“You couldn’t have,” she contradicted; “he was here the entire time. Someone took him off and started him toward Amsterdam Avenue, and that was ten minutes after the whole affair had quieted down.”
“But,” I said, and with some heat, “I did see him. I really did.”
“How could you,” she asked, “if he was here?”
I shook my head and gave it up. She was unconvinced, I could see. Probably thinking that the excitement had made me incapable of realizing what I had really seen or when I had seen it. But I had seen him in the garden. I knew that!
“Well,” I said, “that isn’t vital. You said Mr. Kelsey isn’t badly hurt?”
Again she assured me that he wasn’t, and I was greatly relieved. Then she gave me the bracelet. I snapped it on, and left. As I went out, I paused before the portrait, for it did seem as if what Madam Jumel saw from that had an effect on events; made them--rather--horrible ones.
I couldn’t speak, for there were people in the hall, but I bared my arm and thought very hard: “I have it back. If anyone must be hurt I must be the person, for it is mine, and hereafter I will keep the responsibility.” And after that--I turned toward home.
I stopped at Mr. Kempwood’s going up, and I found that he was conscious and wanted to see me. I was very glad to see him. . . . I couldn’t speak at all, but simply clung to his hand. However, he seemed to understand, so it was all right.
“Sit down, Miss Natalie Randolph Page,” he ordered, and a servant slid a chair near his bed, and I did. Then the man left, and we were alone.
“You know it was my fault,” I said, “because I gave you that bracelet.” And then I had to stop speaking. That made me dreadfully ashamed. I had to look down, too, because I didn’t want him to see that my eyes were full of tears. . . . Once I never cried! . . . But the whole affair was making me jumpy and unlike my old self. And Mr. Kempwood’s being hurt had almost made me sick.