The Garotters | Page 4

ROBERTS: 'Is that you, Edward? So dark here! We ought really
to keep the gas turned up all the time.'
MR. ROBERTS, in a muffled voice, from without: 'Yes, it's I.'
MRS. ROBERTS: 'Well, hurry in to the fire, do! Ugh, what a storm!
Do you suppose anybody will come? You must be half frozen, you
poor thing! Come quick, or you'll certainly perish!' She flies from the
portiere to the fire burning on the hearth, pokes it, flings on a log,
jumps back, brushes from her dress with a light shriek the sparks driven
out upon it, and continues talking incessantly in a voice lifted for her
husband to hear in the anteroom. 'If I'd dreamed it was any such storm
as this, I should never have let you go out in it in the world. It wasn't at
all necessary to have the flowers. I could have got on perfectly well,
and I believe NOW the table would look better without them. The
chrysanthemums would have been quite enough; and I know you've
taken more cold. I could tell it by your voice as soon as you spoke; and
just as quick as they're gone to-night I'm going to have you bathe your
feet in mustard and hot water, and take eight of aconite, and go straight
to bed. And I don't want you to eat very much at dinner, dear, and you
must be sure not to drink any coffee, or the aconite won't be of the least
use.' She turns and encounters her husband, who enters through the
portiere, his face pale, his eyes wild, his white necktie pulled out of
knot, and his shirt front rumpled. 'Why, Edward, what in the world is
the matter? What has happened?'
ROBERTS, sinking into a chair: 'Get me a glass of water, Agnes--
wine--whisky--brandy--'

MRS. ROBERTS, bustling wildly about: 'Yes, yes. But what--Bella!
Bridget! Maggy!--Oh, I'll go for it myself, and I WON'T stop to listen!
Only--only don't die!' While Roberts remains with his eyes shut, and
his head sunk on his breast in token of extreme exhaustion, she
disappears and reappears through the door leading to her chamber, and
then through the portiere cutting off the dining- room. She finally
descends upon her husband with a flagon of cologne in one hand, a
small decanter of brandy in the other, and a wineglass held in the
hollow of her arm against her breast. She contrives to set the glass
down on the mantel and fill it from the flagon, then she turns with the
decanter in her hand, and while she presses the glass to her husband's
lips, begins to pour the brandy on his head. 'Here! this will revive you,
and it'll refresh you to have this cologne on your head.'
ROBERTS, rejecting a mouthful of the cologne with a furious sputter,
and springing to his feet: 'Why, you've given me the cologne to DRINK,
Agnes! What are you about? Do you want to poison me? Isn't it enough
to be robbed at six o'clock on the Common, without having your head
soaked in brandy, and your whole system scented up like a barber's
shop, when you get home?'
MRS. ROBERTS: 'Robbed?' She drops the wineglass, puts the decanter
down on the hearth, and carefully bestowing the flagon of cologne in
the wood-box, abandons herself to justice: 'Then let them come for me
at once, Edward! If I could have the heart to send you out in such a
night as this for a few wretched rosebuds, I'm quite equal to poisoning
you. Oh, Edward, WHO robbed you?'
ROBERTS: 'That's what I don't know.' He continues to wipe his head
with his handkerchief, and to sputter a little from time to time. 'All I
know is that when I got--phew!--to that dark spot by the Frog Pond,
just by--phew!--that little group of--phew!--evergreens, you
know--phew!--'
MRS. ROBERTS: 'Yes, yes; go on! I can bear it, Edward.'
ROBERTS: '--a man brushed heavily against me, and then hurried on in
the other direction. I had unbuttoned my coat to look at my watch under
the lamp-post, and after he struck against me I clapped my hand to my
waistcoat, and--phew!--'
MRS. ROBERTS: 'Waistcoat! Yes!'
ROBERTS: '--found my watch gone.'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'What! Your watch? The watch Willis gave you?
Made out of the gold that he mined himself when he first went out to
California? Don't ask me to believe it, Edward! But I'm only too glad
that you escaped with your life. Let them have the watch and welcome.
Oh, nay dear, dear husband!' She approaches him with extended arms,
and then suddenly arrests herself. 'But you've got it on!'
ROBERTS, with as much returning dignity as can comport with his
dishevelled appearance: 'Yes; I took it from him.' At