Amusement Only Part 35

"Who?"

"Margaret."

"Nonsense! Don't I tell you no one's going to die? For goodness' sake don't talk like that. Don't I keep telling you to keep cool?"

He did. But it was scarcely with an air of coolness that he threw the door wide open, and with so much force that it seemed as if he were trying to wrench it from its hinges. I fancy our entry made a slight sensation. It was strange if it didn't. They were certainly not unconscious--yet! Even amidst my own agitation it was with quite a sensation of relief that I perceived so much. Mrs. Chalmers was reclining on the couch, with her head thrown back, and a look about her which I did not like. Margaret was on a settee, seeming as though the proceedings had lost all interest for her. Pybus sat in an arm chair, his hands crossed upon his stomach.

"Good evening," said Hughes. I could see he did not like the look of things. "I--I've just dropped in."

Pybus rose.

"I'm just dropping out. Good evening, Lucas. I have to thank you for a very pleasant evening. I'll send you the doctor's bill when I get it."

Hughes looked at me, then at Pybus.

"You're not going, Mr. Pybus?"

"Do you wish me to be ill here?"

"But I was looking forward to a song, or a dance, or something."

"Dance! I feel like dancing; and singing, too. I've been the victim of an outrage, Mr. Hughes. I've been introduced to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"

"I've heard of it. Lucas ought not to have given it you."

"And after dinner!"

This was a murmur from the couch.

"That was wrong--quite wrong. The dose should have been administered before the meal."

"In that case," I observed, a little nettled, "we should all of us been dead by now."

Pybus glanced at me sharply.

"Dead! What do you mean?"

Hughes turned on me in a rage.

"Yes. What do you mean?"

I felt I had made a mistake.

"I--I mean nothing. Only--only I think Hughes was as much to blame as I was."

Hughes took Pybus away. They went to Mrs. Chalmers. So far as I could judge, the lady was rapidly sinking into a lethargic condition. I remained standing where I was. I began gradually to realise my situation--the approaching tragedy in which, by fate or circ.u.mstance, I was cast as an actor. A strange leaden feeling seemed to be stealing over me, but, in spite of it, I began to understand that at any moment the drawing-room, this drawing-room, my drawing-room, might be strewed with corpses. I knew nothing of the effects of laudanum poisoning, but Hughes seemed to be surprised that we were not all of us dead already.

Here was Margaret, the woman I loved best in all the world, upon my right. There was her aunt, for whom, I own, my love was less, upon the couch. There was old Pybus. That old man's blood was also on my hands.

What would they call me? A suicide? The irony! In the full flush of health and strength, with fortune, all the world before me, and a wife. A wife whom I loved with a great fulness of love which was quite old-fas.h.i.+oned. I had wrought this hecatomb. I felt impelled to scream aloud. To warn my victims of the frightful fate which was stealing fast upon them, and of which they were still unconscious.

Someone touched me on the arm. I turned. It was Margaret!

"George, what is the matter?"

"Margaret!"

My voice trembled. There was a choking in my throat. I wished to take her in my arms before them all. It might be a last embrace.

"George, tell me, what is wrong?"

I made an effort to pull myself together.

"Oh! there's nothing wrong. I--I'm only a bit upset."

She put her arm through mine. She led me across the room. I required leading. She drew me into an alcove, which was formed by a window bay.

"Now, George, tell me what is wrong. I know there is something wrong.

Tell me what it is."

I was at a loss for words. I trifled with her.

"Margaret! What do you mean?"

"George, was"--her voice sank to a whisper--"was there anything wrong about that stuff you gave us?"

What could I say to her?

"It--it was a mistake drinking it after dinner."

"Is that all? Was it the right stuff, George?"

"It--it was the stuff Hughes gave me."

"You are trifling with me? I know that there is something wrong. I can see it in your manner and in Mr. Hughes's. See how strangely Mr.

Hughes is behaving now."

I peeped round the corner. Hughes was behaving strangely. He was frantically urging Mrs. Chalmers to stand up and dance, though anyone looking less like dancing than she did I never saw. He was evidently forgetting his own axiom--keep cool. A curious qualm came over me.

Almost without knowing it I leaned for support against the wall.

"George! What is the matter? You are ill."

Margaret's eager face looked into mine.

"It will be all right in a minute."

"It won't! I know it won't! Tell me what it is. There was something the matter with that stuff you gave us. I knew it directly I had swallowed it. Do you think I am a coward? Do you think I am afraid?

But it is only fair that you should tell me. If you won't tell me, George, I will go to Mr. Hughes and insist upon his telling me."