Then we sat together, chatting in ecstatic enthusiasm, as I suppose all lovers do, planning a future, wherein our bliss was to be unalloyed and our love undying. And as we talked I saw how at last she became composed in that haven of contentment which is so perfect after the troubled sea of regret and despair, while I, too, felt that at last I wanted nothing, for the great desire of my life had been fulfilled.
Suddenly, however, thoughts of Aline, the mysterious woman who had come between us so strangely, the friend of this man Hibbert and the secret acquaintance of poor Roddy, crossed my mind, and I resolved to gain from her what knowledge she possessed. Therefore, with care and skill I led our conversation up to her, and then point-blank asked her what she knew regarding this woman whose face was that of an angel, and whose heart was that of Satan.
I saw how she started at mention of Aline"s name; how the colour fled from her cheeks, and how sudden was her resolve to fence with me; for at once she a.s.serted her ignorance, and suggested that we might mutually agree to bury the past.
"But she is a mystery, Muriel," I said; "a mystery which I have been trying in vain to solve through all these months. Tell me all you know of her, dearest."
"I know nothing," she declared, in a nervous tone. "Absolutely nothing."
"But are you aware that this man, Hibbert, the man with whom you a.s.sociated, was her friend--her lover?"
"What!" she cried, her face in an instant undergoing a strange transformation. "He--her lover?"
"Yes," I answered. "Did you not know they were friends?"
"I can"t believe it," she answered, pale-faced and bewildered. Whatever was the revelation I had made to her it had evidently caused within her a strong revulsion of feeling. I had, indeed, strong suspicion that these words of mine had supplied some missing link in a chain of facts which had long perplexed and puzzled her.
"What causes you to allege this?" she asked quickly, looking sharply into my eyes.
"Because I have seen them together," I answered. "I have overheard their conversation."
"It can"t be true that they are close acquaintances," she said in a low, mechanical voice, as though speaking to herself. "It"s impossible."
"Why impossible?" I inquired.
"Because there are facts which have conclusively shown that there could have been no love between them."
"Are those facts so remarkable, Muriel, that you are compelled to conceal them from me?" I asked seriously in earnest.
"At present they are," she faltered. "What you have told me has increased the mystery tenfold. I had never expected that they were friends."
"And if they were, what then?" I inquired in eagerness.
"Then the truth must be stranger than I had ever dreamed," she answered in a voice which betrayed her blank bewilderment.
The striking of the clock warned her that it was time she was going, and caused me to recollect that a man would call in a few minutes to repay a loan I had given him. He was an officer--a very decent fellow whom I had known for years, and who for a few weeks had been in rather low water. But he was again in funds, and having met me at the club that afternoon he promised to run over at ten o"clock, smoke a cigar, and repay me.
I regretted this engagement, because it prevented me seeing Muriel home; but when I referred to it she declared that she would take a cab from the rank outside, as she had done so many times in the old days of our friendship, and she would get back quite comfortably.
She b.u.t.toned her gloves, and after kissing me fondly re-adjusted her veil. Then, when we had repeated our vows of undying affection and she had promised me to return and lunch with me next morning, as it was Sunday, she went out and down the stairs.
I was a trifle annoyed that, at the club earlier in the day, I had made the appointment with Bryant, but the sum I had lent was sixty pounds, and, knowing what a careless fellow he was, I felt that it was best to obtain repayment now, when he offered it; hence I was prevented from accompanying Muriel. But as it could not be avoided, and as she had expressed herself perfectly content to return alone, I cast myself again in my chair, mixed a whiskey and soda, lit a cigarette, and gave myself up to reflection.
Muriel loved me. I cared for nought else in all the world. She would be my wife, and after travelling on the Continent for a while we would live somewhere in the country quietly, where we could enjoy ourselves amid that rural peace which to the London-worn is so restful, so refreshing, and so soothing.
After perhaps a quarter of an hour I heard Simes go to the door, and Bryant"s voice exclaim hurriedly--"Is your master in?"
"Come in, my dear fellow! Come in!" I shouted, without rising from my chair.
Next instant he dashed into the room, his face white and scared, exclaiming--
"There"s something wrong down at the bottom of your stairs! Come with me and see, old chap. There"s a girl lying there--a pretty girl dressed in grey--and I believe she"s dead."
"Dead!" I gasped, petrified, for the description he had given was that of Muriel.
"Yes," he cried, excitedly. "I believe she"s been murdered!"
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
SILENCE.
"Murdered!" I gasped, springing to my feet. "Impossible!"
"I"ve just discovered her lying on the stairs, and rushed up to you. I didn"t stop to make an examination."
Without further word we dashed down the three flights of stone steps which led to the great entrance-hall of the mansions, but I noticed to my dismay that although the electric lamps on all the landings were alight those on the ground floor had been extinguished, and there, in the semi-darkness lay Muriel, huddled up in a heap on a small landing approached from the entrance-hall by half a dozen steps. The hall of Charing Cross Mansions is a kind of long arcade, having an entrance at one end in Charing Cross Road, and at the other in St Martin"s Lane; while to it descend the flights of steps leading to the various wings of the colossal building. At the further end from the stairs by which my chambers could be reached was the porter"s box, but placed in such a position that it was impossible for him to see any person upon the stairs.
I sprang down to the side of my helpless love, and tried to lift her, but her weight was so great that I failed. Next instant, however, a cry of horror escaped me, for on my hand I felt something warm and sticky.
It was blood. We shouted for the hall-porter, but he was not in his box, and there was no response. He was, as was his habit each evening, across the way gossiping with the fireman who lounged outside the stage-door of the Alhambra.
"Blood!" I cried, when the terrible truth became plain, and I saw that it had issued from a wound beneath her arm, and that her injury had not been caused by a fall.
"Yes," exclaimed Bryant, "she"s evidently been stabbed. Do you know her?"
"Know her!" I cried. "She"s my intended wife!"
"Your betrothed!" he gasped. "My dear fellow, this is terrible. What a frightful shock for you!" And he dropped upon his knees, and tenderly raised her head. Both of us felt her heart, but could discern no movement. In the mean time, however, Simes, more practical than either of us, had sped away to call a doctor who had a dispensary for the poor at the top of St Martin"s Lane.
Both of us agreed that her heart had ceased its beating, yet, a moment later, we rejoiced to see, as she lay with her head resting upon Bryant"s arm, a slight rising and falling of the breast.
Respiration had returned.
I bent, fondly kissing her chilly lips, and striving vainly to staunch the ugly wound, until suddenly it struck me that the best course to pursue would be to at once remove her to my room; therefore we carefully raised her, and with difficulty succeeded in carrying her upstairs, and laying her upon my bed.
My feeling in these moments I cannot a.n.a.lyse. For months, weary months, during which all desire for life had pa.s.sed from me, I had sought her to gain her love, and now, just as I had done so, she was to be s.n.a.t.c.hed from me by the foul, dastardly deed of some unknown a.s.sa.s.sin. The fact that while the electric lights were shedding their glow in every part of the building they were extinguished upon that small landing was in itself suspicious. Bryant referred to it, and I expressed a belief that the gla.s.s of the two little Swan lamps had been purposely broken by the a.s.sa.s.sin.
At last after a long time the doctor came, a grey-haired old gentleman who bent across the bed, first looking into her face and then pushing back her hair, placed his hand upon her brow, and then upon her breast.
Without replying to our eager questions, he calmly took out his pocket knife, and turning her upon her side, cut the cord of her corsets, and slit her bodice so that the tightness at the throat was relieved.
Then, calling for a lamp and some water, he made a long and very careful examination of the wound.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, apparently satisfied at last. "The attempt was a desperate one. The knife was aimed for her heart."
"But will she die, doctor?" I cried. "Is the wound likely to be fatal?"
"I really can"t tell," he answered gravely. "It is a very serious injury--very. No ordinary knife could inflict such a wound. From the appearance of it I should be inclined to think that a long surgeon"s knife was used."
"But is there no hope?" I demanded. "Tell me the truth."