The Circular Staircase - Page 54/154

"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.