The Jewel of Seven Stars - Bram Stoker (best 7 inch ereader .TXT) 📗

have worked with

marvellous inefficiency. That, however, is not my business.” Here he

took a big pinch of snuff, and turning to to Miss Trelawny, went on:

“Now as to the patient. Leaving out the cause of his illness, all we can

say at present is that he appears to be suffering from a marked attack

of catalepsy. At present nothing can be done, except to sustain his

strength. The treatment of my friend Doctor Winchester is mainly such

as I approve of; and I am confident that should any slight change arise

he will be able to deal with it satisfactorily. It is an interesting

case—most interesting; and should any new or abnormal development arise

I shall be happy to come at any time. There is just one thing to which

I wish to call your attention; and I put it to you, Miss Trelawny,

directly, since it is your responsibility. Doctor Winchester informs me

that you are not yourself free in the matter, but are bound by an

instruction given by your Father in case just such a condition of things

should arise. I would strongly advise that the patient be removed to

another room; or, as an alternative, that those mummies and all such

things should be removed from his chamber. Why, it’s enough to put any

man into an abnormal condition, to have such an assemblage of horrors

round him, and to breathe the atmosphere which they exhale. You have

evidence already of how such mephitic odour may act. That nurse—

Kennedy, I think you said, Doctor—isn’t yet out of her state of

catalepsy; and you, Mr. Ross, have, I am told, experienced something of

the same effects. I know this”—here his eyebrows came down more than

ever, and his mouth hardened—“if I were in charge here I should insist

on the patient having a different atmosphere; or I would throw up the

case. Doctor Winchester already knows that I can only be again

consulted on this condition being fulfilled. But I trust that you will

see your way, as a good daughter to my mind should, to looking to your

Father’s health and sanity rather than to any whim of his—whether

supported or not by a foregoing fear, or by any number of “penny

dreadful” mysteries. The day has hardly come yet, I am glad to say,

when the British Museum and St. Thomas’s Hospital have exchanged their

normal functions. Good-day, Miss Trelawny. I earnestly hope that I may

soon see your Father restored. Remember, that should you fulfil the

elementary condition which I have laid down, I am at your service day or

night. Good-morning, Mr. Ross. I hope you will be able to report to me

soon, Doctor Winchester.”

 

When he had gone we stood silent, till the rumble of his carriage wheels

died away. The first to speak was Doctor Winchester:

 

“I think it well to say that to my mind, speaking purely as a physician,

he is quite right. I feel as if I could have assaulted him when he made

it a condition of not giving up the case; but all the same he is right

as to treatment. He does not understand that there is something odd

about this special case; and he will not realise knot that we are all

tied up in by Mr. Trelawny’s instructions. Of course—” He was

interrupted by Miss Trelawny:

 

“Doctor Winchester, do you, too, wish to give up the case; or are you

willing to continue it under the conditions you know?”

 

“Give it up! Less now than ever. Miss Trelawny, I shall never give it

up, so long as life is left to him or any of us!” She said nothing, but

held out her hand, which he took warmly.

 

“Now,” said she, “if Sir James Frere is a type of the cult of

Specialists, I want no more of them. To start with, he does not seem to

know any more than you do about my Father’s condition; and if he were a

hundredth part as much interested in it as you are, he would not stand

on such punctilio. Of course, I am only too anxious about my poor

Father; and if I can see a way to meet either of Sir James Frere’s

conditions, I shall do so. I shall ask Mr. Marvin to come here today,

and advise me as to the limit of Father’s wishes. If he thinks I am

free to act in any way on my own responsibility, I shall not hesitate to

do so.” Then Doctor Winchester took his leave.

 

Miss Trelawny sat down and wrote a letter to Mr. Marvin, telling him of

the state of affairs, and asking him to come and see her and to bring

with him any papers which might throw any light on the subject. She

sent the letter off with a carriage to bring back the solicitor; we

waited with what patience we could for his coming.

 

It is not a very long journey for oneself from Kensington Palace Gardens

to Lincoln’s Inn Fields; but it seemed endlessly long when waiting for

someone else to take it. All things, however, are amenable to Time; it

was less than an hour all told when Mr. Marvin was with us.

 

He recognised Miss Trelawny’s impatience, and when he had learned

sufficient of her father’s illness, he said to her:

 

“Whenever you are ready I can go with you into particulars regarding

your Father’s wishes.”

 

“Whenever you like,” she said, with an evident ignorance of his meaning.

“Why not now?” He looked at me, as to a fellow man of business, and

stammered out:

 

“We are not alone.”

 

“I have brought Mr. Ross here on purpose,” she answered. “He knows so

much at present, that I want him to know more.” The solicitor was a

little disconcerted, a thing which those knowing him only in courts

would hardly have believed. He answered, however, with some hesitation:

 

“But, my dear young lady—Your Father’s wishes!—Confidence between father

and child—”

 

Here she interrupted him; there was a tinge of red in her pale cheeks as

she did so:

 

“Do you really think that applies to the present circumstances, Mr.

Marvin? My Father never told me anything of his affairs; and I can now,

in this sad extremity, only learn his wishes through a gentleman who is

a stranger to me and of whom I never even heard till I got my Father’s

letter, written to be shown to me only in extremity. Mr. Ross is a new

friend; but he has all my confidence, and I should like him to be

present. Unless, of course,” she added, ‘such a thing is forbidden by

my Father. Oh! forgive me, Mr. Marvin, if I seem rude; but I have been

in such dreadful trouble and anxiety lately, that I have hardly command

of myself.” She covered her eyes with her hand for a few seconds; we

two men looked at each other and waited, trying to appear unmoved. She

went on more firmly; she had recovered herself:

 

“Please! please do not think I am ungrateful to you for your kindness in

coming here and so quickly. I really am grateful; and I have every

confidence in your judgment. If you wish, or think it best, we can be

alone.” I stood up; but Mr. Marvin made a dissentient gesture. He was

evidently pleased with her attitude; there was geniality in his voice

and manner as he spoke:

 

“Not at all! Not at all! There is no restriction on your Father’s

part; and on my own I am quite willing. Indeed, all told, it may be

better. From what you have said of Mr. Trelawny’s illness, and the

other—incidental—matters, it will be well in case of any grave

eventuality, that it was understood from the first, that circumstances

were ruled by your Father’s own imperative instructions. For, please

understand me, his instructions are imperative—most imperative. They

are so unyielding that he has given me a Power of Attorney, under which

I have undertaken to act, authorising me to see his written wishes

carried out. Please believe me once for all, that he intended fully

everything mentioned in that letter to you! Whilst he is alive he is to

remain in his own room; and none of his property is to be removed from

it under any circumstances whatever. He has even given an inventory of

the articles which are not to be displaced.”

 

Miss Trelawny was silent. She looked somewhat distressed; so, thinking

that I understood the immediate cause, I asked:

 

“May we see the list?” Miss Trelawny’s face at once brightened; but it

fell again as the lawyer answered promptly—he was evidently prepared for

the question:

 

“Not unless I am compelled to take action on the Power of Attorney. I

have brought that instrument with me. You will recognise, Mr. Ross”—he

said this with a sort of business conviction which I had noticed in his

professional work, as he handed me the deed—“how strongly it is worded,

and how the grantor made his wishes apparent in such a way as to leave

no loophole. It is his own wording, except for certain legal

formalities; and I assure you I have seldom seen a more iron-clad

document. Even I myself have no power to make the slightest relaxation

of the instructions, without committing a distinct breach of faith. And

that, I need not tell you, is impossible.” He evidently added the last

words in order to prevent an appeal to his personal consideration. He

did not like the seeming harshness of his words, however, for he added:

 

“I do hope, Miss Trelawny, that you understand that I am willing—

frankly and unequivocally willing—to do anything I can, within the

limits of my power, to relieve your distress. But your Father had, in

all his doings, some purpose of his own which he did not disclose to me.

So far as I can see, there is not a word of his instructions that he had

not thought over fully. Whatever idea he had in his mind was the idea

of a lifetime; he had studied it in every possible phase, and was

prepared to guard it at every point.

 

“Now I fear I have distressed you, and I am truly sorry for it; for I

see you have much—too much—to bear already. But I have no alternative.

If you want to consult me at any time about anything, I promise you I

will come without a moment’s delay, at any hour of the day or night.

There is my private address,” he scribbled in his pocket-book as he

spoke, “and under it the address of my club, where I am generally to be

found in the evening.” He tore out the paper and handed it to her. She

thanked him. He shook hands with her and with me and withdrew.

 

As soon as the hall door was shut on him, Mrs. Grant tapped at the door

and came in. There was such a look of distress in her face that Miss

Trelawny stood up, deadly white, and asked her:

 

“What is it, Mrs. Grant? What is it? Any new trouble?”

 

“I grieve to say, miss, that the servants, all but two, have given

notice and want to leave the house today. They have talked the matter

over among themselves; the butler has spoken for the rest. He says as

how they are willing to forego their wages, and even to pay their legal

obligations instead of notice; but that go today they must.”

 

“What reason do they give?”

 

“None, miss. They say as how they’re sorry, but that they’ve nothing to

say. I asked Jane, the upper housemaid, miss, who is not with the rest

but stops on; and