It seemed to Susie that the chief thing was to distract Arthur, and she turned over in her mind some means of directing his attention to other matters.
'I was thinking of going down to Chartres for two days with Mrs Bloomfield,' she said. 'Won't you come with me? It is the most lovely cathedral in the world, and I think you will find it restful to wander about it for a little while. You can do no good, here or in London. Perhaps when you are calm, you will be able to think of something practical.'
Dr Porhoлt saw what her plan was, and joined his entreaties to hers that Arthur should spend a day or two in a place that had no associations for him. Arthur was too exhausted to argue, and from sheer weariness consented. Next day Susie took him to Chartres. Mrs Bloomfield was no trouble to them, and Susie induced him to linger for a week in that pleasant, quiet town. They passed many hours in the stately cathedral, and they wandered about the surrounding country. Arthur was obliged to confess that the change had done him good, and a certain apathy succeeded the agitation from which he had suffered so long. Finally Susie persuaded him to spend three or four weeks in Brittany with Dr Porhoлt, who was proposing to revisit the scenes of his childhood. They returned to Paris. When Arthur left her at the station, promising to meet her again in an hour at the restaurant where they were going to dine with Dr Porhoлt, he thanked her for all she had done.
'I was in an absurdly hysterical condition,' he said, holding her hand. 'You've been quite angelic. I knew that nothing could be done, and yet I was tormented with the desire to do something. Now I've got myself in hand once more. I think my common sense was deserting me, and I was on the point of believing in the farrago of nonsense which they call magic. After all, it's absurd to think that Haddo is going to do any harm to Margaret. As soon at I get back to London, I'll see my lawyers, and I daresay something can be done. If he's really mad, we'll have to put him under restraint, and Margaret will be free. I shall never forget your kindness.'
Susie smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
She was convinced that he would forget everything if Margaret came back to him. But she chid herself for the bitterness of the thought. She loved him, and she was glad to be able to do anything for him.
She returned to the hotel, changed her frock, and walked slowly to the Chien Noir. It always exhilarated her to come back to Paris; and she looked with happy, affectionate eyes at the plane trees, the yellow trams that rumbled along incessantly, and the lounging people. When she arrived, Dr Porhoлt was waiting, and his delight at seeing her again was flattering and pleasant. They talked of Arthur. They wondered why he was late.
In a moment he came in. They saw at once that something quite extraordinary had taken place.
'Thank God, I've found you at last!' he cried.
His face was moving strangely. They had never seen him so discomposed.
'I've been round to your hotel, but I just missed you. Oh, why did you insist on my going away?'
'What on earth's the matter?' cried Susie.
'Something awful has happened to Margaret.'
Susie started to her feet with a sudden cry of dismay.
'How do you know?' she asked quickly.
He looked at them for a moment and flushed. He kept his eyes upon them, as though actually to force his listeners into believing what he was about to say.
'I feel it,' he answered hoarsely.
'What do you mean?'
'It came upon me quite suddenly, I can't explain why or how. I only know that something has happened.'
He began again to walk up and down, prey to an agitation that was frightful to behold. Susie and Dr Porhoлt stared at him helplessly. They tried to think of something to say that would calm him.
'Surely if anything had occurred, we should have been informed.'
He turned to Susie angrily.
'How do you suppose we could know anything? She was quite helpless. She was imprisoned like a rat in a trap.'
'But, my dear friend, you mustn't give way in this fashion,' said the doctor. 'What would you say of a patient who came to you with such a story?'
Arthur answered the question with a shrug of the shoulders.
'I should say he was absurdly hysterical.'
'Well?'
'I can't help it, the feeling's there. If you try all night you'll never be able to argue me out of it. I feel it in every bone of my body. I couldn't be more certain if I saw Margaret lying dead in front of me.'
Susie saw that it was indeed useless to reason with him. The only course was to accept his conviction and make the best of it.
'What do you want us to do?' she asked.
'I want you both to come to England with me at once. If we start now we can catch the evening train.'
Susie did not answer, but she got up. She touched the doctor on the arm.
'Please come,' she whispered.
He nodded and untucked the napkin he had already arranged over his waistcoat.
'I've got a cab at the door,' said Arthur.
'And what about clothes for Miss Susie?' said the doctor.
'Oh, we can't wait for that,' cried Arthur. 'For God's sake, come quickly.'
Susie knew that there was plenty of time to fetch a few necessary things before the train started, but Arthur's impatience was too great to be withstood.
'It doesn't matter,' she said. 'I can get all I want in England.'
He hurried them to the door and told the cabman to drive to the station as quickly as ever he could.
'For Heaven's sake, calm down a little,' said Susie. 'You'll be no good to anyone in that state.'
'I feel certain we're too late.'
'Nonsense! I'm convinced that you'll find Margaret safe and sound.'
He did not answer. He gave a sigh of relief as they drove into the courtyard of the station.
14
Susie never forgot the horror of that journey to England. They arrived in London early in the morning and, without stopping, drove to Euston. For three or four days there had been unusual heat, and even at that hour the streets were sultry and airless. The train north was crowded, and it seemed impossible to get a breath of air. Her head ached, but she was obliged to keep a cheerful demeanour in the effort to allay Arthur's increasing anxiety. Dr Porhoлt sat in front of her. After the sleepless night his eyes were heavy and his face deeply lined. He was exhausted. At length, after much tiresome changing, they reached Venning. She had expected a greater coolness in that northern country; but there was a hot blight over the place, and, as they walked to the inn from the little station, they could hardly drag their limbs along.
Arthur had telegraphed from London that they must have rooms ready, and the landlady expected them. She recognized Arthur. He passionately desired to ask her whether anything had happened since he went away, but forced himself to be silent for a while. He greeted her with cheerfulness.
'Well, Mrs Smithers, what has been going on since I left you?' he cried.
'Of course you wouldn't have heard, sir,' she answered gravely.
He began to tremble, but with an almost superhuman effort controlled his voice.
'Has the squire hanged himself?' he asked lightly.
'No sir--but the poor lady's dead.'
He did not answer. He seemed turned to stone. He stared with ghastly eyes.
'Poor thing!' said Susie, forcing herself to speak. 'Was it--very sudden?'
The woman turned to Susie, glad to have someone with whom to discuss the event. She took no notice of Arthur's agony.
'Yes, mum; no one expected it. She died quite sudden like. She was only buried this morning.'
'What did she die of?' asked Susie, her eyes on Arthur.
She feared that he would faint. She wanted enormously to get him away, but did not know how to manage it.
'They say it was heart disease,' answered the landlady. 'Poor thing! It's a happy release for her.'
'Won't you get us some tea, Mrs Smithers? We're very tired, and we should like something immediately.'
'Yes, miss. I'll get it at once.'