The Crime and the Criminal. Marsh Richard

VI

      A CONFESSION

      "He will be all right now."

      The voice seemed to come to me out of the land of dreams. I seemed to be in a dream myself. What I saw, I seemed to see in a dream. It was some moments before I realised that the man bending over me was Ferguson, our doctor; that I was lying undressed in bed; that my wife was standing by the doctor's side. When I did realise it, I sat up with a start.

      "What's the matter?" I asked. "Have I been ill?"

      It struck me that, as he replied to my question with another, the doctor's eyes were twinkling behind his glasses.

      "How are you feeling?"

      I felt, now that I was once more conscious of any sort of feeling, very far from well. My head was splitting. Everything was dancing before my eyes. I sank back on my pillow with a groan. The doctor laid his hand upon my brow. It felt beautifully soft and cool. He said something to my wife; then he went. Lucy went with him, I presume, to see him out.

      Presently my wife returned. She did not even glance at me as she passed. Going straight to the other side of the room, she began busying herself with something on the dressing-table. I might not have been there for all the notice she took of me. I could not make her demeanour out at all. Indeed, the whole proceedings were mysterious to me. She was wont to be so solicitous when I was ill.

      "What's the time?" I asked.

      "Half-past four."

      That was all she said. She never turned her head to say that. The silence became oppressive. "How long have I been lying here?"

      "It's an hour since the cabman rang the bell."

      "The cabman?" It all came back to me with a rush. The appearance of the apparition-the face I had seen gleaming at me through the darkness; the sudden blank which followed. I half rose in bed. "Has she gone?" I cried.

      Then Lucy did turn round. Words came from between her lips as if they were icicles.

      "Mr. Tennant, to whom are you alluding as 'she'? Have you not yet grasped the fact that you are in the presence of your wife?"

      Then I perceived that I was misunderstood. I lay down again. Seldom had I felt so ill. I closed my eyes; even then I saw things dancing about. This unkindness of Lucy's was the final straw. I could have cried.

      "My dear, why do you speak to me like that? What has happened?"

      "I will tell you what has happened. I can quite understand how it is you do not know. You came home, Mr. Tennant, in such a condition that when you got out of the cab which brought you, you could not stand. Had the cabman not been a good Samaritan you might have lain in the gutter till the milkman came. If the milkman had found you it would, of course, have been pleasant both for your wife and family. I thought you were dead. I sent for Dr. Ferguson; but, when he came, he informed me that you were only" – what a stress she laid upon the adverb! – "drunk."

      I knew that she misjudged me-that she had not even an inkling of the situation I was in. But at that moment I could not even hint at it. She went on-

      "I don't know, Mr. Tennant, how much money you went out with. You have come back with 1s. 3d. in your pockets."

      That "Good Samaritan" of a cabman must have robbed me. I felt sure that I had more than 1s. 3d. when I got into his cab.

      "You have broken your watch; you have spoiled your clothes, and you appear to have either given away or lost your hat. The cabman said that you were not wearing one when you engaged him."

      That I could hardly believe. What could I have done with it? It seemed incredible that I could have driven to Hackney and back without a hat.

      "I may add that, if you take my advice, at the earliest possible moment you will have a bath." She moved towards the door. "I am going to try to get some sleep in the spare room."

      I could not bear to think of her leaving me like that. I called to her, "Lucy."

      "Well?"

      "You are hard on me. I have been dining with MacCulloch."

      "I don't know who MacCulloch may be, but next time you dine with him if you give me warning I will keep a doctor waiting on the premises ready for your return."

      "Lucy! You would not speak to me like that if you knew all. I am in great trouble."

      Her tone changed on the instant. She came towards the bed.

      "Tom! What do you mean!"

      "I know that I have been a fool, and worse. Even you don't know how great a fool I have been. To-night I have been trying to drown thought."

      She knelt on the floor beside the bed, stretching out her hands to me across the coverlet.

      "Tom! You're not playing with me, as they say some husbands do play with their wives? Tell me what you mean?"

      I found this tone harder to bear than the other. A shudder went all over me. I closed my eyes. What did I mean? How could I tell her? My throat went dry and husky-a condition which was not owing to the potations of the night.

      "I've been a good husband to you, haven't I? I've tried to be."

      "My darling, you've been the best husband in the world. That's what makes this seem so strange." She alluded to the events of the night. "Why have you been so silly?" Putting her arms about my neck, she drew me towards her.

      "You have no conception how silly I have been."

      She laid her cool cheek against my fevered one. "Tell me all about it. Is it money?"

      "Money would be nothing."

      Her voice sank. "What is it?"

      "It is something which happened last night."

      I felt her shiver. "I knew it. I felt there was something wrong when you came in, although you would not own there was."

      "I was afraid to tell you."

      She drew closer to me. Again her voice dropped to a whisper. "What was it, Tom?"

      "It was something which happened in the train." I paused. My tongue seemed to stick in my throat. "When we left Brighton a woman got into my carriage."

      "A woman?" She withdrew herself a little. Then I felt that I could not tell her who the woman was; at least, not then.

      "She had been drinking. At least, so I suppose. As soon as the train started she began to quarrel."

      "To quarrel?"

      "Yes. I was afraid there would be a row. You know the express does not stop between London and Brighton. I did not know whether to pull the alarm-bell or not. I made up my mind to try to leave my carriage and get into the next."

      "Do you mean while the train was moving?"

      "Yes. I thought it better to run the risk than to stop the train, and have a scene, and, possibly, a scandal. One never knows what may come of being mixed up in that sort of thing with a woman."

      "Well?"

      "She tried to stop me leaving the carriage, and in trying she fell out."

      "Tom!" Taking her cheek away from mine, Lucy looked me in the face. "Fell out?"

      "Yes."

      "While the train was moving?"

      I nodded.

      "How awful! She might have been hurt! What did you do?"

      "That's where my folly began. I did nothing."

      She continued to stare at me, evidently not comprehending. My task was getting more and more difficult. After all, I almost wished that I had not begun it.

      "It was all so sudden, and I was so bewildered that I lost my head."

      "Then don't you know what became of her?"

      "I did not know till the evening papers appeared. She was killed."

      "Killed!" Lucy's arms were still about my neck. I felt them give a convulsive twitch. "What did you do when you knew she was killed?"

      "Went