Anstice hung up the receiver and turned away, feeling almost stunned by the news he had received. The woman's death, coming on the top of the events of the preceding twenty-four hours, was in itself sufficient to shake even his nerve; but he lost no time in obeying the summons and arrived at Cherry Orchard just as the clock struck twelve.
He found the entire household up, the tragic news having circulated with the rapidity peculiar to such catastrophic tidings; and preceded by Major Carstairs, who met him in the hall, he hurried upstairs to the room where Tochatti lay in her last sleep.
It was quite true, as Major Carstairs had said, that she was dead. She had only too evidently been aware of the dagger's hiding-place, probably through familiarity with Chloe's movements in normal times; and had seized a moment when the housekeeper, thinking her asleep, had left her to procure a fresh stock of candles for the night's vigil, to slip into Chloe's room in search of the weapon.
Once in possession of the dagger the rest was easy; and whatever might be the nature of the emotions which drove her to the deed, whether remorse, dread of punishment, or some half-crazed fear of what the future might hold, the result was certain—and fatal.
She had made no mistake this time. The dagger had been plunged squarely in her breast; and when the housekeeper stole in again, expecting to find her charge still asleep, her horrified eyes were met by the sight of Tochatti's life-blood ebbing over the white sheets, her ears assailed by the choking gurgle with which the misguided woman yielded up her life....
"Yes, she is quite dead, poor thing." Anstice replaced the bedclothes and stood looking down on the dead woman with a steady gaze. "Perhaps, knowing her former brain weakness, I ought to have expected this. But in any case, Mrs. Carstairs"—he turned to Chloe, who stood, white and rigid, by his side—"the decision has been taken out of your—of our hands now. The matter is bound to come to light, after all."
"You mean there must be an inquest—an inquiry into this affair?" It was Major Carstairs who spoke.
"I'm afraid so—you see a thing like this can't very well be hushed up," said Anstice rather reluctantly. "And though I can't help feeling thankful that Mrs. Carstairs will have justice done to her at last, I'm sure we all feel we would have borne a good deal sooner than let this dreadful thing happen."
"Dr. Anstice"—Chloe turned to him almost appealingly—"are we really to blame? If we hadn't plotted, set a trap to catch my poor Tochatti, this would not have come to pass; and I shall always feel that by leaving the dagger in my dressing-case I was the means of bringing this dreadful tragedy about."