His face, green-pale from loss of sleep, slowly mottled with purplish stains.
"Years of friendship," he stumbled, thick-voiced, through broken phrases. "Wouldn"t take that from any one else.... Not yourself....
Question of viewpoint, really.... I"d be the last to blame either of you, if---- However----"
"Maltby," I said, "you"re what I never thought you--a common or garden cad. That"s my deliberate opinion. I"ve nothing more to say to you."
For an instant I supposed he was going to strike me. It is one of the major disappointments of my life that he did not. My fingers ached for his throat.
Later, with the undertaker efficiently in charge of all practical arrangements, and while Susan still hid from us behind her mysterious veil, I talked things out with Doctor Askew, giving him the whole story of Susan as clearly and unreservedly as I could. My purpose in doing so was two-fold. I felt that he must know as much as possible about Susan before she woke again to what we call reality. What I feared was that this shock--which had so profoundly and so peculiarly affected her--might, even after the long and lengthening trance had pa.s.sed, leave some mark upon her spirit, perhaps even some permanent cloud upon her brain. I had read enough of these matters to know that my fear was not groundless, and I could see that Doctor Askew welcomed my information--felt as keenly as I did that he might later be called upon to interpret and deal with some perplexing borderland condition of the mind. It was as well at least to be prepared. That was my major purpose.
But connected with it was another, more self-regarding. My own vision, my psychic reel, greatly disturbed me. It was not orthodox. It could not be explained, for example, as something swiftly fabricated from covert memories by my unconscious mind, and forced then sharply into consciousness by some freak of circ.u.mstance, some psychic perturbation or strain.
My vision of the accident itself--of the manner of its occurrence--might conceivably have been such a fabrication, subconsciously elaborated from the facts given me by Conlon; not so my vision of its setting. I had seen in vivid detail the interior of a room which I had never entered and had never heard described; and every detail thus seen was minutely accurate, for I had since examined the room and had found nothing in it unfamiliar, nothing that did not correspond with what my mind"s eye had already noted and remembered. Take merely one instance--the pattern and color scheme of the Chinese rug beside the _chaise-longue_. As an amateur in such matters I could easily, in advance of physically looking at it, have catalogued that rug and have estimated its value to a collector. How then to account for this astounding clairvoyance? I could not account for it without widening my whole conception of what was psychically possible. Seated with Doctor Askew in the room where Susan lay withdrawn from us, from our normal world of limited concrete perceptions, I was oppressed as never before by the immensity and deluding vagueness of the unknown. What were we, we men and women?
Eternal forces, or creatures of an hour? An echo, from days long past returned to me, Phil"s quiet, firm voice demanding--of Maltby, wasn"t it? Yes, yes, of course--demanding of Maltby: "_What is the world, may I ask? And what is Susan?_"
Doctor Askew cross-questioned me closely as we sat there, a little off from Susan, our eyes seldom leaving her face. "You must have patience,"
he kept a.s.suring me in the midst of his questioning. "It will be much better for her to come out of this thing tranquilly, by herself. We"re not really wasting time." When his cross-questioning was over he sat silent for a long time, biting at his upper lip, tapping one foot--almost irritably, I thought--on the parquet floor.
"I don"t like it," he said finally, in his abrupt way. "I don"t like it because I believe you"re telling the truth. If I could only persuade myself that you are either lying or at least drawing a long bow"--he gave a little disgusted snort of laughter--"it would be a great relief to me!"
"Why?"
"Why? Because you"re upsetting my scientific convictions. My mind was all tidied up, everything nicely in order, and now you come raging through it with this ridiculous tale of a sudden hallucinating vision--of seeing things that you"d never seen, never heard described--whose very existence you were completely unaware of! d.a.m.n it!
I"d give almost anything to think you a cheerful liar--or self-deceived!
But I can"t."
"Still, you must have met with similar cases?"
"Never, as it happens, with one that I couldn"t explain away to my own satisfaction. That"s what irritates me now. I can"t explain you away, Mr. Hunt. I believe you had that experience just as you describe it.
Well, then, if you had--what follows?" He pulled for a moment or two at a stubby end of red mustache.
"What does?" I suggested.
"One of three things," he replied, "all equally impossible. Either your vision--to call it that--was first recorded in the mind of another living person and transferred thence to yours--or it was not. If it wasn"t, then it came direct from G.o.d or the devil and was purely miraculous! With your kind permission, we"ll rule that out. But if it was first recorded in the mind of another living person, then we"re forced to accept telepathy--complete thought transference from a distance--accept it as a fact. I never have so accepted it, and hate like h.e.l.l to do it now! And even if I could bring myself to accept it, my troubles have only begun. From whose mind was this exact vision of the accident to Mrs. Hunt transferred to yours? So far as I can see, the detailed facts of it could have been registered in the minds of only two persons--Miss Blake and your wife. Isn"t that so?"
I agreed.
"All right. See where that leaves us! At the time you received this vision, Miss Blake is lying here in a deep trance, unconscious; and your wife is dead. Which of these incredible sources of information do you prefer? It"s a matter of indifference to me. Either way my entire reasoned conception of the universe topples in ruins!"
"But surely," I protested, "it might have come to me from Miss Blake, as you suggest, without our having to descend to a belief in spirit communication? Let"s rule that out, too!"
"As you please," smiled Doctor Askew, pretty grimly. "If you find it easier to believe your vision came from Miss Blake, do so by all means!
Personally, I"ve no choice. I can accept the one explanation quite as readily as the other. Which means, that as a thinking being I can accept neither! Both are--absurd. So I can go no further--unless by a sheer act of faith. I"m baffled, you see--in my own field; completely baffled.
That"s what it comes to. And I find it all devilishly annoying and inconvenient. Don"t you?"
I did not reply. For a time I mused, drearily enough, turning many comfortless things over in my mind. Then I drew from my pocket the three sheets scribbled by Susan"s hand, before it had responded to Doctor Askew"s insistent suggestions.
"Doctor," I asked, handing him the scribbled pages, "in view of all I"ve told you, doesn"t what Miss Blake has written here strike you as significant? You see," I added, while he glanced through them, "how strongly her repressed feelings are in revolt against me--against the tyranny of my love for her. Doesn"t it seem improbable, then, to say the least of it, that my vision could have come from that direction?"
He was reading the pages through again, more slowly. "Jimmy?" he queried to himself. "Oh, yes--Jimmy"s the boy you spoke of. I see--I see." He looked up, and I did my best to smile.
"That"s a bitter dose of truth for me, doctor; but thank G.o.d it came in this way--came in time!"
Except for the punctuation, which I have roughly supplied, the three pages read as follows:
"A net. No means of escape from it. To escape--somehow. Jimmy---- Only wretchedness for Ambo--for us both. How can he care! Insufferably self-satisfied; childishly blind. I won"t--I won"t--not after this. No escape from it--my net. But the inner net--Ambo"s--binding him, too.
Some way out. A dead hand killing things. My own father. How he killed and killed--always--more than he knew. Blind. Never felt that before as part of me--of me. Wrong way round though--it enfolds--smothers. I"m tangled there--part of it--forever and ever. Setebos--G.o.d of my father--Setebos knows. Oh, how could I dream myself free of it like others--how could I! A net--all a net--no breaking it. Poor Ambo--and his love too--a net. It shan"t hold me. I"ll gnaw through--mouselike. I must. Fatal for Ambo now if it holds me. Fatal--Setebos--Jimmy will----"
"Hum," said Doctor Askew quietly.
"That doesn"t help me much," I complained.
"No," he responded; "but I can"t see that all this has any bearing on the possible source of your vision."
"I only thought that perhaps this revelation of a repressed inner revolt against me----"
"Yes, I see. But there"s no reasoning about the unthinkable. I"ve already said I can make nothing of your vision--nothing I"m yet prepared to believe." He handed the three sheets back to me with these words: "But I"m afraid your interpretation of this thing is correct. It"s a little puzzling in spots--curious, eh, the references to Setebos?--still, if I were you, Mr. Hunt, I should quietly withdraw from a lost cause. It"ll mean less trouble all round in the end." He shook his head impatiently. "These s.e.xual muddles--it"s better to see "em out frankly! They"re always the devil, anyway! What silly mechanisms we are--how Nature makes puppet-fools of us! That lovely child there--she admires you and wants to love you, because you love her. Why shouldn"t she? What could be a happier arrangement--now? You"ve had your share of marital misfortune, I should say. But Nature doesn"t give a d.a.m.n for happy arrangements! G.o.d knows what she"s after, I don"t! But just at present she seems to be loading the dice for Jimmy--for Jimmy, who perhaps isn"t even interested in the game! Well, such--for our misery or amus.e.m.e.nt--is life! And my cigarettes are gone.... How about yours----?"
VI
It did not take Susan long to make it perfectly clear to Doctor Askew and me that she had waked from her trance to complete lucidity, showing no traces of any of the abnormal after-effects we had both been dreading. Her first rather surprising words had been spoken just as she opened her eyes and before she had quite realized anything but my familiar presence beside her. They were soon followed by an entirely natural astonishment and confusion. What had happened? Where was she?
She sat up in bed and stared about her, her eyes coming to rest on Doctor Askew"s eager, observant face.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Doctor Askew," he replied quietly. "Don"t be alarmed, Miss Blake. Mr.
Hunt and I have been looking after you. Not that you"ve been much trouble," he smiled; "on the contrary. You"ve been fast asleep for more than twelve hours. We both envy you."
For a long two minutes she did not reply. Then, "Oh, yes," she said.
"Oh, yes." Her chin began to quiver, she visibly shuddered through her whole slight frame, and for an instant pressed her palms hard against her eyes. "Ambo," she murmured, "it was cruel--worse than anything! I got to the "phone all right, didn"t I? Yes, I remember that. I gave the message. But I knew I must go back to her. So much blood, Ambo.... I"m a coward--oh, I"m a coward! But I tried, I did try to go back! Where _did_ I go, Ambo?"
"You went to sleep like a sensible little woman!" struck in Doctor Askew, briskly. "You"d done all you could, all anyone could--so you went to sleep. I wish to G.o.d more women under such circ.u.mstances would follow your example! Much better than going all to pieces and making a scene!"
Susan could not respond to his encouraging smile. "To sleep!" she sighed miserably; "just as I did--once before. What a coward I am! When awful things happen, I dodge them--I run away."
"Nonsense, dear. You knew Gertrude was beyond helping, didn"t you?"
"Yes; but if she hadn"t been?" She shook her head impatiently. "You"re both trying to be kind; but you won"t be able to make me forgive myself--not this time. I don"t rise to a crisis--I slump. Artemis wouldn"t have; nor Gertrude. You know that"s true, Ambo. Even if I could do nothing for her--there were others to think of. There was you. I ought to have been helping you; not you, me." She put out her hand to me. "You"ve done everything for me, always--and I make no return. Now, when I might have, I--I"ve been a quitter!"
Tears of shame and self-reproach poured from her eyes. "Oh," she cried out with a sort of fierce disgust, "how I hate a coward! How I hate myself!"
"Come, come!" protested Doctor Askew. "This won"t do, little lady!" He laid a firm hand on her shoulder and almost roughly shook it, as if she had been a boy. "If you"re equal to it, I suggest you get up and wash your face in good cold water. Do your hair, too--put yourself to rights!
Things never look quite normal to a woman, you know, when her hair"s tumbling!" His hand slipped from her shoulder to her upper arm; he drew the coverlet from her, and helped her to rise. "All right? Feel your pins under you?... Fine! Need a maid? No?... Splendid! Come along, Mr.
Hunt, we"ll wait for the little lady in the drawing-room. She"ll soon pull herself together."
He joined me and walked with me to the door. Susan had not moved as yet from the bedside.
"Ambo," she demanded unexpectedly, "does Sister know?"