“As a matter of fact, Mrs. Lovat, there are seven. But I think in this case Mrs. Lawford intends to suggest not so much that—that her husband is in that condition; habitual sin, you know—grave enough, of course, I own—but that he is actually being compelled, even to the extent of a more or less complete change of physiognomy, to follow the biddings of some atrocious spiritual influence. It is no breach of confidence to say that I have myself been present at a deathbed where the struggle against what I may call the end was perfectly awful to witness. I don’t profess to follow all the ramifications of the affair, but though possibly Mr. Danton may seem a little harsh, such harshness, if I may venture to intercede, is not necessarily ‘vindictive.’ And—and personal security is a consideration.”
“If you only knew the awful fear, the awful uncertainty I have been in, Bettie! Oh, it is worse, infinitely worse, than you can possibly imagine. I have myself heard the Voice speak out of him—a high, hard, nasal voice. I’ve seen what Mr. Danton calls the ‘glassiness’ come into his face, and an expression so wild and so appallingly depraved, as it were, that I have had to hurry downstairs to hide myself from the thought. I’m willing to sacrifice everything for my own husband and for Alice; but can it be expected of me to go on harbouring. …’ Lawford listened on in vain for a moment; poor Sheila, it seemed, had all but broken down.
“Look here, Mrs. Lawford,” began Danton huskily, “you really mustn’t give way; you really mustn’t. It’s awful, unspeakably awful, I admit. But here we are; friends, in the midst of friends. And there’s absolutely nothing—What’s that? Eh? Who is it? … Oh, the maid!”
Ada stood in the doorway looking in. “All I’ve come to ask, ma’am,” she said in a low voice, “is, am I to stay downstairs any longer? And are you aware there’s somebody in the house?”
“What’s that? What’s that you’re saying?” broke out the husky voice again. “Control yourself! Speak gently! What’s that?”
“Begging your pardon, sir, I’m perfectly under control. And all I say is that I can’t stay any longer alone downstairs there. There’s somebody in the house.”
A concentrated hush seemed to have fallen on the little assembly.
“ ‘Somebody’—but who?’ said Sheila out of the silence. “You come up here, Ada, with these idle fancies. Who’s in the house? There has been no knock—no footstep.”
“No knock, no footstep, ma’am, that I’ve heard. It’s Dr. Ferguson, ma’am. He was here that first night; and he’s been here ever since. He was here when I came on Tuesday; and he was here last night. And he’s here now. I can’t be deceived by my own feelings. It’s not right, it’s not outspoken to keep me in the dark like this. And if you have no objection, I would like to go home.”
Lawford in his utter weariness had nearly closed the door and now sat bent up on a chair, wondering vaguely when this poor play was coming to an end, longing with an intensity almost beyond endurance for the keen night air, the open sky. But still his ears drank in every tiniest sound or stir. He heard Danton’s lowered voice muttering his arguments. He heard Ada quietly sniffing in the darkness of the hall. And this was his world! This was his life’s panorama, creaking on at every jolt. This was the “must” Grisel had sent him back to—these poor fools packed together in a panic at an old stale tale! Well, they would all come out presently, and cluster; and the crested, cackling fellow would lead them safely away out of the haunted farmyard.
He started out of his reverie at Danton’s voice close at hand.
“Look here, my good girl, we haven’t the least intention of keeping you in the dark. If you want to leave your mistress like this in the midst of her anxieties she says you can go and welcome. But it’s not a bit of good in the world coming up with these cock-and-bull stories. The truth is your master’s mad, that’s the sober truth of it—hopelessly insane, you understand; and we’ve got to find him. But nothing’s to be said, d’ye see? It’s got to be done without fuss or scandal. But if there’s any witness wanted, or anything of that kind, why, here you are; and,” he dropped his voice to an almost inaudible hoot, “and well worth your while! You did see him, eh? Step into the trap, and all that?”
Ada stood silent a moment. “I don’t know, sir,” she began quietly, “by what right you speak to me about what you call my cock-and-bull stories. If the master is mad, all I can say to anybody is I’m very sorry to hear it. I came to my mistress, sir, if you please; and I prefer to take my orders from one who has a right to give them. Did I understand you to say, ma’am, that you wouldn’t want me any more this evening?”
Sheila had swept solemnly to the door. “Mr. Danton meant all that he said quite kindly, Ada. I can perfectly understand your feelings—perfectly. And I’m very much obliged to you for all your kindness to me in very trying circumstances. We are all agreed—we are forced to the terrible conclusion which—which Mr. Danton has just—expressed. And I know I can rely on your discretion. Don’t stay on a moment if you really are afraid. But when you say ‘someone’ Ada, do you mean—someone like you or me; or do you mean—the other?”
“I’ve
