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

Chapter III The Watchers

I was struck by the way the two young women looked at each other. I

suppose I have been so much in the habit of weighing up in my own mind

the personality of witnesses and of forming judgment by their

unconscious action and mode of bearing themselves, that the habit

extends to my life outside as well as within the court-house. At this

moment of my life anything that interested Miss Trelawny interested me;

and as she had been struck by the newcomer I instinctively weighed her

up also. By comparison of the two I seemed somehow to gain a new

knowledge of Miss Trelawny. Certainly, the two women made a good

contrast. Miss Trelawny was of fine figure; dark, straight-featured.

She had marvellous eyes; great, wide-open, and as black and soft as

velvet, with a mysterious depth. To look in them was like gazing at a

black mirror such as Doctor Dee used in his wizard rites. I heard an

old gentleman at the picnic, a great oriental traveller, describe the

effect of her eyes “as looking at night at the great distant lamps of a

mosque through the open door.” The eyebrows were typical. Finely

arched and rich in long curling hair, they seemed like the proper

architectural environment of the deep, splendid eyes. Her hair was

black also, but was as fine as silk. Generally black hair is a type of

animal strength and seems as if some strong expression of the forces of

a strong nature; but in this case there could be no such thought. There

were refinement and high breeding; and though there was no suggestion of

weakness, any sense of power there was, was rather spiritual than

animal. The whole harmony of her being seemed complete. Carriage,

figure, hair, eyes; the mobile, full mouth, whose scarlet lips and white

teeth seemed to light up the lower part of the face—as the eyes did the

upper; the wide sweep of the jaw from chin to ear; the long, fine

fingers; the hand which seemed to move from the wrist as though it had a

sentience of its own. All these perfections went to make up a

personality that dominated either by its grace, its sweetness, its

beauty, or its charm.

 

Nurse Kennedy, on the other hand, was rather under than over a woman’s

average height. She was firm and thickset, with full limbs and broad,

strong, capable hands. Her colour was in the general effect that of an

autumn leaf. The yellow-brown hair was thick and long, and the

golden-brown eyes sparkled from the freckled, sunburnt skin. Her rosy

cheeks gave a general idea of rich brown. The red lips and white teeth

did not alter the colour scheme, but only emphasized it. She had a snub

nose—there was no possible doubt about it; but like such noses in

general it showed a nature generous, untiring, and full of good-nature.

Her broad white forehead, which even the freckles had spared, was full

of forceful thought and reason.

 

Doctor Winchester had on their journey from the hospital, coached her in

the necessary particulars, and without a word she took charge of the

patient and set to work. Having examined the new-made bed and shaken

the pillows, she spoke to the Doctor, who gave instructions; presently

we all four, stepping together, lifted the unconscious man from the

sofa.

 

Early in the afternoon, when Sergeant Daw had returned, I called at my

rooms in Jermyn Street, and sent out such clothes, books and papers as I

should be likely to want within a few days. Then I went on to keep my

legal engagements.

 

The Court sat late that day as an important case was ending; it was

striking six as I drove in at the gate of the Kensington Palace Road. I

found myself installed in a large room close to the sick chamber.

 

That night we were not yet regularly organised for watching, so that the

early part of the evening showed an unevenly balanced guard. Nurse

Kennedy, who had been on duty all day, was lying down, as she had

arranged to come on again by twelve o’clock. Doctor Winchester, who was

dining in the house, remained in the room until dinner was announced;

and went back at once when it was over. During dinner Mrs. Grant

remained in the room, and with her Sergeant Daw, who wished to complete

a minute examination which he had undertaken of everything in the room

and near it. At nine o’clock Miss Trelawny and I went in to relieve the

Doctor. She had lain down for a few hours in the afternoon so as to be

refreshed for her work at night. She told me that she had determined

that for this night at least she would sit up and watch. I did not try

to dissuade her, for I knew that her mind was made up. Then and there I

made up my mind that I would watch with her—unless, of course, I should

see that she really did not wish it. I said nothing of my intentions

for the present. We came in on tiptoe, so silently that the Doctor, who

was bending over the bed, did not hear us, and seemed a little startled

when suddenly looking up he saw our eyes upon him. I felt that the

mystery of the whole thing was getting on his nerves, as it had already

got on the nerves of some others of us. He was, I fancied, a little

annoyed with himself for having been so startled, and at once began to

talk in a hurried manner as though to get over our idea of his

embarrassment:

 

“I am really and absolutely at my wits” end to find any fit cause for

this stupor. I have made again as accurate an examination as I know

how, and I am satisfied that there is no injury to the brain, that is,

no external injury. Indeed, all his vital organs seem unimpaired. I

have given him, as you know, food several times and it has manifestly

done him good. His breathing is strong and regular, and his pulse is

slower and stronger than it was this morning. I cannot find evidence of

any known drug, and his unconsciousness does not resemble any of the

many cases of hypnotic sleep which I saw in the Charcot Hospital in

Paris. And as to these wounds”—he laid his finger gently on the

bandaged wrist which lay outside the coverlet as he spoke, “I do not

know what to make of them. They might have been made by a

carding-machine; but that supposition is untenable. It is within the

bounds of possibility that they might have been made by a wild animal if

it had taken care to sharpen its claws. That too is, I take it,

impossible. By the way, have you any strange pets here in the house;

anything of an exceptional kind, such as a tiger-cat or anything out of

the common?” Miss Trelawny smiled a sad smile which made my heart ache,

as she made answer:

 

“Oh no! Father does not like animals about the house, unless they are

dead and mummied.” This was said with a touch of bitterness—or

jealousy, I could hardly tell which. “Even my poor kitten was only

allowed in the house on sufferance; and though he is the dearest and

best-conducted cat in the world, he is now on a sort of parole, and is

not allowed into this room.”

 

As she was speaking a faint rattling of the door handle was heard.

Instantly Miss Trelawny’s face brightened. She sprang up and went over

to the door, saying as she went:

 

“There he is! That is my Silvio. He stands on his hind legs and

rattles the door handle when he wants to come into a room.” She opened

the door, speaking to the cat as though he were a baby: “Did him want

his movver? Come then; but he must stay with her!” She lifted the cat,

and came back with him in her arms. He was certainly a magnificent

animal. A chinchilla grey Persian with long silky hair; a really lordly

animal with a haughty bearing despite his gentleness; and with great

paws which spread out as he placed them on the ground. Whilst she was

fondling him, he suddenly gave a wriggle like an eel and slipped out of

her arms. He ran across the room and stood opposite a low table on

which stood the mummy of an animal, and began to mew and snarl. Miss

Trelawny was after him in an instant and lifted him in her arms, kicking

and struggling and wriggling to get away; but not biting or scratching,

for evidently he loved his beautiful mistress. He ceased to make a

noise the moment he was in her arms; in a whisper she admonished him:

 

“O you naughty Silvio! You have broken your parole that mother gave for

you. Now, say goodnight to the gentlemen, and come away to mother’s

room!” As she was speaking she held out the cat’s paw to me to shake.

As I did so I could not but admire its size and beauty. “Why,” said I,

“his paw seems like a little boxing-glove full of claws.” She smiled:

 

“So it ought to. Don’t you notice that my Silvio has seven toes, see!”

she opened the paw; and surely enough there were seven separate claws,

each of them sheathed in a delicate, fine, shell-like case. As I gently

stroked the foot the claws emerged and one of them accidentally—there

was no anger now and the cat was purring—stuck into my hand.

Instinctively I said as I drew back:

 

“Why, his claws are like razors!”

 

Doctor Winchester had come close to us and was bending over looking at

the cat’s claws; as I spoke he said in a quick, sharp way:

 

“Eh!” I could hear the quick intake of his breath. Whilst I was

stroking the now quiescent cat, the Doctor went to the table and tore

off a piece of blotting-paper from the writing-pad and came back. He

laid the paper on his palm and, with a simple “pardon me!” to Miss

Trelawny, placed the cat’s paw on it and pressed it down with his other

hand. The haughty cat seemed to resent somewhat the familiarity, and

tried to draw its foot away. This was plainly what the Doctor wanted,

for in the act the cat opened the sheaths of its claws and and made

several reefs in the soft paper. Then Miss Trelawny took