I sat with ears alert. It was surely most strange that the well-known millionaire, whose name was on everyone’s lips, had confided in me as he had done. Why had he done so?
The screams of terror continued for about half a minute. Then they seemed stifled down to heavy sobbing. They seemed to be hysterical sobs, as of someone who had suffered from some great shock.
I was full of wonderment. It was unusual, I thought, that such noises should be heard in a sedate West End mansion.
There was a long-drawn-out sob, and then silence. A dead silence!
A few moments later Mr. De Gex came in looking very flushed and excited.
“My troubles are ever on the increase,” he exclaimed breathlessly. “Come, Mr. Garfield. Come with me.”
He assisted me to my feet and led me out into the corridor and into the adjoining room.
To my surprise it was a great handsomely furnished bedroom with heavy hangings of yellow silk before the windows, and a great dressing-table with a huge mirror with side wings. Along one side were wardrobes built into the wall, the doors being of satinwood beautifully inlaid.
In the centre stood a handsome bed, and upon it lay a young and beautiful girl wearing a dark blue serge walking dress of the latest mode. Her hat was off, and across her dark hair was a band of black velvet. The light, shining upon her white face—a countenance which has ever since been photographed upon my memory—left the remainder of the room in semi-darkness.
“My poor niece!” Mr. De Gex said breathlessly. “She—she has been subject to fits of hysteria. The doctor has warned her of her heart. You heard her cries. I—I believe she’s dead!”