Desperate Remedies
window-shutters fixed on the outside of the window, as is usual in the
back portions of old country-houses. The shutters were hinged one
on each side of the opening, and met in the middle, where they were
fastened by a bolt passing continuously through them and the wood
mullion within, the bolt being secured on the inside by a pin, which was
seldom inserted till Manston and herself were about to retire for the
night; sometimes not at all.
If she returned to the door of the room she might be discovered at any
moment, but could she listen at the window, which overlooked a part
of the garden never visited after nightfall, she would be safe from
disturbance. The idea was worth a trial.
She glided round to the window, took the head of the bolt between her
finger and thumb, and softly screwed it round until it was entirely
withdrawn from its position. The shutters remained as before, whilst,
where the bolt had come out, was now a shining hole three-quarters of
an inch in diameter, through which one might see into the middle of the
room. She applied her eye to the orifice.
Miss Aldclyffe and Manston were both standing; Manston with his back to
the window, his companion facing it. The lady’s demeanour was severe,
condemnatory, and haughty. No more was to be seen; Anne then turned
sideways, leant with her shoulder against the shutters and placed her
ear upon the hole.
‘You know where,’ said Miss Aldclyffe. ‘And how could you, a man, act a
double deceit like this?’
‘Men do strange things sometimes.’
‘What was your reason--come?’
‘A mere whim.’
‘I might even believe that, if the woman were handsomer than Cytherea,
or if you had been married some time to Cytherea and had grown tired of
her.’
‘And can’t you believe it, too, under these conditions; that I married
Cytherea, gave her up because I heard that my wife was alive, found that
my wife would not come to live with me, and then, not to let any woman
I love so well as Cytherea run any risk of being displaced and ruined in
reputation, should my wife ever think fit to return, induced this woman
to come to me, as being better than no companion at all?’
‘I cannot believe it. Your love for Cytherea was not of such a kind
as that excuse would imply. It was Cytherea or nobody with you. As an
object of passion, you did not desire the company of this Anne Seaway
at all, and certainly not so much as to madly risk your reputation
by bringing her here in the way you have done. I am sure you didn’t,
AEneas.’
‘So am I,’ he said bluntly.
Miss Aldclyffe uttered an exclamation of astonishment; the confession
was like a blow in its suddenness. She began to reproach him bitterly,
and with tears.
‘How could you overthrow my plans, disgrace the only girl I ever had any
respect for, by such inexplicable doings!... That woman must leave this
place--the country perhaps. Heavens! the truth will leak out in a day or
two!’
‘She must do no such thing, and the truth must be stifled
somehow--nobody knows how. If I stay here, or on any spot of the
civilized globe, as AEneas Manston, this woman must live with me as my
wife, or I am damned past redemption!’
‘I will not countenance your keeping her, whatever your motive may be.’
‘You must do something,’ he murmured. ‘You must. Yes, you must.’
‘I never will,’ she said. ‘It is a criminal act.’
He looked at her earnestly. ‘Will you not support me through this
deception if my very life depends upon it? Will you not?’
‘Nonsense! Life! It will be a scandal to you, but she must leave this
place. It will out sooner or later, and the exposure had better come
now.’
Manston repeated gloomily the same words. ‘My life depends upon your
supporting me--my very life.’
He then came close to her, and spoke into her ear. Whilst he spoke he
held her head to his mouth with both his hands. Strange expressions came
over her face; the workings of her mouth were painful to observe. Still
he held her and whispered on.
The only words that could be caught by Anne Seaway, confused as her
hearing frequently was by the moan of the wind and the waterfall in
her outer ear, were these of Miss Aldclyffe, in tones which absolutely
quivered: ‘They have no money. What can they prove?’
The listener tasked herself to the utmost to catch his answer, but it
was in vain. Of the remainder of the colloquy one fact alone was plain
to Anne, and that only inductively--that Miss Aldclyffe, from what he
had revealed to her, was going to scheme body and soul on Manston’s
behalf.
Miss Aldclyffe seemed now to have no further reason for remaining,
yet she lingered awhile as if loth to leave him. When, finally, the
crestfallen and agitated lady made preparations for departure, Anne
quickly inserted the bolt, ran round to the entrance archway, and down
the steps into the park. Here she stood close to the trunk of a huge
lime-tree, which absorbed her dark outline into its own.
In a few minutes she saw Manston, with Miss Aldclyffe leaning on his
arm, cross the glade before her and proceed in the direction of the
house. She watched them ascend the rise and advance, as two black spots,
towards the mansion. The appearance of an oblong space of light in the
dark mass of walls denoted that the door was opened. Miss Aldclyffe’s
outline became visible upon it; the door shut her in, and all was
darkness again. The form of Manston returning alone arose from the
gloom, and passed by Anne in her hiding-place.
Waiting outside a quarter of an hour longer, that no suspicion of any
kind might be excited, Anne returned to the old manor-house.
4. FROM EIGHT TO ELEVEN O’CLOCK P.M.
Manston was very friendly that evening. It was evident to her, now
that she was behind the scenes, that he was making desperate efforts to
disguise the real state of his mind.
Her terror of him did not decrease. They sat down to supper, Manston
still talking cheerfully. But what is keener than the eye of a
mistrustful woman? A man’s cunning is to it as was the armour of Sisera
to the thin tent-nail. She found, in spite of his adroitness, that he
was attempting something more than a disguise of his feeling. He was
trying to distract her attention, that he might be unobserved in some
special movement of his hands.
What a moment it was for her then! The whole surface of her body became
attentive. She allowed him no chance whatever. We know the duplicated
condition at such times--when the existence divides itself into two, and
the ostensibly innocent chatterer stands in front, like another person,
to hide the timorous spy.
Manston played the same game, but more palpably. The meal was nearly
over when he seemed possessed of a new idea of how his object might be
accomplished. He tilted back his chair with a reflective air, and looked
steadily at the clock standing against the wall opposite to him. He said
sententiously, ‘Few faces are capable of expressing more by dumb
show than the face of a clock. You may see in it every variety of
incentive--from the softest seductions to negligence to the strongest
hints for action.’
‘Well, in what way?’ she inquired. His drift was, as yet, quite
unintelligible to her.
‘Why, for instance: look at the cold, methodical, unromantic,
business-like air of all the right-angled positions of the hands. They
make a man set about work in spite of himself. Then look at the piquant
shyness of its face when the two hands are over each other. Several
attitudes imply “Make ready.” The “make ready” of ten minutes to one
differs from the “make ready” of ten minutes to twelve, as youth differs
from age. “Upward and onward” says twenty-five minutes to eleven.
Mid-day or midnight expresses distinctly “It is done.” You surely have
noticed that?’
‘Yes, I have.’
He continued with affected quaintness:--
‘The easy dash of ten minutes past seven, the rakish recklessness of a
quarter past, the drooping weariness of twenty-five minutes past, must
have been observed by everybody.’
‘Whatever amount of truth there may be, there is a good deal of
imagination in your fancy,’ she said.
He still contemplated the clock.
‘Then, again, the general finish of the face has a great effect upon the
eye. This old-fashioned brass-faced one we have here, with its arched
top, half-moon slit for the day of the month, and ship rocking at the
upper part, impresses me with the notion of its being an old cynic,
elevating his brows, whose thoughts can be seen wavering between good
and evil.’
A thought now enlightened her: the clock was behind her, and he wanted
to get her back turned. She dreaded turning, yet, not to excite his
suspicion, she was on her guard; she quickly looked behind her at the
clock as he spoke, recovering her old position again instantly. The time
had not been long enough for any action whatever on his part.
‘Ah,’ he casually remarked, and at the same minute began to pour her
out a glass of wine. ‘Speaking of the clock has reminded me that it must
nearly want winding up. Remember that it is wound to-night. Suppose you
do it at once, my dear.’
There was no possible way of evading the act. She resolutely turned to
perform the operation: anything was better than that he should suspect
her. It was an old-fashioned eight-day clock, of workmanship suited to
the rest of the antique furniture that Manston had collected there, and
ground heavily during winding.
Anne had given up all idea of being able to watch him during the
interval, and the noise of the wheels prevented her learning anything by
her ears. But, as she wound, she caught sight of his shadow on the wall
at her right hand.
What was he doing? He was in the very act of pouring something into her
glass of wine.
He had completed the manoeuvre before she had done winding. She
methodically closed the clock-case and turned round again. When she
faced him he was sitting in his chair as before she had risen.
In a familiar scene which has hitherto been pleasant it is difficult to
realize that an added condition, which does not alter its aspect, can
have made it terrible. The woman thought that his action must have been
prompted by no other intent than that of poisoning her, and yet she
could not instantly put on a fear of her position.
And before she had grasped these consequences, another supposition
served to make her regard the first as unlikely, if not absurd. It was
the act of a madman to take her life in a manner so easy of discovery,
unless there were far more reason for the crime than any that Manston
could possibly have.
Was it not merely his intention, in tampering with her wine, to make
her sleep soundly that night? This was in harmony with her original
suspicion, that he intended secretly to abscond. At any rate, he was
going to set about some stealthy proceeding, as to which she was to be
kept in utter darkness. The difficulty now was to avoid drinking the
wine.
By means of one pretext and another she put off taking her glass for
nearly five minutes, but he eyed her too frequently to allow her to
throw the potion under the grate. It became necessary to take one
sip. This she did, and found an opportunity of absorbing it in her
handkerchief.
Plainly he had no idea of her countermoves. The scheme seemed to him in
proper train, and he turned to poke out the fire. She instantly seized
the glass, and poured its contents down her bosom. When he faced round
again she was holding the glass to her lips, empty.
In due course he locked the doors and saw that the shutters were
fastened. She attended to a few closing details of housewifery, and a
few minutes later they retired for the night.
5. FROM ELEVEN O’CLOCK TO MIDNIGHT
When Manston was persuaded, by the feigned heaviness of her breathing,
that Anne Seaway was asleep, he softly arose, and dressed himself in the