The strange transfiguration of Hannah Stubbs
When nine o’clock struck, she took a spirit flask from the cellaret
and called to her little maid to bring hot water.
“I am going to mix the Markiss a glass of whiskey and water, he is
sure to drink it during the night, if not now, and he will want
something to make him sleep. Go and fetch a tray--now, make haste, and
bring it to me!”
“Yes! Mum--my lady!----” replied Charlotte, who had never been able to
acquire the proper method of addressing a Marchioness.
When she had left the room, Hannah put sugar and lemon and whiskey and
hot water into the tumbler--but then she seemed to hesitate for a
moment.
“Folly!” she said to herself, “_che sarà, sarà!_ I _must_ be free!”
She dashed a small quantity of white powder into the glass, as she
thought thus, and a moment later Charlotte appeared with the tray.
“Take that up to the Markiss,” she said; “and if he don’t answer you,
say you’ve a message for him from the Baron, and when he opens the
door tell him the Baron ordered me to send him up that the last thing.
Do you understand?”
“Yes! Mum--my lady!”
“Now, don’t forget. Say first--‘Please, Markiss, the Baron has sent
you a message’--and when he opens the door, hand him the tray and say,
‘The Baron begged as you would drink this,’ and leave it there.”
“Yes! Mum--my lady!” repeated the child.
The ruse succeeded. Ricardo at first refused to unlock his door,
declaring he wanted nothing more that night, but when he heard that
Von Steinberg had a message for him, he left his bed to hear what it
was.
When Charlotte, faithful to her orders, thrust the tray and tumbler
into his hands, and repeated the message, Hannah heard him grumble,
“What did you disturb me for such nonsense for? Here! put the tray
down, and don’t you dare to come near me again to-night, or I’ll send
you home to your mother. Do you understand?”
“Yes! Markiss--yes! my lord!” stammered the child, as she scuttled
down the stairs again, and ran into the kitchen.
All was silent in the Professor’s room, and Hannah went back to her
needlework. It was the time that she usually went to bed, but she did
not feel as if she could sleep that night. At ten o’clock her little
maid crept into the parlour, white and trembling.
“Please, Mum--my lady----” she commenced, half crying, “there’s sich a
rum noise going on upstairs--like a dog moaning. Please, do you think
it can be the Markiss!”
“The Markiss, child!” said Hannah, who had also suddenly gone
unaccountably white, “why! what do you mean? Why should the Markiss
make a noise? It’s most likely the wind you hear through the trees!”
“O! no! Mum--my lady--please! there’s no wind to-night, and I’m afraid
to go up to bed,” continued Charlotte, weeping.
“What nonsense!” exclaimed her mistress, “I’ll go with you, then, but
what you have to look so scared for, I can’t imagine!”
In consequence, she mounted to the upper storey, with the shrinking
little maid in front of her. Since Von Steinberg’s departure, Hannah
had occupied the room which had been his, whilst her servant slept in
that which had been hers. As they gained the head of the stairs, a
deep, low groan issued distinctly from Ricardo’s apartment, and made
Charlotte burst out afresh.
“O! please, Mum, please, Mum--there it is again! O! I’m sure the pore
Markiss must be very bad in his insides! Won’t you knock at the door
and see?”
“Yes! yes! as soon as you have gone to bed,” replied Hannah, who was
looking almost as frightened as her handmaid. She pushed the girl into
her chamber and turned the key on the outside. Whatever was happening
in her husband’s room, she would see by herself. She tapped lightly on
the door, but no answer proceeded from the bed, only another low
half-stifled moan, as though an animal lay dying there.
Hannah flew downstairs again and passed out of the front door into the
fresh evening air. She was not afraid of Charlotte turning witness
against her; she would accept any explanation she chose to give--she
was only afraid of encountering those hollow groans again.
After half an hour’s suspense, she re-entered the cottage. A violent
tapping was proceeding from Charlotte’s door. Hannah went first to
inquire why she made such a noise.
“O! please, Mum--my lady--’is groans is dreadful! Won’t you give ’im a
drop of ile, or a pennorth of peppermint?”
“He has locked his door, Charlotte, you know, and I can’t get in. But
if he is not quiet soon, I must send for the Doctor!”
She conjured her little maid to be easy, and went downstairs in search
of a box of carpentering tools. Here she found a crowbar, with which
she knew she could force the Professor’s door. She crept up again with
it in her hand, and listened attentively. There was not a sound in the
room of any kind.
“Either it is over,” she thought, “or he is asleep! Ought I to send
for assistance, or force the door myself? Should I not be justified in
any circumstances in entering the room, considering the groans that
have proceeded from it? Charlotte will be my witness to them! And if a
stranger went in, and _he_--should--should be still alive--alive
enough to give evidence against me--O no! at all risks, _I_ must be
the one to see him first, and then I can judge what is best to be
done.”
She applied the crowbar to the door with her vigorous hand as she
thought thus, and the lock gave way before it. For an instant, she
hesitated on the threshold--then summoning her courage, dashed in and
approached the bed.
The Professor was just dying--his eyes were glazed--his hands fallen
lifeless by his side. The sight, instead of inspiring pity in Hannah’s
breast, roused a demoniacal fury there. Her husband looked at her as
though to say “_You have done this_”, and she bent over him and hissed
one word into his ear--“_Leonora!_”
At the mention of that name, which had been his pride and his shame
throughout his life, the Professor gave a final moan and slightly
turning over--_died!_ His wife gazed at him for a moment, as if she
could not believe the truth--then, with a shudder, she flung the
blanket over his staring eyes, and rushed from the room.
Her next move was to unlock Charlotte, and order her to dress herself
as soon as possible and go to Portland Place to summon the Baron.
“To Portland Place, Mum--my lady!” exclaimed the little maid, who had
hardly ever walked out by daylight, alone.
“Yes! the Markiss is very ill! You must take a cab and go there as
quickly as you can, and beg the Baron to come to me at once! Say that
your master is in terrible pain--tell him of the moans you heard--and
that I am very unhappy about it, and must have a doctor at once. Mind
you say how dreadfully anxious I am, Charlotte, and that I have done
everything I can, but it is of no good!”
“’Ave you been into ’is room, Mum?” demanded Charlotte, with surprise.
“Yes! yes! but don’t stand chattering there! Go as quick as ever you
can, and don’t forget one word of what I have told you.”
When the child was gone, Hannah sat down in the parlour to await the
issue of events. She could not return to the bedroom nor draw the
blanket off those staring eyes. There Von Steinberg found her, an hour
later, when he returned with the little maid.
“Why! what is this?” he exclaimed, as he took her hand; “is my poor
friend ill? Where is he? Let me see him at once!”
“There!” replied Hannah, pointing upwards with her finger; “He looks
dreadful! I can’t stand it! Whatever has happened, that he should be
like this?”
“And you have left him alone, when he is so ill?” said the Baron,
reproachfully, “O! Hannah! I did not think you would do that!”
“He has locked himself into his room all day--Charlotte will tell you
so--and wouldn’t come down to supper, or take anything--and just now I
forced open the door, and he swore at me--so I was frightened, and
sent for you!”
“You did right!” said Von Steinberg, as he ran up the stairs to
Ricardo’s room.
But the first glance told him that his services would be of no avail.
The Professor was dead as a doornail. His head was thrown back--his
eyes were wide open and starting from their sockets--his body had half
fallen from the bed.
Karl von Steinberg felt his heart--pressed his eyeballs--laid his hand
on his pulse--and uttered a deep sigh.
“Gone! my poor Ricardo!” he exclaimed, “and I fear, by your own hand!”
He caught sight of the tumbler, which had contained the whiskey and
water, and raising it to his nose, shook his head mournfully.
“As I thought!” he mused. “O! I should not have left him alone, after
what he said to me this morning! It is half my fault that this has
happened. I shall never forgive myself!”
He lifted the poor wasted carcase on to the bed, closed the eyelids,
laid the arms by his side, and softly closing the door, went
downstairs again.
“My poor girl!” he exclaimed, as he rejoined Hannah, “you must prepare
yourself for a great shock. Our good friend has left us, Hannah! He is
dead!”
“Quite dead,” repeated, Hannah; “are you sure?”
“Quite sure! and, what is worse, I am certain he took his own life! O!
I blame myself so much for leaving him, after the conversation we held
this morning. I should have watched over him better. But I did not
think he was really in earnest. My poor Ricardo! I think his work and
these séances have been too much for him, and over-taxed his brain.
He was the last man that I thought would have contemplated suicide!
But it is too evident! The glass on his table contains the remains of
arsenic--I could tell it at a glance!”
“Arsenic!” echoed Hannah, “but where can he have got arsenic?”
“Anywhere! It is used for so many things. Doubtless he bought it
to-day whilst he was out. How did he appear on his return home?”
“Very queer!” replied Hannah, “he wouldn’t speak to Charlotte or me,
but went straight up to his room and locked the door. I went out and
got him a nice little supper, as you told me----”
“Good girl!” interpolated the Baron----
“But he wouldn’t touch it, though I took it up to him myself, but I
thought he would like some whiskey and water. So Charlotte and me, we
mixed it for him--didn’t we, Charlotte?--and she carried it up, but
even then he wouldn’t open his door, until she told him that _you_ had
ordered him to take it! And then I suppose he--he----”
“Yes! there is no question about it. He mixed the poison he had
purchased, with the whiskey, and drank it off. My poor friend! Little
did I think he would come to so sad an end! Well! I suppose the
hankering to rejoin his Leonora was too strong for him. I only hope he
is happy with her now!”
“I fancy she has had enough of him,” remarked Hannah.
“Anyway we shall hear the truth from him when he comes back to us! I
should think he was sure to come back through you, Hannah!”
Hannah gave a visible shudder.
“O! don’t speak of such a thing, pray! I shouldn’t like him to come
back. I don’t think he behaved well to me at the last! I don’t never
want to see him again.”
“Don’t say that! You will think differently after a time. You mustn’t
blame him, Hannah! The very fact that he has taken his own life should
convince you that he was not completely in his right mind. Poor
Ricardo! He suffered much in his lifetime, and endured many losses. We
must think as kindly of him now, as we can.”
She seemed so visibly affected, and displayed such a horror of going
upstairs, that the Baron took all the arrangements that were necessary
in his own hands. Before nightfall, everything was settled regarding
the inquest, which was to take place on the following day--the remains
of the poor Professor were placed in a coffin--and the ground was
purchased wherein he was to be laid.
Von Steinberg had sufficient influence to prevent a verdict of _felo