_ PART I CHAPTER XXIV. THE OPENING OF THE DOOR
"Allegro!"
The utterance was very faint, yet it reached Olga, sitting, as she had sat for hours, by her friend's side, watching the long, still slumber that had followed Max's draught.
She bent instantly over the girl upon the bed, and warmly clasped her hand. "I am here, darling."
The shadows were lengthening. Evening was drawing on. Very soon it would be dark.
"Allegro!" The low voice said again. It held a note of unutterable weariness, yet there was pleading in it too. The hand Olga had taken closed with a faint, answering pressure.
"Are you wanting anything?" whispered Olga, her face close to the face upon the pillow, the beautiful face she had watched, with what a passion of devotion, during the long, long afternoon.
"Have you been here all the time?" murmured Violet.
"Yes, dear."
"How sweet of you, Allegro!" The dark eyes opened wider; they seemed to be watching something very intently, something that Olga could not see. "I suppose you thought I was asleep," she said.
"Yes, dear."
"I wasn't," said Violet. "I was just--away."
Olga was silent. The clasp of her hand was very close.
"My dear," Violet said, "I've been there again."
"Where, dearest?"
"I've been right up to the Gate of Heaven," she said. "It's very lovely up there, Allegro. I wanted to stay."
"Did you, dear?"
"Yes. I didn't mean to come back again. I didn't want to come back." A sudden spasm contracted her brows. "What happened before I went, Allegro? I'm sure something happened."
Very tenderly Olga sought to reassure her. "You were ill, dear. You were upset. But you are better now. Don't let us think about it."
"Ah! I remember!" Violet raised herself abruptly. Her eyes shone wide with terror in the failing light. "Allegro!" she said. "I--killed him!"
"No, no, dear!" Olga's hand tenderly pressed her down again. "He is only--a little--hurt. You didn't know what you were doing."
But recollection was dawning in the seething brain. One memory after another pierced through the turmoil. "I had to do it!" she whispered. "He is so cruel. He keeps me back. He holds the door when I want to get away. Allegro, why won't he let me go? I'm nothing to him. He doesn't love me. He doesn't--even--hate me." A great shudder ran through her. She fell back upon the pillow as though her strength were gone. "Oh, why won't he open the door and let me go?" She moaned piteously. "Why does he keep bringing me back? I know I shall kill him. I shall be driven to it. And it's such a horrible thing to do--that dreadful soft feeling under the knife, and the blood--the blood--oh, Allegro!"
She tried to raise herself again, and was caught into Olga's arms. She turned her face into her neck and shuddered.
"I'm not mad now," she whispered. "Really I'm not mad now! But I soon shall be. I can feel it coming back. My brain is like--a fiery wheel. Oh, don't let it come again, Allegro! Help me--help me to get away--before it comes again!"
Olga strained her to her heart, saying no word.
"They'll shut me up," the broken whisper continued. "I shall never find my soul again. I shan't even have you, and there's no one else I love. All the rest are strangers. Only he will come and look at me with his cruel, cold green eyes, and I shall kill him--I know I shall kill him--unless they bind me hand and foot. Allegro! Allegro!" She was shivering violently now. "Perhaps they will do that. It's happened before, hasn't it? 'Bound hand and foot and cast into outer darkness.' That's hell, isn't it? Oh, Olga, shall I be sent to hell if I kill him?"
"My darling, hush, hush!" Olga's arms held her faster still. "There is no such place," she said--"at least not in the sense you mean. You are torturing yourself, dear one, and you mustn't. Don't dwell on these dreadful things! You are quite, quite safe, here in my arms, with the love of God round us. Think of that, and don't be afraid!"
"But I am afraid," moaned Violet. "It's the outer darkness, Allegro. And you won't be there. And the door will be shut--always shut. Oh, can't you do anything to save me? You're not like Max. You're not paid to keep people back. Can't you--can't you find a way out for me? Couldn't you open the prison-door before he comes again, and let me slip through? I've never been a prisoner before. I've always come and gone as I liked. And now--twice over--he has dragged me back from the Gate of Paradise. Oh, Allegro, I shall never get there unless you help me. Quick, dear, quick! Help me now!"
She had turned in Olga's arms. She raised an imploring face. She clung about her neck.
"Isn't there a way of escape?" she urged feverishly. "Can't you think of one?"
But Olga looked back in silence, white and still.
"Allegro, don't you love me? Don't you want me to be happy?" Incredulity, despair were in the pleading voice. "Don't you believe in paradise either, Allegro? Do you want me to be shut away in the dark--buried alive--buried alive?"
There was suddenly a note of anguish in the appeal. Violet drew herself slowly away, as though her friend's arms had ceased to be a haven to her.
But instantly, with a swiftness that was passionate, Olga caught her back.
"I would die for you, my darling! I would sell my soul for you!" she said, and fierce mother-love throbbed in her voice. "But what can I do? O God! what can I do?"
Her voice broke, and she stilled it sharply, as if taken off her guard.
"Can't you open the door for me?" Violet begged again. "Don't you know how?"
But still Olga had no answer for the cry. Only she held her fast.
There followed a long, long pause; then again Violet spoke, more collectedly than she had spoken at all.
"Do you know what that man said to me this morning? He told me I should be a homicidal maniac--like my mother. I didn't realize at the time what that meant. I was too horrified. I know now. And it was the truth. That's what I want you to save me from. Allegro, won't you save me?"
"My darling, how can I?" The words were spoken below Olga's breath. The gathering darkness was closing upon them both.
Violet freed a hand and softly stroked her cheek. "Don't be afraid, dear! No one--but I--will ever know. And I-- Allegro, I shall bless you for ever and ever. Wait!" She suddenly started, with caught breath. "Are we alone?"
"Mrs. Briggs is outside, dear," Olga told her gently.
"Oh! Dear old Nanny! She would never hold me back. She would understand. Do you remember how she told us--that afternoon--about her mother?"
Yes, well Olga remembered. She had never forgotten. Back upon her mind flashed that vivid memory, and with it the memory of Max's eyes, green and intent, searching her face on the night that he had asked, "What do you know about the pain-killer?"
Violet's voice brought her back. "Where is he, Allegro? Is he still here?"
"No." Almost unconsciously Olga also spoke in a whisper. "He has gone back to Weir," she said. "He had to go; but--"
"But he will come back?" gasped Violet.
"Yes."
"Ah! And he may be here--at any time?" The words came quick and feverish; again that painful trembling seized her.
"He won't come in here," Olga said steadfastly.
"He will! He will!" breathed Violet. "I know him. There is nothing--he will not do--for the sake of his--profession." She broke off, gripping Olga with tense strength. "And I've nothing to defend myself with!" she panted. "They have taken--the knife--away!"
Tenderly Olga soothed her panic. "It will be all right, dear. I can take care of you. I can keep him away."
Violet relaxed against her again, exhausted rather than reassured. "And where is Nick?" she murmured presently.
"Downstairs, darling; in the hall."
"On guard," said Violet quickly. "What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?"
"My dearest, no! Only he wouldn't leave me. You know what pals we are," urged Olga. "Besides, you like Nick."
"Oh, yes; he amuses me. He is clever, isn't he? What was that he said about--about the opening--and the shutting--of a Door?"
Spasmodically the words fell. The failing brain was making desperate efforts against the gathering dark.
"He was speaking of Death," said Olga, her voice very low.
"Yes, yes! He said he wouldn't be afraid. And I'm sure he knew. He must have seen Death very often."
"I don't know, darling."
"Of course, the opening of the Door is to let us escape," ran on the feverish whisper. "And then it shuts, and we can't get back. But no one ever wants to get back, Allegro. Who ever wanted to go back into the prison-house--and the dreadful, dreadful dark?"
But Olga made no answer. With set face and quiet eyes she was waiting. And already at the heart of her she knew that when the moment came she would not flinch.
"And how lovely to be free--to be free!" Soft and eager came the whisper from her breast. "Never to be dragged back any more. To leave the dark behind for ever and ever. For it isn't dark up there, you know. It's never dark up there. You can see the light shining even through the Gates. And God couldn't be angry, Allegro. Do you think He could?"
"Not with you, my darling! Not with you!"
"So you'll let me go," said Violet, with growing earnestness. "You'll help me to go, Allegro? You will? You will?"
"My darling, I will!" Quick and passionate came the answer. The time had come.
For a few moments the arms that held her tightened to an almost fierce embrace; then slowly relaxed.
"Dear heart, I knew you would," said Violet.
She leaned back upon her pillow as Olga gently let her go, and through the deepening dusk she watched her with eyes of perfect trust.
There followed a pause, the tinkle of glass, the sound of liquid being poured out. Then Olga was with her again, very still and quiet.
Softly the door opened. "Anything I can do, Miss Olga?" murmured Mrs. Briggs.
"Nothing, thank you," said Olga.
"That young Dr. Wyndham--'e's just come back," said Mrs. Briggs.
Olga turned for a moment from the bed. The glass was in her hand.
"Go down to him, Mrs. Briggs," she said. "Ask him to wait five minutes."
"Allegro!" There was agonized appeal in the cry.
She turned back instantly. "It's all right, dearest. It's all right. Mind how you take it! There! Let me! Your hand is trembling."
She leaned over her friend, supporting her, holding the glass to her lips.
"Drink it slowly!" she whispered to the quivering girl. "You are quite safe--quite safe."
And Violet drank,--at first feverishly, then more steadily, and at last she took the glass into her own hand and slowly drained it. Olga waited beside her, took it quietly from her; set it down.
"Quite comfy, sweetheart?"
"Quite," said Violet. And then, "Come quite close, Allegro dear!"
Olga sat down upon the bed, and took her into her arms, "You don't mind the dark?" she whispered.
And Violet answered. "No. I've passed it. I'm not afraid of anything now."
There fell a silence between them. A great, all-enveloping peace had succeeded the turmoil. Violet's breathing was short but not difficult. She lay nestled in the sheltering arms like a weary child. And slowly the seconds slipped away.
There came a faint sound outside the door as of muffled movements, and Cork, from his post at the foot of the bed, raised his head and deeply growled.
Sleepily the head on Olga's shoulder stirred. "It doesn't matter now," said Violet's voice, speaking softly. "He can never bring me back again." And then, still more softly, in a kind of breathless ecstasy, "The Door is opening, Allegro--darling! Let me--go!"
The words went into a deep sigh that somehow did not seem to end. Olga waited a moment or two, listening tensely, then rose and laid her very tenderly back upon the pillow. She knew that even as she did so, her friend passed through ...
Slowly she turned from the bed, as one in a dream, unconscious of tragedy, untouched by fear or agitation or any emotion whatsoever. All feeling seemed to be unaccountably suspended.
The figure of a big man met her on the threshold. She looked at him with wide, incurious eyes, recognizing him without surprise.
"You are too late," she said.
He started, and bent to look at her closely.
From the deep shadow behind her arose Cork's ominous growl. She turned back into the room.
"May I come in?" Sir Kersley asked in his gentle voice.
With her hand upon Cork's collar, she answered him. "Yes, come in. I am afraid it is rather dark. Will you wait while Mrs. Briggs brings a candle?"
Someone else had entered behind Sir Kersley. She heard a quick, decided tread; and again more ferociously Cork growled.
"Take that dog away!" ordered Max.
Mechanically she moved to obey, Cork accompanying her reluctantly. In the passage she found a strange woman in a nurse's uniform, and Nick. He came to her instantly, and she felt his arm about her with a vague sensation of relief.
"Still sleeping?" he asked.
She answered him quite calmly; at that moment it was no effort to be calm.
"No, Nick; she has gone away."
"What?" he said sharply.
"Won't you take her downstairs?" interposed the nurse, and Olga wondered a little at the compassion in her voice. "She would be the better for a cup of tea."
"So she would," said Nick. "Come along, Olga _mia!_"
His arm was about her still. They went down the wide dim stairs, he and she and the great wolf-hound who submitted to Olga's hand upon him though plainly against his own judgment.
There were candles in the hall, making the vast place seem more vast and ghostly. The east window was discernible only as a vague oblong patch of grey against the surrounding darkness.
"The electric light has gone wrong," said Nick, as she looked at him in momentary surprise.
"I see," she said. "It must have been the storm." She looked down at Cork pacing beside her. "Poor fellow!" she murmured. "He doesn't understand."
"Come and sit down!" said Nick.
Tea had been spread in the place of luncheon. He led her to the table and pulled forward a chair. She sank into it with a sudden shiver.
"Cold?" he said.
"Yes, horribly cold, Nick," she answered.
She tried to smile, but her lips were too stiff. A very curious feeling was creeping over her, a species of cramp that was mental as well as physical. She leaned back in her chair, staring straight before her, seeing nothing.
Nick went round to the tea-pot. She heard him pouring out, but she could not turn her head.
"I ought to do that," she said.
"All right, dear. I'm capable," he answered.
And then in his deft fashion he came to her with the cup, and sat on the arm of her chair, holding it for her.
"Don't try to talk," he said. "Just drink this and sit still."
She leaned her head against him, feeling his vitality as one feels the throb of an electric battery.
"Do you think God is angry with me, Nick?" she said. "She wanted to go--so dreadfully."
"God is never angry with any of us," he answered softly. "We are not big enough for that. There, drink it, sweetheart! It will do you good."
She raised her two hands slowly, feeling as if they were weighted with iron fetters. With flickering eyes he watched her, in a fashion compelling though physically he could not help. She lifted the cup and drank.
The candlelight reeled and danced in her eyes. Her dazed senses began to awake. "Nick!" she exclaimed suddenly and sharply.
"Here, darling!" came his prompt reply.
She set down the empty cup, and clasped her hands tightly together. "Nick!" she said again, in a voice of rising distress.
His hand slid down and held hers. "What is it, kiddie?"
She turned to him impulsively. "Oh, Nick, I've made a great mistake--a great mistake! I ought not to have let her go alone. She will be frightened. I should have gone with her."
"My child," Nick said, "for God's sake--don't say any more! This isn't the time."
And even as she wondered at the unwonted vehemence of his speech, she knew that they were no longer alone.
Max came swiftly through the shadowy archway and moved straight towards her. A white sling dangled from his neck, but it was empty. She thought his hands were clenched.
Scarcely knowing what she did, she rose to meet him, forcing her rigid limbs into action. He came to her; he took her by the shoulders.
"Olga," he said, "how did this happen?"
She faced him, but even as she did so she was conscious of an awful coldness overwhelming her, as though at his touch her whole body had turned to ice. His eyes looked straight into hers, searching her with intolerable minuteness, probing her through and through. And from those eyes she shrank in nameless terror; for they were the eyes of her dream, green, ruthless, terrible. He looked to her like a man whose will might compel the dead.
For a long, long space he held her so, silent but merciless. She did not attempt to resist him. She felt that he had already forced his way past her defences, that he was as it were dissecting and analyzing her very soul. She had not answered his question, but she knew that he would not repeat it. She knew that he did not need an answer.
And then the coldness that bound her became by slow degrees a numbness, paralyzing her faculties, extinguishing all her powers. There arose a great uproar in her brain, the swirl as of great waters engulfing her. She raised her head with a desperate gesture. She met the searching of his eyes, and goaded as it were to self-defence, with the last of her strength, she told him the simple truth.
"I have opened the Door!" she said. "I have set her free!"
She thought his face changed at her words, but she could not see very clearly. She had begun to slip down and down, faster and ever faster into a fathomless abyss of darkness from which there was no deliverance. And as she went she heard his voice above her, brief, distinct, merciless: "And you will pay the price." ... The darkness closed over her head.... _