Rivals of Sherlock Holmes, The (15 page)

  'He is a little better,' I replied. 'I am confident that he will soon be quite well again.'

  She gave a deep sigh when I said this, her lips trembled, and she turned away. I thought my news would make her happy, and her depression surprised me.

  At this moment Sir Henry came into the room.

  'Here are your keys,' he said to his wife. He gave her the same bunch he had given me the night before. I hoped she would not notice that the key of the wardrobe was missing.

  'And now I want you to come for a drive with me,' said Sir Henry.

  He did not often accompany her, and the pleasure of this unlookedfor indulgence evidently tempted her.

  'Very well,' she answered. 'Is Dr Halifax coming?'

  'No, he wants to have a ride.'

  'If he rides, can he not follow the carriage?'

  'Will you do that, Halifax?' asked my host.

  'No, thank you,' I answered; 'I must write some letters before I go anywhere. I will ride to the nearest town and post them presently, if I may.' I left the room as I spoke.

  Shortly afterwards I saw from a window Sir Henry and his wife drive away. They drove in a large open landau, and two girls who were staying in the house accompanied them. My hour had come, and I went up at once to Sir Henry's bedroom. Lady Studley's room opened directly into that of her husband, but both rooms had separate entrances.

  I locked the two outer doors now, and then began my investigations. I had the key of the wardrobe in my pocket.

  It was troublesome to unlock, because the key was a little rusty, and it was more than evident that the heavy doors had not been opened for some time. Both these doors were made of glass. When shut, they resembled in shape and appearance an ordinary old-fashioned window. The glass was set in deep mullions. It was thick, was of a peculiar shade of light blue, and was evidently of great antiquity. I opened the doors and went inside. The wardrobe was so roomy that I could stand upright with perfect comfort. It was empty, and was lined through and through with solid oak. I struck a light and began to examine the interior with care. After a great deal of patient investigation I came across a notch in the wood. I pressed my finger on this, and immediately a little panel slid back, which revealed underneath a small button. I turned the button and a door at the back of the wardrobe flew open. A flood of sunlight poured in, and stepping out, I found myself in another room. I looked around me in astonishment. This was a lady's chamber. Good heavens! what had happened? I was in Lady Studley's room. Shutting the mysterious door of the wardrobe very carefully, I found that all trace of its existence immediately vanished.

  There was no furniture against this part of the wall. It looked absolutely bare and smooth. No picture ornamented it. The light paper which covered it gave the appearance of a perfectly unbroken pattern. Of course, there must be a concealed spring somewhere, and I lost no time in feeling for it. I pressed my hand and the tips of my fingers in every direction along the wall. Try as I would, however, I could not find the spring, and I had at last to leave Lady Studley's room and go back to the one occupied by her husband, by the ordinary door.

  Once more I re-entered the wardrobe and deliberately broke off the button which opened the secret door from within. Anyone who now entered the wardrobe by this door, and shut it behind him, would find it impossible to retreat. The apparition, if it had material foundation, would thus find itself trapped in its own net.

  What could this thing portend?

  I had already convinced myself that if Sir Henry were the subject of a hallucination, I also shared it. As this was impossible, I felt certain that the apparition had a material foundation. Who was the person who glided night after night into Lady Studley's room, who knew the trick of the secret spring in the wall, who entered the old wardrobe, and performed this ghastly, this appalling trick on Sir Henry Studley? I resolved that I would say nothing to Sir Henry of my fresh discovery until after I had spent another night in the haunted room.

  Accordingly, I slipped the key of the wardrobe once more into my pocket and went downstairs.

  I had my way again that night. Once more I found myself the sole occupant of the haunted room. I put out the light, sat on the edge of the bed, and waited the issue of events. At first there was silence and complete darkness, but soon after one o'clock I heard the very slight but unmistakable tick-tick, which told me that the apparition was about to appear. The ticking noise resembled the quaint sound made by the death spider. There was no other noise of any sort, but a quickening of my pulses, a sensation which I could not call fear, but which was exciting to the point of pain, braced me up for an unusual and horrible sight. The light appeared in the dim recess of the wardrobe. It grew clear and steady, and quickly resolved itself into one intensely bright circle. Out of this circle the eye looked at me. The eye was unnaturally large – it was clear, almost transparent, its expression was full of menace and warning. Into the circle of light presently a shadowy and ethereal hand intruded itself. The fingers beckoned me to approach, while the eye looked fixedly at me. I sat motionless on the side of the bed. I am stoical by nature and my nerves are well seasoned, but I am not ashamed to say that I should be very sorry to be often subjected to that menace and that invitation. The look in that eye, the beckoning power in those long, shadowy fingers would soon work havoc even in the stoutest nerves. My heart beat uncomfortably fast, and I had to say over and over to myself, 'This is nothing more than a ghastly trick'. I had also to remind myself that I in my turn had prepared a trap for the apparition. The time while the eye looked and the hand beckoned might in reality have been counted by seconds; to me it seemed like eternity. I felt the cold dew on my forehead before the rapidly waning light assured me that the apparition was about to vanish. Making an effort I now left the bed and approached the wardrobe. I listened intently. For a moment there was perfect silence. Then a fumbling noise was distinctly audible. It was followed by a muffled cry, a crash, and a heavy fall. I struck a light instantly, and taking the key of the wardrobe from my pocket, opened it. Never shall I forget the sight that met my gaze.

  There, huddled up on the floor, lay the prostrate and unconscious form of Lady Studley. A black cloak in which she had wrapped herself partly covered her face, but I knew her by her long, fair hair. I pulled back the cloak, and saw that the unhappy girl had broken a blood-vessel, and even as I lifted her up I knew that she was in a dying condition.

  I carried her at once into her own room and laid her on the bed. I then returned and shut the wardrobe door, and slipped the key into my pocket. My next deed was to summon Sir Henry.

  'What is it?' he asked, springing upright in bed.

  'Come at once,' I said, 'your wife is very ill.'

  'Dying?' he asked, in an agonized whisper.

  I nodded my head. I could not speak.

  My one effort now was to keep the knowledge of the ghastly discovery I had made from the unhappy husband.

  He followed me to his wife's room. He forgot even to question me about the apparition, so horrified was he at the sight which met his view.

  I administered restoratives to the dying woman, and did what I could to check the haemorrhage. After a time Lady Studley opened her dim eyes.

  'Oh, Henry!' she said, stretching out a feeble hand to him, 'come with me, come with me. I am afraid to go alone.'

  'My poor Lucilla,' he said. He smoothed her cold forehead, and tried to comfort her by every means in his power.

  After a time he left the room. When he did so she beckoned me to approach. 'I have failed,' she said, in the most thrilling voice of horror I have ever listened to. 'I must go alone. He will not come with me.'

  'What do you mean?' I asked.

  She could scarcely speak, but at intervals the following words dropped slowly from her lips: –

  'I was the apparition. I did not want my husband to live after me. Perhaps I was a little insane. I cannot quite say. When I was told by Sir Joseph Dunbar that there was no hope of my life, a most appalling and frightful jealousy took possession of me. I pictured my husband with another wife. Stoop down.'

  Her voice was very faint. I could scarcely hear her muttered words. Her eyes were glazing fast, death was claiming her, and yet hatred against some unknown person thrilled in her feeble voice.

  'Before my husband married me, he loved another woman,' she continued. 'That woman is now a widow. I felt certain that immediately after my death he would seek her out and marry her. I could not bear the thought – it possessed me day and night. That, and the terror of dying alone, worked such a havoc within me that I believe I was scarcely responsible for my own actions. A mad desire took possession of me to take my husband with me, and so to keep him from her, and also to have his company when I passed the barriers of life. I told you that my brother was a doctor. In his medical-student days the sort of trick I have been playing on Sir Henry was enacted by some of his fellow-students for his benefit, and almost scared him into fever. One day my brother described the trick to me, and I asked him to show me how it was done. I used a small electric lamp and a very strong reflector.'

  'How did you find out the secret door of the wardrobe?' I asked.

  'Quite by chance. I was putting some dresses into the wardrobe one day and accidentally touched the secret panel. I saw at once that here was my opportunity.'

  'You must have been alarmed at your success,' I said, after a pause. 'And now I have one more question to ask: Why did you summon me to the Grange?'

  She made a faint, impatient movement.

  'I wanted to be certain that my husband was really very ill,' she said. 'I wanted you to talk to him – I guessed he would confide in you; I thought it most probable that you would tell him that he was a victim of brain hallucinations. This would frighten him and would suit my purpose exactly. I also sent for you as a blind. I felt sure that under these circumstances neither you nor my husband could possibly suspect me.'

  She was silent again, panting from exhaustion.

  'I have failed,' she said, after a long pause. 'You have discovered the truth. It never occurred to me for a moment that you would go into the room. He will recover now.'

  She paused; a fresh attack of haemorrhage came on. Her breath came quickly. Her end was very near. Her dim eyes could scarcely see.

  Groping feebly with her hand she took mine.

  'Dr Halifax – promise.'

  'What?' I asked.

  'I have failed, but let me keep his love, what little love he has for me, before he marries that other woman. Promise that you will never tell him.'

  'Rest easy,' I answered, 'I will never tell him.'

  Sir Henry entered the room.

  I made way for him to kneel by his wife's side.

  As the grey morning broke Lady Studley died.

  Before my departure from the Grange I avoided Sir Henry as much as possible. Once he spoke of the apparition and asked if I had seen it. 'Yes,' I replied.

  Before I could say anything further, he continued:

  'I know now why it came; it was to warn me of my unhappy wife's death.' He said no more. I could not enlighten him, and he is unlikely now ever to learn the truth.

  The following day I left Studley Grange. I took with me, without asking leave of any-one, a certain long black cloak, a small electric lamp, and a magnifying glass of considerable power.

  It may be of interest to explain how Lady Studley in her unhealthy condition of mind and body performed the extraordinary trick by which she hoped to undermine her husband's health, and ultimately cause his death.

  I experimented with the materials which I carried away with me, and succeeded, so my friends told me, in producing a most ghastly effect.

  I did it in this way. I attached the mirror of a laryngoscope to my forehead in such a manner as to enable it to throw a strong reflection into one of my eyes. In the centre of the bright side of the laryngoscope a small electric lamp was fitted. This was connected with a battery which I carried in my hand. The battery was similar to those used by the ballet girls in Drury Lane Theatre, and could be brought into force by a touch and extinguished by the removal of the pressure. The eye which was thus brilliantly illumined looked through a lens of some power. All the rest of the face and figure was completely covered by the black cloak. Thus the brightest possible light was thrown on the magnified eye, while there was corresponding increased gloom around.

  When last I heard of Studley Grange it was let for a term of years and Sir Henry had gone abroad. I have not heard that he has married again, but he probably will, sooner or later.