Part 4 (2/2)

But Yos.h.i.+o did not move.

”Master not going in,” he said softly.

Craven jerked his head.

”Stand aside,” he repeated monotonously.

For a moment longer the j.a.p stood obstinately, then his eyes fell under Craven's stare and he moved reluctantly, with a gesture of mingled acquiescence and regret. Craven pa.s.sed through into the room. It was empty. He stood a moment hesitating--indefinite anxiety giving place to definite fear.

”O Hara San,” he whispered, and the whisper seemed to echo mockingly from the empty room. He listened with straining ears for her answer, for her footstep--and he heard nothing but the heavy beating of his own heart. Then a moan came from the inner room and he followed the sound swiftly. The room was darkened and for a moment he halted in the doorway, seeing nothing in the half light. The moaning grew louder and as he became accustomed to the darkness he saw the old armah crouching beside a pile of cus.h.i.+ons.

In a second he was beside her and at his coming she scrambled to her feet with a sharp cry, staring at him wildly, then fled from the room.

He stood alone looking down on the cus.h.i.+ons. His heart seemed to stop beating and for a moment he reeled, then he gripped himself and knelt down slowly.

”O Hara San--” he whispered again, with shaking lips, ”little O Hara San--little--” the whisper died away in a terrible gasping sob.

She lay as if asleep--one arm stretched out along her side, the other lying across her breast with her small hand clenched and tucked under her chin, her head bent slightly and nestled naturally into the cus.h.i.+on. The att.i.tude was habitual. A hundred times Craven had seen her so--asleep. It was impossible that she could be dead.

He spoke to her again--crying aloud in agony--but the heavily fringed eyelids did not open, no glad cry of welcome broke from the parted lips, the little rounded bosom that had always heaved tumultuously at his coming was still under the silken kimono. He bent over her with ashen face and laid his hand gently on her breast, but the icy coldness struck into his own heart and his touch seemed a profanation. He drew back with a terrible shudder.

How dared he touch her? Murderer! For it was murder. His work as surely as if he had himself driven a knife into that girlish breast or squeezed the breath from that slender throat. He was under no delusion. He understood the j.a.panese character too well and he knew O Hara San too thoroughly to deceive himself. He knew the pa.s.sionate love that she had given him, a love that had often troubled him with its intensity. He had been her G.o.d, her everything. She had wors.h.i.+pped him blindly. And he had left her--left her alone with the memory of his strangeness and his harshness, alone with her heart breaking, alone with her fear. And she had been so curiously alone. She had had n.o.body but him. She had trusted him--and he had left her. She had trusted him. Oh, G.o.d, she had trusted him!

His quick imagination visualised what must have happened. Frantic with despair and desperate at the seeming fulfilment of her fears she had not stopped to reason nor waited for calmer reflection but with the curious Oriental blending of impetuosity and stolid deliberation she had killed herself, seeking release from her misery with the aid of the subtle poison known to every j.a.panese woman. He flung his arm across the little still body and his head fell on the cus.h.i.+on beside hers as his soul went down into the depths.

An hour of unspeakable bitterness pa.s.sed before he regained his lost control.

Then he forced himself to look at her again. The poison had been swift and merciful. There was no distortion of the little oval face, no discoloration on the fair skin. She was as beautiful as she had always been. And with death the likeness had become intensified until it seemed to him that he must have been blind beyond belief to have failed to detect it earlier.

He looked for the last time through a blur of tears. It seemed horrible to leave her to the ministrations of others, he longed to gather up the slender body in his arms and with his own hands lay her in the loveliest corner of the garden she had loved so much. He tried to stammer a prayer but the words stuck in his throat. No intercession from him was possible, nor did she need it. She had pa.s.sed into the realm of Infinite Understanding.

He rose to his feet slowly and lingered for a moment looking his last round the little room that was so familiar. Here were a few of her most treasured possessions, some that had come to her from her mother, some that he had given her. He knew them all so well, had handled them so often. A spasm crossed his face. It had been the home of the enchanted princess, shut off from all the world--until he had come. And his coming had brought desolation. Near him a valuable vase, that she had prized, lay smashed on the floor, overturned by the old armah in the first frenzy of her grief. It was symbolical and Craven turned from it with quivering lips and went out heavily.

He winced at the strong light and shaded his eyes for a moment with his hand.

Yos.h.i.+o was waiting where he had left him. Craven walked to the edge of the verandah and stood for a few moments in silence, steadying himself.

”Where were you last night, Yos.h.i.+o?” he asked at length, in a flat and tired voice.

The j.a.p shrugged.

”In town,” he said, with American brevity learned in California.

”Why did you come here this morning?”

Yos.h.i.+o raised eyes of childlike surprise.

”Master's watch. Came here to find it,” he said nonchalantly, with an air that expressed pride at his own astuteness. But it did not impress Craven. He looked at him keenly, knowing that he was lying but not understanding the motive and too tired to try and understand. He felt giddy and his head was aching violently--for a moment everything seemed to swim before his eyes and he caught blindly at the verandah rail. But the sensation pa.s.sed quickly and he pulled himself together, to find Yos.h.i.+o beside him thrusting his helmet into his hands.

”Better Master going back to bungalow. I make all arrangements, understanding j.a.panese ways,” he said calmly.

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