In White Raiment

“And so did I,” he answered. “The seizure is sharp and sudden, the brain becoming paralysed. That is the condition of the young lady: paralysis of the brain and heart, coma and collapse.”

“But the cause?” I asked.

He was pale as death, yet he took no notice of his own condition.

“The cause?” he echoed, in his deep guttural German. “It is for us to discover that. I have never met a more interesting case than this.”

“Yes, it’s interesting enough,” I admitted; “but recollect the lady. We must not neglect her.”

“We are not neglecting her,” he responded reprovingly. “Now that we know something of the symptoms, we may be able to save her. Before, we were working entirely in the dark.”

“But you are still ill,” I said.

“No, no,” he laughed; “it is nothing.” And he passed across the threshold and stood just within the room again.

Apparently he thought that the seat of the mystery lay in the doorway. Then he rejoined us, but felt no further symptoms.

There was evidently some uncanny but unseen influence contained within that apartment, but what it was we could not discover. All that was plain to us was the fact that any person emerging from it must be struck down as by an ice-cold hand.

Together we returned to the boudoir, and, to our satisfaction, saw an unmistakable sign that life was not entirely extinct. My love had moved!

“Good!” exclaimed the old German. “I go again to get something else.” And, without further word, he crammed his shabby soft felt hat upon his head and hurried out.

“The mystery of that room is most extraordinary,” I remarked to her ladyship when we were alone. “Has the influence ever been felt there before?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she responded. “Never before to-night.”

“Never before the entrance of that strange woman?” I suggested.

“Exactly! It is an absolute mystery.”

“And you have no knowledge of whom that person was?”

“None whatever.”

“Not even a surmise?” I inquired rather dubiously.

My thoughts reverted to what I had overheard regarding the unwelcome presence in London of that woman known as “La Gioia.”

“No, not even a surmise,” she answered.

Should I tell her of my own suspicions? No. To keep my knowledge to myself and seek to discover the key to the problem was my best course.

“And your cousin was with her for twenty minutes, you say?”

“Yes, about that time,” she replied. “I did not hurry to finish my dinner as I believed Beryl was talking with the dressmaker regarding some alterations to an evening bodice which she had mentioned to me. They did not interest me, therefore I sat awaiting her return.”

“And by that time this woman, whoever she was, had already slipped out of the house.”

“She must have done so. No one heard her leave.”

“Let us hope that Hoefer will solve the enigma. If any one is able, he is.”

“But first urge him to bring poor Beryl back to consciousness,” she said, turning to gaze upon the still inanimate form of the woman I adored.

At that moment the German returned, puffing and grunting, for he had hurried, and the perspiration was rolling off his brow.

He took several little packets from his pocket, and, seating himself at the table, commenced to carefully prepare another solution, the ingredients of which were unknown to me. Some of the drugs I knew by their appearance, of course, but others were white powders, impossible to recognise.

Again he administered an injection into the arm of my prostrate loved one, and then we all three stood in silence watching for the effect.

Hoefer gave vent to a further grunt of confidence, glanced at his watch, and turned back to the table to rearrange his array of drugs. I saw that the little pocket-case lying on the table contained about twenty tiny tubes about an inch and a half long; each contained very small pilules of tabloids, coloured brightly to render them more easily distinguishable, and not much larger than ordinary shot. Each tube was marked, but by mysterious signs unknown in British pharmacology.

The action of this last prophylactic was slow, but signs were nevertheless not wanting that its effect was to reanimate, for by degrees the deathly pallor of the sweet face I adored became less marked, and the lips showed red instead of that ashen hue which had told us of her nearness to death.

The German returned to her, and, feeling her pulse, counted the seconds upon his watch, while at the same time I listened to the respiration.

“Good?” exclaimed the old fellow, beaming through his glasses. “The diagnosis is correct, and the refocillation is more rapid than I should have expected. She will recover.”

Suddenly the pallid cheeks became flushed. Life was returning. The liquid injected into the blood bad at last neutralised the effect, stimulated the circulation, reanimated the whole system, and revived the flickering spark of life. The hand I held grew warmer, the pulse throbbed more quickly, the breathing became regular, and a few minutes later, without warning, she opened her eyes and looked wonderingly around. A loud cry of joy escaped my lips. My love was saved.

“You know me, I think?” I said, bending down to her. “My name is Colkirk.”

“Yes, I know you quite well,” she responded very faintly. “But what has happened? Where is she?”

“Whom do you mean? Your visitor?”

“Yes,” she responded eagerly.

“We have no idea,” I replied. “You have been taken ill, and my friend here. Doctor Hoefer, has been attending you.”

“How do you feel?” the old German asked in his brusque manner.

“I am very thirsty,” she answered.

He took the decanter, and, mixing a little brandy and water, gave it to her.

Then just at that moment her ladyship re-entered, and, falling on her knees, clasped her cousin around the neck and shed wild tears of joy.

Liquid beef and other restoratives having been administered, the woman whose appearance had been identical in every respect with that of the dead was, ere long, able to sit up and talk with us. Her recovery had been almost as rapid as her attack.

We questioned her regarding her symptoms, and found them exactly similar to those we had ourselves experienced.

“I felt as though my whole body were frozen stiff and rigid,” she explained. “At first I heard a strange voice about me – the voice of Doctor Colkirk, I suppose it must have been – speaking with Nora; but I was unable to make any sign. It was just as though I were in a kind of trance, yet half-conscious of things about me. My muscles were paralysed, and I knew that you believed me to be dead. The one horrible thought that possessed me was that I might, perhaps, be buried alive.”

“But you were not conscious the whole time?” Hoefer asked.

“No; I think I slept during the latter part of the seizure. How long have I been lying here?”