She felt better almost instantly, she said, and I myself began to derive great benefit from it. The sharp pains in my limbs grew easier, and the drowsiness that had already come over me was dispelled. It acted like magic, and, whatever was its nature, it had, after lying concealed through three centuries, lost none of its potency in counteracting the effects of a powerful venom.
As we had descended the stairs my quick eye had detected a sharp steel point slightly protruding from the polished mahogany handrail. The colour of the wood was darker there, as though stained by some liquid that had been applied to the point from time to time. Was it possible that the steel point was actually envenomed with evil intent? It certainly seemed so.
Yet the mysterious death of those two men who had been my enemies was certainly not attributable to the same cause, for the skin upon their hands was quite uninjured.
I examined my own hand while I gave some fictitious explanation to the chemist, whose curiosity had been aroused by my actions. The skin was cut slightly for quite two inches across, like the scratch of a pin, and yet I had felt nothing until Lady Judith had directed my attention to it. The venom, whatever it was, had the effect of producing insensibility in the actual part lacerated. It was true that the little crystal bottle discovered at Threave had been stolen from Dover Street; but although the antidote had acted so successfully, I could not believe that the actual liquid from that bottle had been used to envenom us. There was some further and deeper explanation, for had not the woman I loved admitted that she was aware how those who entered that gloomy, dismal house were doomed, and that the sign of the bear cub was synonymous with death?
Presently, when Judith felt better, we went forth again into the street. It was our duty to inform the police of the mysterious tragedy that had been enacted in Harpur Street, yet she pointed out that in the circumstances it would be far better to allow the discovery to be made by others. Some passer-by would undoubtedly notice that an entry had been made by the kitchen window, a search would be instituted for thieves, and the truth would then be revealed.
“But will you not tell me all you know regarding that strange place and its inmates?” I demanded.
“Later on, when I am certain of what has happened to my father,” was her response. “I shudder to think how near to death we both have been. You have saved my life, Mr Kennedy.”
“It was my duty. I, too, was envenomed by the same secret means. We might both have succumbed, just as those two men have done, had it not been for the fortunate circumstance of my possession of an antidote.”
“Ah?” she sighed. “Death comes sooner or later to those who visit that fatal house.” Then she added, “Let us take a cab home. I’m unnerved by what we have just discovered, for it renders the mystery greater.”
“Is it then a mystery—even to you?”