The Man with a Shadow

She ground her teeth together and panted hoarsely, hardly able to breathe for the sobs which struggled for utterance.

“It isn’t true. It’s a trick!” she cried at last. “I won’t believe it! I’ll go and be there first, and then —

“Oh! what shall I do – what shall I do?” she cried hoarsely; and then, uttering a wild and passionate shriek of misery and despair, she threw herself heavily upon the floor, to tear at the carpet, like some savage creature, with tooth and nail.

Volume Three – Chapter Twenty Three.

Dally’s Hysterics

Salis ran out into the hall, followed by the doctor, to meet Mary and the housekeeper from the other side.

“North?” gasped Salis; he could say no more.

“Sleeping peacefully,” said the housekeeper; “what is the matter?” For Mary could not speak.

“Leo must be ill,” said Salis, rushing up the stairs to his sister’s room.

“Leo! Leo!” he cried, rattling the door-handle.

For answer there was a moaning, almost inhuman, sound.

“Can you open the door?” said the old doctor, who had followed him. “It must be a fit.”

“Stand back,” cried Salis; and going to the other side of the broad landing, he rushed forward, literally hurling himself at the door, which flew open with a crash.

The light carried by Mary streamed into the room, and lit up the figure grovelling upon the carpet.

In an instant Salis was down upon one knee, and had raised her upon his arm.

“Dally!” he cried wonderingly, as the girl writhed and fought and moaned in his arms. The doctor glanced at the hysterical girl. “Light here,” he said sternly; and as Mary wonderingly bore forward the lamp, the old man lifted the tea-cup, upon which his eyes had instantly lit, smelled, and then cautiously tasted it. He shook his head. “Is she poisoned?” gasped Salis. “No,” said the old doctor promptly. “The lamp a little nearer, please.”

Mary held it towards him, and the old man bent down over Dally and made a rapid examination; no easy task, for she was throwing herself about wildly, and one hand struck the lamp shade and tore it away.

“That will do,” said the doctor in stern, hard tones. “Here: have you another servant? Get her to bed at once.”

As he spoke he seized Dally’s wrist, and gave it a jerk.

“Get up!” he said harshly.

“What a shame!” murmured Mrs Milt indignantly.

“Of this girl to make such a disturbance?” said the old doctor, who had caught her words. “Yes, disgraceful, when there is so much trouble. That’s right; get up. Not your room, I suppose?”

To the surprise of all, Dally had risen, and stood with her hands clenched, looking wildly from one to the other.

“Can you walk to your room, Dally?” said Mary.

The girl nodded sharply, then looked around wildly, and the full force of her trouble coming back, she burst into a passion of tears.

“But where is Leo?” cried Salis. “Where is my sister?”

He darted to the open window and looked out.

“Want me, sir?” said a voice.

“You there, Chegg? How’s that?”

“You telled me to watch, sir.”

“Have you seen any one pass?”

“Only Miss Leo, sir,” replied the man.

Salis turned from the window, looking as if stunned.

“Gone!” he said wonderingly.

“Yes,” cried Dally, mingling her words with sobs of rage and spite. “She’s gone off with Tom Candlish.”

“And you – you wretch – you have helped her,” cried Salis, seizing the girl by the arm.

“I didn’t. It isn’t true. I’ve done everything to keep ’em apart; but they’ve cheated and deceived me,” cried Dally. “She’s gone up to London to meet him – and – and they’ve gone there.”

She tore an envelope from her pocket, and Salis snatched it from her hand to read the address in Craven Street.

“Hartley,” whispered Mary, clinging to him now, “is it true?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely, “it must be true. Hush! I must leave you now. Mr Delton, will you stay in the house, and watch over my sister and my friend? I must go away at once.”

“There’s no train till to-morrow morning at eight,” sobbed Dally passionately; and she stamped her feet like an angry child as her hysterical fit began to return.

“That will do!” said the old doctor sternly, as he grasped the girl’s wrist once more, and she looked up at him in a startled way, and then quailed and subsided into a fit of sobbing.

“Anything I can do, Mr Salis, you may depend on being done.”

Salis nodded; he could not speak for a moment, but gazed full in his sister’s eyes.

“Did you suspect this?” he whispered.

“Oh, no, Hartley,” she replied.

“No; you could not have suspected.”

He drew a long breath, and seemed to be making an effort to check his agony of spirit, and to be forcing himself to act firmly.

“Chegg,” he cried from the window, “go round to the front door. I’ll meet you there. Mrs Milt,” he said, closing the window, “will you be good enough to see this girl to her room? Stay with her for the present. Mary, poor North is alone,” he added; “go down.”

“And you, Hartley?”