"Here's a lot of talk!" she protested. "You get well, old son. Then we'll see."
Gaga did not say anything for a moment. At last he spoke again.
"Sally, would you ... would you mind very much if I did ... didn't get well?" he asked.
"Course I should!" But Sally was filled with alarm at this conversation. She turned upon Gaga, but she could not meet his soft eyes. "Here, you're talking silly!"
"Sally.... I.... I wasn't spying," said Gaga, slowly. "But I.... Ididsee a man at the gate last night."
Sally clutched the back of a chair. For a moment she thought she must be going to faint. Then, with a tremendous effort, she controlled herself.
"What d'you mean?" she demanded.
"Behind you.Withyou."
"Never!"
Gaga continued to regard her. His smile was no longer visible. She only noticed that he was paler, that his nostrils were pinched and his eyes dark.
"I wish you'd tell me the truth," he said.
"I tell you there was nobodywithme," lied Sally. "Nobody. There may have been a man behind me. Ididget a bit of a start. Somebody came out of a gate. I didn't notice."
"Sally.... I.... I heard him call you 'Sally.'"
She was stricken with terror at his quietness.
"Nobody called me Sally!" she cried. "I don'tknowanybody."
Gaga sighed, and his head fell sideways, so that he no longer looked at her. They spoke no more. She believed that he knew she had been lying; but she had been caught unawares, and could not retract her assertions. Without a further word she began to prepare a basin of water, and washed herself. Then she went to ask that tea might be brought to the bedroom. They drank the tea in silence, both very grave. When they had finished, Sally took the tray to the end of the passage, where there was a projecting ledge, and then returned to the room.
"Shall I go and sing to you?" she asked.
"Not ... not now. Go for your wa ... walk. I shan't have any dinner. I'll just have a cup of cocoa."
Cocoa! Sally was transfixed.
"Oh, notcocoa!" she cried. "Notcocoa!" It was a desperate appeal. It came from the depths of her heart. She had been alarmed at his speech. She had been afraid of what he might do. But more than all she was afraid of the horrible voice that had followed fear with its imaginings of the means to her own salvation. At his further silence, she went quickly out of the room and out of the hotel. She walked at a rapid pace along the avenue, where others also were walking, as it was a favourite promenade; and she found herself shaking with emotion as the result of the disclosure which Gaga had made. He knew. Heknew. What did he know? And what would he do? Sally laughed hysterically. Oh, let him do itsoon! It was suspense that she could not bear. It was the ghastly sense of muddle and falsehood that was oppressing her now. Death—punishment—these were things of indifference. It was the fear of either that made her torture. To know the worst, to face it, to suffer for all she had done that was wrong, would satisfy her. But to be keptin this horrible suspense much longer would send her mad. Why had she not told Gaga the truth? She began hysterically to condemn herself. She should have told him the truth. She should have said that Toby was an old lover, jealous, angry, threatening. Now she could not tell any such tale, because she had denied that a man had used her name. To confess would make him disbelieve anything she ever said. Sally shrugged. He did not believe her now. He would never believe her. Once he was well he would find out everything. He would suspect her. He would persecute her with suspicions. He would suspect that she was going to have a baby. He would suspect ... he wouldknow....
Creeping, creeping into Sally's mind came temptation. She walked more swiftly until she reached a part of the road which bordered the river. The water was less muddy here. The river looked in this aspect like a big pool of liquid lead. It was less sinister. It carried to her heart no sense of horror. She turned and began to walk back, meeting every now and then a couple of pedestrians, or little knots of people, or solitary individuals like herself, who strolled to and fro along the broad avenue. But it was very dark, and she could not well see the faces of those who passed, except when they were in the neighbourhood of a light. She did not recognise anybody; and when she came once more to the bridge she did not tarry, but walked straight across it. Upon the face of the river were reflected the lights of the hotel, for the balcony was now faintly illumined, and she could see that the curtains had been drawn at the corner windows, although not elsewhere. Again unperceived, she made her way upstairs and into the drawing-room, where she removed her coat and hat and seated herself at the piano.
But Sally did not stay at the piano. She was restless and apprehensive. She did not dare to strike a note, in case Gaga should be asleep. And she could not go into the bedroom. She tried to do so, but she so shrank from meeting Gaga after their talk that every impulse held her faltering here. Instead, Sally went through the door which led from the drawing-room to the balcony. Only one light was burning, at the farther end, and this cast such a tiny ray that it threw up the shadows of no more than a single enamelled iron table and wicker chair. For the rest, everything was in a monotonous grey twilight, bereft of all incidental colourings and of all significance. The electric bulb was grimed with age and the action of the air, and the light was quite yellow, as that from an oil lamp would have been. The matting with which the floor of the balcony was covered was in shadow. Through the windows Sally could see only a blackness in which the water and the opposite bank and the buildings farther away were all obscured. She went towards the light, and sat here in an armchair, staring straight before her, and thinking the one word ... poison ... poison ... poison.
She must have been sitting upon the balcony for several minutes in this state approaching stupor, when she heard a faint sound. It was like the brushing of leaves against a passing body. Her heart quickened, and she looked quickly towards the darker end of the balcony, near the door leading to the drawing-room. She could see nothing at all, but her nerves did not relax their tenseness. She could see nothing; but she felt that something—somebody was there, watching her. Somebody—whom could it be? Sally knew how deserted the bar was, how easy it would be for a man to slip up the stairs withoutbeing seen. She was defenceless. If she had been well, she would have gone straight along the balcony, to discover the cause of her alarm; but she was ill, and she shrank back in her chair, watching the pulsing dimness.
Sally knew that there were only two people who could wish her harm—Gaga and Toby. If Gaga had gone out of his bedroom by the inner door he might have come round through the drawing-room, and might be standing there in the darkness. He might have gone away again. He might have found the poison. In a passion of fear, she rose. If it was Gaga, she would soon confront him. She would satisfy herself of his presence in the bedroom. She took two steps, and then stopped, her heart frantically beating. Therewassomebody there.
"Sally," came a sharp whisper. "Sally. Don't be afraid."
It was Toby, hidden still from sight, but waiting there at the dark end of the balcony.
Sally's eyes flew instantly to the window of the bedroom. All there was dark. She could not tell if the blinds were drawn or not. She no longer dreaded Toby: she too violently desired to see him, to be in his arms and saved from her nightmare thoughts by a moment's oblivion.
"Hush!" she whispered, and went silently along the balcony. "What d'you want?"
"I want you." Toby's voice came hissing into her ear, and she saw him at last. He was standing, a burly figure, in the shadow of a screen, and remained quite still, hidden.
"What did you come for? How did you get here?"
"Went to your house. Frightened 'em." Toby laughedgrimly. "Thought you'd got away, didn't you? Well, here I am." His tone became suddenly ferocious. "See?"
"You can't ... we can't talk. My husband's there—in that room. He'll hear. He saw you last night."
"I got to see you," Toby whispered, obstinately. "See? I mean to say, I got to know what you're going to do."
Sally gave a contemptuous laugh. So he had followed her for that!
"Well, I'm well rid ofyou," she answered. "I see whatyouare."
"Oh, you do, do you...." said Toby. He gripped her arm. "Not so much of that, Sal. D'you see? I won't have it. You belong to me."
"I don't!" But Sally was only waiting for his fierce embrace, and longing for it. "I don't like you. I don't want you. I've had enough. You let me down."
Toby started. His voice became thick with anger.
"My Christ! Who let anybody down? What did you do to me? Eh? You married this chap. You did it for yourself. Let you down, do I? Oh, I'm a good mind to kill you, Sal."
Sally shivered. She knew he might do it. Hecoulddo it. It was his nature. But she answered him defiantly, sneeringly.
"Yes, if you want to be hung for it."
Toby was holding her so that her arms were being bruised. He pulled her towards him, and kissed her again and again. He was crushing her.
"See?" he said. "That's how you belong to me."
"Well, what about it?" panted Sally. "Let me go.... Just because you're strong."
"You're coming off with me. See? Now."
"I'm not." She was equally determined.
"Now. Can you get your hat?"
"I'm not," repeated Sally.
Toby swung her off her feet with one arm.
"See?" he announced again. "That's what."
"Go on, that's all you can do," answered Sally, savagely. "You clear off. I've had enough of it." She dived suddenly, and escaped from him. She was a few steps away, and Toby was in pursuit. As he followed, he kicked against one of the little iron tables, which he had not seen in the half-light, and sent it crashing to the floor. Amid their silence it made a hideous noise. Sally drew herself upright, terrified into rigidity. This was the finish—the finish. It was all over now. She was beaten. She.... And as she stared she saw that the French window of the bedroom was open—had been open, perhaps, all the time,—and that Gaga was standing there, as if he had overheard all that they had said.
"Sally!" he cried in a sharp voice of alarm. "Oh, my God! Oh, myGod!"
Gaga came leaping out upon the balcony as Toby stumbled on towards Sally. The two men were sharply in conflict, and Gaga's arm was raised. She could see it even in the shadow—the raised arm, and the impact of the two bodies. Gaga was in his sleeping-suit, spectral in his gauntness and his pallor. Maddened, Toby swept his enemy aside with one violent blow that would have killed the strongest man. Gaga went down, his head and body thrown with great force against the brick wall of the hotel, and sliding to the ground with such momentum that there was a further concussion.
"Toby!" shrieked Sally. "Toby! You've killed him!"
Gaga lay in the shadow, quite motionless, a horrible twisted body without life. And the two others stood panting in the twilight, staring down at his ghastly upturned face. Toby was as if paralysed by the sight, his hand sleepily raised to his brow.
A voice sounded from downstairs.
"Did you call, Mrs. Merrick?" And then ascending steps followed.
Sally made a frantic gesture.
"Get out!" she cried. "Quick. They're coming. They'll find you. He's dead. Get out!" She waved to the windows.
With one glance round, and with fear at his heels, Toby ran to the side of the balcony, pulled aside one of the windows, and climbed out into the darkness. Sally saw him no more. She was only aware that something terrible happened, and that he missed his footing and plunged downwards towards the running water and the sickening mud. Then, as she convulsively jerked the window close again, she was overcome with deadly faintness, and herself fell upon the matting, striking her head as she fell, and losing consciousness.