Chapter XVI

Nicky, entering the house by one of the side doors that opened into an anteroom, hung up his hat and whip and went striding off to the front hall, calling out to Miss Beccles whom he saw at the head of the stairs, “Where is Cousin Elinor? I had such a piece of work to find our doctor! But he is coming, never fear! Why, what’s amiss?”

This exclamation was provoked by Francis’ voice, agitatedly raised in the bookroom. “Miss Beccles! Crawley! Barrow! Nicholas! Will no one hear me? Come this instant! Oh, dear, what can have happened?”

Three bounds took Nicholas to the door of the bookroom. He was brought up short by the sight of his hostess lying inanimate on the hearth rug with Francis Cheviot on his knees beside her distractedly splashing water from a vase of snowdrops over her ashen face. The snowdrops lay scattered beside her, the cushion from one of the window seats had been cast on to the floor, and the casement was swinging wide on its hinges.

“You villain, what have you done?” thundered Nicky, hurrying forward.

“Do not waste time asking me what I have done!”

Francis besought him. “Summon Miss Beccles, my dear boy! Burned feathers! Where is Crawley? Crawley will know what to do to bring her round! Oh, dear, what in the world can have come over her? My poor nerves!”

By this time Miss Beccles had reached the scene, and with a cry had run toward the group by the fire. “Elinor, my love! Mrs. Cheviot! Oh, what is the matter? What caused her to swoon? Pray let me come there, Mr. Nicky! Run quickly to the kitchen and beg a handful of the pheasant’s feathers from Mrs. Barrow!”

“Yes, yes, and call to that fool of mine!” Francis begged. “He is never where he is wanted! I must have my smelling salts and the hartshorn brought directly. She looks horridly pale! I do not know when I have sustained such a shock! How long has she been lying here? It is a mercy her clothes have not been set alight by a spark from that fire! Do hurry, my dear boy!”

“What did you do to her?” Nicky demanded hotly.

“Dear Nicholas, what could I do? I had no time to do more than snatch up that bowl of flowers and cast it over her, and it has not answered in the least! Do pray fetch Crawley! He is very knowledgeable, always knows just what to do in case of illness!”

Nicky stood irresolute for a moment, but upon Miss Beccles’ adjuring him to make haste, swung round on his heel and hurried off to the kitchen. By the time he had brought both the Barrows bustling to the bookroom, he had had opportunity to reflect on the improbability of Francis’ having had any hand in Elinor’s plight. He could not imagine any conceivable reason for an assault on her and began to think that she must have been overtaken by a fainting fit. She was still unconscious, but Miss Beccles, in answer to an agitated inquiry from Francis, assured them that her pulse was beating. Francis, abandoning his attempts to assist Miss Beccles, had sunk into a chair and seemed to be almost as much in need of resuscitation as his hostess. So, at any rate, his valet thought, for when he arrived, in. response to Nicky’s shout, he instantly produced a vinaigrette from his pocket and held it beneath his master’s nose. It was waved away.

“Take it to Mrs. Cheviot!” Francis said family. “I must not be selfish, and I dare say I shall not have one of my spasms if I keep very quiet for a minute or two.”

The draft from the open casement was causing the fire to belch puffs of smoke into the room. Nicky said, “It’s all very well of you to have opened the window, but she’s more likely to be smothered by this smoke than to derive the least benefit from such a devilish draft!”

“Open the window! You cannot suppose me to have been so imprudent!” exclaimed Francis. “Good God, I had not noticed it! Pray shut it this instant, dear boy! Do you wish me to die of an inflammation on the lung?”

Nicky pulled it to, but turned to stare in surprise. “Did you not throw it open? Who can have done so, then? She would not be sitting here with that wind blowing into the room! And how came that cushion to be on the floor?”

The smell of burned feathers began to mingle with the smoke. Miss Beccles looked up to say, “No, no, she would not have sat with the window open on such a day as this! I know it was not so when I came into this room only half an hour ago! Oh, what can have happened? Is it possible someone has been here and escaped by that way?”

“Not with Bouncer in the house!” Nicky averred.

“Oh, but the naughty doggie has gone off hunting! I should never have left her, but, to be sure, I never supposed—and in broad daylight, too!”

“Are you telling me,” said Francis, in a failing voice, “that some desperate person has been able to enter this house without let or hindrance?”

“They could have done so, for the side door is unlocked,” Nicky said shortly. “I came in through it myself. But that any should have dared—” He broke off, for a bell was clanging in the distance.

“That’s the front door, that is,” Barrow said, thrusting the decanter of brandy he was holding into his wife’s hand and going off to answer it.

“Crawley,” said Francis faintly, “if Miss Beccles is not using my vinaigrette, pray bring it back to me! Thank you—and perhaps a little of that brandy. Yes, that is enough. Now go and secure any door which you find open! I cannot understand how anyone could be so careless, for how can one tell what evil characters may be in the neighborhood only awaiting their chance to rob the house? I dare say there may be gypsies in the vicinity, and I have the greatest horror of gypsies! I cannot answer for the consequences if there is any possibility of the house’s being broken into again, for already I have the gravest fear that I may be going to have one of my spasms. Perhaps it would be as well if you, dear Nicholas, were to take the precaution of searching the grounds. I cannot be easy until I know that no one is lurking in those dreadfully overgrown bushes, as I feel might so well be the case.”

“Ah, she is coming round!” Miss Beccles cried, fondly chafing Elinor’s limp hands. “There, my love! there, there!”

A quick, firm tread was heard approaching across the hall. Another instant, and Carlyon had entered the room, still wearing his caped driving cloak and his gloves. One glance took in the scene. He stripped off his gloves, saying, “What’s this? What caused her to swoon?”

“We do not know!” Miss Beccles answered. “Mr. Cheviot found her lying here and called to us to come to her. But she is better! See, she is beginning to stir and to recover her complexion a little! Elinor, my love!”

“Ned, I found this window swinging wide and that cushion on the floor, as though it had been kicked off the seat! And look at this! I’ve this instant seen that the curtain is torn off two of its hooks!”

Carlyon cast a cursory glance toward the window, but strode across the room to the fireplace to drop on one knee beside Elinor and to lift her up from the floor. He rose with her in his arms and walked with her to the sofa. She gave a moan and opened her eyes, murmuring something he could not catch. He said calmly, “Do not try to talk, Mrs. Cheviot! You will be better directly. Have the goodness to. pile up those cushions a little, Miss Beccles! Nicky, fetch me some brandy for her!”

“It’s here, if Francis has not drunk it all!” Nicky said.

“Then pour some into a glass,”. Carlyon said, lowering his burden onto the sofa, but keeping one arm under Elinor’s shoulders.

Nicky hastened to place a glass into his imperatively outstretched hand. He put it to Elinor’s lips, carefully supporting her head, and said, “Try to swallow this, ma’am! You will feel very much better if you do.”

Her eyes, blurred at first, began to grow clearer. She looked lip in a dazed way into his face, and whispered, “My head! Oh, my head!”

He obliged her to drink some of the brandy. She choked over it but it revived her. She was trembling convulsively and one of her hands clutched his wrist. “Something struck me!” she said hoarsely. “Oh, I am glad you have come! Do not leave me!”

“No, certainly I shall not leave you,” he responded. “But you will do better to be quiet for a little while. There is nothing to alarm you now.” He laid her down on the cushions as he spoke and she cried out as her head came to rest on them.

“By God, someone did hit her on the head!” Nicky exclaimed. “Cousin Elinor, who was it?”

She was lying with closed eyes, and a hand pressed to her brow. “I don’t know. I heard a noise. Then something struck me. I don’t know any more.”

“For heaven’s sake!” said Francis in a shrill voice, “will no one go out to make sure that somebody is not lurking in the garden? How can you be so inconsiderate, Nicholas? Have you no regard for the nerves of others less insensible than yourself? If you will not go, then Crawley must do so, but tell him to arm himself with my swordstick, for it would be a shocking thing if he were to be injured by some ruffian! I cannot bear to have strangers about me, and if he were to be incapacitated I should be obliged to do so.”

“Well, I will go out to look, but you may depend upon it there is no one there,” Nicky said. “If there was ever someone he will have made off long since!”

“Go and see,” said Carlyon. He nodded to Mrs. Barrow who had brought in a bowl of water and some strips of old linen. “Thank you, Mrs. Barrow, that is all.” He waited until she had left the room and then bent over Elinor again. “Where does it pain you?”

She had turned her head sideways on the pillow and now moved her hand cautiously to the back of it, just above the neck. Her own touch made her wince. She opened her eyes, saying, “Oh, I have such a bruise! I can feel the bump already!”