"A Greek Testament!" Pauline continued. "It is open at--at the sixth chapter of St. Mark."
Saton pa.s.sed it round. The d.u.c.h.ess beamed with delight upon everybody.
Saton seemed only modestly surprised at the interest which everyone displayed.
"We are only doing something now," he said, "which has already been done, and proved easy. The only trouble is, of course, that Lady Marrabel being a stranger to me, the effort is a little greater. If you will be content with one more test of this sort, I will try, if you like, something different--something, at any rate, which has not been done in a music-hall."
A gold purse was pa.s.sed to him, with a small monogram inscribed. Again Pauline slowly, and even as though against her will, described correctly the purse and its contents.
Saton brushed away the little murmurs of surprise and delight.
"Come," he said, "this is all nothing. It really--as you will all of you know in a few years time--can be done by any one of you who chooses seriously to develop the neglected part of his or her personality. I should like to try something else which would be more interesting to you."
The d.u.c.h.ess turned towards him with clasped hands.
"Can"t you," she said, "make her say how Mr. Rochester met with his accident?"
There was a little thrill amongst everyone. Saton stood as though absorbed in thought.
"Why not?" he said softly to himself.
Rochester laughed hardly.
"Come," he said, "we are getting practical at last. Let one thing be understood, though. If our young friend here is really able to solve this little mystery, he will not object to my making use of his discovery."
"By no means," Saton answered. "But I warn you that if the person is one unknown to Lady Marrabel or myself, I cannot tell you who it was.
All that I can do is perhaps to show you something of how the thing was done."
"It will be most interesting!" Rochester declared.
There was a subdued murmur of thrilled voices. One or two looked at each other uneasily. Even the d.u.c.h.ess began to feel a little uncomfortable. Saton was suddenly facing Pauline. He was standing a little nearer, with the fingers of his right hand resting upon the round oak table which stood in the centre of the hall. His figure had become absolutely rigid, and the color had left his cheeks. His voice seemed to them to come from some other person.
"Listen," he said, bending even a little further toward the woman, who was leaning forward now from her chair, as though eager or compelled to hear what was being said to her. "A month--six weeks--some time ago, you were with Henry Rochester, a few minutes after his accident.
He was shot--or he shot himself. He was shot by design or by misadventure. You were the first to find him. You came round the corner of the wood, and you saw him there, lying upon the gra.s.s. You heard a shot just before--two shots. You came round the corner of the wood, and you saw nothing except the body of Henry Rochester lying upon the ground."
"Nothing!" she murmured. "Nothing!"
There was an intense silence. The little group of people were all leaning forward with eyes riveted upon Pauline Marrabel. Even Rochester"s expression had become a little tense.
"Think again," Saton said. "There was only a corner of the wood between you and that field when the shot was fired. You are walking there now, now, as the shots are fired. Bend forward. You can see through those trees if you try. I think that you do see through them."
Again he paused. Again there were a few seconds" silence--silence save for the quick breathing of the d.u.c.h.ess, who was crumpling her lace handkerchief into a little ball in her hands.
Then Pauline"s voice came to them.
"There is a gun laid against a gate which leads into the field," she said--"a gun, and by its side a bag of cartridges. Someone has been hiding behind the wall. He has the gun in his hands. He looks along the path. There is no one coming."
A woman from the little group of people commenced to sob softly.
Pauline"s voice ceased. Someone put a hand over the mouth of the frightened woman.
"Go on," Saton said.
"The man has the gun in his hand. He goes down on his knees," Pauline continued. "The gun is pointed towards Mr. Rochester. There is a puff of smoke, a report, Mr. Rochester has fallen down. He is up again.
Then he falls!--yes, he falls!"
Saton pa.s.sed his hand across his forehead.
"Go on," he said.
"The man is taking the cartridge from the gun," Pauline said. "He slips in another from the bag. He has leaned the gun against the gate.
He is stealing away."
Saton leaned towards her till he seemed even about to spring.
"You could not see his face?" he said.
There was no answer. Two of the women behind were sobbing now. A third was lying back, half unconscious. Rochester had risen to his feet. The faces of all of them seemed suddenly to reflect a new and nameless terror.
Saton moved slowly towards Pauline. He moved unsteadily. The perspiration now was standing in thick beads upon his forehead. He suddenly realized his risk.
"You could not see his face?" he repeated. "You do not know who it was that fired that gun?"
"I could not see his face," she repeated. "But I--I can see it now."
"You do not recognise it?" he said, and his voice seemed to come tearing from his throat, charged with some new and compelling quality.
"You cannot recognise it? You do not know whether you have ever seen it before?"
Pauline rose suddenly to her feet. Her bosom was heaving, her face was like a white mask. Her hands were suddenly thrown high above her head.
[Ill.u.s.tration: She swayed for a moment, and fell over on her side.]
"It is horrible!" she shrieked. "It was you who fired the gun!--You!"
She swayed for a moment, and fell over on her side like a dead woman--her arms thrown out, her limbs inert, as though indeed it were death which had stricken her.
Rochester, with a shout of anger, sprang towards her, sending Saton reeling against the table. He fell on his knees by her side.
"Bring water, some of you idiots!" he cried out. "Ring the bell! And don"t let that cursed charlatan escape!"
CHAPTER XXVIII
SPOKEN FROM THE HEART
Pauline took the card from the hand of her servant, and glanced at it at first with the idlest of curiosity--afterwards with a fixed and steadfast attention, as though she saw in those copperplate letters, elegantly traced upon a card of superfine quality, something symbolical, something of far greater significance than the unexpected name which confronted her.
"I told you, Martin," she said, "that I was at home to n.o.body except those upon the special list."