"Mis' Louise wouldn' let me," he said earnestly. "I wanted to. She
ought to 'a' had a doctor the night she came, but she wouldn' hear to
it. Is she--is she very bad, Mis' Innes?"
"Bad enough," I said coldly. "Send Mr. Innes up."
Halsey came up the stairs slowly, looking rather interested and
inclined to be amused. For a moment he could not see anything
distinctly in the darkened room; he stopped, glanced at Rosie and at
me, and then his eyes fell on the restless head on the pillow.
I think he felt who it was before he really saw her; he crossed the
room in a couple of strides and bent over the bed.
"Louise!" he said softly; but she did not reply, and her eyes showed no
recognition. Halsey was young, and illness was new to him. He
straightened himself slowly, still watching her, and caught my arm.
"She's dying, Aunt Ray!" he said huskily. "Dying! Why, she doesn't
know me!"
"Fudge!" I snapped, being apt to grow irritable when my sympathies are
aroused. "She's doing nothing of the sort,--and don't pinch my arm.
If you want something to do, go and choke Thomas."
But at that moment Louise roused from her stupor to cough, and at the
end of the paroxysm, as Rosie laid her back, exhausted, she knew us.
That was all Halsey wanted; to him consciousness was recovery. He
dropped on his knees beside the bed, and tried to tell her she was all
right, and we would bring her around in a hurry, and how beautiful she
looked--only to break down utterly and have to stop. And at that I
came to my senses, and put him out.
"This instant!" I ordered, as he hesitated. "And send Rosie here."
He did not go far. He sat on the top step of the stairs, only leaving
to telephone for a doctor, and getting in everybody's way in his
eagerness to fetch and carry. I got him away finally, by sending him
to fix up the car as a sort of ambulance, in case the doctor would
allow the sick girl to be moved. He sent Gertrude down to the lodge
loaded with all manner of impossible things, including an armful of
Turkish towels and a box of mustard plasters, and as the two girls had
known each other somewhat before, Louise brightened perceptibly when
she saw her.
When the doctor from Englewood--the Casanova doctor, Doctor Walker,
being away--had started for Sunnyside, and I had got Thomas to stop
trying to explain what he did not understand himself, I had a long talk
with the old man, and this is what I learned.
On Saturday evening before, about ten o'clock, he had been reading in
the sitting-room down-stairs, when some one rapped at the door. The
old man was alone, Warner not having arrived, and at first he was
uncertain about opening the door. He did so finally, and was amazed at
being confronted by Louise Armstrong. Thomas was an old family servant,
having been with the present Mrs. Armstrong since she was a child, and
he was overwhelmed at seeing Louise. He saw that she was excited and
tired, and he drew her into the sitting-room and made her sit down.
After a while he went to the house and brought Mrs. Watson, and they
talked until late. The old man said Louise was in trouble, and seemed
frightened. Mrs. Watson made some tea and took it to the lodge, but
Louise made them both promise to keep her presence a secret. She had
not known that Sunnyside was rented, and whatever her trouble was, this
complicated things. She seemed puzzled. Her stepfather and her mother
were still in California--that was all she would say about them. Why
she had run away no one could imagine. Mr. Arnold Armstrong was at the
Greenwood Club, and at last Thomas, not knowing what else to do, went
over there along the path. It was almost midnight. Part-way over he
met Armstrong himself and brought him to the lodge. Mrs. Watson had
gone to the house for some bed-linen, it having been arranged that
under the circumstances Louise would be better at the lodge until
morning. Arnold Armstrong and Louise had a long conference, during
which he was heard to storm and become very violent. When he left it
was after two. He had gone up to the house--Thomas did not know
why--and at three o'clock he was shot at the foot of the circular
staircase.