In White Raiment

“And for a death certificate?”

“Of course.”

“Well, to speak plainly, I consider you an inhuman scoundrel,” I said. “If your daughter’s dying hour is not sacred to you, then no man’s honour or reputation is safe in your hands.”

“I thank you for your compliment,” he replied with a stiff bow. “But I might reply that you yourself are not very remarkable for honour, having in view the fact that, in the hope of gaining a sufficient price, you have married a woman upon whom you have never set eyes.”

“You tempted me!” I cried furiously. “You held the money before my gaze and fascinated me with it until I was helpless in your power. Fortunately, however, the spell is broken by this inhuman suggestion of yours, and I wash my hands clean of the whole affair.”

“Ah, my dear sir, that is not possible. Remember you are my daughter’s husband.”

“And yet you ask me to kill her.”

“Who has greater right to curtail her sufferings than her husband?”

“And who has greater right to endeavour to save her life?”

“But you cannot. It is impossible.”

“Why impossible?”

“She is doomed.”

“By you. You have resolved that she shall not live till morning,” I said, adding: “If, as you tell me, her mysterious illness must prove fatal, I see no reason why you should offer me a bribe to encompass her death. Surely a few hours more or less are of no consequence.”

“But they are,” he protested quickly. “She must die before sundown, I tell you.”

“Not if I can prevent it.”

“Then you will forgo the money I have offered you,” he inquired seriously.

“I have no intention of touching a single farthing of it.”

“Until you are forced to.”

“Forced to!” I exclaimed. “I don’t understand your meaning.”

“You will understand one day,” he answered with a grin – “one day when it may, perhaps, be too late. It would be best for us to act in unison, I assure you.”

“For you, possibly; not for me.”

“No – for you,” he said, fixing his crafty, evil-looking eyes upon me. “You have taken one step towards the goal, and you cannot now draw back. You have already accepted your price – twenty thousand pounds.”

“Enough!” I cried indignantly. “If I were to give information to the police regarding this conversation, you would find yourself arrested within an hour.”

“As I have already told you, my dear sir, I am not at all afraid of such a contretemps; I am no blunderer, I assure you.”

“Neither am I,” I answered quickly, resolving to remain there no longer discussing such a subject. From the first moment of our meeting I had entertained a suspicion of him. Several facts were evident. He had some strong motive, first in marrying his daughter Beryl, secondly in encompassing her death before sundown, and thirdly in implicating me so deeply that I should be unable to extricate myself from the net which he set to entrap me.

A fourth fact, apparently small in itself, had caused me considerable reflection: the hand that I had held and on the finger of which I had placed the bond of matrimony, was in no sense chilly or clammy. It was not the wasted hand of a moribund invalid, but rather that of a healthy person. While I had held it I felt and counted the pulsations. The latter had told me that my mysterious bride was without fever, and was apparently in a normal state of health. It was curious that she should have walked and acted involuntarily, if only half-conscious of her surroundings.

The Tempter was endeavouring to deceive me in this particular. But it was in vain.

“Cannot we come to terms?” he asked in a low, earnest voice. “There is surely no object to be gained in our being enemies; rather let us act together in our mutual interests. Recollect that by your marriage you have become my son-in-law and heir.”

“Your heir!” I echoed. I had not thought of that before. His house betokened that he was wealthy. “You are very generous,” I added, not without some sarcasm. “But I do not feel inclined to accept any such responsibility from one whose name even I do not know.”

“Of course,” he said easily. “I was stupid not to introduce myself. In the excitement it quite slipped my memory. Pray forgive me. My name is Wynd – Wyndham Wynd.”

“Well, Mr Wynd,” I said with some forced politeness, “I think we may as well conclude this interview. I wish to make the acquaintance of my wife.”

“Quite natural,” he answered, smiling good-humouredly. “Quite natural that you should wish to see her; only I beg you, doctor, to prepare for disappointment.”

“Your warning is unnecessary,” I responded as carelessly as I could.

My curiosity had been aroused by the healthfulness of that small, well-formed hand, and I intended to investigate for myself. That house was, I felt certain, a house of mystery.

I had turned towards the door, but in an instant he had reached it and stood facing me with his back to it resolutely, saying —

“You will go to her on one condition – the condition I have already explained.”

“That I take her life seriously, and give a certificate of death from natural causes,” I said. “No, Mr Wynd, I am no murderer.”

“Not if we add to the sum an extra five thousand?”

“I will not harm her for an extra fifty thousand. Let me pass!” I cried with fierce resolution.

“When you have promised to accede to my request.”

“I will never promise that.”

“Then you will not enter her room again.”

Almost as the words left his lips there was a low tap at the door, and it opened, disclosing Davies, who announced —

“The Major, sir.”

“Show him in.”

The visitor, who entered jauntily with his silk hat still set at a slight angle on his head, was the well-groomed man who had led my bride up the aisle of the church. I judged him to be about forty-five, dark-complexioned, good-looking, but foppish in appearance, carrying his monocle with ease acquired by long practice.

“Well, Wynd,” he said, greeting his friend, cheerily, “all serene?”

“Entirely,” answered the other. And then, turning to me, introduced the new-comer as “Major Tattersett.”

“This, Major, is Dr Colkirk, my new son-in-law,” he explained. “Permit me to present him.”

“Congratulate you, my dear sir,” he responded laughing good-humouredly, while the Tempter remarked —