The Brightener Part 30

"Now Robert will be turned over to Opal," I groaned to myself. And I was sure that the same thought was in the mind of Joyce. Just one or two days more, and after that a long monotony of bondage for him, year in and year out!

As I waked in the morning with these words on my lips, Joyce herself knocked, playing nurse, with a tray of coffee and toast.

"I would have let you sleep on," she said, "but a note has come by messenger for you, with 'Urgent' on the envelope in such a nice handwriting I felt you'd want to have it. So I brought your breakfast at the same time."

The nice handwriting was Jim's. He had vowed not to write till there was "news, good or bad." My fingers trembled as I tore open the letter. I read:

Make Lorillard invite you and Miss Arnold _and your fiance_ to a seance before Miss Reardon goes. It will have to be to-day or to-morrow. Don't take "no" for an answer. Manage it somehow. If you insist, Lorillard will force Reardon to consent. When the stunt's fixed up, let me hear at once.

Yours, Jim.

L---- is at his flat. You know the address.

By Jove! This was a facer! Could I bring the thing off? But I simply _must_. I knew Jim well enough to be sure that the clock of fate had been wound up by him, ready to strike, and that it wouldn't strike if I didn't obey orders.

I pondered for a minute whether or no to tell Joyce, but quickly decided _no_. The request must first come from Robert.

I braced myself with hot coffee, and thought hard. Then I asked Joyce for writing materials, and scribbled a note to Robert. I wrote:

There is a reason why you _must_ get us invited by Miss Reardon to the last seance she gives before leaving. When I say "us," I mean _Joyce_ as well as myself, and the man I've just promised to marry.

I know this will seem shocking to you, perhaps impossible, as you agreed not to see Joyce again, "_voluntarily_." But oh, Robert, trust me, and _make_ it possible for the sake of a brave girl who once saved your life at the risk of her own. Seeing her this time won't count as "voluntary" on your part. It is necessary.

When the note was ready I said to Joyce that I'd just had news of Robert Lorillard from a great friend of mine who was much interested in his welfare. This news necessitated my writing Robert, and as I was still in bed I must request her to send the letter by hand.

"Go out to the nearest post office yourself, and have a messenger take it," I directed.

While she was gone I got up, bathed, and put on street dress for the first time since I'd been "playing 'possum."

I felt much better, I explained when Joyce came back, and added that, later in the day, I might even be inclined "for a walk or something."

"If you're so well as that, you'll be ready to let me go to India soon, won't you, dear?" she hinted. No doubt my few words about Robert, and the sight of his name on a letter, had made the poor girl desperate under her calm, controlled manner.

I was desperate, too, knowing that her whole future depended on the success of Jim's plan. If it failed, I should have to let her go, and all would be over!

"You must do what's best for you," I answered. "But don't talk about it now. Wait till to-morrow."

Joyce was dumb.

Hours pa.s.sed, and no reply from Robert. I began to fear he'd gone away--or that he was hideously offended. We'd got through a pretence of luncheon, when at last a messenger came. Thank heaven, Robert's handwriting was on the envelope!

He wrote:

I don't understand your wish, dear Princess. It seems like deliberate torture of Joyce and me that she should be present when I am visited by the spirit of June--for that is what actually happens. June materializes. I see her, as well as hear her voice.

Can Joyce bear this? You seem to think she can, and so I must. For you are a friend of friends, and you wouldn't put me to such a test without the best of reasons.

I expected that Miss Reardon would refuse to receive strangers on such an occasion. But rather to my surprise she has consented, and a seance is arranged for this evening at nine o'clock in her rooms.

To-morrow would have been too late, as she is leaving for the south of France, to stay with some American millionairess at Cannes, who hopes to get into touch with a son on the Other Side. You see, I don't use that old, cold word "dead." I couldn't now I know how near, and how like their earthly selves, are those who go beyond.

So you are engaged to be married! Don't think I'm indifferent because I leave mention of your news till the last. I'm deeply interested. Bless you, Princess!

Yours ever, R. L.

I read this letter, destroying it (in case Joyce became importunate), and then broke it to her that Robert earnestly wished us to attend the last seance with Miss Reardon.

She turned sickly white.

"I can't go!" she almost sobbed. "I simply can't."

Then I said that it would hurt Robert horribly if she didn't. He wouldn't have asked such a thing without the strongest motive. I would be with her, I went on; and tried to pull her thoughts up out of tragic gulfs by springing the news of my engagement upon her. It may have sounded irrelevant, almost heartlessly so, but it braced the girl. And she little guessed that the engagement would not exist save for Robert and her!

I 'phoned Jim at the address on his letter, a house in Westminster which--when I happened to notice--was in the same street as Opal Fawcett's. It was a relief to hear his voice answer "h.e.l.lo!" for he had demanded immediate knowledge of our plans; and goodness knew what mysterious preparations for his _coup_ he might have to elaborate.

He would meet us at the Savoy, he said, at 8:45, and I could introduce him to Miss Reardon before the seance began.

Joyce and I started at 8:30, in a taxi, having made a mere stage pretence of dinner. We hardly spoke on the way, but I held her hand, and pressed it now and then.

Jim was waiting for us just inside the revolving doors of the hotel.

"I'd have liked to come for you in a car," he said aside to me, "but I thought it would be hard on Miss Arnold--and maybe on you--to have more of my society than need be, you know!"

"Why on me?" I hastily inquired.

His black eyes blazed into mine.

"Well, I've sort of blackmailed you, haven't I?"

"Have you?"

"Into this engagement of ours."

"Oh, I haven't got time to think of that just now!" I snapped. "Let's go to Miss Reardon's rooms."

We went. Jim said no more, except to mention that Captain Lorillard had already gone up.

Joyce may have imagined Jim to be the "great friend interested in Robert's welfare," but as for me, I wondered how he knew Robert by sight. Then I scolded myself: "Silly one! Hasn't he been watching--playing detective for you?"

It was poignant, remembering the last time when Robert, Joyce, and I had met in Miss Reardon's sitting room--the last day of their happiness. But we greeted each other quietly, like old friends, though Joyce's heart must have contracted at sight of the man's changed face. All the renewed youth and joyous manhood her love had given him had burned out of his eyes. He looked as he'd looked when I saw him that day at River Orchard Cottage.

Miss Reardon was slightly nervous in manner, and flushed like a girl when I introduced Sir James Courtenaye to her. But soon she recovered her prim little poise, and began making arrangements for the seance.

"Mr. Lorillard has already tested my _bona fides_ to his own satisfaction," she said. "He has examined my small suite, and knows that no person, no theatrical 'properties' are concealed about the place. If any of you would like to look around, however, before we start, I'm more than willing. Also if you'd care to bind my hands and feet, or sit in a circle and hold me fast, I've no objection."

As she made this offer, she glanced from one to the other of us. Pale, silent Joyce shook her head. Jim "left it to Princess di Miramare," and I decided that if Captain Lorillard was satisfied, we were.

"Very well," purred Miss Reardon. "In that case there's nothing more to wait for. Captain Lorillard, will you switch off the lights as usual?"

"Oh!" I broke in, surprised, "I thought you'd told us that the 'influence' was just as strong in light as darkness?"

"That is so," replied the medium, "except for materialization. For that, darkness is essential. There's some _quality_ in darkness that They need. They can't get the _strength_ to materialize in light conditions."