I hope that this will be agreeable to him.I hope that I am not presuming too much in cherishing these expectations.
Doris turned her candid eyes upon him.
"I cannot tell;I do not know,"said she."Nobody knows,not even the doctor,what effect the news we so dread to give him will have upon Mr.Brotherson.You will have to wait -we all shall have to wait the results of that revelation.It cannot be kept from him much longer.When I return,I shall shrink from his first look,in the fear of seeing it betray this dreadful knowledge.Yet I have a faithful woman there to keep every one out of his room.""You have had much to carry for one so young,"was Mr.Challoner's sympathetic remark."You must let me help you when that awful moment comes.I am at the hotel and shall stay there till Mr.
Brotherson is pronounced quite well.I have no other duty now in life but to sustain him through his trouble and then,with what aid he can give,search out and find the cause of my daughter's death which I will never admit without the fullest proof,to have been one of suicide."Doris trembled.
"It was not suicide,"she declared,vehemently."I have always felt sure that it was not;but to-day I KNOW."Her hand fell clenched on her breast and her eyes gleamed strangely.
Mr.Challoner was himself greatly startled.What had happened -what could have happened since yesterday that she should emphasise that now?
"I've not told any one,"she went on,as he stopped short in the road,in his anxiety to understand her."But I will tell you.
Only,not here,not with all these people driving past;most of whom know me.Come to the house later -this evening,after Mr.
Brotherson's room is closed for the night.I have a little sitting-room on the other side of the hall where we can talk without being heard.Would you object to doing that?Am I asking too much of you?""No,not at all,"he assured her."Expect me at eight.Will that be too early?""No,no.Oh,how those people stared!Let us hasten back or they may connect your name with what we want kept secret."He smiled at her fears,but gave in to her humour;he would see her soon again and possibly learn something which would amply repay him,both for his trouble and his patience.
But when evening came and she turned to face him in that little sitting-room where he had quietly followed her,he was conscious of a change in her manner which forbade these high hopes.The gleam was gone from her eyes;the tremulous eagerness from her mobile and sensitive mouth.She had been thinking in the hours which had passed,and had lost the confidence of that one impetuous moment.
Her greeting betrayed embarrassment and she hesitated painfully before she spoke.
"I don't know what you will think of me,"she ventured at last,motioning to a chair but not sitting herself."You have had time to think over what I said and probably expect something real,-some -thing you could tell people.But it isn't like that.
It's a feeling -a belief.I'm so sure -"
"Sure of what,Miss Scott?"
She gave a glance at the door before stepping up nearer.He had not taken the chair she preferred.
"Sure that I have seen the face of the man who murdered her.It was in a dream,"she whisperingly completed,her great eyes misty with awe.
"A dream,Miss Scott?"He tried to hide his disappointment.
"Yes;I knew that it would sound foolish to you;it sounds foolish to me.But listen,sir.Listen to what I have to tell and then you can judge.I was very much agitated yesterday.I had to write a letter at Mr.Brotherson's dictation -a letter to her.
You can understand my horror and the effort I made to hide my emotion.I was quite unnerved.I could not sleep till morning,and then -and then -I saw -I hope I can describe it."Grasping at a near-by chair,she leaned on it for support,closing her eyes to all but that inner vision.A breathless moment followed,then she murmured in strained tnonotonous tones:
"I see it again -just as I saw it in the early morning -but even more plainly,if that is possible.A hall -(I should call it a hall,though I don't remember seeing any place like it before),with a little staircase at the side,up which there comes a man,who stops just at the top and looks intently my way.There is fierceness in his face -a look which means no good to anybody -and as his hand goes to his overcoat pocket,drawing out something which I cannot describe,but which he handles as if it were a pistol,I feel a horrible fear,and -and -"The child was staggering,and the hand which was free had sought her heart where it lay clenched,the knuckles showing white in the dim light.
Mr.Challoner watched her with dilated eyes,the spell under which she spoke falling in some degree upon him.Had she finished?Was this all?No;she is speaking again,but very low,almost in a whisper.
"There is music -a crash -but I plainly see his other hand approach the object he is holding.He takes something from the end -the object is pointed my way -I am looking into -into -what?I do not know.I cannot even see him now.The space where he stood is empty.Everything fades,and I wake with a loud cry in my ears and a sense of death here."She had lifted her hand and struck at her heart,opening her eyes as she did so."Yet it was not I who had been shot,"she added softly.
Mr.Challoner shuddered.This was like the reopening of his daughter's grave.But he had entered upon the scene with a full appreciation of the ordeal awaiting him and he did not lose his calmness,or the control of his judgment.
"Be seated,Miss Scott,"he entreated,taking a chair himself.
