Murder Mysteries for the Holiday Season. Джером К. Джером

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СКАЧАТЬ back with a surprise for him that she says will work miracles. She don’t say what surprise — or, where she’s going — but she promises to come back in three days; and she’ll do it! I’d stake my existence on little Annie sticking to her word! Now the question is — till we see her again, and all this precious mystery’s cleared up — what are we to do for the poor old man? — what? — eh?’

      ‘Perhaps’ — said the doctor, smiling at the conclusion of this characteristic harangue — ’perhaps, I had better see the patient, before we say any more.’

      ‘By George! what a fool I am!’ — cried the Squire — ’Of course! — see him directly — this way, doctor: this way!’

      They went into the drawing-room. The sufferer was still on the sofa, moving and talking in his sleep. The doctor signed to Mr Colebatch to keep silence; and they sat down and listened.

      The old man’s dreams seemed to be connected with some of the later scenes in his life, which had been passed at country towns, in teaching country actors. He was laughing just at this moment.

      ‘Ho! Ho! young gentlemen’ — they heard him say — ’do you call that acting? Ah, dear! dear! we professional people don’t bump against each other on the stage, in that way — it’s lucky you called me in, before your friends came to see you! — Stop, sir! that won’t do! you mustn’t die in that way — fall on your knee first; then sink down — then — Oh, dear! how hard it is to get people to have a proper delivery, and not go dropping their voices, at the end of every sentence. I shall never — never — ’

      Here the wild words stopped; then altered, and grew sad.

      ‘Hush! Hush!’ — he murmured, in husky, wandering tones — ’Silence there, behind the scenes! Don’t you hear Mr Kemble speaking now? listen, and get a lesson, as I do. Ah! laugh away, fools, who don’t know good acting when you see it! — Let me alone! What are you pushing me for? I’m doing you no harm! I’m only looking at Mr Kemble — Don’t touch that book! — it’s my Shakespeare — yes! mine. I suppose I may read Shakespeare if I like, though I am only an actor at a shilling a night! — A shilling a night; — starving wages — Ha! Ha! Ha! — starving wages!’

      Again the sad strain altered to a still wilder and more plaintive key.

      ‘Ah!’ he cried now, ‘don’t be hard with me! Don’t for God’s sake! My wife, my poor dear wife, died only a week ago! Oh, I’m cold! starved with cold here, in this draughty place. I can’t help crying, sir; she was so good to me! But I’ll take care and go on the stage when I’m called to go, if you’ll please not take any notice of me now; and not let them laugh at me. Oh, Mary! Mary! Why has God taken you from me? Ah! why! why! why!’

      Here, the murmurs died away; then began again, but more confusedly. Sometimes his wandering speech was all about Annie; sometimes it changed to lamentations over the broken mask; sometimes it went back again to the old days behind the scenes at Drury Lane.

      ‘Oh, Annie! Annie!’ cried the Squire, with his eyes full of tears; ‘why did you ever go away?’

      ‘I am not sure,’ said the doctor, ‘that her going may not do good in the end. It has evidently brought matters to a climax with him; I can see that. Her coming back will be a shock to his mind — it’s a risk, sir; but that shock may act in the right way. When a man’s faculties struggle to recover themselves, as his are doing, those faculties are not altogether gone. The young lady will come back, you say, the day after tomorrow?’

      ‘Yes, yes!’ answered the Squire, ‘with a “surprise”, she says. What surprise? Good Heavens! why couldn’t she say what!’

      ‘We need not mind that,’ rejoined the other. ‘Any surprise will do, if his physical strength will bear it. We’ll keep him quiet — as much sleep as possible — till she comes back. I’ve seen some very curious cases of this kind, Mr Colebatch; cases that were cured by the merest accidents, in the most unaccountable manner. I shall watch this particular case with interest.’

      ‘Cure it, doctor! cure it; and, by Jupiter! I’ll — ’

      ‘Hush! you’ll wake him. We had better go now. I shall come back in an hour, and will tell the landlady where she can let me know, if anything happens before that.’

      They went out softly; and left him as they had found him, muttering and murmuring in his sleep.

       On the third day, late in the afternoon, Mr Colebatch and the doctor were again in the drawing-room at No. 12; and again intently occupied in studying the condition of poor old Reuben Wray.

      This time, he was wide awake; and was restlessly and feebly moving up and down the room, talking to himself, now mournfully about the broken mask, now fiercely and angrily about Annie’s absence. Nothing attracted his notice in the smallest degree; he seemed to be perfectly unaware that anybody was in the room with him.

      ‘Why can’t you keep him quiet?’ whispered the Squire; ‘why don’t you give him an opiate, or whatever you call it, as you did yesterday?’

      ‘His grandchild comes back today,’ answered the doctor. ‘Today must be left to the great physician — Nature. At this crisis, it is not for me to meddle, but to watch and learn.’

      They waited again in silence. Lights were brought in; for it grew dark while they kept their anxious watch. Still no arrival!

      Five o’clock struck; and, about ten minutes after, a knock sounded on the street door.

      ‘She has come back!’ exclaimed the doctor.

      ‘How do you know that already?’ asked Mr Colebatch, eagerly.

      ‘Look there, sir!’ and the doctor pointed to Mr Wray.

      He had been moving about with increased restlessness, and talking with increased vehemence, just before the knock. The moment it sounded he stopped; and there he stood now, perfectly speechless and perfectly still. There was no expression on his face. His very breathing seemed suspended. What secret influences were moving within him now? What dread command went forth over the dark waters in which his spirit toiled, saying to them, ‘Peace! be still!’ That, no man — not even the man of science — could tell.

      As the door opened, and the landlady’s joyful exclamation of recognition, sounded cheerily from below, the doctor rose from his seat, and gently placed himself close behind the old man.

      Footsteps hurried up the stairs. Then, Annie’s voice was heard, breathless and eager, before she came in. ‘Grandfather, I’ve got the mould! Grandfather, I’ve brought a new cast! The mask — thank God! — the mask of Shakespeare!’

      She flew into his arms, without even a look at anybody else in the room. When her head was on his bosom, the spirit of the brave little girl deserted her for the first time since her absence, and she burst into an hysterical passion of weeping before she could utter another word.

      He gave a great cry the moment she touched him — an inarticulate voice of recognition from the spirit within. Then his arms closed tight over her; so tight, that the doctor advanced a step or two towards them, showing in his face the first look of alarm it had yet betrayed.

      But, at that instant, the old man’s arms dropped again, powerless and heavy, by his side. What does he see now, in that open box in the carpenter’s hand? The Mask! — his Mask, whole as ever! white, and smooth, and beautiful, СКАЧАТЬ