining case."  I had not at
first glance noticed who it was, my whole attention having been taken
with Miss Trelawny.

"Of course, Superintendent Dolan, I remember very well!" I said as we
shook hands. I could not but note that the acquaintanceship seemed a
relief to Miss Trelawny. There was a certain vague uneasiness in her
manner which took my attention; instinctively I felt that it would be
less embarrassing for her to speak with me alone. So I said to the
Superintendent:

"Perhaps it will be better if Miss Trelawny will see me alone for a few
minutes.  You, of course, have already heard all she knows; and I shall
understand better how things are if I may ask some questions.  I will
then talk the matter over with you if I may."

"I shall be glad to be of what service I can, sir," he answered
heartily.

Following Miss Trelawny, I moved over to a dainty room which opened from
the hall and looked out on the garden at the back of the house.  When we
had entered and I had closed the door she said:

"I will thank you later for your goodness in coming to me in my trouble;
but at present you can best help me when you know the facts."

"Go on," I said.  "Tell me all you know and spare no detail, however
trivial it may at the present time seem to be."  She went on at once:

"I was awakened by some sound; I do not know what.  I only know that it
came through my sleep; for all at once I found myself awake, with my
heart beating wildly, listening anxiously for some sound from my
Father's room.  My room is next Father's, and I can often hear him
moving about before I fall asleep.  He works late at night, sometimes
very late indeed; so that when I wake early, as I do occasionally, or in
the grey of the dawn, I hear him still moving.  I tried once to
remonstrate with him about staying up so late, as it cannot be good for
him; but I never ventured to repeat the experiment.  You know how stern
and cold he can be--at least you may remember what I told you about him;
and when he is polite in this mood he is dreadful.  When he is angry I
can bear it much better; but when he is slow and deliberate, and the
side of his mouth lifts up to show the sharp teeth, I think I feel--well,
I don't know how!  Last night I got up softly and stole to the door, for
I really feared to disturb him.  There was not any noise of moving, and
no kind of cry at all; but there was a queer kind of dragging sound, and
a slow, heavy breathing. Oh! it was dreadful, waiting there in the dark
and the silence, and fearing--fearing I did not know what!

"At last I took my courage a deux mains, and turning the handle as
softly as I could, I opened the door a tiny bit.  It was quite dark
within; I could just see the outline of the windows.  But in the
darkness the sound of breathing, becoming more distinct, was appalling.
As I listened, this continued; but there was no other sound.  I pushed
the door open all at once.  I was afraid to open it slowly; I felt as if
there might be some dreadful thing behind it ready to pounce out on me!
Then I switched on the electric light, and stepped into the room.  I
looked first at the bed.  The sheets were all crumpled up, so that I
knew Father had been in bed; but there was a great dark red patch in the
centre of the bed, and spreading to the edge of it, that made my heart
stand still.  As I was gazing at it the sound of the breathing came
across the room, and my eyes followed to it.  There was Father on his
right side with the other arm under him, just as if his dead body had
been thrown there all in a heap.  The track of blood went across the
room up to the bed, and there was a pool all around him which looked
terribly red and glittering as I bent over to examine him.  The place
where he lay was right in front of the big safe.  He was in his pyjamas.
The left sleeve was torn, showing his bare arm, and stretched out toward
the safe.  It looked--oh! so terrible, patched all with blood, and with
the flesh torn or cut all around a gold chain bangle on his wrist.  I
did not know he wore such a thing, and it seemed to give me a new shock
of surprise."

She paused a moment; and as I wished to relieve her by a moment's
divergence of thought, I said:

"Oh, that need not surprise you.  You will see the most unlikely men
wearing bangles.  I have seen a judge condemn a man to death, and the
wrist of the hand he held up had a gold bangle."  She did not seem to
heed much the words or the idea; the pause, however, relieved her
somewhat, and she went on in a steadier voice:

"I did not lose a moment in summoning aid, for I feared he might bleed
to death.  I rang the bell, and then went out and called for help as
loudly as I could.  In what must have been a very short time--though it
seemed an incredibly long one to me--some of the servants came running
up; and then others, till the room seemed full of staring eyes, and
dishevelled hair, and night clothes of all sorts.

"We lifted Father on a sofa; and the housekeeper, Mrs. Grant, who seemed
to have her wits about her more than any of us, began to look where the
flow of blood came from.  In a few seconds it became apparent that it
came from the arm which was bare.  There was a deep wound--not clean-cut
as with a knife, but like a jagged rent or tear--close to the wrist,
which seemed to have cut into the vein.  Mrs. Grant tied a handkerchief
round the cut, and screwed it up tight with a silver paper-cutter; and
the flow of blood seemed to be checked at once.  By this time I had come
to my senses--or such of them as remained; and I sent off one man for the
doctor and another for the police.  When they had gone, I felt that,
except for the servants, I was all alone in the house, and that I knew
nothing--of my Father or anything else; and a great longing came to me to
have someone with me who could help me. Then I thought of you and your
kind offer in the boat under the willow-tree; and, without waiting to
think, I told the men to get a carriage ready at once, and I scribbled a
note and sent it on to you."

She paused.  I did not like to say just then anything of how I felt.  I
looked at her; I think she understood, for her eyes were raised to mine
for a moment and then fell, leaving her cheeks as red as peony roses.
With a manifest effort she went on with her story:

"The Doctor was with us in an incredibly short time.  The groom had met
him letting himself into his house with his latchkey, and he came here
running.  He made a proper tourniquet for poor Father's arm, and then
went home to get some appliances.  I dare say he will be back almost
immediately.  Then a policeman came, and sent a message to the station;
and very soon the Superintendent was here.  Then you came."

There was a long pause, and I ventured to take her hand for an instant.
Without a word more we opened the door, and joined the Superintendent in
the hall.  He hurried up to us, saying as he came:

"I have been examining everything myself, and have sent off a message to
Scotland Yard.  You see, Mr. Ross, there seemed so much that was odd
about the case that I thought we had better have the best man of the
Criminal Investigation Department that we could get.  So I sent a note
asking to have Sergeant Daw sent at once.  You remember him, sir, in
that American poisoning case at Hoxton."

"Oh yes," I said, "I remember him well; in that and other cases, for I
have benefited several times by his skill and acumen.  He has a mind
that works as truly as any that I know.  When I have been for the
defence, and believed my man was innocent, I was glad to have him
against us!"

"That is high praise, sir!" said the Superintendent gratified:  "I am
glad you approve of my choice; that I did well in sending for him."

I answered heartily:

"Could not be better.  I do not doubt that between you we shall get at
the facts--and what lies behind them!"

We ascended to Mr. Trelawny's room, where we found everything exactly as
his daughter had described.

There came a ring at the house bell, and a minute later a man was shown
into the room.  A young man with aquiline features, keen grey eyes, and
a forehead that stood out square and broad as that of a thinker.  In his
hand he had a black bag which he at once opened.  Miss Trelawny
introduced us:  "Doctor Winchester, Mr. Ross, Superintendent Dolan."  We
bowed mutually, and he, without a moment's delay, began his work.  We
all waited, and eagerly watched him as he proceeded to dress the wound.
As he went on he turned now and again to call the Superintendent's
attention to some point about the wound, the latter proceeding to enter
the fact at once in his notebook.

"See! several parallel cuts or scratches beginning on the left side of
the wrist and in some places endangering the radial artery.

"These small wounds here, deep and jagged, seem as if made with a blunt
instrument.  This in particular would seem as if made with some kind of
sharp wedge; the flesh round it seems torn as if with lateral pressure."

Turning to Miss Trelawny he said presently:

"Do you think we might remove this bangle?  It is not absolutely
necessary, as it will fall lower on the wrist where it can hang loosely;
but it might add to the patient's comfort later on."  The poor girl
flushed deeply as she answered in a low voice:

"I do not know.  I--I have only recently come to live with my Father; and
I know so little of his life or his ideas that I fear I can hardly judge
in such a matter.  The Doctor, after a keen glance at her, said in a
very kindly way:

"Forgive me!  I did not know.  But in any case you need not be
distressed.  It is not required at present to move it.  Were it so I
should do so at once on my own responsibility.  If it be necessary later
on, we can easily remove it with a file.  Your Father doubtless has some
object in keeping it as it is.  See! there is a tiny key attached to it.
. . ."  As he was speaking he stopped and bent lower, taking from my
hand the candle which I held and lowering it till its light fell on the
bangle.  Then motioning me to hold the candle in the same position, he
took from his pocket a magnifying-glass which he adjusted.  When he had
made a careful examination he stood up and handed the magnifying-glass
to Dolan, saying as he did so:

"You had better examine it yourself.  That is no ordinary bangle.  The
gold is wrought over triple steel links; see where it is worn away.  It
is manifestly not meant to be removed lightly; and it would need more
than an ordinary file to do it."

The Superintendent bent his great body; but not getting close enough
that way knelt down by the sofa as the Doctor had done.  He examined the
bangle minutely, turning it slowly round so that no particle of it
escaped observation. Then he stood up and handed the magnifying-glass to
me.  "When you have examined it yourself," he said, "let the lady look
at it if she will," and he commenced to write at length in his
notebook.

I made a simple alteration in his suggestion.  I held out the glass
toward Miss Trelawny, saying:

"Had you not better examine it first?"  She drew back, slightly raising
her hand in disclaimer, as she said impulsively:

"Oh no!  Father would doubtless have shown it to me had he wished me to
see it. I would not like to without his consent."  Then she added,
doubtless fearing lest her delicacy of view should give offence to the
rest of us:

"Of course it is right that you should see it.  You have to examine and
consider everything; and indeed--indeed I am grateful to you. . ."

She turned away; I could see that she was crying quietly.  It was
evident to me that even in the midst of her trouble and anxiety there
was a chagrin that she knew so little of her father; and that her
ignorance had to be shown at such a time and amongst so many strangers.
That they were all men did not make the shame more easy to bear, though
there was a certain relief in it.  Trying to interpret her feelings I
could not but think that she must have been glad that no woman's eyes--of
understanding greater than man's--were upon her in that hour.

When I stood up from my examination, which verified to me that of the
Doctor, the latter resumed his place beside the couch and went on with
his ministrations. Superintendent Dolan said to me in a whisper:

"I think we are fortunate in our doctor!" I nodded, and was about to add
something in praise of his acumen, when there came a low tapping at the
door.



II Strange Instructions

Superintendent Dolan went quietly to the door; by a sort of natural
understanding he had taken possession of affairs in the room.  The rest
of us waited.  He opened the door a little way; and then with a gesture
of manifest relief threw it wide, and a young man stepped in.  A young
man clean-shaven, tall and slight; with an eagle face and bright, quick
eyes that seemed to take in everything around him at a glance.  As he
came in, the Superintendent held out his hand; the two men shook hands
warmly.

"I came at once, sir, the moment I got your message.  I am glad I still
have your confidence."

"That you'll always have," said the Superintendent heartily.  "I have
not forgotten our old Bow Street days, and I never shall!"  Then,
without a word of preliminary, he began to tell everything he knew up to
the moment of the newcomer's entry. Sergeant Daw asked a few questions--a
very few--when it was necessary for his understanding of circumstances or
the relative positions of persons; but as a rule Dolan, who knew his
work thoroughly, forestalled every query, and explained all necessary
matters as he went on.  Sergeant Daw threw occasionally swift glances
round him; now at one of us; now at the room or some part of it; now at
the wounded man lying senseless on the sofa.

When the Superintendent had finished, the Sergeant turned to me and
said:

"Perhaps you remember me, sir.  I was with you in that Hoxton case."

"I remember you very well," I said as I held out my hand.  The
Superintendent spoke again:

"You understand, Sergeant Daw, that you are put in full charge of this
case."

"Under you I hope, sir," he interrupted.  The other shook his head and
smiled as he said:

"It seems to me that this is a case that will take all a man's time and
his brains.  I have other work to do; but I shall be more than
interested, and if I can help in any possible way I shall be glad to do
so!"

"All right, sir," said the other, accepting his responsibility with a
sort of modified salute; straightway he began his investigation.

First he came over to the Doctor and, having learned his name and
address, asked him to write a full report which he could use, and which
he could refer to headquarters if necessary.  Doctor Winchester bowed
gravely as he promised.  Then the Sergeant approached me and said sotto
voce:

"I like the look of your doctor.  I think we can work together!"
Turning to Miss Trelawny he asked:

"Please let me know what you can of your Father; his ways of life, his
history--in fact of anything of whatsoever kind which interests him, or
in which he may be concerned."  I was about to interrupt to tell him
what she had already said of her ignorance in all matters of her father
and his ways, but her warning hand was raised to me pointedly and she
spoke herself.

"Alas!  I know little or nothing.  Superintendent Dolan and Mr. Ross
know already all I can say."

"Well, ma'am, we must be content to do what we can," said the officer
genially. "I'll begin by making a minute examination.  You say that you
were outside the door when you heard the noise?"

"I was in my room when I heard the queer sound--indeed it must have been
the early part of whatever it was which woke me.  I came out of my room
at once. Father's door was shut, and I could see the whole landing and
the upper slopes of the staircase.  No one could have left by the door
unknown to me, if that is what you mean!"

"That is just what I do mean, miss.  If every one who knows anything
will tell me as well as that, we shall soon get to the bottom of this."

He then went over to the bed, looked at it carefully, and asked:

"Has the bed been touched?"

"Not to my knowledge," said Miss Trelawny, "but I shall ask Mrs. Grant--
the housekeeper," she added as she rang the bell.  Mrs. Grant answered
it in person. "Come in," said Miss Trelawny.  "These gentlemen want to
know, Mrs. Grant, if the bed has been touched."

"Not by me, ma'am."

"Then," said Miss Trelawny, turning to Sergeant Daw, "it cannot have
been touched by any one.  Either Mrs. Grant or I myself was here all the
time, and I do not think any of the servants who came when I gave the
alarm were near the bed at all.  You see, Father lay here just under the
great safe, and every one crowded round him.  We sent them all away in a
very short time."  Daw, with a motion of his hand, asked us all to stay
at the other side of the room whilst with a magnifying-glass he examined
the bed, taking care as he moved each fold of the bed-clothes to replace
it in exact position.  Then he examined with his magnifying-glass the
floor beside it, taking especial pains where the blood had trickled over
the side of the bed, which was of heavy red wood handsomely carved.
Inch by inch, down on his knees, carefully avoiding any touch with the
stains on the floor, he followed the blood-marks over to the spot, close
under the great safe, where the body had lain.  All around and about
this spot he went for a radius of some yards; but seemingly did not meet
with anything to arrest special attention.  Then he examined the front
of the safe; round the lock, and along the bottom and top of the double
doors, more especially at the places of their touching in front.

Next he went to the windows, which were fastened down with the hasps.

"Were the shutters closed?" he asked Miss Trelawny in a casual way as
though he expected the negative answer, which came.

All this time Doctor Winchester was attending to his patient; now
dressing the wounds in the wrist or making minute examination all over
the head and throat, and over the heart.  More than once he put his nose
to the mouth of the senseless man and sniffed.  Each time he did so he
finished up by unconsciously looking round the room, as though in search
of something.

Then we heard the deep strong voice of the Detective:

"So far as I can see, the object was to bring that key to the lock of
the safe.  There seems to be some secret in the mechanism that I am
unable to guess at, though I served a year in Chubb's before I joined
the police.  It is a combination lock of seven letters; but there seems
to be a way of locking even the combination.  It is one of Chatwood's; I
shall call at their place and find out something about it."  Then
turning to the Doctor, as though his own work were for the present done,
he said:

"Have you anything you can tell me at once, Doctor, which will not
interfere with your full report?  If there is any doubt I can wait, but
the sooner I know something definite the better."  Doctor Winchester
answered at once:

"For my own part I see no reason in waiting.  I shall make a full report
of course.  But in the meantime I shall tell you all I know--which is
after all not very much, and all I think--which is less definite.  There
is no wound on the head which could account for the state of stupor in
which the patient continues.  I must, therefore, take it that either he
has been drugged or is under some hypnotic influence.  So far as I can
judge, he has not been drugged--at least by means of any drug of whose
qualities I am aware.  Of course, there is ordinarily in this room so
much of a mummy smell that it is difficult to be certain about anything
having a delicate aroma.  I dare say that you have noticed the peculiar
Egyptians scents, bitumen, nard, aromatic gums and spices, and so forth.
It is quite possible that somewhere in this room, amongst the curios and
hidden by stronger scents, is some substance or liquid which may have
the effect we see.  It is possible that the patient has taken some drug,
and that he may in some sleeping phase have injured himself.  I do not
think this is likely; and circumstances, other than those which I have
myself been investigating, may prove that this surmise is not correct.
But in the meantime it is possible; and must, till it be disproved, be
kept within our purview."  Here Sergeant Daw interrupted:

"That may be, but if so, we should be able to find the instrument with
which the wrist was injured.  There would be marks of blood somewhere."

"Exactly so!" said the Doctor, fixing his glasses as though preparing
for an argument. "But if it be that the patient has used some strange
drug, it may be one that does not take effect at once.  As we are as yet
ignorant of its potentialities--if, indeed, the whole surmise is correct
at all--we must be prepared at all points."

Here Miss Trelawny joined in the conversation:

"That would be quite right, so far as the action of the drug was
concerned; but according to the second part of your surmise the wound
may have been self-inflicted, and this after the drug had taken
effect."

"True!" said the Detective and the Doctor simultaneously.  She went on:

"As however, Doctor, your guess does not exhaust the possibilities, we
must bear in mind that some other variant of the same root-idea may be
correct.  I take it, therefore, that our first search, to be made on
this assumption, must be for the weapon with which the injury was done
to my Father's wrist."

"Perhaps he put the weapon in the safe before he became quite
unconscious," said I, giving voice foolishly to a half-formed thought.

"That could not be," said the Doctor quickly.  "At least I think it
could hardly be," he added cautiously, with a brief bow to me.  "You
see, the left hand is covered with blood; but there is no blood mark
whatever on the safe."

"Quite right!" I said, and there was a long pause.

The first to break the silence was the Doctor.

"We shall want a nurse here as soon as possible; and I know the very one
to suit.  I shall go at once to get her if I can.  I must ask that till
I return some of you will remain constantly with the patient.  It may be
necessary to remove him to another room later on; but in the meantime he
is best left here.  Miss Trelawny, may I take it that either you or Mrs.
Grant will remain here--not merely in the room, but close to the patient
and watchful of him--till I return?"

She bowed in reply, and took a seat beside the sofa.  The Doctor gave
her some directions as to what she should do in case her father should
become conscious before his return.

The next to move was Superintendent Dolan, who came close to Sergeant
Daw as he said:

"I had better return now to the station--unless, of course, you should
wish me to remain for a while."

He answered, "Is Johnny Wright still in your division?"

"Yes!  Would you like him to be with you?"  The other nodded reply.
"Then I will send him on to you as soon as can be arranged.  He shall
then stay with you as long as you wish.  I will tell him that he is to
take his instructions entirely from you."

The Sergeant accompanied him to the door, saying as he went:

"Thank you, sir; you are always thoughtful for men who are working with
you.  It is a pleasure to me to be with you again.  I shall go back to
Scotland Yard and report to my chief.  Then I shall call at Chatwood's;
and I shall return here as soon as possible. I suppose I may take it,
miss, that I may put up here for a day or two, if required.  It may be
some help, or possibly some comfort to you, if I am about, until we
unravel this mystery."

"I shall be very grateful to you."  He looked keenly at her for a few
seconds before he spoke again.

"Before I go have I permission to look about your Father's table and
desk?  There might be something which would give us a clue--or a lead at
all events."  Her answer was so unequivocal as almost to surprise him.

"You have the fullest possible permission to do anything which may help
us in this dreadful trouble--to discover what it is that is wrong with my
Father, or which may shield him in the future!"

He began at once a systematic search of the dressing-table, and after
that of the writing-table in the room.  In one of the drawers he found a
letter sealed; this he brought at once across the room and handed to
Miss Trelawny.

"A letter--directed to me--and in my Father's hand!" she said as she
eagerly opened it.  I watched her face as she began to read; but seeing
at once that Sergeant Daw kept his keen eyes on her face, unflinchingly
watching every flitting expression, I kept my eyes henceforth fixed on
his.  When Miss Trelawny had read her letter through, I had in my mind a
conviction, which, however, I kept locked in my own heart.  Amongst the
suspicions in the mind of the Detective was one, rather perhaps
potential than definite, of Miss Trelawny herself.

For several minutes Miss Trelawny held the letter in her hand with her
eyes downcast, thinking.  Then she read it carefully again; this time
the varying expressions were intensified, and I thought I could easily
follow them.  When she had finished the second reading, she paused
again.  Then, though with some reluctance, she handed the letter to the
Detective.  He read it eagerly but with unchanging face; read it a
second time, and then handed it back with a bow.  She paused a little
again, and then handed it to me.  As she did so she raised her eyes to
mine for a single moment appealingly; a swift blush spread over her pale
cheeks and forehead.

With mingled feelings I took it, but, all said, I was glad.  She did not
show any perturbation in giving the letter to the Detective--she might
not have shown any to anyone else.  But to me. . . I feared to follow the
thought further; but read on, conscious that the eyes of both Miss
Trelawny and the Detective were fixed on me.

"MY DEAR DAUGHTER,  I want you to take this letter as an instruction--
absolute and imperative, and admitting of no deviation whatever--in case
anything untoward or unexpected by you or by others should happen to me.
If I should be suddenly and mysteriously stricken down--either by
sickness, accident or attack--you must follow these directions
implicitly.  If I am not already in my bedroom when you are made
cognisant of my state, I am to be brought there as quickly as possible.
Even should I be dead, my body is to be brought there.  Thenceforth,
until I am either conscious and able to give instructions on my own
account, or buried, I am never to be left alone--not for a single
instant.  From nightfall to sunrise at least two persons must remain in
the room.  It will be well that a trained nurse be in the room from time
to time, and will note any symptoms, either permanent or changing, which
may strike her.  My solicitors, Marvin & Jewkes, of 27B Lincoln's Inn,
have full instructions in case of my death; and Mr. Marvin has himself
undertaken to see personally my wishes carried out.  I should advise
you, my dear Daughter, seeing that you have no relative to apply to, to
get some friend whom you can trust to either remain within the house
where instant communication can be made, or to come nightly to aid in
the watching, or to be within call.  Such friend may be either male or
female; but, whichever it may be, there should be added one other
watcher or attendant at hand of the opposite sex.  Understand, that it
is of the very essence of my wish that there should be, awake and
exercising themselves to my purposes, both masculine and feminine
intelligences.  Once more, my dear Margaret, let me impress on you the
need for observation and just reasoning to conclusions, howsoever
strange.  If I am taken ill or injured, this will be no ordinary
occasion; and I wish to warn you, so that your guarding may be complete.

"Nothing in my room--I speak of the curios--must be removed or displaced
in any way, or for any cause whatever.  I have a special reason and a
special purpose in the placing of each; so that any moving of them would
thwart my plans.

"Should you want money or counsel in anything, Mr. Marvin will carry out
your wishes; to the which he has my full instructions."

          "ABEL TRELAWNY."

I read the letter a second time before speaking, for I feared to betray
myself.  The choice of a friend might be a momentous occasion for me.  I
had already ground for hope, that she had asked me to help her in the
first throe of her trouble; but love makes its own doubtings, and I
feared.  My thoughts seemed to whirl with lightning rapidity, and in a
few seconds a whole process of reasoning became formulated.  I must not
volunteer to be the friend that the father advised his daughter to have
to aid her in her vigil; and yet that one glance had a lesson which I
must not ignore.  Also, did not she, when she wanted help, send to me--to
me a stranger, except for one meeting at a dance and one brief afternoon
of companionship on the river?  Would it not humiliate her to make her
ask me twice?  Humiliate her!  No! that pain I could at all events save
her; it is not humiliation to refuse.  So, as I handed her back the
letter, I said:

"I know you will forgive me, Miss Trelawny, if I presume too much; but
if you will permit me to aid in the watching I shall be proud.  Though
the occasion is a sad one, I shall be so far happy to be allowed the
privilege."

Despite her manifest and painful effort at self-control, the red tide
swept her face and neck.  Even her eyes seemed suffused, and in stern
contrast with her pale cheeks when the tide had rolled back.  She
answered in a low voice:

"I shall be very grateful for your help!"  Then in an afterthought she
added:

"But you must not let me be selfish in my need!  I know you have many
duties to engage you; and though I shall value your help highly--most
highly--it would not be fair to monopolise your time."

"As to that," I answered at once, "my time is yours.  I can for today
easily arrange my work so that I can come here in the afternoon and stay
till morning.  After that, if the occasion still demands it, I can so
arrange my work that I shall have more time still at my disposal."

She was much moved.  I could see the tears gather in her eyes, and she
turned away her head.  The Detective spoke:

"I am glad you will be here, Mr. Ross.  I shall be in the house myself,
as Miss Trelawny will allow me, if my people in Scotland Yard will
permit.  That letter seems to put a different complexion on everything;
though the mystery remains greater than ever. If you can wait here an
hour or two I shall go to headquarters, and then to the safe-makers.
After that I shall return; and you can go away easier in your mind, for
I shall be here."

When he had gone, we two, Miss Trelawny and I, remained in silence.  At
last she raised her eyes and looked at me for a moment; after that I
would not have exchanged places with a king.  For a while she busied
herself round the extemporised bedside of her father.  Then, asking me
to be sure not to take my eyes off him till she returned, she hurried
out.

In a few minutes she came back with Mrs. Grant and two maids and a
couple of men, who bore the entire frame and furniture of a light iron
bed.  This they proceeded to put together and to make.  When the work
was completed, and the servants had withdrawn, she said to me:

"It will be well to be all ready when the Doctor returns.  He will
surely want to have Father put to bed; and a proper bed will be better
for him than the sofa."  She then got a chair close beside her father,
and sat down watching him.

I went about the room, taking accurate note of all I saw.  And truly
there were enough things in the room to evoke the curiosity of any man--
even though the attendant circumstances were less strange.  The whole
place, excepting those articles of furniture necessary to a
well-furnished bedroom, was filled with magnificent curios, chiefly
Egyptian. As the room was of immense size there was opportunity for the
placing of a large number of them, even if, as with these, they were of
huge proportions.

Whilst I was still investigating the room there came the sound of wheels
on the gravel outside the house.  There was a ring at the hall door, and
a few minutes later, after a preliminary tap at the door and an
answering "Come in!" Doctor Winchester entered, followed by a young
woman in the dark dress of a nurse.

"I have been fortunate!" he said as he came in.  "I found her at once
and free. Miss Trelawny, this is Nurse Kennedy!"





Chapter III
The Watchers




I was struck by the way the two young women looked at each other.  I
suppose I have been so much in the habit of weighing up in my own mind
the personality of witnesses and of forming judgment by their
unconscious action and mode of bearing themselves, that the habit
extends to my life outside as well as within the court-house.  At this
moment of my life anything that interested Miss Trelawny interested me;
and as she had been struck by the newcomer I instinctively weighed her
up also. By comparison of the two I seemed somehow to gain a new
knowledge of Miss Trelawny.  Certainly, the two women made a good
contrast.  Miss Trelawny was of fine figure; dark, straight-featured.
She had marvellous eyes; great, wide-open, and as black and soft as
velvet, with a mysterious depth.  To look in them was like gazing at a
black mirror such as Doctor Dee used in his wizard rites.  I heard an
old gentleman at the picnic, a great oriental traveller, describe the
effect of her eyes "as looking at night at the great distant lamps of a
mosque through the open door."  The eyebrows were typical.  Finely
arched and rich in long curling hair, they seemed like the proper
architectural environment of the deep, splendid eyes.  Her hair was
black also, but was as fine as silk.  Generally black hair is a type of
animal strength and seems as if some strong expression of the forces of
a strong nature; but in this case there could be no such thought.  There
were refinement and high breeding; and though there was no suggestion of
weakness, any sense of power there was, was rather spiritual than
animal.  The whole harmony of her being seemed complete. Carriage,
figure, hair, eyes; the mobile, full mouth, whose scarlet lips and white
teeth seemed to light up the lower part of the face--as the eyes did the
upper; the wide sweep of the jaw from chin to ear; the long, fine
fingers; the hand which seemed to move from the wrist as though it had a
sentience of its own.  All these perfections went to make up a
personality that dominated either by its grace, its sweetness, its
beauty, or its charm.

Nurse Kennedy, on the other hand, was rather under than over a woman's
average height.  She was firm and thickset, with full limbs and broad,
strong, capable hands. Her colour was in the general effect that of an
autumn leaf.  The yellow-brown hair was thick and long, and the
golden-brown eyes sparkled from the freckled, sunburnt skin.  Her rosy
cheeks gave a general idea of rich brown.  The red lips and white teeth
did not alter the colour scheme, but only emphasized it.  She had a snub
nose--there was no possible doubt about it; but like such noses in
general it showed a nature generous, untiring, and full of good-nature.
Her broad white forehead, which even the freckles had spared, was full
of forceful thought and reason.

Doctor Winchester had on their journey from the hospital, coached her in
the necessary particulars, and without a word she took charge of the
patient and set to work.  Having examined the new-made bed and shaken
the pillows, she spoke to the Doctor, who gave instructions; presently
we all four, stepping together, lifted the unconscious man from the
sofa.

Early in the afternoon, when Sergeant Daw had returned, I called at my
rooms in Jermyn Street, and sent out such clothes, books and papers as I
should be likely to want within a few days.  Then I went on to keep my
legal engagements.

The Court sat late that day as an important case was ending; it was
striking six as I drove in at the gate of the Kensington Palace Road.  I
found myself installed in a large room close to the sick chamber.

That night we were not yet regularly organised for watching, so that the
early part of the evening showed an unevenly balanced guard.  Nurse
Kennedy, who had been on duty all day, was lying down, as she had
arranged to come on again by twelve o'clock.  Doctor Winchester, who was
dining in the house, remained in the room until dinner was announced;
and went back at once when it was over.  During dinner Mrs. Grant
remained in the room, and with her Sergeant Daw, who wished to complete
a minute examination which he had undertaken of everything in the room
and near it.  At nine o'clock Miss Trelawny and I went in to relieve the
Doctor. She had lain down for a few hours in the afternoon so as to be
refreshed for her work at night.  She told me that she had determined
that for this night at least she would sit up and watch.  I did not try
to dissuade her, for I knew that her mind was made up.  Then and there I
made up my mind that I would watch with her--unless, of course, I should
see that she really did not wish it.  I said nothing of my intentions
for the present.  We came in on tiptoe, so silently that the Doctor, who
was bending over the bed, did not hear us, and seemed a little startled
when suddenly looking up he saw our eyes upon him.  I felt that the
mystery of the whole thing was getting on his nerves, as it had already
got on the nerves of some others of us.  He was, I fancied, a little
annoyed with himself for having been so startled, and at once began to
talk in a hurried manner as though to get over our idea of his
embarrassment:

"I am really and absolutely at my wits' end to find any fit cause for
this stupor.  I have made again as accurate an examination as I know
how, and I am satisfied that there is no injury to the brain, that is,
no external injury.  Indeed, all his vital organs seem unimpaired.  I
have given him, as you know, food several times and it has manifestly
done him good.  His breathing is strong and regular, and his pulse is
slower and stronger than it was this morning.  I cannot find evidence of
any known drug, and his unconsciousness does not resemble any of the
many cases of hypnotic sleep which I saw in the Charcot Hospital in
Paris.  And as to these wounds"--he laid his finger gently on the
bandaged wrist which lay outside the coverlet as he spoke, "I do not
know what to make of them.  They might have been made by a
carding-machine; but that supposition is untenable.  It is within the
bounds of possibility that they might have been made by a wild animal if
it had taken care to sharpen its claws.  That too is, I take it,
impossible. By the way, have you any strange pets here in the house;
anything of an exceptional kind, such as a tiger-cat or anything out of
the common?" Miss Trelawny smiled a sad smile which made my heart ache,
as she made answer:

"Oh no!  Father does not like animals about the house, unless they are
dead and mummied."  This was said with a touch of bitterness--or
jealousy, I could hardly tell which.  "Even my poor kitten was only
allowed in the house on sufferance; and though he is the dearest and
best-conducted cat in the world, he is now on a sort of parole, and is
not allowed into this room."

As she was speaking a faint rattling of the door handle was heard.
Instantly Miss Trelawny's face brightened.  She sprang up and went over
to the door, saying as she went:

"There he is!  That is my Silvio.  He stands on his hind legs and
rattles the door handle when he wants to come into a room."  She opened
the door, speaking to the cat as though he were a baby:  "Did him want
his movver?  Come then; but he must stay with her!"  She lifted the cat,
and came back with him in her arms.  He was certainly a magnificent
animal.  A chinchilla grey Persian with long silky hair; a really lordly
animal with a haughty bearing despite his gentleness; and with great
paws which spread out as he placed them on the ground.  Whilst she was
fondling him, he suddenly gave a wriggle like an eel and slipped out of
her arms.  He ran across the room and stood opposite a low table on
which stood the mummy of an animal, and began to mew and snarl.  Miss
Trelawny was after him in an instant and lifted him in her arms, kicking
and struggling and wriggling to get away; but not biting or scratching,
for evidently he loved his beautiful mistress.  He ceased to make a
noise the moment he was in her arms; in a whisper she admonished him:

"O you naughty Silvio!  You have broken your parole that mother gave for
you.  Now, say goodnight to the gentlemen, and come away to mother's
room!"  As she was speaking she held out the cat's paw to me to shake.
As I did so I could not but admire its size and beauty.  "Why," said I,
"his paw seems like a little boxing-glove full of claws."  She smiled:

"So it ought to.  Don't you notice that my Silvio has seven toes, see!"
she opened the paw; and surely enough there were seven separate claws,
each of them sheathed in a delicate, fine, shell-like case.  As I gently
stroked the foot the claws emerged and one of them accidentally--there
was no anger now and the cat was purring--stuck into my hand.
Instinctively I said as I drew back:

"Why, his claws are like razors!"

Doctor Winchester had come close to us and was bending over looking at
the cat's claws; as I spoke he said in a quick, sharp way:

"Eh!"  I could hear the quick intake of his breath.  Whilst I was
stroking the now quiescent cat, the Doctor went to the table and tore
off a piece of blotting-paper from the writing-pad and came back.  He
laid the paper on his palm and, with a simple "pardon me!" to Miss
Trelawny, placed the cat's paw on it and pressed it down with his other
hand.  The haughty cat seemed to resent somewhat the familiarity, and
tried to draw its foot away.  This was plainly what the Doctor wanted,
for in the act the cat opened the sheaths of its claws and and made
several reefs in the soft paper. Then Miss Trelawny took her pet away.
She returned in a couple of minutes; as she came in she said:

"It is most odd about that mummy!  When Silvio came into the room
first--indeed I took him in as a kitten to show to Father--he went on
just the same way.  He jumped up on the table, and tried to scratch and
bite the mummy.  That was what made Father so angry, and brought the
decree of banishment on poor Silvio.  Only his parole, given through me,
kept him in the house."

Whilst she had been gone, Doctor Winchester had taken the bandage from
her father's wrist.  The wound was now quite clear, as the separate cuts
showed out in fierce red lines.  The Doctor folded the blotting-paper
across the line of punctures made by the cat's claws, and held it down
close to the wound.  As he did so, he looked up triumphantly and
beckoned us over to him.

The cuts in the paper corresponded with the wounds in the wrist!  No
explanation was needed, as he said;

"It would have been better if master Silvio had not broken his parole!"

We were all silent for a little while.  Suddenly Miss Trelawny said:

"But Silvio was not in here last night!"

"Are you sure?  Could you prove that if necessary?"  She hesitated
before replying:

"I am certain of it; but I fear it would be difficult to prove.  Silvio
sleeps in a basket in my room.  I certainly put him to bed last night; I
remember distinctly laying his little blanket over him, and tucking him
in.  This morning I took him out of the basket myself.  I certainly
never noticed him in here; though, of course, that would not mean much,
for I was too concerned about poor father, and too much occupied with
him, to notice even Silvio."

The Doctor shook his head as he said with a certain sadness:

"Well, at any rate it is no use trying to prove anything now.  Any cat
in the world would have cleaned blood-marks--did any exist--from his paws
in a hundredth part of the time that has elapsed."

Again we were all silent; and again the silence was broken by Miss
Trelawny:

"But now that I think of it, it could not have been poor Silvio that
injured Father. My door was shut when I first heard the sound; and
Father's was shut when I listened at it.  When I went in, the injury had
been done; so that it must have been before Silvio could possibly have
got in."  This reasoning commended itself, especially to me as a
barrister, for it was proof to satisfy a jury.  It gave me a distinct
pleasure to have Silvio acquitted of the crime--possibly because he was
Miss Trelawny's cat and was loved by her.  Happy cat!  Silvio's mistress
was manifestly pleased as I said:

"Verdict, 'not guilty!'"  Doctor Winchester after a pause observed:

"My apologies to master Silvio on this occasion; but I am still puzzled
to know why he is so keen against that mummy.  Is he the same toward the
other mummies in the house?  There are, I suppose, a lot of them.  I saw
three in the hall as I came in."

"There are lots of them," she answered.  "I sometimes don't know whether
I am in a private house or the British Museum.  But Silvio never
concerns himself about any of them except that particular one.  I
suppose it must be because it is of an animal, not a man or a woman."

"Perhaps it is of a cat!" said the Doctor as he started up and went
across the room to look at the mummy more closely.  "Yes," he went on,
"it is the mummy of a cat; and a very fine one, too.  If it hadn't been
a special favourite of some very special person it would never have
received so much honour.  See!  A painted case and obsidian eyes--just
like a human mummy.  It is an extraordinary thing, that knowledge of
kind to kind.  Here is a dead cat--that is all; it is perhaps four or
five thousand years old--and another cat of another breed, in what is
practically another world, is ready to fly at it, just as it would if it
were not dead.  I should like to experiment a bit about that cat if you
don't mind, Miss Trelawny."  She hesitated before replying:

"Of course, do anything you may think necessary or wise; but I hope it
will not be anything to hurt or worry my poor Silvio."  The Doctor
smiled as he answered:

"Oh, Silvio would be all right:  it is the other one that my sympathies
would be reserved for."

"How do you mean?"

"Master Silvio will do the attacking; the other one will do the
suffering."

"Suffering?"  There was a note of pain in her voice.  The Doctor smiled
more broadly:

"Oh, please make your mind easy as to that.  The other won't suffer as
we understand it; except perhaps in his structure and outfit."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Simply this, my dear young lady, that the antagonist will be a mummy
cat like this one.  There are, I take it, plenty of them to be had in
Museum Street.  I shall get one and place it here instead of that one--
you won't think that a temporary exchange will violate your Father's
instructions, I hope.  We shall then find out, to begin with, whether
Silvio objects to all mummy cats, or only to this one in particular."

"I don't know," she said doubtfully.  "Father's instructions seem very
uncompromising."  Then after a pause she went on:  "But of course under
the circumstances anything that is to be ultimately for his good must be
done.  I suppose there can't be anything very particular about the mummy
of a cat."

Doctor Winchester said nothing.  He sat rigid, with so grave a look on
his face that his extra gravity passed on to me; and in its enlightening
perturbation I began to realise more than I had yet done the strangeness
of the case in which I was now so deeply concerned.  When once this
thought had begun there was no end to it.  Indeed it grew, and
blossomed, and reproduced itself in a thousand different ways.  The room
and all in it gave grounds for strange thoughts.  There were so many
ancient relics that unconsciously one was taken back to strange lands
and strange times.  There were so many mummies or mummy objects, round
which there seemed to cling for ever the penetrating odours of bitumen,
and spices and gums--"Nard and Circassia's balmy smells"--that one was
unable to forget the past.  Of course, there was but little light in the
room, and that carefully shaded; so that there was no glare anywhere.
None of that direct light which can manifest itself as a power or an
entity, and so make for companionship.  The room was a large one, and
lofty in proportion to its size.  In its vastness was place for a
multitude of things not often found in a bedchamber.  In far corners
of the room were shadows of uncanny shape.  More than once as I thought,
the multitudinous presence of the dead and the past took such hold on me
that I caught myself looking round fearfully as though some strange
personality or influence was present.  Even the manifest presence of
Doctor Winchester and Miss Trelawny could not altogether comfort or
satisfy me at such moments.  It was with a distinct sense of relief that
I saw a new personality in the room in the shape of Nurse Kennedy.
There was no doubt that that business-like, self-reliant, capable young
woman added an element of security to such wild imaginings as my own.
She had a quality of common sense that seemed to pervade everything
around her, as though it were some kind of emanation.  Up to that moment
I had been building fancies around the sick man; so that finally all
about him, including myself, had become involved in them, or enmeshed,
or saturated, or. . . But now that she had come, he relapsed into his
proper perspective as a patient; the room was a sick-room, and the
shadows lost their fearsome quality.  The only thing which it could not
altogether abrogate was the strange Egyptian smell. You may put a mummy
in a glass case and hermetically seal it so that no corroding air can
get within; but all the same it will exhale its odour.  One might think
that four or five thousand years would exhaust the olfactory qualities
of anything; but experience teaches us that these smells remain, and
that their secrets are unknown to us.  Today they are as much mysteries
as they were when the embalmers put the body in the bath of natron. . .


All at once I sat up.  I had become lost in an absorbing reverie.  The
Egyptian smell had seemed to get on my nerves--on my memory--on my very
will.

At that moment I had a thought which was like an inspiration.  If I was
influenced in such a manner by the smell, might it not be that the sick
man, who lived half his life or more in the atmosphere, had gradually
and by slow but sure process taken into his system something which had
permeated him to such degree that it had a new power derived from
quantity--or strength--or . . .

I was becoming lost again in a reverie.  This would not do.  I must take
such precaution that I could remain awake, or free from such entrancing
thought.  I had had but half a night's sleep last night; and this night
I must remain awake.  Without stating my intention, for I feared that I
might add to the trouble and uneasiness of Miss Trelawny, I went
downstairs and out of the house.  I soon found a chemist's shop, and
came away with a respirator.  When I got back, it was ten o'clock; the
Doctor was going for the night.  The Nurse came with him to the door of
the sick-room, taking her last instructions.  Miss Trelawny sat still
beside the bed.  Sergeant Daw, who had entered as the Doctor went out,
was some little distance off.

When Nurse Kennedy joined us, we arranged that she should sit up till
two o'clock, when Miss Trelawny would relieve her.  Thus, in accordance
with Mr. Trelawny's instructions, there would always be a man and a
woman in the room; and each one of us would overlap, so that at no time
would a new set of watchers come on duty without some one to tell of
what--if anything--had occurred.  I lay down on a sofa in my own room,
having arranged that one of the servants should call me a little before
twelve.  In a few moments I was asleep.

When I was waked, it took me several seconds to get back my thoughts so
as to recognise my own identity and surroundings.  The short sleep had,
however, done me good, and I could look on things around me in a more
practical light than I had been able to do earlier in the evening.  I
bathed my face, and thus refreshed went into the sick-room.  I moved
very softly.  The Nurse was sitting by the bed, quiet and alert; the
Detective sat in an arm-chair across the room in deep shadow.  He did
not move when I crossed, until I got close to him, when he said in a
dull whisper:

"It is all right; I have not been asleep!"  An unnecessary thing to say,
I thought--it always is, unless it be untrue in spirit.  When I told him
that his watch was over; that he might go to bed till I should call him
at six o'clock, he seemed relieved and went with alacrity.  At the door
he turned and, coming back to me, said in a whisper:

"I sleep lightly and I shall have my pistols with me.  I won't feel so
heavy-headed when I get out of this mummy smell."

He too, then, had shared my experience of drowsiness!

I asked the Nurse if she wanted anything.  I noticed that she had a
vinaigrette in her lap.  Doubtless she, too, had felt some of the
influence which had so affected me. She said that she had all she
required, but that if she should want anything she would at once let me
know.  I wished to keep her from noticing my respirator, so I went to
the chair in the shadow where her back was toward me.  Here I quietly
put it on, and made myself comfortable.

For what seemed a long time, I sat and thought and thought.  It was
a wild medley of thoughts, as might have been expected from the
experiences of the previous day and night.  Again I found myself
thinking of the Egyptian smell; and I remember that I felt a delicious
satisfaction that I did not experience it as I had done.  The respirator
was doing its work.

It must have been that the passing of this disturbing thought made for
repose of mind, which is the corollary of bodily rest, for, though I
really cannot remember being asleep or waking from it, I saw a vision--I
dreamed a dream, I scarcely know which.

I was still in the room, seated in the chair.  I had on my respirator
and knew that I breathed freely.  The Nurse sat in her chair with her
back toward me.  She sat quite still.  The sick man lay as still as the
dead.  It was rather like the picture of a scene than the reality; all
were still and silent; and the stillness and silence were continuous.
Outside, in the distance I could hear the sounds of a city, the
occasional roll of wheels, the shout of a reveller, the far-away echo of
whistles and the rumbling of trains.  The light was very, very low; the
reflection of it under the green-shaded lamp was a dim relief to the
darkness, rather than light.  The green silk fringe of the lamp had
merely the colour of an emerald seen in the moonlight. The room, for all
its darkness, was full of shadows.  It seemed in my whirling thoughts as
though all the real things had become shadows--shadows which moved, for
they passed the dim outline of the high windows.  Shadows which had
sentience. I even thought there was sound, a faint sound as of the mew
of a cat--the rustle of drapery and a metallic clink as of metal faintly
touching metal.  I sat as one entranced.  At last I felt, as in
nightmare, that this was sleep, and that in the passing of its portals
all my will had gone.

All at once my senses were full awake.  A shriek rang in my ears.  The
room was filled suddenly with a blaze of light.  There was the sound of
pistol shots--one, two; and a haze of white smoke in the room.  When my
waking eyes regained their power, I could have shrieked with horror
myself at what I saw before me.





Chapter IV
The Second Attempt




The sight which met my eyes had the horror of a dream within a dream,
with the certainty of reality added.  The room was as I had seen it
last; except that the shadowy look had gone in the glare of the many
lights, and every article in it stood stark and solidly real.

By the empty bed sat Nurse Kennedy, as my eyes had last seen her,
sitting bolt upright in the arm-chair beside the bed.  She had placed a
pillow behind her, so that her back might be erect; but her neck was
fixed as that of one in a cataleptic trance.  She was, to all intents
and purposes, turned into stone.  There was no special expression on her
face--no fear, no horror; nothing such as might be expected of one in
such a condition.  Her open eyes showed neither wonder nor interest.
She was simply a negative existence, warm, breathing, placid; but
absolutely unconscious of the world around her.  The bedclothes were
disarranged, as though the patient had been drawn from under them
without throwing them back.  The corner of the upper sheet hung upon the
floor; close by it lay one of the bandages with which the Doctor had
dressed the wounded wrist. Another and another lay further along the
floor, as though forming a clue to where the sick man now lay.  This was
almost exactly where he had been found on the previous night, under the
great safe.  Again, the left arm lay toward the safe.  But there had
been a new outrage, an attempt had been made to sever the arm close to
the bangle which held the tiny key.  A heavy "kukri" knife--one of the
leaf-shaped knives which the Gurkhas and others of the hill tribes of
India use with such effect--had been taken from its place on the wall,
and with it the attempt had been made. It was manifest that just at the
moment of striking, the blow had been arrested, for only the point of
the knife and not the edge of the blade had struck the flesh.  As it
was, the outer side of the arm had been cut to the bone and the blood
was pouring out.  In addition, the former wound in front of the arm had
been cut or torn about terribly, one of the cuts seemed to jet out blood
as if with each pulsation of the heart.  By the side of her father knelt
Miss Trelawny, her white nightdress stained with the blood in which she
knelt.  In the middle of the room Sergeant Daw, in his shirt and
trousers and stocking feet, was putting fresh cartridges into his
revolver in a dazed mechanical kind of way.  His eyes were red and
heavy, and he seemed only half awake, and less than half conscious of
what was going on around him.  Several servants, bearing lights of
various kinds, were clustered round the doorway.

As I rose from my chair and came forward, Miss Trelawny raised her eyes
toward me. When she saw me she shrieked and started to her feet,
pointing towards me.  Never shall I forget the strange picture she made,
with her white drapery all smeared with blood which, as she rose from
the pool, ran in streaks toward her bare feet.  I believe that I had
only been asleep; that whatever influence had worked on Mr. Trelawny and
Nurse Kennedy--and in less degree on Sergeant Daw--had not touched me.
The respirator had been of some service, though it had not kept off the
tragedy whose dire evidences were before me.  I can understand now--I
could understand even then--the fright, added to that which had gone
before, which my appearance must have evoked.  I had still on the
respirator, which covered mouth and nose; my hair had been tossed in my
sleep.  Coming suddenly forward, thus enwrapped and dishevelled, in that
horrified crowd, I must have had, in the strange mixture of lights, an
extraordinary and terrifying appearance.  It was well that I recognised
all this in time to avert another catastrophe; for the half-dazed,
mechanically-acting Detective put in the cartridges and had raised his
revolver to shoot at me when I succeeded in wrenching off the respirator
and shouting to him to hold his hand.  In this also he acted
mechanically; the red, half-awake eyes had not in them even then the
intention of conscious action.  The danger, however, was averted.  The
relief of the situation, strangely enough, came in a simple fashion.
Mrs. Grant, seeing that her young mistress had on only her nightdress,
had gone to fetch a dressing-gown, which she now threw over her.  This
simple act brought us all back to the region of fact.  With a long
breath, one and all seemed to devote themselves to the most pressing
matter before us, that of staunching the flow of blood from the arm of
the wounded man.  Even as the thought of action came, I rejoiced; for
the bleeding was very proof that Mr. Trelawny still lived.

Last night's lesson was not thrown away.  More than one of those present
knew now what to do in such an emergency, and within a few seconds
willing hands were at work on a tourniquet.  A man was at once
despatched for the doctor, and several of the servants disappeared to
make themselves respectable.  We lifted Mr. Trelawny on to the sofa
where he had lain yesterday; and, having done what we could for him,
turned our attention to the Nurse.  In all the turmoil she had not
stirred; she sat there as before, erect and rigid, breathing softly and
naturally and with a placid smile. As it was manifestly of no use to
attempt anything with her till the doctor had come, we began to think of
the general situation.

Mrs. Grant had by this time taken her mistress away and changed her
clothes; for she was back presently in a dressing-gown and slippers, and
with the traces of blood removed from her hands.  She was now much
calmer, though she trembled sadly; and her face was ghastly white.  When
she had looked at her father's wrist, I holding the tourniquet, she
turned her eyes round the room, resting them now and again on each one
of us present in turn, but seeming to find no comfort.  It was so
apparent to me that she did not know where to begin or whom to trust
that, to reassure her, I said:

"I am all right now; I was only asleep."  Her voice had a gulp in it as
she said in a low voice:

"Asleep!  You! and my Father in danger!  I thought you were on the
watch!"  I felt the sting of justice in the reproach; but I really
wanted to help her, so I answered:

"Only asleep.  It is bad enough, I know; but there is something more
than an "only" round us here.  Had it not been that I took a definite
precaution I might have been like the Nurse there."  She turned her eyes
swiftly on the weird figure, sitting grimly upright like a painted
statue; and then her face softened.  With the action of habitual
courtesy she said:

"Forgive me!  I did not mean to be rude.  But I am in such distress and
fear that I hardly know what I am saying.  Oh, it is dreadful!  I fear
for fresh trouble and horror and mystery every moment."  This cut me to
the very heart, and out of the heart's fulness I spoke:

"Don't give me a thought!  I don't deserve it.  I was on guard, and yet
I slept.  All that I can say is that I didn't mean to, and I tried to
avoid it; but it was over me before I knew it.  Anyhow, it is done now;
and can't be undone.  Probably some day we may understand it all; but
now let us try to get at some idea of what has happened.  Tell me what
you remember!"  The effort to recollect seemed to stimulate her; she
became calmer as she spoke:

"I was asleep, and woke suddenly with the same horrible feeling on me
that Father was in great and immediate danger.  I jumped up and ran,
just as I was, into his room.  It was nearly pitch dark, but as I opened
the door there was light enough to see Father's nightdress as he lay on
the floor under the safe, just as on that first awful night.  Then I
think I must have gone mad for a moment."  She stopped and shuddered.
My eyes lit on Sergeant Daw, still fiddling in an aimless way with the
revolver.  Mindful of my work with the tourniquet, I said calmly:

"Now tell us, Sergeant Daw, what did you fire at?"  The policeman seemed
to pull himself together with the habit of obedience.  Looking around at
the servants remaining in the room, he said with that air of importance
which, I take it, is the regulation attitude of an official of the law
before strangers:

"Don't you think, sir, that we can allow the servants to go away?  We
can then better go into the matter."  I nodded approval; the servants
took the hint and withdrew, though unwillingly, the last one closing the
door behind him.  Then the Detective went on:

"I think I had better tell you my impressions, sir, rather than recount
my actions. That is, so far as I remember them."  There was a mortified
deference now in his manner, which probably arose from his consciousness
of the awkward position in which he found himself.  "I went to sleep
half-dressed--as I am now, with a revolver under my pillow.  It was the
last thing I remember thinking of.  I do not know how long I slept.  I
had turned off the electric light, and it was quite dark.  I thought I
heard a scream; but I can't be sure, for I felt thick-headed as a man
does when he is called too soon after an extra long stretch of work.
Not that such was the case this time.  Anyhow my thoughts flew to the
pistol.  I took it out, and ran on to the landing.  Then I heard a sort
of scream, or rather a call for help, and ran into this room.  The room
was dark, for the lamp beside the Nurse was out, and the only light was
that from the landing, coming through the open door.  Miss Trelawny was
kneeling on the floor beside her father, and was screaming.  I thought I
saw something move between me and the window; so, without thinking, and
being half dazed and only half awake, I shot at it.  It moved a little
more to the right between the windows, and I shot again.  Then you came
up out of the big chair with all that muffling on your face.  It seemed
to me, being as I say half dazed and half awake--I know, sir, you will
take this into account--as if it had been you, being in the same
direction as the thing I had fired at.  And so I was about to fire again
when you pulled off the wrap."  Here I asked him--I was cross-examining
now and felt at home:

"You say you thought I was the thing you fired at.  What thing?"  The
man scratched his head, but made no reply.

"Come, sir," I said, "what thing; what was it like?"  The answer came in
a low voice:

"I don't know, sir.  I thought there was something; but what it was, or
what it was like, I haven't the faintest notion.  I suppose it was
because I had been thinking of the pistol before I went to sleep, and
because when I came in here I was half dazed and only half awake--which I
hope you will in future, sir, always remember."  He clung to that
formula of excuse as though it were his sheet-anchor.  I did not want to
antagonise the man; on the contrary I wanted to have him with us.
Besides, I had on me at that time myself the shadow of my own default;
so I said as kindly as I knew how:

"Quite right! Sergeant.  Your impulse was correct; though of course in
the half-somnolent condition in which you were, and perhaps partly
affected by the same influence--whatever it may be--which made me sleep
and which has put the Nurse in that cataleptic trance, it could not be
expected that you would paused to weigh matters.  But now, whilst the
matter is fresh, let me see exactly where you stood and where I sat.  We
shall be able to trace the course of your bullets."  The prospect of
action and the exercise of his habitual skill seemed to brace him at
once; he seemed a different man as he set about his work.  I asked Mrs.
Grant to hold the tourniquet, and went and stood where he had stood and
looked where, in the darkness, he had pointed.  I could not but notice
the mechanical exactness of his mind, as when he showed me where he had
stood, or drew, as a matter of course, the revolver from his pistol
pocket, and pointed with it.  The chair from which I had risen still
stood in its place.  Then I asked him to point with his hand only, as I
wished to move in the track of his shot.

Just behind my chair, and a little back of it, stood a high buhl
cabinet.  The glass door was shattered.  I asked:

"Was this the direction of your first shot or your second?"  The answer
came promptly.

"The second; the first was over there!"

He turned a little to the left, more toward the wall where the great
safe stood, and pointed.  I followed the direction of his hand and came
to the low table whereon rested, amongst other curios, the mummy of the
cat which had raised Silvio's ire.  I got a candle and easily found the
mark of the bullet.  It had broken a little glass vase and a tazza of
black basalt, exquisitely engraved with hieroglyphics, the graven lines
being filled with some faint green cement and the whole thing being
polished to an equal surface.  The bullet, flattened against the wall,
lay on the table.

I then went to the broken cabinet.  It was evidently a receptacle for
valuable curios; for in it were some great scarabs of gold, agate, green
jasper, amethyst, lapis lazuli, opal, granite, and blue-green china.
None of these things happily were touched.  The bullet had gone through
the back of the cabinet; but no other damage, save the shattering of the
glass, had been done.  I could not but notice the strange arrangement of
the curios on the shelf of the cabinet.  All the scarabs, rings,
amulets, &c. were arranged in an uneven oval round an exquisitely-carved
golden miniature figure of a hawk-headed God crowned with a disk and
plumes.  I did not wait to look further at present, for my attention was
demanded by more pressing things; but I determined to make a more minute
examination when I should have time.  It was evident that some of the
strange Egyptian smell clung to these old curios; through the broken
glass came an added whiff of spice and gum and bitumen, almost stronger
than those I had already noticed as coming from others in the room.

All this had really taken but a few minutes.  I was surprised when my
eye met, through the chinks between the dark window blinds and the
window cases, the brighter light of the coming dawn.  When I went back
to the sofa and took the tourniquet from Mrs. Grant, she went over and
pulled up the blinds.

It would be hard to imagine anything more ghastly than the appearance of
the room with the faint grey light of early morning coming in upon it.
As the windows faced north, any light that came was a fixed grey light
without any of the rosy possibility of dawn which comes in the eastern
quarter of heaven.  The electric lights seemed dull and yet glaring; and
every shadow was of a hard intensity.  There was nothing of morning
freshness; nothing of the softness of night.  All was hard and cold and
inexpressibly dreary.  The face of the senseless man on the sofa seemed
of a ghastly yellow; and the Nurse's face had taken a suggestion of
green from the shade of the lamp near her.  Only Miss Trelawny's face
looked white; and it was of a pallor which made my heart ache.  It
looked as if nothing on God's earth could ever again bring back to it
the colour of life and happiness.

It was a relief to us all when Doctor Winchester came in, breathless
with running.  He only asked one question:

"Can anyone tell me anything of how this wound was gotten?"  On seeing
the headshake which went round us under his glance, he said no more, but
applied himself to his surgical work.  For an instant he looked up at
the Nurse sitting so still; but then bent himself to his task, a grave
frown contracting his brows.  It was not till the arteries were tied and
the wounds completely dressed that he spoke again, except, of course,
when he had asked for anything to be handed to him or to be done for
him.  When Mr. Trelawny's wounds had been thoroughly cared for, he said
to Miss Trelawny:

"What about Nurse Kennedy?"  She answered at once:

"I really do not know.  I found her when I came into the room at
half-past two o'clock, sitting exactly as she does now.  We have not
moved her, or changed her position.  She has not wakened since.  Even
Sergeant Daw's pistol-shots did not disturb her."

"Pistol-shots?  Have you then discovered any cause for this new
outrage?"  The rest were silent, so I answered:

"We have discovered nothing.  I was in the room watching with the Nurse.
Earlier in the evening I fancied that the mummy smells were making me
drowsy, so I went out and got a respirator.  I had it on when I came on
duty; but it did not keep me from going to sleep.  I awoke to see the
room full of people; that is, Miss Trelawny and Sergeant Daw, being only
half awake and still stupefied by the same scent or influence which had
affected us, fancied that he saw something moving through the shadowy
darkness of the room, and fired twice.  When I rose out of my chair,
with my face swathed in the respirator, he took me for the cause of the
trouble.  Naturally enough, he was about to fire again, when I was
fortunately in time to manifest my identity.  Mr. Trelawny was lying
beside the safe, just as he was found last night; and was bleeding
profusely from the new wound in his wrist.  We lifted him on the sofa,
and made a tourniquet.  That is, literally and absolutely, all that any
of us know as yet.  We have not touched the knife, which you see lies
close by the pool of blood. Look!" I said, going over and lifting it.
"The point is red with the blood which has dried."

Doctor Winchester stood quite still a few minutes before speaking:

"Then the doings of this night are quite as mysterious as those of last
night?"

"Quite!" I answered.  He said nothing in reply, but turning to Miss
Trelawny said:

"We had better take Nurse Kennedy into another room.  I suppose there is
nothing to prevent it?"

"Nothing!  Please, Mrs. Grant, see that Nurse Kennedy's room is ready;
and ask two of the men to come and carry her in."  Mrs. Grant went out
immediately; and in a few minutes came back saying:

"The room is quite ready; and the men are here."  By her direction two
footmen came into the room and, lifting up the rigid body of Nurse
Kennedy under the supervision of the Doctor, carried her out of the
room.  Miss Trelawny remained with me in the sick chamber, and Mrs.
Grant went with the Doctor into the Nurse's room.

When we were alone Miss Trelawny came over to me, and taking both my
hands in hers, said:

"I hope you won't remember what I said.  I did not mean it, and I was
distraught."  I did not make reply; but I held her hands and kissed
them.  There are different ways of kissing a lady's hands.  This way was
intended as homage and respect; and it was accepted as such in the
high-bred, dignified way which marked Miss Trelawny's bearing and every
movement.  I went over to the sofa and looked down at the senseless man.
The dawn had come much nearer in the last few minutes, and there was
something of the clearness of day in the light.  As I looked at the
stern, cold, set face, now as white as a marble monument in the pale
grey light, I could not but feel that there was some deep mystery beyond
all that had happened within the last twenty-six hours.  Those beetling
brows screened some massive purpose; that high, broad forehead held some
finished train of reasoning, which the broad chin and massive jaw would
help to carry into effect.  As I looked and wondered, there began to
steal over me again that phase of wandering thought which had last night
heralded the approach of sleep.  I resisted it, and held myself sternly
to the present.  This was easier to do when Miss Trelawny came close to
me, and, leaning her forehead against my shoulder, began to cry
silently.  Then all the manhood in me woke, and to present purpose.  It
was of little use trying to speak; words were inadequate to thought. But
we understood each other; she did not draw away when I put arm
protectingly over her shoulder as I used to do with my little sister
long ago when in her childish trouble she would come to her big brother
to be comforted.  That very act or attitude of protection made me more
resolute in my purpose, and seemed to clear my brain of idle, dreamy
wandering in thought.  With an instinct of greater protection, however,
I took away my arm as I heard the Doctor's footstep outside the door.

When Doctor Winchester came in he looked intently at the patient before
speaking. His brows were set, and his mouth was a thin, hard line.
Presently he said:

"There is much in common between the sleep of your Father and Nurse
Kennedy. Whatever influence has brought it about has probably worked the
same way in both cases.  In Kennedy's case the coma is less marked.  I
cannot but feel, however, that with her we may be able to do more and
more quickly than with this patient, as our hands are not tied.  I have
placed her in a draught; and already she shows some signs, though very
faint ones, of ordinary unconsciousness.  The rigidity of her limbs is
less, and her skin seems more sensitive--or perhaps I should say less
insensitive--to pain."

"How is it, then," I asked, "that Mr. Trelawny is still in this state of
insensibility; and yet, so far as we know, his body has not had such
rigidity at all?"

"That I cannot answer.  The problem is one which we may solve in a few
hours; or it may need a few days.  But it will be a useful lesson in
diagnosis to us all; and perhaps to many and many others after us, who
knows!" he added, with the genuine fire of an enthusiast.

As the morning wore on, he flitted perpetually between the two rooms,
watching anxiously over both patients.  He made Mrs. Grant remain with
the Nurse, but either Miss Trelawny or I, generally both of us, remained
with the wounded man. We each managed, however, to get bathed and
dressed; the Doctor and Mrs. Grant remained with Mr. Trelawny whilst we
had breakfast.

Sergeant Daw went off to report at Scotland Yard the progress of the
night; and then to the local station to arrange for the coming of his
comrade, Wright, as fixed with Superintendent Dolan.  When he returned I
could not but think that he had been hauled over the coals for shooting
in a sick-room; or perhaps for shooting at all without certain and
proper cause.  His remark to me enlightened me in the matter:

"A good character is worth something, sir, in spite of what some of them
say.  See! I've still got leave to carry my revolver."

That day was a long and anxious one.  Toward nightfall Nurse Kennedy so
far improved that the rigidity of her limbs entirely disappeared.  She
still breathed quietly and regularly; but the fixed expression of her
face, though it was a calm enough expression, gave place to fallen
eyelids and the negative look of sleep. Doctor Winchester had, towards
evening, brought two more nurses, one of whom was to remain with Nurse
Kennedy and the other to share in the watching with Miss Trelawny, who
had insisted on remaining up herself.  She had, in order to prepare for
the duty, slept for several hours in the afternoon.  We had all taken
counsel together, and had arranged thus for the watching in Mr.
Trelawny's room.  Mrs. Grant was to remain beside the patient till
twelve, when Miss Trelawny would relieve her.  The new nurse was to sit
in Miss Trelawny's room, and to visit the sick chamber each quarter of
an hour.  The Doctor would remain till twelve; when I was to relieve
him.  One or other of the detectives was to remain within hail of the
room all night; and to pay periodical visits to see that all was well.
Thus, the watchers would be watched; and the possibility of such events
as last night, when the watchers were both overcome, would be avoided.

When the sun set, a strange and grave anxiety fell on all of us; and in
our separate ways we prepared for the vigil.  Doctor Winchester had
evidently been thinking of my respirator, for he told me he would go out
and get one.  Indeed, he took to the idea so kindly that I persuaded
Miss Trelawny also to have one which she could put on when her time for
watching came.

And so the night drew on.





Chapter V
More Strange Instructions




When I came from my room at half-past eleven o'clock I found all well in
the sick-room.  The new nurse, prim, neat, and watchful, sat in the
chair by the bedside where Nurse Kennedy had sat last night.  A little
way off, between the bed and the safe, sat Dr. Winchester alert and
wakeful, but looking strange and almost comic with the respirator over
mouth and nose.  As I stood in the doorway looking at them I heard a
slight sound; turning round I saw the new detective, who nodded, held up
the finger of silence and withdrew quietly.  Hitherto no one of the
watchers was overcome by sleep.

I took a chair outside the door.  As yet there was no need for me to
risk coming again under the subtle influence of last night.  Naturally
my thoughts went revolving round the main incidents of the last day and
night, and I found myself arriving at strange conclusions, doubts,
conjectures; but I did not lose myself, as on last night, in trains of
thought.  The sense of the present was ever with me, and I really felt
as should a sentry on guard.  Thinking is not a slow process; and when
it is earnest the time can pass quickly.  It seemed a very short time
indeed till the door, usually left ajar, was pulled open and Dr.
Winchester emerged, taking off his respirator as he came.  His act, when
he had it off, was demonstrative of his keenness.  He turned up the
outside of the wrap and smelled it carefully.

"I am going now," he said.  "I shall come early in the morning; unless,
of course, I am sent for before.  But all seems well tonight."

The next to appear was Sergeant Daw, who went quietly into the room and
took the seat vacated by the Doctor.  I still remained outside; but
every few minutes looked into the room.  This was rather a form than a
matter of utility, for the room was so dark that coming even from the
dimly-lighted corridor it was hard to distinguish anything.

A little before twelve o'clock Miss Trelawny came from her room.  Before
coming to her father's she went into that occupied by Nurse Kennedy.
After a couple of minutes she came out, looking, I thought, a trifle
more cheerful.  She had her respirator in her hand, but before putting
it on, asked me if anything special had occurred since she had gone to
lie down.  I answered in a whisper--there was no loud talking in the
house tonight--that all was safe, was well.  She then put on her
respirator, and I mine; and we entered the room.  The Detective and the
Nurse rose up, and we took their places.  Sergeant Daw was the last to
go out; he closed the door behind him as we had arranged.

For a while I sat quiet, my heart beating.  The place was grimly dark.
The only light was a faint one from the top of the lamp which threw a
white circle on the high ceiling, except the emerald sheen of the shade
as the light took its under edges. Even the light only seemed to
emphasize the blackness of the shadows.  These presently began to seem,
as on last night, to have a sentience of their own.  I did not myself
feel in the least sleepy; and each time I went softly over to look at
the patient, which I did about every ten minutes, I could see that Miss
Trelawny was keenly alert.  Every quarter of an hour one or other of the
policemen looked in through the partly opened door.  Each time both Miss
Trelawny and I said through our mufflers, "all right," and the door was
closed again.

As the time wore on, the silence and the darkness seemed to increase.
The circle of light on the ceiling was still there, but it seemed less
brilliant than at first.  The green edging of the lamp-shade became like
Maori greenstone rather than emerald. The sounds of the night without
the house, and the starlight spreading pale lines along the edges of the
window-cases, made the pall of black within more solemn and more
mysterious.

We heard the clock in the corridor chiming the quarters with its silver
bell till two o'clock; and then a strange feeling came over me.  I could
see from Miss Trelawny's movement as she looked round, that she also had
some new sensation.  The new detective had just looked in; we two were
alone with the unconscious patient for another quarter of an hour.

My heart began to beat wildly.  There was a sense of fear over me.  Not
for myself; my fear was impersonal.  It seemed as though some new person
had entered the room, and that a strong intelligence was awake close to
me.  Something brushed against my leg.  I put my hand down hastily and
touched the furry coat of Silvio. With a very faint far-away sound of a
snarl he turned and scratched at me.  I felt blood on my hand.  I rose
gently and came over to the bedside.  Miss Trelawny, too, had stood up
and was looking behind her, as though there was something close to her.
Her eyes were wild, and her breast rose and fell as though she were
fighting for air. When I touched her she did not seem to feel me; she
worked her hands in front of her, as though she was fending off
something.

There was not an instant to lose.  I seized her in my arms and rushed
over to the door, threw it open, and strode into the passage, calling
loudly:

"Help!  Help!"

In an instant the two Detectives, Mrs. Grant, and the Nurse appeared on
the scene. Close on their heels came several of the servants, both men
and women. Immediately Mrs. Grant came near enough, I placed Miss
Trelawny in her arms, and rushed back into the room, turning up the
electric light as soon as I could lay my hand on it.  Sergeant Daw and
the Nurse followed me.

We were just in time.  Close under the great safe, where on the two
successive nights he had been found, lay Mr. Trelawny with his left arm,
bare save for the bandages, stretched out.  Close by his side was a
leaf-shaped Egyptian knife which had lain amongst the curios on the
shelf of the broken cabinet.  Its point was stuck in the parquet floor,
whence had been removed the blood-stained rug.

But there was no sign of disturbance anywhere; nor any sign of any one
or anything unusual.  The Policemen and I searched the room accurately,
whilst the Nurse and two of the servants lifted the wounded man back to
bed; but no sign or clue could we get.  Very soon Miss Trelawny returned
to the room.  She was pale but collected. When she came close to me she
said in a low voice:

"I felt myself fainting.  I did not know why; but I was afraid!"

The only other shock I had was when Miss Trelawny cried out to me, as I
placed my hand on the bed to lean over and look carefully at her father:

"You are wounded.  Look! look! your hand is bloody.  There is blood on
the sheets!" I had, in the excitement, quite forgotten Silvio's scratch.
As I looked at it, the recollection came back to me; but before I could
say a word Miss Trelawny had caught hold of my hand and lifted it up.
When she saw the parallel lines of the cuts she cried out again:

"It is the same wound as Father's!"  Then she laid my hand down gently
but quickly, and said to me and to Sergeant Daw:

"Come to my room!  Silvio is there in his basket."  We followed her, and
found Silvio sitting in his basket awake.  He was licking his paws.  The
Detective said:

"He is there sure enough; but why licking his paws?"

Margaret--Miss Trelawny--gave a moan as she bent over and took one of
the forepaws in her hand; but the cat seemed to resent it and snarled.
At that Mrs. Grant came into the room.  When she saw that we were
looking at the cat she said:

"The Nurse tells me that Silvio was asleep on Nurse Kennedy's bed ever
since you went to your Father's room until a while ago.  He came there
just after you had gone to master's room.  Nurse says that Nurse Kennedy
is moaning and muttering in her sleep as though she had a nightmare.  I
think we should send for Dr. Winchester."

"Do so at once, please!" said Miss Trelawny; and we went back to the
room.

For a while Miss Trelawny stood looking at her father, with her brows
wrinkled. Then, turning to me, as though her mind were made up, she
said:

"Don't you think we should have a consultation on Father?  Of course I
have every confidence in Doctor Winchester; he seems an immensely clever
young man.  But he is a young man; and there must be men who have
devoted themselves to this branch of science.  Such a man would have
more knowledge and more experience; and his knowledge and experience
might help to throw light on poor Father's case. As it is, Doctor
Winchester seems to be quite in the dark.  Oh! I don't know what to do.
It is all so terrible!"  Here she broke down a little and cried; and I
tried to comfort her.

Doctor Winchester arrived quickly.  His first thought was for his
patient; but when he found him without further harm, he visited Nurse
Kennedy.  When he saw her, a hopeful look came into his eyes.  Taking a
towel, he dipped a corner of it in cold water and flicked on the face.
The skin coloured, and she stirred slightly.  He said to the new nurse--
Sister Doris he called her:

"She is all right.  She will wake in a few hours at latest.  She may be
dizzy and distraught at first, or perhaps hysterical.  If so, you know
how to treat her."

"Yes, sir!" answered Sister Doris demurely; and we went back to Mr.
Trelawny's room. As soon as we had entered, Mrs. Grant and the Nurse
went out so that only Doctor Winchester, Miss Trelawny, and myself
remained in the room.  When the door had been closed Doctor Winchester
asked me as to what had occurred.  I told him fully, giving exactly
every detail so far as I could remember.  Throughout my narrative, which
did not take long, however, he kept asking me questions as to who had
been present and the order in which each one had come into the room.  He
asked other things, but nothing of any importance; these were all that
took my attention, or remained in my memory.  When our conversation was
finished, he said in a very decided way indeed, to Miss Trelawny:

"I think, Miss Trelawny, that we had better have a consultation on this
case."  She answered at once, seemingly a little to his surprise:

"I am glad you have mentioned it.  I quite agree.  Who would you
suggest?"

"Have you any choice yourself?" he asked.  "Any one to whom your Father
is known? Has he ever consulted any one?"

"Not to my knowledge.  But I hope you will choose whoever you think
would be best.  My dear Father should have all the help that can be had;
and I shall be deeply obliged by your choosing.  Who is the best man in
London--anywhere else--in such a case?"

"There are several good men; but they are scattered all over the world.
Somehow, the brain specialist is born, not made; though a lot of hard
work goes to the completing of him and fitting him for his work.  He
comes from no country.  The most daring investigator up to the present
is Chiuni, the Japanese; but he is rather a surgical experimentalist
than a practitioner.  Then there is Zammerfest of Uppsala, and Fenelon
of the University of Paris, and Morfessi of Naples.  These, of course,
are in addition to our own men, Morrison of Aberdeen and Richardson of
Birmingham. But before them all I would put Frere of King's College.  Of
all that I have named he best unites theory and practice.  He has no
hobbies--that have been discovered at all events; and his experience is
immense.  It is the regret of all of us who admire him that the nerve so
firm and the hand so dexterous must yield to time.  For my own part I
would rather have Frere than any one living."

"Then," said Miss Trelawny decisively, "let us have Doctor Frere--by the
way, is he 'Doctor' or 'Mister'?--as early as we can get him in the
morning!"

A weight seemed removed from him, and he spoke with greater ease and
geniality than he had yet shown:

"He is Sir James Frere.  I shall go to him myself as early as it is
possibly to see him, and shall ask him to come here at once."  Then
turning to me he said:

"You had better let me dress your hand."

"It is nothing," I said.

"Nevertheless it should be seen to.  A scratch from any animal might
turn out dangerous; there is nothing like being safe."  I submitted;
forthwith he began to dress my hand.  He examined with a
magnifying-glass the several parallel wounds, and compared them with the
slip of blotting-paper, marked with Silvio's claws, which he took from
his pocket-book.  He put back the paper, simply remarking:

"It's a pity that Silvio slips in--and out--just when he shouldn't."

The morning wore slowly on.  By ten o'clock Nurse Kennedy had so far
recovered that she was able to sit up and talk intelligibly.  But she
was still hazy in her thoughts; and could not remember anything that had
happened on the previous night, after her taking her place by the
sick-bed.  As yet she seemed neither to know nor care what had happened.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when Doctor Winchester returned with Sir
James Frere. Somehow I felt my heart sink when from the landing I saw
them in the hall below; I knew that Miss Trelawny was to have the pain
of telling yet another stranger of her ignorance of her father's life.

Sir James Frere was a man who commanded attention followed by respect.
He knew so thoroughly what he wanted himself, that he placed at once on
one side all wishes and ideas of less definite persons.  The mere flash
of his piercing eyes, or the set of his resolute mouth, or the lowering
of his great eyebrows, seemed to compel immediate and willing obedience
to his wishes.  Somehow, when we had all been introduced and he was well
amongst us, all sense of mystery seemed to melt away.  It was with a
hopeful spirit that I saw him pass into the sick-room with Doctor
Winchester.

They remained in the room a long time; once they sent for the Nurse, the
new one, Sister Doris, but she did not remain long.  Again they both
went into Nurse Kennedy's room.  He sent out the nurse attendant on her.
Doctor Winchester told me afterward that Nurse Kennedy, though she was
ignorant of later matters, gave full and satisfactory answers to all
Doctor Frere's questions relating to her patient up to the time she
became unconscious.  Then they went to the study, where they remained so
long, and their voices raised in heated discussion seemed in such
determined opposition, that I began to feel uneasy.  As for Miss
Trelawny, she was almost in a state of collapse from nervousness before
they joined us.  Poor girl! she had had a sadly anxious time of it, and
her nervous strength had almost broken down.

They came out at last, Sir James first, his grave face looking as
unenlightening as that of the sphinx.  Doctor Winchester followed him
closely; his face was pale, but with that kind of pallor which looked
like a reaction.  It gave me the idea that it had been red not long
before.  Sir James asked that Miss Trelawny would come into the study.
He suggested that I should come also.  When we had entered, Sir James
turned to me and said:

"I understand from Doctor Winchester that you are a friend of Miss
Trelawny, and that you have already considerable knowledge of this case.
Perhaps it will be well that you should be with us.  I know you already
as a keen lawyer, Mr. Ross, though I never had the pleasure of meeting
you.  As Doctor Winchester tells me that there are some strange matters
outside this case which seem to puzzle him--and others--and in which he
thinks you may yet be specially interested, it might be as well that you
should know every phase of the case.  For myself I do not take much
account of mysteries--except those of science; and as there seems to be
some idea of an attempt at assassination or robbery, all I can say is
that if assassins were at work they ought to take some elementary
lessons in anatomy before their next job, for they seem thoroughly
ignorant.  If robbery were their purpose, they seem to have worked with
marvellous inefficiency.  That, however, is not my business."  Here he
took a big pinch of snuff, and turning to to Miss Trelawny, went on:
"Now as to the patient. Leaving out the cause of his illness, all we can
say at present is that he appears to be suffering from a marked attack
of catalepsy.  At present nothing can be done, except to sustain his
strength.  The treatment of my friend Doctor Winchester is mainly such
as I approve of; and I am confident that should any slight change arise
he will be able to deal with it satisfactorily.  It is an interesting
case--most interesting; and should any new or abnormal development arise
I shall be happy to come at any time.  There is just one thing to which
I wish to call your attention; and I put it to you, Miss Trelawny,
directly, since it is your responsibility.  Doctor Winchester informs me
that you are not yourself free in the matter, but are bound by an
instruction given by your Father in case just such a condition of things
should arise.  I would strongly advise that the patient be removed to
another room; or, as an alternative, that those mummies and all such
things should be removed from his chamber.  Why, it's enough to put any
man into an abnormal condition, to have such an assemblage of horrors
round him, and to breathe the atmosphere which they exhale.  You have
evidence already of how such mephitic odour may act.  That nurse--
Kennedy, I think you said, Doctor--isn't yet out of her state of
catalepsy; and you, Mr. Ross, have, I am told, experienced something of
the same effects.  I know this"--here his eyebrows came down more than
ever, and his mouth hardened--"if I were in charge here I should insist
on the patient having a different atmosphere; or I would throw up the
case.  Doctor Winchester already knows that I can only be again
consulted on this condition being fulfilled.  But I trust that you will
see your way, as a good daughter to my mind should, to looking to your
Father's health and sanity rather than to any whim of his--whether
supported or not by a foregoing fear, or by any number of "penny
dreadful" mysteries.  The day has hardly come yet, I am glad to say,
when the British Museum and St. Thomas's Hospital have exchanged their
normal functions.  Good-day, Miss Trelawny.  I earnestly hope that I may
soon see your Father restored.  Remember, that should you fulfil the
elementary condition which I have laid down, I am at your service day or
night.  Good-morning, Mr. Ross.  I hope you will be able to report to me
soon, Doctor Winchester."

When he had gone we stood silent, till the rumble of his carriage wheels
died away. The first to speak was Doctor Winchester:

"I think it well to say that to my mind, speaking purely as a physician,
he is quite right.  I feel as if I could have assaulted him when he made
it a condition of not giving up the case; but all the same he is right
as to treatment.  He does not understand that there is something odd
about this special case; and he will not realise the knot that we are
all tied up in by Mr. Trelawny's instructions.  Of course--" He was
interrupted by Miss Trelawny:

"Doctor Winchester, do you, too, wish to give up the case; or are you
willing to continue it under the conditions you know?"

"Give it up!  Less now than ever.  Miss Trelawny, I shall never give it
up, so long as life is left to him or any of us!"  She said nothing, but
held out her hand, which he took warmly.

"Now," said she, "if Sir James Frere is a type of the cult of
Specialists, I want no more of them.  To start with, he does not seem to
know any more than you do about my Father's condition; and if he were a
hundredth part as much interested in it as you are, he would not stand
on such punctilio.  Of course, I am only too anxious about my poor
Father; and if I can see a way to meet either of Sir James Frere's
conditions, I shall do so.  I shall ask Mr. Marvin to come here today,
and advise me as to the limit of Father's wishes.  If he thinks I am
free to act in any way on my own responsibility, I shall not hesitate to
do so."  Then Doctor Winchester took his leave.

 Miss Trelawny sat down and wrote a letter to Mr. Marvin, telling him of
the state of affairs, and asking him to come and see her and to bring
with him any papers which might throw any light on the subject.  She
sent the letter off with a carriage to bring back the solicitor; we
waited with what patience we could for his coming.

It is not a very long journey for oneself from Kensington Palace Gardens
to Lincoln's Inn Fields; but it seemed endlessly long when waiting for
someone else to take it.  All things, however, are amenable to Time; it
was less than an hour all told when Mr. Marvin was with us.

He recognised Miss Trelawny's impatience, and when he had learned
sufficient of her father's illness, he said to her:

"Whenever you are ready I can go with you into particulars regarding
your Father's wishes."

"Whenever you like," she said, with an evident ignorance of his meaning.
"Why not now?"  He looked at me, as to a fellow man of business, and
stammered out:

"We are not alone."

"I have brought Mr. Ross here on purpose," she answered.  "He knows so
much at present, that I want him to know more."  The solicitor was a
little disconcerted, a thing which those knowing him only in courts
would hardly have believed.  He answered, however, with some hesitation:

"But, my dear young lady--Your Father's wishes!--Confidence between father
and child--"

Here she interrupted him; there was a tinge of red in her pale cheeks as
she did so:

"Do you really think that applies to the present circumstances, Mr.
Marvin?  My Father never told me anything of his affairs; and I can now,
in this sad extremity, only learn his wishes through a gentleman who is
a stranger to me and of whom I never even heard till I got my Father's
letter, written to be shown to me only in extremity.  Mr. Ross is a new
friend; but he has all my confidence, and I should like him to be
present.  Unless, of course," she added, "such a thing is forbidden by
my Father.  Oh! forgive me, Mr. Marvin, if I seem rude; but I have been
in such