The Woman in the Alcove | Page 8

as
his eyes encountered those of Mr. Ramsdell, who was advancing
hurriedly to meet him, he plunged down the steps with a cry which
drew a crowd about the two in an instant.
What was it? What had happened?
Mad with an anxiety I did not stop to define, I rushed toward this group
now swaying from side to side in irrepressible excitement, when
suddenly everything swam before me and I fell in a swoon to the floor.
Some one had shouted aloud
"Mrs. Fairbrother has been murdered and her diamond stolen! Lock the

doors!"

II
THE GLOVES
I must have remained insensible for many minutes, for when I returned
to full consciousness the supper-room was empty and the two hundred
guests I had left seated at table were gathered in agitated groups about
the hall. This was what I first noted; not till afterward did I realize my
own situation. I was lying on a couch in a remote corner of this same
hall and beside me, but not looking at me, stood my lover, Mr. Durand.
How he came to know my state and find me in the general disturbance I
did not stop to inquire. It was enough for me at that moment to look up
and see him so near. Indeed, the relief was so great, the sense of his
protection so comforting that I involuntarily stretched out my hand in
gratitude toward him, but, failing to attract his attention, slipped to the
floor and took my stand at his side. This roused him and he gave me a
look which steadied me, in spite of the thrill of surprise with which I
recognized his extreme pallor and a certain peculiar hesitation in his
manner not at all natural to it.
Meanwhile, some words uttered near us were slowly making their way
into my benumbed brain. The waiter who had raised the first alarm was
endeavoring to describe to an importunate group in advance of us what
he had come upon in that murderous alcove.
"I was carrying about a tray of ices," he was saying, "and seeing the
lady sitting there, went up. I had expected to find the place full of
gentlemen, but she was all alone, and did not move as I picked my way
over her long train. The next moment I had dropped ices, tray and all. I
bad come face to face with her and seen that she was dead. She had
been stabbed and robbed. There was no diamond on her breast, but
there was blood."
A hubbub of disordered sentences seasoned with horrified cries
followed this simple description. Then a general movement took place
in the direction of the alcove, during which Mr. Durand stooped to my
ear and whispered:
"We must get out of this. You are not strong enough to stand such
excitement. Don't you think we can escape by the window over there?"
"What, without wraps and in such a snowstorm?" I protested. "Besides,

uncle will be looking for me. He came with me, you know."
An expression of annoyance, or was it perplexity, crossed Mr. Durand's
face, and he made a movement as if to leave me.
"I must go," he began, but stopped at my glance of surprise and
assumed a different air--one which became him very much better.
"Pardon me, dear, I will take you to your uncle. This--this dreadful
tragedy, interrupting so gay a scene, has quite upset me. I was always
sensitive to the sight, the smell, even to the very mention of the word
blood."
So was I, but not to the point of cowardice. But then I had not just
come from an interview with the murdered woman. Her glances, her
smiles, the lift of her eyebrows were not fresh memories to me. Some
consideration was certainly due him for the shock he must be laboring
under. Yet I did not know how to keep back the vital question.
"Who did it? You must have heard some one say."
"I have heard nothing," was his somewhat fierce rejoinder. Then, as I
made a move, "What you do not wish to follow the crowd there?"
"I wish to find my uncle, and he is in that crowd."
Mr. Durand said nothing further, and together we passed down the hall.
A strange mood pervaded my mind. Instead of wishing to fly a scene
which under ordinary conditions would have filled me with utter
repugnance, I felt a desire to see and hear everything. Not from
curiosity, such as moved most of the people about me, but because of
some strong instinctive feeling I could not understand; as if it were my
heart which had been struck, and my fate which was trembling in the
balance.
We were consequently among the first