White Jade. V. J. Banis
The flu.”
I did not think his difficulty was the flu but I did not tell her this. “Please, it’s important,” I said instead. “Would you at least tell him I’m here? Tell him it’s Miss Channing.”
“Yes, Miss, I’ll tell him.” She hesitated. “You look awfully cold. Would you like to wait in here, it’s warmer?” She indicated the Queen Anne sitting room.
I thanked her. She left me and I went in there, taking off my gloves and scarf and savoring the room’s warmth.
She was back in just a few minutes. “Mr. Linton will see you,” she said, studying me with fresh interest. “If you’ll come with me, please.”
I was shocked to see how dreadful he looked. Even the dimness of the room, with its draperies closed against the day’s light, could not conceal the fact that he had deteriorated in the short time since I had seen him last.
“Jeff,” I said, starting toward the bed in which he lay, propped up with pillows.
He gave me a warning glance and said past me, “That will be all, thank you, Susan.”
I waited until the door had closed after her before I came to the bed, instinctively putting a hand to his forehead. It felt cold and damp.
Our eyes met, his seeking in mine the answers that I did not want to give to the questions he did not want to ask.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” he asked after a moment. His voice was an old man’s voice, cracked and thin.
I nodded. “There was arsenic in the tea. Oh, Jeff, we’ve got to get away from here while Mary is out. We can—”
He gave his head a weary shake. “Impossible. I can barely manage to sit up.”
He was right, of course, I realized that at once. Even if he were able to get out of the bed and into his clothes, how was I to get him from the house, into town, to New York City? A wave of frustration and despair swept over me, chilling me even more than the cold air in which I had waited earlier.
“What are we going to do?” I hadn’t thought beyond telling him of the arsenic and helping him to leave.
His head had fallen weakly to one side. Now, with an apparent effort, he lifted it to look searchingly into my face again.
“Chris,” he said in a whisper, “you must take the job as my nurse.”
“But...but I can’t,” I stammered. “I know nothing about nursing.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m not sick, except for the poison. If you can protect me from that, for a few days even....” His voice trailed off, as if even the effort of speaking was too much.
“Couldn’t I...couldn’t I just go into town and find someone to help? The local sheriff...yes, that’s....”
He gave his head a violent shake. “No. Don’t you think I’ve thought of all that? Don’t you think I’d have taken this whole thing to him before if I thought there was any chance he’d listen?”
“But he must listen....”
“Listen to what? A lot of unfounded accusations? I have no evidence.”
“The tea.”
“That’s not here now, is it? There’s only your word for it that it was poisoned, or that I gave it to you. Do you think they’ll believe you when they find out who you are and what we once were to one another? You’re forgetting, this is Mary’s town. She and her family have virtually owned it for generations. You and I are outsiders.”
I knew that what he said was true. Even the taxi driver had spoken with affectionate awe of the house. And if we made any sort of charges, we would have to tell the whole truth about our past relationship. I could easily imagine how that would make everything look.
I took a deep breath, willing myself calm. “What can we do?”
“Go back to New York.” He spoke as if he had already gone over all this countless times in his mind. “Write a letter, giving a lot of qualifications for the job, and say you’ve decided you’ll take it.”
“I haven’t any qualifications.”
“Make them up. I’ll take care of checking them.”
“What if your wife won’t have me? She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about me before.”
“You’ll get the job, don’t worry.” He gave me a wan smile. I was forgetting, of course, Jeff had always managed to get whatever he wanted, particularly from a woman. “But time is precious. Write at once, please, and be ready to come immediately.”
Still I hesitated. It was so beyond anything I had experienced before. I was no hero and certainly no actress. There wasn’t the slightest possibility of my carrying it off.
He saw my indecision and when he spoke again it was with a note of urgent pleading in his voice. “Mary only went on a brief errand. She’ll be back in a few minutes, Chris.”
I met his anxious eyes. He reached out with effort and took my hand. His felt frail and nearly lifeless.
“All right,” I said in a small voice. “I had better go.”
“I’ll never forget this,” he said.
The maid had disappeared and the halls were empty I ran down the stairs as if pursued by demons, as if the very house itself threatened me.
I reached the front door, fairly bursting through it—and ran into the arms of a man.
CHAPTER SIX
“What the...?” he exclaimed, as startled as I was by the collision.
I caught only a glimpse of him, before I thought to lower my face so he would not get a good look at me. He was tall and hatless. His hair was dark. He wore only a corduroy jacket and beneath it his shoulders were broad and square.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I should have gone the back way.”
“Who are you?” he demanded in a voice that said quite plainly he was used to exercising authority.
“No one,” I said, and in the next breath, “I came about a job.”
I didn’t give him time to question me further. Stepping quickly around him I ran down the steps and then slowed to a fast walk, not wanting to seem as if I were fleeing the place.
After a moment, I glanced back. He was still at the top of the steps, staring after me. I thought he had a faint smile on his lips, but as I looked, he turned and went inside. I thought, he’s too tall, he’ll hit his head, but he went in without a bump and without bowing or relinquishing any of his arrogance.
In a twinkling I knew who he was, the knowledge coming from forgotten bits of information I had long since stored in my subconscious. Mary Morgan Linton had a brother, his name was—I frowned—David.
This must be David. Certainly he was no servant. He had too commanding a manner. He had not even apologized for our accident, although of course it was I who ran into him.
Would he remember me? I thought not. He could not have had more than a glimpse of me, and he thought I was merely someone seeking employment. Why should he attach any importance to me?
Mostly likely, I would never see him again anyway. He did not live there, I was sure of that. And when I came back, I would soon be gone once more, so I was not likely to meet him again.
I put him from my mind and starting walking. I had a long hike into town. I thought of my friendly taxi driver but there was no way of summoning him. Maybe, I thought wishfully, he’ll just appear. He might have some reason to come out this way, and drive by and see me. Maybe....
He did not, however, happen to drive by. I saw him four days later when, for the third time in a week, I got off the train at Elsinore.