First Person Paramount

by Ambrose Pratt

The woman answered in a sobbing voice. "George is so miserable, M'sieur."

"Does he yet know?"

"Yes, and he speaks of death, he is filled with despair!"

"You must be firm with him, my child. I have discovered that he is in debt, deeply in debt. For that reason he most despairs, because he fears to leave you poor as well as desolate. I fear that he contemplates some desperate expedition. But you must persuade him to be patient. You know, Marion, that we are all pledged not to assist each other financially. On that account I dare not help your lover, though I care for him as if he were my son. But with you it is different."

"How, M'sieur?"

"Why, my dear—you are not of our order, being a woman, although you are attached to us by ties which may not be unravelled. Take this package, child. It contains a great sum of money. Ten thousand pounds. I shall not ask you to tell me what you do with it. No child, not a word."

"M'sieur, M'sieur!" cried the woman.

I was so amazed, so confounded with astonishment, that to have saved my life I could no longer have kept still. I sat up, and turned my head. The tableau is as clear to my remembrance now as though it had happened yesterday. My master was gazing at the woman, his companion, with a look of paternal tenderness. His countenance was transfigured beyond recognition, for in place of his half saturnine, half querulous aspect, I saw an expression of such holy and unselfish love, that in very wonder I caught my breath. The woman with both hands held the package he had given her, to her breast. Her bosom heaved and fell with deep inarticulate emotion. Moreover she had raised her veil. Never had I seen a face one half so beautiful. Her eyes were large and finely shaped, in colour a passionate red brown. Her nose was straight, and cast in the Grecian mould, with thin quivering curved nostrils. Her mouth a perfect bow. The lips were tremulously parted. I have since seen the expression they wore then, perpetuated on the canvas of Botticelli's most famous Madonna. It was indescribably pathetic, full of both bliss and pain. Her face was pure oval, and so delicately tinted was the skin, that I could have fancied that I looked upon an inspired painting, rather than a mere human woman. Fortunately for me, neither had remarked my movement. As soon as I perceived the indiscretion of which I had been guilty, I turned about again, and bending my forehead to my knees, I groaned aloud. The sound broke the spell. I heard them mutter together, and a moment later their departing footsteps. I waited until all sound had died away, then rose hurriedly to my feet, and cautiously pursued them. Shielded by the trees, I watched them from the edge of the grove take a north-westerly course, that seemed destined to lead them to a point between Child's Hill and Hendon. I followed in a diagonal direction, taking advantage of every obstacle in the landscape to conceal myself from view, for the woman frequently looked back. Quitting the Heath at length, they entered a hedge-fenced road, full of twists and turns, which helped my purpose famously. At the angle of each curve, I waited until they had turned the next, and so on. Soon, however, they abandoned the main road, in favour of a devious maze of lanes. At last I lost them; lingering over long at one bend, when I reached the next they had disappeared. They had been moving so slowly, that I knew very well that they must have entered some house. I retraced my steps, and searched the lane, which had evidently swallowed them up. Only one house had a frontage to that spot. It was a large grey stone edifice, set back about a quarter mile from the road. The grounds were encompassed with a high stone wall, and planted thickly with beeches, chestnuts, and elm trees. I nodded and approached the gates, which stood wide open. Upon one of the posts was fastened a small brass plate, inscribed with the following legend:—"Kingsmere Hospital for Consumptives." I closed one eye slowly, and nodded again. As well as if Sir William Dagmar had informed me, I knew that before me lay the key to the mystery, which it was my self-constituted task to solve. In order to make assurance doubly sure, I passed through the gates, and with the cautious cunning of an Indian, I approached the house. The path was wide and gravelled, but somewhat overgrown with weeds. It often bifurcated to surround a grove of shrubs, or shade trees. The whole garden wore a rank, uncared-for look. The plantations were thick with undergrowth. In certain beds the unpruned rose-bushes had become giants, and had grown into thickets, while in others grasses choked all memory of cultivation. The place was in fact a wilderness. The cover was so excellent, that I was able to insinuate myself within twenty paces of the building, without risk of discovery. Striking aside from the road at that point, I sneaked into a grove of laurels, that commanded a view of two sides of the house. There I cast myself down upon the ground, and although perfectly defended from the keenest observation myself, by peering through the weeds and tree trunks, I could watch both path and house, as well as any spy could wish to do. The building was three storied, but of no great size. Its front was ornamented with a doric porch; otherwise it was plain, square, and unpretentious. I judged it to contain a dozen large rooms at most. Its windows were all shut, and covered with impenetrable green blinds, though the lattices stood open, perhaps for purposes of sanitation. At the rear I could see a line of straggling stone, slate roofed sheds, which seemed to have been recently erected, for their cemented walls had a fresh, unweathered look. I wondered what they contained, for they were too large and numerous to be assigned as stores for ordinary domestic uses. "Morgues perhaps!" I thought, and shuddered. "By chance the dead patient, of whom the woman and my master had conversed, was even now lying in one of them!"

The idea gave me the creeps, for I have a horror of death. I tried to forget the sheds, and resolutely watched the house. A soundless hour went by, and I was feeling hungry, but I did not think of departing. My Waterbury told me it was half-past two o'clock. At three, I began to wonder at the silence of the place. At four, I was suspecting the place to be deserted. The shadows were lengthening to the day's close, and I was chewing my handkerchief to assuage my famished appetite when of a sudden I heard a curious noise. It was hoarse, guttural, chattering, and it seemed to issue from the sheds, which I had fancied to be morgues. I listened with every sense on strain. The noise increased, and subsided at intervals, sometimes it became a perfect babel, and harsh animal-like cries quivered through the din. My curiosity became a plague, but I no longer doubted that the place was tenanted, and I dared not explore. The queer sounds I have attempted to describe, lasted about twenty minutes, and then all was still again. I did not know what to think. Were wild animals confined in those sheds? I was still wondering when I heard footfalls on the gravel path, rapidly approaching the house from the lane. A moment later I saw Sir William Venner striding through the twilight. His face was quite expressionless. He marched up to the porch, and disappeared. As I heard neither knock nor sound of bell, I concluded that he had entered with a latch-key. More than ever determined to remain, I fought my appetite as best I could for the next three hours. By then it was quite dark, and the glow of lamps appeared through the green blinds, covering the windows of the house. Feeling wretchedly stiff and cramped, and cold to my bones, I stood up and rubbed my limbs. When the circulation was restored, I crept out of the covert, where I had lain so long and stealthily approached the line of sheds. Their back walls were of blank stone, and showed me nothing; moreover, although of different size and height, all were attached together, and also to the house. I skirted the rear, and turned the corner. Still no window, but before me stretched an asphalted court-yard. Peering round the second corner, I saw into the hospital's kitchen, through the open back door. It was lighted up, and a comfortable fire burned in a large stove, before which stood a covered spit. A wrinkled old woman sat before a table kneading some pastry with her fingers. An old, grey-bearded man sat in a distant corner, his knees crossed, his arms folded. He was smoking a pipe, and the light glistened on his bald pate. It made rather a pretty picture, that kitchen, with its Darby and Joan interior. I considered it a while, and then glanced along the face of the mysterious sheds, only once more to be baffled. It consisted of a blank wall, pierced only with an occasional padlocked door.

Thoroughly disgusted I returned to the front of the house, and took up a position hard by the trunk of a fine old elm tree, that grew at the first branch of the path. There I waited for another hour, but at last my patience was rewarded. The door suddenly opened, a man came out, and approached me with a quick firm tread. It was too dark to see his face, but I guessed him to be Sir Charles Venner. He passed me so closely, that by stretching out my hand I could have brushed his cloak. He had not taken another ten steps, however, before the house door was again thrown open, and another man issued at a run. "Venner!" he shouted, "Venner!"