In White Raiment

“Let me pass!” I cried roughly, in my headlong haste. “I desire to see my wife.”

“You shall not enter?” he answered, in a voice tremulous with an excitement which he strove in vain to control.

“She is in distress. I heard her scream. It is my duty, both as a doctor and as her husband, to be at her side.”

“Duty?” he sneered. “My dear sir, what is duty to a man who will sell himself for a handful of banknotes?”

“I yielded to your accursed temptation, it is true!” I cried fiercely. “But human feeling is not entirely dead in my heart, as it is in yours. Thank God that my hands are still unsullied!”

He laughed – the same harsh, discordant laugh that had escaped him when, below in the library, I had refused to accept the vile condition of the compact.

He stood there barring my passage to that room wherein lay the unknown woman who had been so strangely united to me. Whoever she was, I was resolved to rescue her. Mystery surrounded her – mystery that I resolved at all hazards to penetrate.

“You were in want of money, and I offered it to you,” the Tempter answered coldly. “You have refused, and the matter is ended.”

“I think not,” I said warmly. “You will hear something more of this night’s work.”

He laughed again, displaying an uneven row of discoloured teeth. To argue with him further was useless.

“Come, stand aside?” I cried, making a movement forward.

He receded a couple of paces, until he stood with his back against the door, and as I faced him I looked down the shining barrel of a revolver.

I do not know what possessed me at that instant. I did not fully realise my danger, that is certain. My mind was too full of the mystery surrounding the unknown woman who was lying within, and whose hand had showed me that she was no invalid. Physically I am a muscular man, and without a second’s hesitation I sprang upon my adversary and closed with him. His strength was marvellous. I had under-calculated it, for he was wiry, with muscles like iron.

For a few moments we swayed to and fro in deadly embrace, until I felt that he had turned the weapon until the barrel touched my neck. Next instant there was a loud report. The flash burned my face, but fortunately the bullet only grazed my cheek.

I was unharmed, but his deliberate attempt to take my life urged me to desperation, and with an almost superhuman effort I tripped him by a trick, and kneeling upon him, wrenched the weapon from his grasp. Then, leaving him, I dashed towards the door and turned the handle, but in vain. It was locked. Without more ado I stepped back, and taking a run, flung myself against the door, bursting the lock from its socket and falling headlong into the chamber.

The light was insufficient in that great chamber; therefore I drew up one of the blinds partially and crossed to the bed, full of curiosity.

My wife was lying there, silent and still. Her wealth of dishevelled hair strayed across the lace-edged pillow, and the hand with the wedding-ring I had placed upon it was raised above her head and tightly clenched in that attitude often assumed by children in their sleep.

She had screamed. That sound I had heard, so shrill and plain, was undoubtedly the voice of a young woman, and it had come from this room, which was directly above the library. Yet, as far as I could see, there was nothing to indicate the cause of her alarm.

Utterly bewildered, I stood there gazing at the form hidden beneath the silken coverlet of pale blue. The face was turned away towards the wall, so that I could not see it.

Why, I wondered, had the Tempter barred my entrance there with such determination, endeavouring to take my life rather than allow me to enter there?

The small ormolu clock chimed the hour upon its silver bell. It was one o’clock.

Attentively I bent and listened. Her breathing seemed very low. I touched her hand and found it chilly.

For a moment I hesitated to disturb her, for she was lying in such a position that I could not see her face without turning her over. Suddenly, however, it occurred to me that I might draw out the bed from the wall and get behind it.

This I did, but the bed, being very heavy, required all my effort to move it.

Strangely enough at that moment I felt a curious sensation in my mouth and throat, and an unaccountable dizziness seized me. It seemed as though my mouth and lips were swelling, and the thought occurred to me that I might have ruptured a blood-vessel in my exertions in moving the bed.

Eager, however, to look upon the face of the woman who was my wife, I slipped between the wall and the bed, and, bending down, drew back the embroidered sheet which half concealed the features.

I stood dumb-stricken. The face was the most beautiful, the most perfect in contour and in natural sweetness of expression, that I had ever gazed upon. It was the face of a healthful and vigorous girl of twenty, rather than of an invalid – a face about the beauty of which there could be no two opinions. The great blue eyes were wide open, looking curiously into mine, while about the mouth was a half-smile which rendered the features additionally attractive.

“You are ill,” I whispered in a low, intense voice, bending to her. “Cannot you tell me what is the matter? I am a doctor, and will do all in my power to make you better.”

There was no response. The great blue eyes stared at me fixedly, the smile did not relax, the features seemed strangely rigid. Next second a terrible suspicion flashed across my mind, and I bent closer down. The eyes did not waver in the light as eyes must do when a light shines straight into them. I touched her cheek with my hand, and its thrilling contact told me the truth only too plainly.

My wife was dead. She had died before sunset, as the Tempter had intended.

The discovery held me immovable. Hers was a face such as I had never seen before. She was a woman before whom, had I met her in life, I should have fallen down and worshipped. Indeed, strange as it may seem, I confess that, as I stood there, I fell in love with her – even though she was a corpse.

Yet, as my eyes fixed themselves lovingly upon her features, as sweet, tender, and innocent in expression as a child’s, I could not imagine the cause of death. There was no sign of disease or unhealthiness there.

Why had she uttered those screams? Why, indeed, had the door of the death-chamber been afterwards locked? Had she, after all, fallen a victim to foul play?

I drew down the bed-clothes and exposed her neck in order to make an examination. She wore, suspended by a thin gold chain, a small amulet shaped like a note of interrogation and encrusted with diamonds. My observations told me that she had not worn it very long, for the edges of the stones were sharp, yet the delicate skin remained unscratched. A desire possessed me to have some souvenir of her, and without further ado, I unclasped the chain from her neck, and placed it and the little charm in my pocket.

Then, in continuation of my examination, I placed my hand upon her heart, but could detect no cause of death.

Upon her breast, however, I found a curious tattoo-mark – a strange device representing three hearts entwined. Now in my medical experience, I have found that very few women are tattooed. A woman usually shrinks from the operation – which is not unaccompanied by pain – and, on careful examination of this mark, I came to the conclusion that it had been pricked some years ago by a practised hand; further, that it had some distinct and mysterious signification.

It was in the exact centre of the breast, and just sufficiently low to remain concealed when she had worn a décolleté dress. The light was dim and unsatisfactory, but all my efforts to trace the hand of an assassin were futile.

Suddenly, however, as I examined her eyes, the left one, nearest the pillow, bore an expression which struck me as unusual. Both organs of sight seemed to have lost their clearness in the moments I had been standing there, and were glazing as rigor mortis set in, but the left eye was becoming more blurred than its fellow – an unusual circumstance which attracted me. The bright blue which I had seen in its unfathomable depths had contracted in a manner altogether unaccountable until it was now only the size of a pin’s head. I bent again closely and peered into it. Next instant the awful truth was revealed.

She had been foully murdered.

With quick heart-beating I examined the eye carefully, finding symptoms of death from some deliriant – a neurotic acting on the brain and producing delirium, presbyopia, and coma. Certain it was that if this were actually the Tempter’s work, he was a veritable artist in crime, for the manner in which death had been caused was extremely difficult to determine.

Finding myself undisturbed there, I made further and more searching examination, until I held the opinion that death must have been almost, if not quite, instantaneous.

But such theory did not coincide with the screams that had escaped her. On reviewing the whole of the circumstances, I felt confident that she must have been fully conscious at the time, and that those shrieks were shrieks of terror. She had divined the intention of her enemies.

About the vicinity of the bed I searched for any bottle of medicine that might be there, but in vain. If she had really been ill previously, as the Tempter had alleged, the medicine prescribed might give me some clue to the nature of her disease.

Upon a chair close by, her bridal veil of Brussels lace was lying crumpled in a heap, while her gown of white satin was hanging upon the door-knob of the handsome wardrobe. The orange-blossoms diffused their perfume over the room, but to me it was a sickly odour emblematic of the grave.

My wife, the most beautiful woman upon whom my eyes had ever fallen, was lifeless – struck down by the hand of a murderer.

As I bent, looking full into the contracted pupil, I suddenly detected something half concealed in the lace edging of the pillow. I drew it forth, and found it to be a crumpled letter, which I spread out and read. It had evidently been treasured there, just as invalids treasure beneath the bolster all the correspondence they receive.

In an angular hand, evidently masculine, was written the simple words, without address or signature, “I have seen La Gioia!”

Who, I wondered, was “La Gioia”? Was it a happy meeting or a disconcerting one? The announcement was bare enough, without comment and without detail. Significant, no doubt, it had been received by her and kept secret beneath her pillow.

I started across the room to investigate my dead wife’s surroundings and to learn, if possible, by observation, something concerning her life. A room is often indicative of a woman’s character, and always of her habits. The apartment was, I found, artistic and luxurious, while the few books lying about showed her to be a woman of education, culture, and refinement. Upon a little side-table, concealed behind a pile of books, I found a small blue bottle which, taking up, I held to the light, and afterwards uncorked and smelt, wondering whether its odour would give me any clue to its composition. The bottle contained pure chloroform.

Once more I crossed to the bed when, of a sudden, I again felt that strange sensation in my mouth and throat, both of which seemed to contract until my breathing became difficult. I felt half strangled. I fought against the curious feeling that crept over me, but a dizziness seized me, and I was compelled to clutch the foot of the bed in order to steady myself.

My mouth was burning, my head reeling, while my lower limbs seemed to have, in that moment, become cold, benumbed, and devoid of all feeling. I held my breath, determined to battle against the faintness; but all was useless. Sharp, acute pains shot through my legs as though red-hot wires were being thrust through my muscles, and a second later I became seized by a kind of paralysis which held my jaws immovable.

I placed my hands to my parched lips, and found that they had swollen to an enormous size. My tongue seemed too large for my mouth, and my throat so small that I could not swallow.

My head was swimming, but nevertheless I strove to calmly consider my situation. The symptoms were plain enough, and could not be mistaken. The Egyptian cigarette which the Major had given me had been strongly impregnated with some deleterious and poisonous substance.

I had, after all, fallen a hapless victim to my enemies, for by moistening the cigarette I had absorbed the poison, and, by the rapidity with which my mouth was swelling.

I knew that I had been given a fatal dose. With set teeth I stood trying to bear up against the sudden paroxysm of agony, but so excruciating was it that it proved too much. A loud cry escaped me. Writhing in the awful pains that gripped me from head to foot, I grew so weak that my legs refused to support me. Then, out of sheer exhaustion, I sank upon the floor, and the rest became blotted out in unconsciousness.

Chapter Five

Outward Bound

Strange noises aroused me slowly to a sense of my helplessness. My head seemed heavy as lead, my brain incapable of receiving any impression, my throat contracted as though by a diphtheritic swelling.

A low continued roaring sounded in my ears, accompanied by a curious unusual jarring. Slow to fully realise my position, it was some moments before I became convinced that the regular throbbing beneath my head was caused by machinery, and that the steady motion to and fro was the rocking of the waves.

I opened my eyes and found that it was broad daylight. To the left was a round opening closed by glass – a porthole through which the summer sun was shining, its rays being shut out now and then by the bright green water that rose against it as the waves hissed past. I was on board a ship at sea. The cabin was a narrow, rather dirty place, and the mattress on which I was lying was hard, being filled with straw. It was not a passenger cabin, that was certain, for the beams across were black and dirty, and swinging on a nail were a set of unclean yellow oil-skins and a sou’-wester.

So sudden and unaccountable had been my transition from the bed-chamber in that mysterious house of the Wynds’, wherein my wife had been murdered, to that narrow pallet out at sea, that at first I could not believe it possible. I raised myself and looked around in wonder, half inclined to believe that the past events had been but a dream.

In that instant all the curious circumstances which had followed my call to the house with the big portico came vividly before me in rapid succession, the crafty actions of the Tempter and my wife’s marvellous beauty most of all. With her, I had fallen a victim to the two ingenious conspirators, her father and the Major. It had, no doubt, been intended that I should die; yet certain of the Tempter’s actions seemed out of keeping with the others, thus rendering the enigma more complete.

The pains in my head and the swelling in my mouth and throat were sufficient, however, to prove that the past was no chimera of the imagination. I had met with an adventure stranger, perhaps, than that experienced by any other man, for I had been both bridegroom and widower within an hour.

With some little difficulty I rose, but my legs were weak and cramped, and this, combined with the rolling of the ship, caused me to quickly seat myself on the edge of the narrow berth. My nerves were unstrung, my brain dulled, and the giddiness that seized me was such as I had never before experienced. It was not mal de mer, for I had travelled much by sea and had never experienced nausea, even in roughest weather. No; I had, by moistening the cigarette with the saliva, absorbed a strong dose of some anaesthetic, and its effect had been to a great extent irritant as well. Only my robust constitution had succeeded in throwing it off; the dose must, I felt confident, have killed a weaker man.

In a few minutes I succeeded in standing erect, and struggled to the cabin door. I turned the handle, but could not open it. I was locked in.

Again I seated myself upon my mattress and tried to calmly review the situation. Of a sudden I bethought myself of the amulet I had taken from the neck of my dead wife, and thrusting my hand into my pocket, was gratified to find it still there, together with a pair of white gloves that the Tempter had given me.

I took it out and carefully examined it. The chain was a very fine but strong one, and the curious little charm of plain gold on that side that would lay against the skin, was beautifully set with diamonds which now sparkled and flashed with a thousand fires in the brilliant sunset. About an inch and a half long, it was of most delicate workmanship. I had seen in jewellers’ windows in Bond Street and Regent Street many articles of jewellery – brooches, breast-pins, and the like – in the form of a note of interrogation, but never one made in this manner. It was different to all the others, a costly ornament without doubt, for all the stones were well matched, and, as far as I could judge, not being an expert, of the first water.

What was its significance, I wondered, as it lay in the palm of my hand. It was a souvenir of her – a souvenir of the woman who was my legal wife, and who had fallen a victim beneath the cruel hand of an assassin.

The crumpled scrap of paper I had also secured I brought from my pocket and likewise examined. The words upon it were in a man’s hand without a doubt – an educated hand which, by its angularity and the formation of the letters might possibly have been acquired on the Continent.

“I have seen La Gioia!”

The words conveyed some distinct message or warning which I could not determine. One fact was, however, plain; if I could discover this mysterious “La Gioia,” be she a woman or an object, I might perhaps ascertain the true meaning of the words, the reason they were penned, and the motive Beryl had in thus treasuring them beneath her pillow.

A desire possessed me to escape from that narrow place wherein the air was stifling. The porthole was screwed down so tightly that I could not move it without a wrench, and the place seemed hermetically sealed.

By the terrible racket of the machinery and the strong smell of tar and oil I felt certain that it was no passenger steamer by which I was travelling. Everywhere were traces of black dust. I dipped my finger in some of it, examining it closely; it was coal dust. The ship was a collier.

I rose again, and taking up a stout piece of wood lying on the floor, battered heavily at the door, demanding release. But the clash and roar of the rickety engines drowned my voice, and I feared that no one could hear me above the din.

A strong sea was running, although the sun shone brightly. We were evidently somewhere in the Channel, but from my porthole I could see no land.

Again and again I battered furiously, until of a sudden I heard gruff voices, and the door was unlocked and opened cautiously, disclosing two rough-looking bronzed seamen, dark-bearded and dressed in patched and faded dungareen.

“Well, mister,” exclaimed the elder of the two, “what’s the fuss?”

“No fuss at all,” I responded. “I only want to be let out.”

“No doubt,” he responded, with a grin at his companion. “You’d like a breath of fresh air – eh?”

“Yes, I should.”

“But sea-air ain’t good for your constitution mister, so you’ll have to stop here. You’ve got a cabin all to yourself, so what more do you want? Perhaps you’d like a bloomin’ saloon?”

“Look here, my man,” I said, as calmly as I could, “just do me a favour and ask your captain to step down here. I’d like to speak to him before the farce proceeds further. You’re only obeying orders by locking me up here, of that I’m sure. But just tell the captain that I’m better, and want to have a word with him.”

Both men looked somewhat surprised.

“We were goin’ to have a look at you in a few minutes, and see whether you’d come to, if you hadn’t have kicked up such a confounded row.”

“Well, go and tell the captain I want to see him,” I said, endeavouring to smile.

“All right, sir, I will,” answered the man; “but I’ll have to lock the door again.”

“Very well,” I laughed. “Only don’t starve me, remember.” The situation seemed humorous.

Both men grinned broadly; the door was closed, and I heard one remark to the other in true cockney English —

“’E ain’t such a vi’lent fellow, after all, Bill.” Five minutes later the door was again opened, and a burly, full-bearded, black-eyed man in a pea-jacket and peaked cap entered the cabin.

“You are the captain, I presume?” I said.

“That’s me,” he answered, leaning against the wooden partition opposite my bunk.

“Well,” I said, “I’d like to know by what right you lock me up here? I’ve been unconscious for a long time, and on coming to myself, I find I’m here onboard your ship at sea, imprisoned, and not allowed out.”

“You’re in here for the benefit of your health,” he answered roughly. “A sea voyage’ll do you good.”

“Then perhaps you’ll tell me the name of the ship on board which I’m taking this pleasure trip?” I said sarcastically.

“Better find that out.”

“No very difficult matter, I suppose,” I answered quite coolly. “Only I should like to point out that even though you may be skipper of this coal hulk, you have no right to imprison me here.”

“I shall do just as I like, cocky,” he responded. “And further, you’d best be quiet and keep a still tongue, or perhaps you won’t see land again.”

“That’s certainly a very genteel speech,” I said; “and perhaps the British Consul at your port of destination will have something to say regarding your conduct.”

“I don’t care a brass button for all the blanked consuls in the whole Consular Service,” he replied, with a coarse laugh. “You are on board my ship, and I’ll give you to understand now, once and for all, that I’m master here.”

“Perhaps you’ll pipe to a different tune when your master’s certificate is suspended for a year or two.”

“It ’ud take a better man than you to suspend it. While you’re on board this craft, it’ll be a wise policy to keep a still tongue in your head.”

“And it will be wiser if you allow me my liberty, and just tell me how and why I came aboard here.”

“You were brought here, but for what reason I don’t know.”

“And who brought me here?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t on board when you arrived.”

“The ship was lying in the Thames, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he answered. “It wasn’t on Clapham Common, that’s a certainty.”

“And where are we now?”

“At sea.”

“I’m aware of that, but in what sea – the Channel, the North Sea, or the Atlantic?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Just breathe the ozone, and make yourself comfortable. That’s all you have to do,” he responded, with his bearded chin thrust forward, in an air of unconcern.

“Well, you haven’t provided many creature comforts for me,” I remarked, with a glance round the stuffy little place.

“No, this isn’t exactly a Cunarder,” he admitted. “But I’ll tell the men to bring you some grub, at any rate. Like some duff?”

“You’re very kind; but I’d rather take a walk on deck in order to get an appetite.”

“No; the sun’s a bit too strong,” he answered waggishly. “You might get sunstroke, you know.”

“I shall be asphyxiated if I remain here.”

“Well, that’s a comfortable death, I believe. More than one chap has died for want o’ breath in the hold of this ship when we’ve been trimmin’ coal.”

“Then you refuse me my liberty?” I said, feeling that to argue pleasantly was useless.

“Yes, you’ve got to stay ’ere.”

“By whose orders?”

“That’s my own business,” he growled.

“And mine also,” I responded firmly. “You may be skipper of this craft, but you are not a gaoler, you know.”

“I’m your gaoler, at any rate.”

“That remains to be seen,” I answered. “I suppose you’ve been paid to take me out of the country, like this; but I may as well warn you that you are aiding and abetting a murder, and that when you get ashore you’ll find yourself in a very nasty position.”

“With the Consul, eh?” he laughed. “Well, they’re a decent lot, as a rule. We don’t get much trouble with ’em if we deposit our papers in order.”

“But if I demanded your arrest for illegal imprisonment?”

“I don’t fancy you’d do that, mister,” he responded with sarcasm. “It might be a bit of a bother for me in England, but the foreign police are a bit chary of touching a British capt’n.”