Dr. Rumsey's Patient Part 31

"I don't want it. I'm not hungry. Do eat while you can and let me be."

"I'll let you be, but not out of my sight," muttered the man. He helped himself to some more pie, but he was no longer hungry. The jealous fiend which had always lain dormant in his heart from the day when he had married pretty Hetty Armitage and discovered that she had no love to give to him was waking up now into full strength and vigor. What was the matter with Hetty? How queer she looked to-night. She had always been queer after a certain fas.h.i.+on--she had always been different from other girls, but until to-night, Vincent, who had watched her well, had never found anything special to lay hold of. But to-night things were different. There must be a reason for Hetty's undue excitement, for her changing color, for her agitation, for the emotion on her face. Now what was she doing?

Vincent started from his seat to see his wife moving slowly up the room, borne onward by the pressure of the crowd. Several of the villagers, impatient at the long delay, had struggled up the barn to get a hand-shake from the Squire and his wife. Hetty was carried with the rest out of her husband's sight. Vincent jumped on a bench in order to get a view. He saw Hetty moving forward, he had a good glimpse of her profile, the color on the cheek nearest to him was vivid as a damask rose. Her whole little figure was alert, full of determination, of a queer impulsive longing which the man saw without understanding. Suddenly he saw his wife fall backward against some of the advancing crowd; she clasped her hands together, then uttered a shrill, piercing cry.

"Take me out of this for the love of G.o.d, Squire," she panted.

"Is that young woman Mrs. Vincent?" suddenly cried another voice. "Then, if so, I've something to say to her."

It was Mrs. Everett who had spoken. Hetty had not seen her until this moment. She was walking up the room accompanied by Awdrey's sisters, Ann and Dorothy.

"I can't stay--I won't meet her--take me away, take me away, into the air, Squire," said Hetty. "Oh, I am suffocating," she continued, "the room is rising up as if it would choke me."

"Open that door there to your right, Griffiths," said Awdrey, in a tone which rose above the tumult. "Come, Mrs. Vincent, take my arm."

He drew Hetty's hand into his, and led her out by a side door. The crowd made way for them. In another instant the excited girl found the cool evening air blowing on her hot cheeks.

"I am sorry you found the room too close," began Awdrey.

"Oh, it was not that, sir, not really. Just wait a minute, please, Mr.

Robert, until I get my breath. I did not know that she--that she was coming here."

"Who do you mean?" asked Awdrey.

"Mrs. Everett. I can't bear her. It was the sight of her, sudden-like, that took the breath from me."

Awdrey did not speak for a moment.

"You are better now," he said then, in a stony tone. "Is your husband here?"

"Yes, but I don't want him."

Hetty, in her excitement, laid both hands on the Squire's arm.

"Mr. Robert, I must see you, and alone," she panted.

Awdrey stepped back instinctively.

"You don't want me to touch you, you don't want to have anything to do with me, and yet--and yet, Mr. Robert, I must see you by yourself. When I can see you alone?"

"I cannot stay with you now," said Awdrey, in a hurried voice. "Come up to the house to-morrow. No, though, I shall have no time to attend to you to-morrow."

"It must be to-morrow, sir. It is life or death; yes, it is life or death."

"Well, to-morrow let it be," said Awdrey, after a pause, "six o'clock in the evening. Don't call at the house, come round to the office. I'll be there and I'll give you a few minutes. Now I see you are better," he continued, "I'll go back to the barn and fetch Vincent."

He turned abruptly. On the threshold of the door by which he had gone out he met Mrs. Everett.

"Where is that young woman?" she demanded.

"You seem to have frightened her," said Awdrey. "You had better not go to her now, she was half-fainting, but I think the fresh air has put her right again."

His face looked cool and composed.

"Fainting or not," said Mrs. Everett, "I must see her, for I have something to say to her. The fact is, I don't mind telling you, Mr.

Awdrey, that I accepted your wife's kind invitation more with the hope of meeting that young woman than for any other reason."

Awdrey raised his brows as if in slight surprise.

"I left Mrs. Vincent outside," he repeated.

"Then pray let me pa.s.s."

"If you want my wife I'll take you to her," said Vincent's voice at that moment.

"Glad to see you again, Vincent," said Awdrey. He held out his hand to the farmer, who stepped back a pace as if he did not see it.

"Obliged, I'm sure, sir," he said awkwardly. "You'll excuse me now, Squire, I want to get to my wife."

"Is that young woman really your wife?" demanded Mrs. Everett, in an eager voice.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then I've something very important I wish to say to her."

"I'll find out if she's well enough to see you, ma'am. Hetty is not to say too strong."

The man pushed by, elbowing his way to right and left. Mrs. Everett followed him. He quickly reached the spot where Awdrey had left Hetty.

She was no longer there.

"Where is she?" asked Mrs. Everett, in an eager tone.

"I can't tell you, ma'am. She is not here."

"Do you think she has gone home?"

"That's more'n I can say. May I ask what your business is with my wife?"

"Your wife is in possession of a secret which I mean to find out."

Vincent's face flushed an angry red.

"So others think she has a secret," he muttered to himself.

Aloud he said, "May I ask what yer name is, ma'am?"

"My name is Mrs. Everett. I am the mother of the man who was accused of murdering Horace Frere on Salisbury Plain six years ago."