Idle Hour Stories Part 3

After a cup of tea and a bit of toast, Jessie repaired to her chamber on the second floor and picked up some trifle she was embroidering, to beguile the time of waiting. Mabel and George would get in about nine, when they were to relate the day's doings around a good warm supper.

Katie was to follow and sit with her mistress, after she had done some righting up down stairs. Mike was bent upon routing an army of rats in the barn. Mrs. Lawrence had retired to her room with a nervous headache.

The high winds from the sea had lulled, and for once the house was utterly quiet--so quiet that the stillness became oppressive. Meanwhile the young girl sat in her bower of luxury, softly humming a favorite air, and very happy in thoughts of her approaching marriage. While deep in her smiling reverie, a stealthy footstep distinctly sounded outside her door.

Raising her head, she had not time to feel a sensation of real fear, when cautiously her doork.n.o.b was turned and a head intruded itself which struck her as dumb as though Medusa had appeared, and drove the life-blood in a frozen current to her head.

The face was ghastly, the hair black and curling upon high, narrow shoulders, the figure slight and spare, and a pair of restless black eyes were glittering swiftly and cunningly around the room.

"Hist!" he said to the horror-stricken girl, softly closing the door and turning the key; and if Jessie had a distinct thought in that awful moment, it was of thankfulness that the winter dampness had so warped the door that the key would not fairly catch in the lock,--a bit of repairing thus far overlooked in the wedding preparations.

"Don't be frightened," he continued, in his sibilant whisper; "you will take care of me, won't you?"

But the girl's eyes only riveted themselves in more hopeless, helpless terror upon the apparition. Every muscle seemed paralyzed.

He drew a chair to the open grate as if the fire were most welcome.

"You see," he said in his quaint, soft voice, "if they track me here they may hang me, and they would be wrong--all wrong. I did not intend to kill her, but she would not hold still."

At this he gave a blood-curdling laugh, and the horrible truth burst upon the listener's dazed senses. She was alone with a maniac. All the stories she had ever read rushed to her memory, and the only clear idea she had was the conviction that she must, if possible, humor his vagaries till help came. She was a petted, spoiled darling, but she had great strength of will, and she now called it into requisition.

She hurriedly glanced at the clock, and calculated how long it would be before the train whistle could signal the coming of her dear ones. Alas!

it was just eight. What, oh, what must she do? Of whom did he speak?

Kill her? Kill whom? Then the mystery of the murdered girl darted into her mind. Katie had been right then. There was in truth a murdered girl.

Was this awful creature her slayer?

Suddenly, with a confidential gesture he bade her sit down with him.

"I'll tell you about it," he said; "if she had only kept still! But she screamed and tried to run away, I can't stand noise!" He clapped his hands over his ears as if to shut out the echo of it. "I must have this blood--this pure, young, life-giving stream. But she would not listen to me. Poor thing! It was too bad, wasn't it? Hey? Speak!" and he grasped her delicate wrist with a grip of steel.

Trembling at the sound of her own voice, the girl commanded herself to say:

"Yes; who was she?"

"I don't know," he replied, seriously. "She was beautiful and fresh; she was almost as fair as you," letting his wild eyes roam over her. "I was getting away from that cursed place. Think of confining a man of my learning in a madhouse! But that was just it. I had mastered the new theory--the transfusion of blood. They wanted to steal my glory, so they locked me in. But I outwitted them; I captured these and ran away."

Laughing wildly but still under his breath, he took from his jacket a black case of bright, new surgical instruments.

"These were what I needed," he continued, with a low chuckle; "I could not attain the goal without these beauties." Caressingly he went over them. "Lancet, probe, trocar, bistoury, tourniquet,"--mentioning the collection, while he pa.s.sed his fingers affectionately along the small sharp knives.

"For years and years," he went on, "I have studied this theory. The only thing is to find a young, strong, healthy subject; I found her. I was hiding in the bushes; she was on the highway; but she would not listen to me."

"You did not kill her?" the girl forced her dry lips to ask.

"Nay, nay; that is an ugly word. I had to sacrifice her--I did not kill.

Then the foolish mob came and I fled hither. But I had a bit of bread and meat; she dropped her basket of lunch. I've been hiding in yonder tower," pointing upward. "I thought I might find what I want; and now, my dear, you will help me, won't you?" This he said coaxingly.

"Help you? What can I do?"

"Such a simple thing. Hold very still while I draw the rich red blood from your pretty white throat."

"You would not spoil my throat?" pleaded Jessie in winning tones, with the courage born of despair; "such a very little throat," clasping her soft fingers about it in unconscious paraphrase of King Hal's hapless queen.

"But where else can I find the glorious stream so rich and red?" he argued, with a perplexed frown. "It must be transfused into my own veins, that I, too, may be young again."

"But not the throat! I could not sing any more then."

"Ah, so--I heard you singing; it was not loud; it pleased me. Yes, 'twould be a pity. Well, I'll tell you what I will do. I'll open a vein in your arm--just here," laying his finger on the round white member.

"This will quicken the nervous centers. Then I will cut my own arm and insert your blood at the opening till the two life-currents mingle in one stream."

He paused and reflected a moment. The generous warmth of the fire, together with the terrified girl's enforced quiet manner, were evidently soothing to him.

"Listen now, very closely: Here is my greatest scientific discovery. I do not mean to impart the secret to another. It is the _transfusion of brain!_ Some other man's head got on to my shoulders, and my brain is all wrong. Now with your red blood charged in my veins, and your young active brain absorbed into my own uncertain head, I shall find the elixir of life, and you will not have lived in vain."

Gracious Heaven! Did she hear aright? She had submitted to blood-letting once to gratify an old family physician, who insisted upon the remedy; and she felt almost brave enough to endure the operation again, if it would only kill time and satisfy her tormentor. But to cut into her brain! Merciful G.o.d! What should she do? She could not escape, for he watched her with cat-like vigilance. Scream she dare not, for so did the other frightened victim. She _must_ try to gain time.

With a rapt expression he continued: "Since the days of Esculapius there has been no such transcendent theory as this which is to make me famous.

All my weary nights of thought and days of study are to be rewarded at last. Come child, are you ready? It will not hurt you. Only a little pin-p.r.i.c.k, and no pain. I would not pain you my dear."

What if he should let her bleed to death! Oh sister, oh lover, come, or she would die of horror, if not the knife! And Katie--why didn't she come! At this moment the sound of the train whistle in the distance broke on the stillness of the night. How could she gain ten minutes more? The man had not noticed the sound.

"What do you wish?" she asked sweetly, "What shall I get for you?"

"Only a handkerchief and a basin," he replied coolly, still fingering a sharp lancet. "You are not afraid? Good girl; now for my crowning victory!"

As a sleep-walker she procured the articles and bared her arm. Tenderly he was binding it above the blue veins, when she said in winning tones:

"Let me tell you how I think would be the best way to do this--may I?"

and she fixed her large eyes upon him in entreaty. He paused, and she continued:

"Now let me tie your arm in the same way. You open your own vein with the lancet, then open mine, and quickly after mix the two while the blood is warm. Do you see? You can't fail if you do it that way."

He looked at her. She did not flinch.

"Perhaps you are right; very well."

She arose as deliberately as she dared and went to her dresser for another handkerchief. At the moment she opened the linen case her ears, strained to the utmost, caught a murmur from below stairs. Turning quickly to see if the man also had heard, the door was pushed open and Katie's neat cap filled the aperture.

"Get on as fast as you can, driver," said George Randolph, as he and Mabel took seats in the village stage. Then turning to his companion, he said in rea.s.suring tones: "Don't be frightened, dear; she is all right."

"I know it is foolish," said Mabel, half crying; "but those wretched placards made me nervous, and all that talk about escaped murderers and lunatics. I am fairly beside myself; do hurry!"

As the wide portals of Crestdale appeared, Mabel cried, in sudden terror:

"Something is wrong, George; see how dim the lights are! She would never welcome us like this. Don't wait to ring; open the doors!"