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always has a friendin a woman or a dog。
I sat down again at my desk； and made another attempt to write to
Mr。 Playmore。
Recalling； for the purpose of my letter； all that Miserrimus
Dexter had said to me； my memory dwelt with special interest on
the strange outbreak of feeling which had led him to betray the
secret of his infatuation for Eustace's first wife。 I saw again
the ghastly scene in the death…chamberthe deformed creature
crying over the corpse in the stillness of the first dark hours
of the new day。 The horrible picture took a strange hold on my
mind。 I arose； and walked up and down； and tried to turn my
thoughts some other way。 It was not to be done： the scene was too
familiar to me to be easily dismissed。 I had myself visited the
room and looked at the bed。 I had myself walked in the corridor
which Dexter had crossed on his way to take his last leave of
her。
The corridor？ I stopped。 My thoughts suddenly took a new
direction； uninfluenced by any effort of my will。
What other association besides the association with Dexter did I
connect with the corridor？ Was it something I had seen during my
visit to Gleninch？ No。 Was it something I had read？ I snatched up
the Report of the Trial to see。 It opened at a page which
contained the nurse's evidence。 I read the evidence through
again； without recovering the lost remembrance until I came to
these lines close at the end：
〃Before bed…time I went upstairs to prepare the remains of the
deceased lady for the coffin。 The room in which she lay was
locked； the door leading into Mr。 Macallan's room being secured；
as well as the door leading into the corridor。 The keys had been
taken away by Mr。 Gale。 Two of the men…servants were posted
outside the bedroom to keep watch。 They were to be relieved at
four in the morningthat was all they could tell me。〃
There was my lost association with the corridor！ There was what
I ought to have remembered when Miserrimus Dexter was telling me
of his visit to the dead！
How had he got into the bedroomthe doors being locked； and the
keys being taken away by Mr。 Gale？ There was but one of the
locked doors of which Mr。 Gale had not got the keythe door of
communication between the study and the bedroom。 The key was
missing from this。 Had it been stolen？ And was Dexter the thief？
He might have passed by the men on the watch while they were
asleep； or he might have crossed the corridor in an unguarded
interval while the men were being relieved。 But how could he have
got into the bedchamber except by way of the locked study door？
He _must_ have had the key！ And he _must_ have secreted it weeks
before Mrs。 Eustace Macallan's death！ When the nurse first
arrived at Gleninch； on the seventh of the month； her evidence
declared the key of the door of communication to be then missing。
To what conclusion did these considerations and discoveries
point？ Had Miserrimus Dexter； in a moment of ungovernable
agitation； unconsciously placed the clew in my hands？ Was the
pivot on which turned the whole mystery of the poisoning at
Gleninch the missing key？
I went back for the third time to my desk。 The one person who
might be trusted to find the answer to those questions was Mr。
Playmore。 I wrote him a full and careful account of all that had
happened； I begged him to forgive and forget my ungracious
reception of the advice which he had so kindly offered to me； and
I promised beforehand to do nothing without first consulting his
opinion in the new emergency which now confronted me。
The day was fine for the time of year； and by way of getting a
little wholesome exercise after the surprises and occupations of
the morning； I took my letter to Mr。 Playmore to the post。
Returning to the villa； I was informed that another visitor was
waiting to see me： a civilized visitor this time； who had given
her name。 My mother…in…lawMrs。 Macallan。
CHAPTER XXXVII。
AT THE BEDSIDE。
BEFORE she had uttered a word； I saw in my mother…in…law's face
that she brought bad news。
〃Eustace？〃 I said。
She answered me by a look。
〃Let me he ar it at once！〃 I cried。 〃I can bear anything but
suspense。〃
Mrs。 Macallan lifted her hand； and showed me a telegraphic
dispatch which she had hitherto kept concealed in the folds of
her dress。
〃I can trust your courage；〃 she said。 〃There is no need； my
child； to prevaricate with you。 Read that。〃
I read the telegram。 It was sent by the chief surgeon of a
field…hospital； and it was dated from a village in the north of
Spain。
〃Mr。 Eustace severely wounded in a skirmish by a stray shot。 Not
in danger； so far。 Every care taken of him。 Wait for another
telegram。〃
I turned away my face； and bore as best I might the pang that
wrung me when I read those words。 I thought I knew how dearly I
loved him： I had never known it till that moment。
My mother…in…law put her arm round me； and held me to her
tenderly。 She knew me well enough not to speak to me at that
moment。
I rallied my courage； and pointed to the last sentence in the
telegram。
〃Do you mean to wait？〃 I asked。
〃Not a day！〃 she answered。 〃I am going to the Foreign Office
about my passportI have some interest there： they can give me
letters； they can advise and assist me。 I leave to…night by the
mail train to Calais。〃
〃_You_ leave？〃 I said。 〃Do you suppose I will let you go without
me？ Get my passport when you get yours。 At seven this evening I
will be at your house。〃
She attempted to remonstrate； she spoke of the perils of the
journey。 At the first words I stopped her。 〃Don't you know yet；
mother； how obstinate I am？ They may keep you waiting at the
Foreign Office。 Why do you waste the precious hours here？〃
She yielded with a gentleness that was not in her everyday
character。 〃Will my poor Eustace ever know what a wife he has
got？〃 That was all she said。 She kissed me； and went away in her
carriage。
My remembrances of our journey are strangely vague and
imperfect。
As I try to recall them； the memory of those more recent and more
interesting events which occurred after my return to England gets
between me and my adventures in Spain； and seems to force these
last into a shadowy background； until they look like adventures
that happened many years since。 I confusedly recollect delays and
alarms that tried our patience and our courage。 I remember our
finding friends （thanks to our letters of recommendation） in a
Secretary to the Embassy and in a Queen's Messenger； who assisted
and protected us at a critical point in the journey。 I recall to
mind a long succession of men in our employment as travelers； all
equally remarkable for their dirty cloaks and their clean linen；
for their highly civilized courtesy to women and their utterly
barbarous cruelty to horses。 Last； and most important of all； I
see again； more clearly than I can see anything else； the one
wretched bedroom of a squalid village inn in which we found our
poor darling； prostrate between life and death； insensible to
everything that passed in the narrow little world that lay around
his bedside。
There was nothing romantic or interesting in the accident which
had put my husband's life in peril。
He had ventured too near the scene of the conflict （a miserable
affair） to rescue a poor lad who lay wounded on the
fieldmortally wounded； as the event proved。 A rifle…bullet had
struck him in the body。 His brethren of the field…hospital had
carried him back to their quarters at the risk of their lives。 He
was a great favorite with all of them； patient and gentle and
brave； only wanting a little more judgment to be the most
valuable recruit who had joined the brotherhood。
In telling me this； the surgeon kindly and delicately added a
word of warning as well。
The fever caused by the wound had brought with it delirium； as
usual。 My poor husband's mind； in so far as his wandering words
might interpret it； was filled by the one image of his wife。 The
medical attendant had heard enough in the course of his
ministrations at the bedside； to satisfy him that any sudden
recognition of me by Eustace （if he recovered） might be attended
by the most lamentable results。 As things were at that sad time；
I might take my turn at nursing him； without the slightest chance
of his discovering me； perhaps for weeks and weeks to come。 But
on the day when he was declared out of dangerif that happy day
ever arrivedI must resign my place at his bedside； and must
wait to show myself until the surgeon gave me leave。
My mother…in…law and I relieved each other regularly； day and
night； in the sick…room。
In the hours of his deliriumhours that recurred with a pitiless
regularitymy name was always on my poor darling's fevered lips。
The ruling idea in him was the fine dreadful idea which I had
vainly combated at our last interview。 In the face of the verdict
pronounced at the Trial； it was impossible even for his wife to
be really and truly persuaded that he was an innocent man。 All
the wild pictures which his distempered imagination drew were
equally inspired by that one obstinate conviction。 He fancied
himself to be still living with me under those dreaded
conditions。 Do what he might；