Amusement Only

"Dead! Hughes!"

"How long ago is it since they took it?"

"Not long. After dinner."

"But-a wineglassful! Are they conscious?"

"They were when I just now left them. But they weren't feeling well. I-I'm not either. We couldn't understand it. This-this explains it. Hughes, you-you've murdered us!"

"Never mind, old man. Keep your head; I'll pull you through. Trust all to me. The great thing in a case like this is to keep your head. Don't sit down; keep yourself in constant circulation! Just one second! Brooks! Brooks! Run, Brooks, to the nearest doctor, and then to half-a-dozen others, and tell them there's a case of laudanum poisoning, and they're to come at once."

"Laudanum poisoning, sir! What, in the house?"

"Yes, in the house. Don't stand there like a pig in a fit. It's a question of life or death!"

"One moment, sir, while I get my hat."

"Go without your hat. Here; take mine. Now, run for your life. Remember, if anything happens through you, you will be held responsible in the eyes of the law. Come along, Lucas, let's go in to them. Keep yourself awake, old man; jump about. Don't say a word to them about what has happened. Don't let them even suspect from your manner that anything is wrong. The great thing is to keep them in entire ignorance. And keep cool-keep cool."

He gave a jerk at my arm which almost pulled me forward on my face.

"I say, Hughes, don't!"

"But I must, old man, I must. I must keep you alive, at any cost. Oh, Lucas, old man, if anything should happen- But I won't talk like that, or I shall make a fool of myself. Come along, old man, and mind what I say. Keep cool."

We went along-that is to say, he took me by the arm and dragged me towards the drawing-room. My emotions I am unable to describe. I always think that when a man is able to describe his emotions he hasn't had any worth describing. But through it all I had a dim perception that, in spite of his repeated adjurations, Hughes himself kept anything but cool. Outside the drawing-room door I brought the procession to a standstill. I gripped his arm.

"Hughes, do you think that she will die?"

"Who?"

"Margaret."

"Nonsense! Don't I tell you no one's going to die? For goodness' sake don't talk like that. Don't I keep telling you to keep cool?"

He did. But it was scarcely with an air of coolness that he threw the door wide open, and with so much force that it seemed as if he were trying to wrench it from its hinges. I fancy our entry made a slight sensation. It was strange if it didn't. They were certainly not unconscious-yet! Even amidst my own agitation it was with quite a sensation of relief that I perceived so much. Mrs. Chalmers was reclining on the couch, with her head thrown back, and a look about her which I did not like. Margaret was on a settee, seeming as though the proceedings had lost all interest for her. Pybus sat in an arm chair, his hands crossed upon his stomach.

"Good evening," said Hughes. I could see he did not like the look of things. "I-I've just dropped in."

Pybus rose.

"I'm just dropping out. Good evening, Lucas. I have to thank you for a very pleasant evening. I'll send you the doctor's bill when I get it."

Hughes looked at me, then at Pybus.

"You're not going, Mr. Pybus?"

"Do you wish me to be ill here?"

"But I was looking forward to a song, or a dance, or something."

"Dance! I feel like dancing; and singing, too. I've been the victim of an outrage, Mr. Hughes. I've been introduced to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"

"I've heard of it. Lucas ought not to have given it you."

"And after dinner!"

This was a murmur from the couch.

"That was wrong-quite wrong. The dose should have been administered before the meal."

"In that case," I observed, a little nettled, "we should all of us been dead by now."

Pybus glanced at me sharply.

"Dead! What do you mean?"

Hughes turned on me in a rage.

"Yes. What do you mean?"

I felt I had made a mistake.

"I-I mean nothing. Only-only I think Hughes was as much to blame as I was."

Hughes took Pybus away. They went to Mrs. Chalmers. So far as I could judge, the lady was rapidly sinking into a lethargic condition. I remained standing where I was. I began gradually to realise my situation-the approaching tragedy in which, by fate or circumstance, I was cast as an actor. A strange leaden feeling seemed to be stealing over me, but, in spite of it, I began to understand that at any moment the drawing-room, this drawing-room, my drawing-room, might be strewed with corpses. I knew nothing of the effects of laudanum poisoning, but Hughes seemed to be surprised that we were not all of us dead already. Here was Margaret, the woman I loved best in all the world, upon my right. There was her aunt, for whom, I own, my love was less, upon the couch. There was old Pybus. That old man's blood was also on my hands.

What would they call me? A suicide? The irony! In the full flush of health and strength, with fortune, all the world before me, and a wife. A wife whom I loved with a great fulness of love which was quite old-fashioned. I had wrought this hecatomb. I felt impelled to scream aloud. To warn my victims of the frightful fate which was stealing fast upon them, and of which they were still unconscious.

Someone touched me on the arm. I turned. It was Margaret!

"George, what is the matter?"

"Margaret!"

My voice trembled. There was a choking in my throat. I wished to take her in my arms before them all. It might be a last embrace.

"George, tell me, what is wrong?"

I made an effort to pull myself together.

"Oh! there's nothing wrong. I-I'm only a bit upset."

She put her arm through mine. She led me across the room. I required leading. She drew me into an alcove, which was formed by a window bay.

"Now, George, tell me what is wrong. I know there is something wrong. Tell me what it is."

I was at a loss for words. I trifled with her.