The Spider

by Fergus Hume

Miss Hest caught Ida's hands. "Poor child, they are quite cold. You had better go, Mr. Vernon."

"Yes." He rose promptly. "I am sorry that I spoke of the murder. Don't think anything more about it, Ida, but go to Yorkshire and recover your health." Ida nodded faintly. "Yes; I shall go. It is best for me to get away from this tragic house." And Vernon quite agreed with her.

[CHAPTER IX.]

WITCHCRAFT.

While Vernon was having his interview with Ida and her companion Colonel Towton went on a little expedition of his own. Ever since the discovery that Ida had been to Diabella, Towton had been anxious, in his turn, to pay a visit to the famous Bond Street fortune-teller. Ida, as the Colonel had told Vernon, apparently was suffering from the effects of what she had been told by this fashionable Witch of Endor, although what had been said Towton could not find out. Miss Hest and the girl had both held their peace on the subject, notwithstanding that the former had talked generally on the wonderful powers of the woman. In fact, she had seriously advised Colonel Towton to interview Diabella and search out the future for himself. The soldier had laughed, as he was not given to dabble in occultism. Nevertheless, he had made up his mind to seek out the seeress, if only to discover indirectly what those methods of devilry were which had so strongly impressed Miss Dimsdale. Towton, to put it plainly, went less as a client than as a spy.

Considering that Ida had no very strongly-marked personality, it was wonderful that the Colonel should be so deeply in love with her. He was clever in his own way, and not without brain-power inside and outside his own particular military profession. His bravery was undeniable, his tact considerable, and he had left the Army on account of family affairs with the name of one who had cut short a brilliant career unnecessarily. Towton assuredly would have risen to be a general had he not retired when the family estates came into his possession. But now that he had abandoned his profession his one aim was to marry and lead a quiet domestic life. He did not wish for a clever wife, or a wealthy wife, or a particularly lovely wife, as he was too matter-of-fact to be romantic. His dream was of a peaceful hearth and a house perfectly managed by a gentle wife. In Ida he believed that he saw the helpmate he so greatly desired: one who would make her husband's will her law, and who would be a cheerful companion. Her moods he believed to be the result of lack of guidance, and he flattered himself that when she became Mrs. Towton he would be able to render her less freakish. Ida's nature was so impressionable that he thought it could be easily moulded, and in this he no doubt was right. Many of the girl's faults were due to the over-indulgence of her father, and to the lack of a firm hand to lead her in the right way. She would have welcomed a master, having one of those natures responsive to suggestion. And, in an unconscious way, the Colonel appealed to her as a strong, kind-hearted man, who could shelter her from the storms of life better than any one else could. In point of fact, the two were made for one another, and, but for the intrusion of Maunders, their course of true love would have run smooth.

However, Colonel Towton was extremely obstinate, and, having decided that Ida was the very wife he desired to preside over his dinner-table, he was determined not to let her be snatched from him by any rival. He admitted with some dread that Maunders was a formidable wooer, and moreover guessed, with the keen instinct of a man in love, that Frances Hest had too much control over the girl. For one thing, she had induced Ida to go to Diabella, a thing Towton would never have permitted had he been able to help it. He knew from his Indian experience only too well that there is truth in occultism, and that an impressionable being--such as Ida truly was--could easily be obsessed by strong suggestion. He had no reason to doubt Miss Hest, and did not think for one moment that she was his enemy in any way: but, with the assistance of suggestions from Diabella, she might lead Ida into unhealthy ways. And all those dealings with the unseen with which psychics have to do were unhealthy in the Colonel's very material eyes. Already, as he had seen for himself, the visit to Diabella had upset Ida; so, whatever the harm done might be, it was necessary to undo it by proving the woman to be a fraud. Towton therefore ascended the stairs to the consulting-room of Diabella with the intention of learning if the fortune-teller was a humbug. Once assured of that, he resolved to explain her methods to Miss Dimsdale and so prevent her trusting as truth whatever the woman had said. Then Ida's indignation at being duped, as the Colonel believed she had been, would probably shake Miss Hest's position. Towton felt certain that Frances was more friendly to Maunders than to himself, and at one sweep he hoped to get rid of both. Afterwards Ida would be more willing to become his wife.

Diabella's offices, as they might be called, consisted of two rooms: a small outer one entered directly from the passage, and a spacious inner one which overlooked the street. As Towton tapped at the door of the prophetess his thoughts suddenly flew back to his many years of sojourn in the Far East. For the moment he could not think what had detached him so unexpectedly from England until, on stepping across the threshold of the now open door, he became aware of a strong, pungent scent, impossible to describe. At once he noted it as that smell of the bazaars, which runs without a break from Port Said to Hong Kong. Perfume is the strongest of aids to memory, therefore Towton's thoughts had flashed back over many years to various Indian experiences. His body was in England, but his soul was in the East: nor did the sight which met his eyes dispel the illusion. The room he entered and the attendant who welcomed him were both Egyptian in looks.

The small apartment resembled an ancient tomb, as the walls and ceiling were painted vividly with hieroglyphics, glowing in crimson and blue and yellow and emerald green. Through a stained-glass skylight overhead a dim, coloured light streamed just sufficiently to reveal the weird looks of the room. It was faked, of course, but very cleverly faked, as the Colonel secretly admitted; even to the attendant, who, apparently a true Eastern, was attired in a garb which one of Pharaoh's fan-bearers might have worn appropriately. The floor was covered with linoleum painted to resemble marble, and there was a quaintly-shaped table of ebony, two or three antique and uncomfortable chairs, copied from furniture of the XIX. Dynasty, and a weird-looking teak sofa, covered with bright yellow cushions. What with the grotesquely-painted walls, the sparsity of furniture, the dim light, the scented atmosphere, and the strangely-dressed attendant, who salaamed profusely, Colonel Towton felt as though he had stepped at one stride across the Mediterranean to a resuscitated Memphis.

The man was a slim, straight native, with handsome, haughty features of the Brahmin type, and Towton wondered that he had broken caste to cross the Black Water. He had keen, black eyes, which took in the looks of the English sahib in a single flash, notwithstanding that he stood with crossed arms and downcast eyes. Towton wondered if he spoke English, and, for the sake of an experiment, addressed him in Tamil. The dark-skinned man replied in very fair English, with an inquisitive glance at this stranger who spoke the Indian dialect so glibly.