Part 55 (2/2)

Amherst remained silent for a brief s.p.a.ce; then he turned his eyes once more to his wife.

Justine lifted her face: it looked small and spent, like an extinguished taper.

”It's true,” she said.

”True?”

”I _did_ give...an overdose...intentionally, when I knew there was no hope, and when the surgeons said she might go on suffering. She was very strong...and I couldn't bear it...you couldn't have borne it....”

There was another silence; then she went on in a stronger voice, looking straight at her husband: ”And now will you send this man away?”

Amherst glanced at Wyant without moving. ”Go,” he said curtly.

Wyant, instead, moved a step nearer. ”Just a minute, please. It's only fair to hear my side. Your wife says there was no hope; yet the day before she...gave the dose, Dr. Garford told her in my presence that Mrs. Amherst might live.”

Again Amherst's eyes addressed themselves slowly to Justine; and she forced her lips to articulate an answer.

”Dr. Garford said...one could never tell...but I know he didn't believe in the chance of recovery...no one did.”

”Dr. Garford is dead,” said Wyant grimly.

Amherst strode up to him again. ”You scoundrel--leave the house!” he commanded.

But still Wyant sneeringly stood his ground. ”Not till I've finished. I can't afford to let myself be kicked out like a dog because I happen to be in the way. Every doctor knows that in cases of spinal lesion recovery is becoming more and more frequent--if the patient survives the third week there's every reason to hope. Those are the facts as they would appear to any surgeon. If they're not true, why is Mrs. Amherst afraid of having them stated? Why has she been paying me for nearly a year to keep them quiet?”

”Oh----” Justine moaned.

”I never thought of talking till luck went against me. Then I asked her for help--and reminded her of certain things. After that she kept me supplied pretty regularly.” He thrust his shaking hand into an inner pocket. ”Here are her envelopes...Quebec...Montreal...Saranac...I know just where you went on your honeymoon. She had to write often, because the sums were small. Why did she do it, if she wasn't afraid? And why did she go upstairs just now to fetch me something? If you don't believe me, ask her what she's got in her hand.”

Amherst did not heed this injunction. He stood motionless, gripping the back of a chair, as if his next gesture might be to lift and hurl it at the speaker.

”Ask her----” Wyant repeated.

Amherst turned his head slowly, and his dull gaze rested on his wife.

His face looked years older--lips and eyes moved as heavily as an old man's.

As he looked at her, Justine came forward without speaking, and laid the little morocco case in his hand. He held it there a moment, as if hardly understanding her action--then he tossed it on the table at his elbow, and walked up to Wyant.

”You hound,” he said--”now go!”

x.x.xVI

WHEN Wyant had left the room, and the house-door had closed on him, Amherst spoke to his wife.

”Come upstairs,” he said.

<script>