A Book of Ghosts. S. (Sabine) Baring-Gould
mystery.
Next day, as she was almost herself again, she rose and went about as usual.
In the afternoon the Hon. James Lawlor called and asked after Miss Flemming. The butler replied that his mistress was out making calls, but that Miss Demant was at home, and he believed was on the terrace. Mr. Lawlor at once asked to see her.
He did not find Julia in the parlour or on the terrace, but in a lower garden to which she had descended to feed the goldfish in the pond.
"Oh! Miss Demant," said he, "I was so disappointed not to see you at the ball last night."
"I was very unwell; I had a fainting fit and could not go."
"It threw a damp on our spirits—that is to say, on mine. I had you booked for several dances."
"You were able to give them to others."
"But that was not the same to me. I did an act of charity and self-denial. I danced instead with the ugly Miss Burgons and with Miss Pounding, and that was like dragging about a sack of potatoes. I believe it would have been a jolly evening, but for that shocking affair of young Hattersley which kept some of the better sort away. I mean those who know the Hattersleys. Of course, for me that did not matter, we were not acquainted. I never even spoke with the fellow. You knew him, I believe? I heard some people say so, and that you had not come because of him. The supper, for a subscription ball, was not atrociously bad."
"What did they say of me?"
"Oh!—if you will know—that you did not attend the ball because you liked him very much, and were awfully cut up."
"I—I! What a shame that people should talk! I never cared a rush for him. He was nice enough in his way, not a bounder, but tolerable as young men go."
Mr. Lawlor laughed. "I should not relish to have such a qualified estimate made of me."
"Nor need you. You are interesting. He became so only when he had shot himself. It will be by this alone that he will be remembered."
"But there is no smoke without fire. Did he like you—much?"
"Dear Mr. Lawlor, I am not a clairvoyante, and never was able to see into the brains or hearts of people—least of all of young men. Perhaps it is fortunate for me that I cannot."
"One lady told me that he had proposed to you."
"Who was that? The potato-sack?"
"I will not give her name. Is there any truth in it? Did he?"
"No."
At the moment she spoke there sounded in her ear a whistle of wind, and she felt a current like a cord of ice creep round her throat, increasing in force and compression, her hat was blown off, and next instant a detonation rang through her head as though a gun had been fired into her ear. She uttered a cry and sank upon the ground.
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