When I came to,it was suddenly and with perfect recognition of my surroundings.The small reception room to which I had been taken was one I had often visited,and its familiar features did not hold my attention for a moment.What I did see and welcome was my husband's face bending close over me,and to him I spoke first.My words must have sounded oddly to those about."Have they told you anything about it?"I asked."Did he -"A quick pressure on my arm silenced me,and then I noticed that we were not alone.Two or three ladies stood near,watching me,and one had evidently been using some restorative,for she held a small vinaigrette in her hand.To this lady,George made haste to introduce me,and from her I presently learned the cause of the disturbance in the hotel.
It was of a somewhat different nature from what I expected,and during the recital,I could not prevent myself from casting furtive and inquiring glances at George.
Edith,the well-known daughter of Moses Challoner,had fallen suddenly dead on the floor of the mezzanine.She was not known to have been in poor health,still less in danger of a fatal attack,and the shock was consequently great to her friends,several of whom were in the building.Indeed,it was likely to prove a shock to the whole community,for she had great claims to general admiration,and her death must be regarded as a calamity to persons in all stations of life.
I realised this myself,for I had heard much of the young lady's private virtues,as well as of her great beauty and distinguished manner.A heavy loss,indeed,but -"Was she alone when she fell?"I asked.
"Virtually alone.Some persons sat on the other side of the room,reading at the big round table.They did not even hear her fall.
They say that the band was playing unusually loud in the musicians'gallery."
"Are you feeling quite well,now?"
"Quite myself,"I gratefully replied as I rose slowly from the sofa.Then,as my kind informer stepped aside,I turned to George with the proposal we should go now.
He seemed as anxious as myself to leave and together we moved towards the door,while the hum of excited comment which the intrusion of a fainting woman had undoubtedly interrupted,recommenced behind us till the whole room buzzed.
In the hall we encountered Mr.Slater,whom I have before mentioned.
He was trying to maintain order while himself in a state of great agitation.Seeing us,he could not refrain from whispering a few words into my husband's ear.
"The doctor has just gone up -her doctor,I mean.He's simply dumbfounded.Says that she was the healthiest woman in New York yesterday -I think -don't mention it,that he suspects something quite different from heart failure.""What do you mean?"asked George,following the assistant manager down the broad flight of steps leading to the office.Then,as Ipressed up close to Mr.Slater's other side,"She was by herself,wasn't she,in the half floor above?""Yes,and had been writing a letter.She fell with it still in her hand.""Have they carried her to her room?"I eagerly inquired,glancing fearfully up at the large semi-circular openings overlooking us from the place where she had fallen.
"Not yet.Mr.Hammond insists upon waiting for the coroner."(Mr.
Hammond was the proprietor of the hotel.)"She is lying on one of the big couches near which she fell.If you like,I can give you a glimpse of her.She looks beautiful.It's terrible to think that she is dead."I don't know why we consented.We were under a spell,I think.At all events,we accepted his offer and followed him up a narrow staircase open to very few that night.At the top,he turned upon us with a warning gesture which I hardly think we needed,and led us down a narrow hall flanked by openings corresponding to those we had noted from below.At the furthest one he paused and,beckoning us to his side,pointed across the lobby into the large writing-room which occupied the better part of the mezzanine floor.
We saw people standing in various attitudes of grief and dismay about a couch,one end of which only was visible to us at the moment.The doctor had just joined them,and every head was turned towards him and every body bent forward in anxious expectation.Iremember the face of one grey haired old man.I shall never forget it.He was probably her father.Later,I knew him to be so.Her face,even her form,was entirely hidden from us,but as we watched (I have often thought with what heartless curiosity)a sudden movement took place in the whole group -and for one instant a startling picture presented itself to our gaze.Miss Challoner was stretched out upon the couch.She was dressed as she came from dinner,in a gown of ivory-tinted satin,relieved at the breast by a large bouquet of scarlet poinsettias.I mention this adornment,because it was what first met and drew our eyes and the eyes of every one about her,though the face,now quite revealed,would seem to have the greater attraction.But the cause was evident and one not to be resisted.The doctor was pointing at these poinsettias in horror and with awful meaning,and though we could not hear his words,we knew almost instinctively,both from his attitude and the cries which burst from the lips of those about him,that something more than broken petals and disordered laces had met his eyes;that blood was there -slowly oozing drops from the heart -which for some reason had escaped all eyes till now.
Miss Challoner was dead,not from unsuspected disease,but from the violent attack of some murderous weapon;As the realisation of this brought fresh panic and bowed the old father's head with emotions even more bitter than those of grief,I turned a questioning look up at George's face.
It was fixed with a purpose I had no trouble in understanding.
II
"I KNOW THE MAN
Yet he made no effort to detain Mr.Slater,when that gentleman,under this renewed excitement,hastily left us.He was not the man to rush into anything impulsively,and not even the presence of murder could change his ways.
