Chapter Sixteen.

“It’s Over”

She opened her eyes to look into the face of Doctor Coat, who was bending over her. She stared up at him in wonder; he gazed back at her with an expression so unutterably woebegone that her heart sank.

“James…?” she asked.

“The young man? Doing very nicely,” he answered. “And how are _you_ feeling now?”

She forgot to answer him. She was looking about the shabby little old-fashioned room where she lay on a sofa; the chairs ranged against the walls, the ancient magazines upon the center table, evidently Doctor Coat’s waiting-room. Then at last she was really out of that house…

“What happened?” she asked.

But Doctor Coat turned away his head.

“Oh, please tell me!” she cried, alarmed, and, as he turned back to her, she saw tears in his eyes.

“I have known Emma since she was a child,” he said. “I can scarcely grasp this… I… find this… very hard… to credit…”

She was sorry for him, but, in her anxiety, she could not spare him.

“Please tell me about Wren!” she said.

“Now, my dear Miss Diana!” he said, with a pitiable attempt at professional cheerfulness, “put off your questions until you’ve had a good rest. To-morrow--”

“I can’t wait--a minute! It’ll make me much worse, not to know. Is Wren--?”

“It’s horrible!” he cried. “Unbelievable! A holocaust…”

He began to pace up and down his shabby, brightly-lit little room, intolerably stirred, filled with bewilderment and grief.

“Three dead!” he said.

“Who? Oh, if you’d just please tell me! Can’t you see…?”

“Yes, I can,” he said. “Only, it’s so difficult… I haven’t quite grasped it yet… They sent a chauffeur for me, and I went… I hadn’t been warned in any way. I thought of course it was Emma who had sent for me… I went to Rufus’s room--and I found Wren there, dying from the effect of a murderous assault made upon him; he said by Peter Leonard… By Peter Leonard… Even then I didn’t understand. I looked about the room for Emma and there was no one present but this chauffeur in uniform. He heard Wren’s last statement…

“No one will ever believe us--Purvis and me. In court--we shall appear--either fools--or knaves… But it isn’t hard to deceive people who are utterly unsuspicious. No doubt I am very much to blame. I never examined the patient. I saw him only in a darkened room, heavily muffled. But he had always had that peculiar habit of muffling himself. If there was anything strange about his voice or manner, I attributed it to his illness… I--I _couldn’t_ have suspected that Rufus was dead, buried in the cellar, with no more ceremony than a dog, and that the man I had seen in his place was Wren. It’s the sort of thing that--doesn’t occur to anyone… He had had similar attacks and Emma understood the treatment of them…

“When Emma told me he wanted to make a will in your favor, I was pleased. I was always fond of your mother--”

“Did you know how she died?” the girl interrupted.

“Why, yes, my dear. Typhoid.”

“What makes you think that?”

He looked at her in surprise.

“I saw her the week before--the end. She was in the hospital then, and on the road to recovery, we all believed. Then she had a relapse--Don’t cry! Don’t cry, my dear!”

He drew a chair up beside the sofa, and sitting down, patted her shoulder.

“Don’t cry!” he said. “It was a very happy end. She always had the greatest confidence in your father. She was sure he was going to make a fortune for you. A happy life, my dear, and a happy death.”

She could not stop weeping; tears were streaming down her face; she groped for a handkerchief, and he gave her one of his own.

“You’re _sure_?” she asked.

“Absolutely! Come, come!”

“Just--don’t pay any attention--to this,” she said. “Go on telling me…”

“I’ve sent for Purvis,” he went on. “It will be a terrible blow for him… Rufus, or the man we thought was Rufus, was apparently too weak to talk. Purvis drew up the will in the form Emma said he wanted. He had not enough strength to sign his name, but he made his mark which we both witnessed… How could we suspect anything wrong? Emma did not benefit in any way; she was not even mentioned in the will. And later on, when you insisted upon making a will in her favor, we saw nothing amiss. We thought you were grateful to her, and perhaps a little--overwrought… Why did you make that will?”

“I’ll tell you later. Please go on!”

“Wren was able to tell us only the main facts of this--this imposture. Emma had forced him into it by threatening to send his child to an institution. He said he agreed… He had rebelled against helping to bury poor Rufus, and in the end had had a physical encounter with Peter in which Peter had badly wounded his foot with a spade. I saw that wound… Emma told him that if he would impersonate Rufus for a few days, until the will was made, he would then pretend to recover and could start to return to Rufus’s place in New York, and could disappear on the way. He believed her--then, and he had been promised a large reward. He had planned to take his child to some doctor he had heard of in Switzerland. But he was well aware that his life was in danger. He felt that as long as you were in the house, they would not dare to make away with him. He had the highest opinion of your courage and intelligence--the greatest faith in your kindness. The fact that he was making a will in your favor was a great comfort to him. They had told him that he would be allowed to leave to-day. A number of persons, yourself and Purvis and I among them, would have seen him take the train to New York, with his cap and muffler and so on. Then in the waiting-room at the Grand Central, he would have removed the disguise. And in order that nothing should happen to you, when you got this money, he had written you a letter, explaining everything. He was very anxious that you should enjoy this fortune. But unluckily, Emma found that letter…

“I don’t know whether in any case he would have been allowed to leave the house. I--am afraid not. I am afraid that I should have signed a death certificate without any proper examination… And looking back upon it now, I think… But that’s too horrible!”

“You mean I was to die, too?”

“She told Purvis and myself that you were brooding over your responsibility for your uncle’s attack of illness, and that she found you had suicidal tendencies… I _cannot_ credit this…! I have known Emma since she was a child…”

“She’s gone?”

“She and Peter.”

“But Miles?”

“We found Miles--dead--in the dining-room. He had shot himself.”

“Oh,” she cried. “If he’d only known!”

“Known what?”

“He thought that he had done some--committed a dreadful crime--but he hadn’t. If I could have told him!”

“His troubles are over, my dear,” said Coat, and was silent for a moment. Then he went on:

“Perhaps the most shocking part of this whole terrible affair--to me--was the part played by those unfortunate children… I have never particularly interested myself in mental cases, and I took it for granted that Emma was giving them the best possible treatment. She was not. She had made no effort whatever to ameliorate their condition. She used them, in the most callous and unethical way, for her experiments. I don’t mean that they were physically ill-used. Simply, she took advantage of their misfortune for her own ends. She withheld any treatment that might have helped them. Wren told me this. I don’t know how he came to suspect it--”

“One of the children was his?”

“Yes. Emma had come across the child, and had offered to adopt it and give it proper care and treatment. And the wretched man had acted as an unpaid servant for years, in the belief that he was benefitting his child. Your friend did a very beautiful thing.”

“What friend--did what?”

“Mrs. Blessington. He wished to see the body of his child. And found it was not his child, but the other one. And Mrs. Blessington made him a solemn promise that she would look after his daughter, would take her to the best specialists, would do everything humanly possible. It was the greatest possible comfort to him in his last moments.”

“That’s like her,” said Di. “And the other poor little thing was dead?”

“That disaster is inexplicable to me. Near where the child fell, we found a peculiar object, a sort of dummy in a white dress… Fennel thinks that the child saw this from the upper window, and in some way was influenced by the suggestion. But I don’t know… Perhaps at the inquest…”

He rose hastily, and crossed the room, stood by the window with his back to her.

“I can’t tell you--” he said, unsteadily, “how sorry I am that you will have to be dragged into this--horrible thing. The innocent to suffer for the guilty… But there is no escape for you--or for any of us. The publicity will be merciless… I only hope to Heaven that Emma will not be found and brought back. I--should find it--very painful--to appear as a witness--against my old friend… As it is, we shall come out badly, Purvis and I…”

She lay still, thinking of that. It was not over; she had not escaped. Every detail of this monstrous crime, every smallest action of her own, would be made public. She would be an important witness in an incredibly sensational case, she would be examined, cross-examined, re-examined, all her words would be printed in the newspapers, she would have to endure the most hateful and shameful publicity. All her life, people would remember--“Yes--the one who was mixed up in that murder case.” It seemed to her that, when she had crossed the threshold of that house, she had left normal, cheerful life behind her forever. That shadow could never lift.

“And now--how are you feeling?” asked Doctor Coat. “The effects of such a shock--”

To his surprise, she rose to her feet.

“I feel perfectly all right,” she answered. “What ought I to do? Tell the police?”

“Fennel has looked after that.”

“I’ve dragged _him_ into it,” she thought. “He’s not only been wounded--twice--but he’ll have to be a witness, too.”

She tried to consider what to do now. In the circumstances, it wouldn’t be fair to go to Mrs. Frick’s. Reporters would come, and the police… Hadn’t she read of “material witnesses being kept in prison”? She didn’t care. If she were not in prison, what could she do? It would be impossible to get a job now… She would be a notorious character. She might even be suspected of complicity.

“Mrs. Blessington waited to take you back to New York,” Doctor Coat continued, “but I said I feared you couldn’t stand the journey. However, you seem so much better than I expected--shall I call her in?”

“She’s here?”

“Waiting in the next room. I should be glad to see you go with her. A very kind and generous woman…”

He opened the door into another room, and Angelina hastened in; she was pale, but radiant as usual.

“My dearest Di!” she cried. “Put some powder on your precious nose and let’s get going!”

“Will I be allowed to go? I mean--the police--?”

“My dear, James can do _anything_ with the police.”

“Did you know him well, Angelina?”

“But my dear! He’s my _brother_! You _must_ have heard me talking about ‘Jammy.’ He’s a marvelous person. He’s written books, my dear, about reptiles. And he’s just come back from a trip up the Amazon, looking for boa-constrictors and things. The police will eat out of his hand. And of course they’re frightfully impressed with Porter’s money. I made a statement!” she added, with relish. “I’ll be in the newspapers to-morrow morning--with one of my photographs. We told them you were _much_ too ill to be questioned to-night, but they’ll be around early to-morrow morning. So come along and get a good night’s rest.”

“Come--where?”

“My dear, some fearful woman told Jammy that you left my house without a penny, and then I remembered… And both Jammy and Porter went for me. I admit that I was a vile beast. But why didn’t you remind me, darling?”

She put her arm about the girl and kissed her.

“I’m going to make up for it, every way I know!” she said. “Porter and I are going to give you the most _peerless_ wedding-present--”

“I’m not thinking of getting married,” said Di, with a faint smile.

“Oh, James told me!” said Angelina. “He wants the engagement announced before the trial.”

“Angelina! No!”

“My dear, you must! Think how romantic--in the newspapers.”

“Angelina, you can’t see anything--romantic--in this terrible affair--”

“Darling,” said Angelina, earnestly, “you haven’t done anything awful, have you?”

“No. But think of the publicity--”

“Well, what of it?”

“Don’t you realize how--disgraceful and--”

“My dear--chump,” said Angelina, “you can’t be disgraced by things that other people have done. You’re trying to act like these people in French novels, when everybody has to commit suicide and break off their engagements because some member of the family has ‘disgraced the name.’ It _will_ be trying and painful for you, but you are no more disgraced than if you’d been in a shipwreck. And you’ve got James and Porter and me to stand by you.”

“Angelina, you don’t understand--”

Then for the first time, Di could realize that Angelina was Fennel’s sister. Across her radiant dark face came a look very like him, cool, steadfast and grave.

“Di,” she said. “You’ve come to the crisis. You’ve been through fear and suffering and horror. And you’ve come through with courage and honesty. James told me. He thinks there never was anyone like you. Now look!”

She drew the girl to the window, and pulled aside the doctor’s prim little curtains. The moon was going down behind a hill, the sky was still bright with the soft radiance; the Spring night was alive with exquisite promise.

“It’s an awfully big world,” said Angelina. “And it’s so beautiful. You’re just coming out of a horrible black hole. And now you’ve got to forget. It’s all over. Now you’ve got to go forward.”

“She’s right, my dear!” said Doctor Coat’s voice behind them.

“And now come on!” said Angelina, quickly dropping her serious air. “James is in the darlingest little hospital here, and we’ll come out to see him to-morrow. Porter’s waiting in the car. We’re going to drive back to New York now--and eat. You look hideously thin. Come on, Di! It’s over! We’re all sorry for the terrible things that have happened--but they’re done. James will be all right in a week or so. And you’re going to be _happy_. Come on, Di!”

[The End]

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. hillside/hill-side, musn’t/mustn’t, wrist-watch/wrist watch, etc.) have been preserved.

Alterations to the text:

Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nesting and some missing/invisible periods.

[Chapter Four]

(“Uncle Rufus comes out every few months,” he roadside. said, “to see if anyone’s) move “roadside.” to the end of the preceding paragraph.

[Chapter Eight]

Change “It _occured_ to her that her reverie was becoming” to _occurred_.

[Chapter Twelve]

“capable of feeling not the least regret for some _horible_ act” to _horrible_.

(“If you’ll drive to the East _Hazlewood_ Station,” she told) to _Hazelwood_.

[Chapter Thirteen]

“Diana reflected for a _monment_” to _moment_.

“But one of the other two will _succeeed_” to _succeed_.

[Chapter Fourteen]

“It was Aunt Emma who held her bound _ankes_” to _ankles_.

[End of text]