In White Raiment. Le Queux William

Service, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together,” until he came to the first question to which I responded in a voice which sounded strange and cavernous.

      I was selling myself for twenty thousand pounds. The thought caused me a slight twinge of conscience. Turning to the woman at my side, he asked —

      “Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep ye only unto him as long as ye both shall live?”

      A silence fell, deep and complete.

      Two ordinary-looking men, who had entered the church to serve as witnesses, exchanged glances. Then a slight sound escaped my unknown bride, like a low sigh, and we could just distinguish the reply —

      “I will.”

      The remainder of the service was gabbled through. A ring which the Tempter had slipped into my hand I placed upon her finger, and ten minutes later I had signed the register, and was the husband of a woman upon whose face I had never looked.

      The name which she signed with mine was “Beryl Wynd”; beyond that I knew nothing. Utterly bewildered at my position, I sat beside my bride on the drive back, but she preserved silence, and I exchanged no word with her. She shuddered once, as though cold. Her father accompanied us, keeping up a lively conversation during the whole distance.

      Arrived at the house, the woman who had sought me at Rowan Road came forward to meet my bride, and at once accompanied her upstairs, while we entered the dining-room. The two witnesses, who had followed in the second carriage, quickly joined us. The butler Davies opened champagne, and my health, with that of the bride, was drunk in solemn silence. The man with the monocle was absent. Truly my nuptial feast was a strange one.

      A few minutes later, however, I was again alone in the library with the Tempter, whose eyes had grown brighter, and whose face had assumed an even more demoniacal expression. The door was closed, the silence unbroken.

      “So far all has been perfectly satisfactory,” he said, halting upon the hearthrug suddenly and facing me. “There is, however, still one condition to be fulfilled, before I place the money in your hands.”

      “And what is that?” I inquired.

      “That your wife must die before sunset,” he answered, in a hoarse, earnest whisper. “She must die – you understand! It is now half-past twelve.”

      “What?” I cried, starting forward. “You would bribe me to murder your own daughter?”

      He shrugged his thin shoulders, made an impatient movement, his small eyes glittered, and in a cold hard voice, he exclaimed —

      “I said that it is imperative she should die before the money is yours – that is all.”

      Chapter Three

      Concerning a Compact

      “Then you make murder one of the conditions of payment?” I said, facing him.

      “I have only said she must die before sunset,” he answered. “She cannot live, in any case, longer than a few hours. It is easy for you, a doctor, to render her agony brief.”

      “To speak plainly,” I said, with rising indignation, “you wish me to kill her! You offer me twenty thousand pounds, not for marriage, but for the committal of the capital sin.”

      His thin lips twitched nervously and his brows contracted.

      “Ah!” he responded, still quite cool. “I think you view the matter in a wrong light. There are various grades of murder. Surely it is no great crime, but rather a humane action, to put a dying girl out of her agony.”

      “To shorten her life a single minute would be a foul assassination,” I replied, regarding him with loathing. “And further, sir, you do not appear to fully realise your own position, or that it is a penal offence to attempt to bribe a person to take another’s life.”

      He laughed a short, defiant laugh.

      “No, no,” he said. “Please do not waste valuable time by idle chatter of that kind. I assure you that I have no fear whatever of the result of my action. There is no witness here, and if you endeavoured to bring me before a judge, who, pray, would believe you?” There was some truth in those defiant words, and I saw by his attitude that he was not to be trifled with.

      “I take it that you have objects in both your propositions – in your daughter’s marriage, and in her death?” I said, in a more conciliatory tone, hoping to learn something further of the motive of his dastardly proposal.

      “My object is my own affair,” he snapped.

      “And my conscience is my own,” I said. “I certainly do not intend that it shall be burdened by the crime for which you offer me this payment.”

      He fixed me with flaming eyes. “Then you refuse?” he cried.

      “Most certainly I refuse,” I responded. “Moreover, I intend to visit your daughter upstairs, and strive, if possible, to save her.”

      “Save her?” he echoed. “You can’t do that, unless you can perform miracles. But perhaps,” he added with a sneer, “such a virtuous person as yourself may be able to work marvels.”

      “I may be able to save her from assassination,” I answered meaningly.

      “You intend to oppose me?”

      “I intend to prevent you from murdering your own daughter,” I said warmly. “Further, I forbid you to enter her room again. I am a medical man, and have been called in by you to attend her. Therefore, if you attempt to approach her I shall summon the police.”

      “Rubbish!” he laughed, his sinister face now ashen pale. “You cannot prevent me from approaching her bedside.”

      “I can, and I will,” I said. “You have expressed a desire that she should, for some mysterious reasons, die before sunset. You would kill her with your own hand, only you fear that when the doctor came to give his certificate he might discover evidence of foul play.”

      “Exactly,” he responded with perfect coolness, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “It is because of that I offer you twenty thousand pounds. I am prepared to pay for your scientific knowledge.”

      “And for a death certificate?”

      “Of course.”

      “Well, to speak plainly, I consider you an inhuman scoundrel,” I said. “If your daughter’s dying hour is not sacred to you, then no man’s honour or reputation is safe in your hands.”

      “I thank you for your compliment,” he replied with a stiff bow. “But I might reply that you yourself are not very remarkable for honour, having in view the fact that, in the hope of gaining a sufficient price, you have married a woman upon whom you have never set eyes.”

      “You tempted me!” I cried furiously. “You held the money before my gaze and fascinated me with it until I was helpless in your power. Fortunately, however, the spell is broken by this inhuman suggestion of yours, and I wash my hands clean of the whole affair.”

      “Ah, my dear sir, that is not possible. Remember you are my daughter’s husband.”

      “And yet you ask me to kill her.”

      “Who has greater right to curtail her sufferings than her husband?”

      “And who has greater right to endeavour to save her life?”

      “But you cannot. It is impossible.”

      “Why impossible?”

      “She is doomed.”

      “By you. You have resolved that she shall not live till morning,” I said, adding: “If, as you tell me, her mysterious illness must prove fatal, I see no reason why you should offer me a bribe to encompass her death. Surely a few hours more or less are of no consequence.”

      “But they are,” he protested