make it seem so.
“What else is possible?” broke in Landon. “It isn’t suicide, it isn’t murder. It isn’t death from natural causes,—at least, it can’t be in Vernie’s case,—I suppose Mr. Bruce might have died from heart disease.”
“That’s why we want a doctor,” said Eve. “We can judge nothing until we know the immediate cause of death.”
“I wish we were in the city,” Tracy said; “the doctor will be nearly an hour getting here, I suppose.”
“Did you tell him all?” asked Eve.
“No, I didn’t. It didn’t seem wise to spread the news in that way. I told him to get here as soon as he possibly could,—that it was a matter of life and death.”
“Which it certainly is,” murmured Norma. “Oh, Eve, what do you really think?”
Eve Carnforth looked at the other girl. Eve, so poised and collected, strength and will power written in every line of her face,—Norma so fragile, and shaken by the awful scenes about her.
“I don’t know what to think,” Eve replied, slowly. “There’s only one thing certain, Vernie received a warning of death,—and Vernie is dead. Mr. Bruce received no definite warning, that I know of, but he may have had one. You know, he said he was visited by the phantom, but we wouldn’t believe him.”
“That’s so!” and Tracy looked up in surprise. “We never quite believed Mr. Bruce’s statements, because he scorned all talk of spirit manifestations. If he really did see the ghost that night that he said he did——”
“Of course he did,” declared Eve. “I believed him all the time. I can always tell when any one is speaking the truth. It’s part of my sensitive nature.”
Wynne Landon stalked about the hall like a man in torment. “What shall I do with Milly?” he groaned. “She and Braye will be back soon,—any minute now. She mustn’t see these——”
“They ought to be placed in some other room,” said Eve, gently.
“One mustn’t touch a dead body before——” began Professor Hardwick, but Tracy interrupted him. “That’s in case of murder, Professor,” he said; “this is a different matter. Whatever caused these deaths, it wasn’t by the hand of another human being. If it was fright or nervous apprehension, Those are to be classed among natural causes. I think we are wholly justified in moving the bodies.”
After some discussion, Landon and the Professor agreed with Tracy, and with the help of Thorpe and Hester, the stricken forms were carried out of the hall, where the group so often forgathered.
“It is better,” said Eve, “for we need this hall continually, and if we don’t move them at once, the doctor may forbid it, when he comes.”
By common consent, the body of Gifford Bruce was laid in the drawing room, on a large sofa, and Vernie’s slender figure was reverently placed on the bed in the Room with the Tassels.
“No spirit shape can frighten her now,” said Norma, weeping bitterly, as Thorpe and Hester carried the dead girl in. Then both doors were closed, shutting off the silent figures, and those who were left felt a vague sense of relief.
“Now we can break it to Milly more gently,” said Eve. “Clear away that broken cup, Hester, and make some fresh tea, I’m sure we all need it.”
On the great rug the damp spot remained where the spilled tea had fallen, and Eve ordered a smaller rug placed over it.
Braye and Milly came in laughing.
“We’ve bought out the whole of East Dryden!” Milly exclaimed, “and what do you think? We found some fresh lobsters, still alive and kicking,—and we commandeered them at once. What’s the matter with you people? You look solemn as owls!”
“Come up to your room, Milly, to take off your wraps,” and Landon took her arm to lead her away.
“Nonsense, Wynne, I’ll throw them off down here. I’m thirsty for tea.”
“No; come on, dear. Come with me.”
Awed at his tone, Milly went with him, and they disappeared up the staircase.
Then Professor Hardwick told Braye what had happened. The others had begged the Professor to do this, and in a very few words the tale was told.
“It can’t be!” and Braye rose and walked up and down the hall. “I wish I had been here! Oh, forgive me, all of you, I know you did all you could,—but—restoratives——”
“We did,” said Eve, “I ran for sal volatile and such things, but you don’t understand,—it was instantaneous,—wasn’t it, Mr. Tracy?”
“It was,” replied Tracy, gravely. “Mr. Bruce was speaking, naturally and normally. He paused when the clock struck,—we ’most always do, you know, it’s a sort of habit.”
“We have to, really,” said Norma. “That clock strikes so loudly, one can’t go on talking.”
“And then,” began the Professor, “he was talking to me, you know, and I was looking straight at him, his face changed in an instant, his fingers spread, as if galvanized, his teacup fell from his hand, and in a moment, he was gone! Yes, dead in a second, I should say.”
“And—Vernie?” Braye spoke with difficulty.
“I chanced to be looking at Vernie,” said Mr. Tracy. “The outcry concerning Mr. Bruce made us all look toward him, and then, a sudden sound from Vernie drew my attention to her. She gasped, and her face looked queer,—sort of drawn and gray,—so I sprang to her side, and held her up, lest she fall. She was standing, looking at Mr. Bruce, of course. I felt her sway, her head fell back, and then Miss Carnforth came to my assistance, and we laid her quickly down on the sofa. In an instant, the child was dead. It is incredible that it should have been a case of sudden fright that proved fatal, and yet, what other theory is there? It couldn’t be heart disease in a child of sixteen!”
“No,” mused Braye, “and yet, what could it have been? I won’t subscribe to any supernatural theory now! It’s too absurd!”
“It’s the only thing that isn’t absurd!” contradicted Eve. “Remember, Rudolph, Vernie had the warning——”
“Warning be hanged!” cried Braye, explosively.
“But think,” went on Eve, gently, “the phantom told Vernie she would die at four o’clock——”
“Four o’clock in the morning, Vernie said! If I had thought of four in the afternoon, I wouldn’t have gone out!”
“Nobody knows that the message said four in the morning. Vernie told me about it many times, and she only said four. You know, the phantom spoke no word, it merely designated by its fingers,—one, two, three, four! Also, Vernie said it carried two glasses of poison.”
“But they weren’t poisoned!”
“No; that was merely the symbol of death. Also, Rudolph, remember the Ouija board said two would die at four. You can’t get away from these things!”
“That confounded Ouija performance was on one of the nights I was in New York! I wish I hadn’t gone! But Vernie promised me she wouldn’t sleep in that room. I was a fool to believe her. You see, Eve, I feel a sort of responsibility for the child. Uncle Gif was so easy-going and indulgent,—he was no sort of a guardian for her, now she was growing up. I planned to have her put under the care of some right kind of a woman this fall, and brought up properly.”
“I know it, Rudolph; you were very fond of her.”
“Not only that, but I appreciated what she needed, and I meant to see that she got it. Oh, Eve, I can’t realize this thing.”