"Yes."
"Is it possible that you pity her?"
"From the bottom of my heart."
The old lady"s temper gave way again at that reply. "I hate a man who can"t hate anybody!" she burst out. "If you had been an ancient Roman, Julian, I believe you would have pitied Nero himself."
Julian cordially agreed with her. "I believe I should," he said, quietly. "All sinners, my dear aunt, are more or less miserable sinners.
Nero must have been one of the wretchedest of mankind."
"Wretched!" exclaimed Lady Janet. "Nero wretched! A man who committed robbery, arson and murder to his own violin accompaniment--_only_ wretched! What next, I wonder? When modern philanthropy begins to apologize for Nero, modern philanthropy has arrived at a pretty pa.s.s indeed! We shall hear next that b.l.o.o.d.y Queen Mary was as playful as a kitten; and if poor dear Henry the Eighth carried anything to an extreme, it was the practice of the domestic virtues. Ah, how I hate cant! What were we talking about just now? You wander from the subject, Julian; you are what I call bird-witted. I protest I forget what I wanted to say to you. No, I won"t be reminded of it. I may be an old woman, but I am not in my dotage yet! Why do you sit there staring? Have you nothing to say for yourself? Of all the people in the world, have _you_ lost the use of your tongue?"
Julian"s excellent temper and accurate knowledge of his aunt"s character exactly fitted him to calm the rising storm. He contrived to lead Lady Janet insensibly back to the lost subject by dexterous reference to a narrative which he had thus far left untold--the narrative of his adventures on the Continent.
"I have a great deal to say, aunt," he replied. "I have not yet told you of my discoveries abroad."
Lady Janet instantly took the bait.
"I knew there was something forgotten," she said. "You have been all this time in the house, and you have told me nothing. Begin directly."
Patient Julian began.
CHAPTER XIV. COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE.
"I WENT first to Mannheim, Lady Janet, as I told you I should in my letter, and I heard all that the consul and the hospital doctors could tell me. No new fact of the slightest importance turned up. I got my directions for finding the German surgeon, and I set forth to try what I could make next of the man who performed the operation. On the question of his patient"s ident.i.ty he had (as a perfect stranger to her) nothing to tell me. On the question of her mental condition, however, he made a very important statement. He owned to me that he had operated on another person injured by a sh.e.l.l-wound on the head at the battle of Solferino, and that the patient (recovering also in this case) recovered--mad. That is a remarkable admission; don"t you think so?"
Lady Janet"s temper had hardly been allowed time enough to subside to its customary level.
"Very remarkable, I dare say," she answered, "to people who feel any doubt of this pitiable lady of yours being mad. I feel no doubt--and, thus far, I find your account of yourself, Julian, tiresome in the extreme. Go on to the end. Did you lay your hand on Mercy Merrick?"
"No."
"Did you hear anything of her?"
"Nothing. Difficulties beset me on every side. The French ambulance had shared in the disasters of France--it was broken up. The wounded Frenchmen were prisoners somewhere in Germany, n.o.body knew where.
The French surgeon had been killed in action. His a.s.sistants were scattered--most likely in hiding. I began to despair of making any discovery, when accident threw in my way two Prussian soldiers who had been in the French cottage. They confirmed what the German surgeon told the consul, and what Horace himself told _me_--namely, that no nurse in a black dress was to be seen in the place. If there had been such a person, she would certainly (the Prussians inform me) have been found in attendance on the injured Frenchmen. The cross of the Geneva Convention would have been amply sufficient to protect her: no woman wearing that badge of honor would have disgraced herself by abandoning the wounded men before the Germans entered the place."
"In short," interposed Lady Janet, "there is no such person as Mercy Merrick."
"I can draw no other conclusion," said Julian, "unless the English doctor"s idea is the right one. After hearing what I have just told you, he thinks the woman herself is Mercy Merrick."
Lady Janet held up her hand as a sign that she had an objection to make here.
"You and the doctor seem to have settled everything to your entire satisfaction on both sides," she said. "But there is one difficulty that you have neither of you accounted for yet."
"What is it, aunt?"
"You talk glibly enough, Julian, about this woman"s mad a.s.sertion that Grace is the missing nurse, and that she is Grace. But you have not explained yet how the idea first got into her head; and, more than that, how it is that she is acquainted with my name and address, and perfectly familiar with Grace"s papers and Grace"s affairs. These things are a puzzle to a person of my average intelligence. Can your clever friend, the doctor, account for them?"
"Shall I tell you what he said when I saw him this morning?"
"Will it take long?"
"It will take about a minute."
"You agreeably surprise me. Go on."
"You want to know how she gained her knowledge of your name and of Miss Roseberry"s affairs," Julian resumed. "The doctor says in one of two ways. Either Miss Roseberry must have spoken of you and of her own affairs while she and the stranger were together in the French cottage, or the stranger must have obtained access privately to Miss Roseberry"s papers. Do you agree so far?"
Lady Janet began to feel interested for the first time.
"Perfectly," she said. "I have no doubt Grace rashly talked of matters which an older and wiser person would have kept to herself."
"Very good. Do you also agree that the last idea in the woman"s mind when she was struck by the sh.e.l.l might have been (quite probably) the idea of Miss Roseberry"s ident.i.ty and Miss Roseberry"s affairs? You think it likely enough? Well, what happens after that? The wounded woman is brought to life by an operation, and she becomes delirious in the hospital at Mannheim. During her delirium the idea of Miss Roseberry"s ident.i.ty ferments in her brain, and a.s.sumes its present perverted form.
In that form it still remains. As a necessary consequence, she persists in reversing the two ident.i.ties. She says she is Miss Roseberry, and declares Miss Roseberry to be Mercy Merrick. There is the doctor "s explanation. What do you think of it?"
"Very ingenious, I dare say. The doctor doesn"t quite satisfy me, however, for all that. I think--"
What Lady Janet thought was not destined to be expressed. She suddenly checked herself, and held up her hand for the second time.
"Another objection?" inquired Julian.
"Hold your tongue!" cried the old lady. "If you say a word more I shall lose it again."
"Lose what, aunt?"
"What I wanted to say to you ages ago. I have got it back again--it begins with a question. (No more of the doctor--I have had enough of him!) Where is she--_your_ pitiable lady, _my_ crazy wretch--where is she now? Still in London?"
"Yes."
"And still at large?"
"Still with the landlady, at her lodgings."
"Very well. Now answer me this! What is to prevent her from making another attempt to force her way (or steal her way) into my house? How am I to protect Grace, how am I to protect myself, if she comes here again?"
"Is that really what you wished to speak to me about?"
"That, and nothing else."
They were both too deeply interested in the subject of their conversation to look toward the conservatory, and to notice the appearance at that moment of a distant gentleman among the plants and flowers, who had made his way in from the garden outside. Advancing noiselessly on the soft Indian matting, the gentleman ere long revealed himself under the form and features of Horace Holmcroft. Before entering the dining-room he paused, fixing his eyes inquisitively on the back of Lady Janet"s visitor--the back being all that he could see in the position he then occupied. After a pause of an instant the visitor spoke, and further uncertainty was at once at an end. Horace, nevertheless, made no movement to enter the room. He had his own jealous distrust of what Julian might be tempted to say at a private interview with his aunt; and he waited a little longer on the chance that his doubts might be verified.
"Neither you nor Miss Roseberry need any protection from the poor deluded creature," Julian went on. "I have gained great influence over her--and I have satisfied her that it is useless to present herself here again."
"I beg your pardon," interposed Horace, speaking from the conservatory door. "You have done nothing of the sort."