CHAPTER XILOLA TRAPPED“Fifteenminutes he said.” Dr. Crossett glanced up at the clock. “He should be here very soon now.”“I cannot see what difference a few minutes can possibly make, nor can I see what this ‘plain-clothes man,’ as John calls him, can do when he gets here,” said Lola impatiently.“The whole thing seems absurd to me. What can one man do more than another?”“I do not like this affair,” replied Dr. Crossett. “In Paris I had much to do with the medical side of criminal practice. I made a study of convicted felons for many years; of their minds, and their bodies. This girl is not of the type. Lola! you have a woman’s wit. If she did not do it, who did?”He had been walking restlessly back and forth across the room, but as he asked her this question he stopped in front of her.“Could it have been anyone beside Maria?”“She and I were the only ones who knew how to open the safe,” Lola answered in a perfectly matter-of-fact voice. “Even I did not know that there was any money there, and I would not steal your money, for I know that I would only have to ask you for it, and you would give it to me.”“No one but that poor girl,” the Doctor sighed. “I liked her. I am sorry, also I am ashamed. I pride myself upon some knowledge of character, and I have been a fool. In this servant I thought I had found a rare type of loyalty, an inborn refinement and delicacy that sprang from a good heart, making no account of the promptings of inherited vice, and untouched by the degrading environment of her youth. Such natures are met, not often, but I thought that hers was of that description. Well—I have had many such disappointments. We will talk no more about it. Come, Martin!”He went to Dr. Barnhelm, who was seated at the table in an attitude of utter dejection. “The detective may be able to make her confess; if not, we will go to the bank again to-morrow.”Dr. Barnhelm looked up wearily.“There seems to be some curious fate hanging over my machine, Paul. I feel to-night that my work has been a failure.”“A failure! You are dreaming, Martin. See what your work has done.” Dr. Crossett pointed to Lola indignantly. “She was dead, and you brought her back to life.”“What do you mean?” Lola sprang to her feet, facing them, her eyes blazing and her face livid. “What do you mean?”“Lola!”“Hush, Paul! She does not know!”“What is it that I don’t know?” There was an awful terror in her voice and as she faced them, clutching fiercely at her heart, they saw the blood go from her lips, and could hear her teeth chattering together convulsively, so that she could hardly form her words. “What do you mean when you say that I was dead?” She tottered toward them, her arms outstretched. “No! Don’t touch me. Why did you say that I was dead? I was hurt, I was unconscious, but I was not dead! Why don’t you speak? If I was dead howcould I be here? Oh, my God! Why did you say that I was dead?”“Lola! My dear! You do not understand.”“I want to understand! I must! I must!”“Quick, Martin,” Dr. Crossett spoke sharply, his eyes fastened on her face. “Tell her!”“My experiments have made it possible for me to—to artificially stimulate the action of the heart. To—practically restore life, within a certain time. You—you have never asked me for the details. There seemed to be no need for you to know.”“The papers said that I was dead! I—I laughed when I read them—was it true?”“My child!” Dr. Crossett put his hand gently on her arm. “You must control yourself.”“Was it true, father? Was it true?’“Yes. Help her, Paul. Help her!”Dr. Crossett caught her in his strong arms and, looking into her eyes, spoke soothingly.“What of it? It is over. You are well now. You are not marked, not hurt. You are as other women.”She threw him off as easily as though he had been a child.“Am I! Am I! So, I am not hurt; I am as other women?” Then she laughed.He had heard laughter of many sorts, this man whose work had for years taken him to asylums, to prisons, to locked rooms in stately palaces, rooms where the windows were barred with iron bars; but he had never heard a laugh like this; it had in it all of mystery of which he had ever known, and something else, some nameless thing that rang in his ears for many years, and that seemed for a moment to stop the beating of his heart.Her laughter stopped, and she turned wearily to leave the room, and as she did so they heard the outside door open, then close with a crash, and John Dorris stood in the doorway, facing her.“You—you lied to me!”Dr. Barnhelm stepped forward angrily.“John!”John did not turn his head but kept his eyes on her.“You told me that you spent the afternoon with Dr. Rupert’s wife.”“I did.”“I met Rupert in the car. I told him what you said,and he laughed at me. His wife is on her way to Europe.”“No!” Dr. Crossett cried out in denial.“Why should Rupert tell me so, if it were not true? That is not all. You did not see his wife, Lola, but he saw you. You were at Churchill’s restaurant for two hours, with Dick Fenway!”“No, John!” Dr. Barnhelm caught him by the arm. “What are you saying?”“The truth! I made him swear to it. He sat only a few feet away from her. He described her dress; he spoke of telling his friends who she was, when they remarked upon the splendid jewels she wore about her neck.”“There! He did lie, or he was mistaken. My daughter wears no jewels—you know that, both of you. Just a few little trinkets that were her mother’s. No jewels; not one!”“Thank God!” exclaimed Dr. Crossett. “Thank God!”“I will kill that man! You”—the old man glared at John contemptuously—“you, who say you love her—you should have killed him. She has no jewels—see!”He put his hand in the safe and drew out Lola’s little black jewel box.“Here is all she has, all that she ever had. The key, Lola, give me the key.”“Why?”“I want them to see your poor little trinkets. By God, no man shall doubt my daughter. Give me the key!”She looked around for a moment, from one to the other, from John to her father, to Dr. Crossett, to Maria, who had entered the room, and stood looking at her. She was trapped. She knew that there was just one chance, hardly worth the trying.“I—the key is lost, father.”Dr. Barnhelm did not hesitate. He threw the delicate wooden box to the floor and dashed his foot down on it. It splintered to pieces.“There! Look! All of you!”He pointed to a string of amber, a silver pin, and—“Look!” John stooped and held up before them the string of flashing diamonds.“Lola!” There was agony in the Doctor’s voice. “Lola!”“It—it is not mine.”“It is the box you dropped in here, after you came back from Dick Fenway. You would not let me see what was in it.” John held up the battered leather box. “See how well it fits these diamonds!”“Then you did open that safe since the Doctor put the money there!” exclaimed Maria. “I knew you did. You took that money.”“Well, what if I did?” She was at bay now, against them all, and she was glad of it. “I wanted the money. Could I have asked any of you for it? You are all so good, and so respectable that if I told you I wanted a pair of decent gloves you’d say it was a sin.”She put out her hand and tore the string of diamonds away from John, and clasped them defiantly about her neck.“This is mine, and the man who gave it to me will give me as many others as I ask of him.”“Lola!” John cried out in horror, but she turned on him fiercely, scornfully.A crowd of people.LOLA BEGS DICK FENWAY TO TAKE HER AWAY.“Why not? What have you to offer me to compare with what he can give me? Am I to go on forever, and ever, and ever, living the same life, thinking the samethoughts—always—always—until I die? If that was to be my life, how dared you bring me back from death, back, with a thousand new feelings, and passions, and desires? It was you who gave them to me.”She was leaning forward now, across the table, her eyes glaring at her father, who sat huddled in his chair, his face slowly changing from a look of shame and agony to one of horror. “You made me what I am. In your narrow, rusty lives you, none of you,” she turned again to the others, “know that outside your rotten little world there is a life that is all gayety and sunshine. I am going to it. I’m done with you—all of you!”Before they could stop her, if any there had dared to stop her, she left them. They heard her going down the hall, and heard the door close behind her.
“Fifteenminutes he said.” Dr. Crossett glanced up at the clock. “He should be here very soon now.”
“I cannot see what difference a few minutes can possibly make, nor can I see what this ‘plain-clothes man,’ as John calls him, can do when he gets here,” said Lola impatiently.
“The whole thing seems absurd to me. What can one man do more than another?”
“I do not like this affair,” replied Dr. Crossett. “In Paris I had much to do with the medical side of criminal practice. I made a study of convicted felons for many years; of their minds, and their bodies. This girl is not of the type. Lola! you have a woman’s wit. If she did not do it, who did?”
He had been walking restlessly back and forth across the room, but as he asked her this question he stopped in front of her.
“Could it have been anyone beside Maria?”
“She and I were the only ones who knew how to open the safe,” Lola answered in a perfectly matter-of-fact voice. “Even I did not know that there was any money there, and I would not steal your money, for I know that I would only have to ask you for it, and you would give it to me.”
“No one but that poor girl,” the Doctor sighed. “I liked her. I am sorry, also I am ashamed. I pride myself upon some knowledge of character, and I have been a fool. In this servant I thought I had found a rare type of loyalty, an inborn refinement and delicacy that sprang from a good heart, making no account of the promptings of inherited vice, and untouched by the degrading environment of her youth. Such natures are met, not often, but I thought that hers was of that description. Well—I have had many such disappointments. We will talk no more about it. Come, Martin!”
He went to Dr. Barnhelm, who was seated at the table in an attitude of utter dejection. “The detective may be able to make her confess; if not, we will go to the bank again to-morrow.”
Dr. Barnhelm looked up wearily.
“There seems to be some curious fate hanging over my machine, Paul. I feel to-night that my work has been a failure.”
“A failure! You are dreaming, Martin. See what your work has done.” Dr. Crossett pointed to Lola indignantly. “She was dead, and you brought her back to life.”
“What do you mean?” Lola sprang to her feet, facing them, her eyes blazing and her face livid. “What do you mean?”
“Lola!”
“Hush, Paul! She does not know!”
“What is it that I don’t know?” There was an awful terror in her voice and as she faced them, clutching fiercely at her heart, they saw the blood go from her lips, and could hear her teeth chattering together convulsively, so that she could hardly form her words. “What do you mean when you say that I was dead?” She tottered toward them, her arms outstretched. “No! Don’t touch me. Why did you say that I was dead? I was hurt, I was unconscious, but I was not dead! Why don’t you speak? If I was dead howcould I be here? Oh, my God! Why did you say that I was dead?”
“Lola! My dear! You do not understand.”
“I want to understand! I must! I must!”
“Quick, Martin,” Dr. Crossett spoke sharply, his eyes fastened on her face. “Tell her!”
“My experiments have made it possible for me to—to artificially stimulate the action of the heart. To—practically restore life, within a certain time. You—you have never asked me for the details. There seemed to be no need for you to know.”
“The papers said that I was dead! I—I laughed when I read them—was it true?”
“My child!” Dr. Crossett put his hand gently on her arm. “You must control yourself.”
“Was it true, father? Was it true?’
“Yes. Help her, Paul. Help her!”
Dr. Crossett caught her in his strong arms and, looking into her eyes, spoke soothingly.
“What of it? It is over. You are well now. You are not marked, not hurt. You are as other women.”
She threw him off as easily as though he had been a child.
“Am I! Am I! So, I am not hurt; I am as other women?” Then she laughed.
He had heard laughter of many sorts, this man whose work had for years taken him to asylums, to prisons, to locked rooms in stately palaces, rooms where the windows were barred with iron bars; but he had never heard a laugh like this; it had in it all of mystery of which he had ever known, and something else, some nameless thing that rang in his ears for many years, and that seemed for a moment to stop the beating of his heart.
Her laughter stopped, and she turned wearily to leave the room, and as she did so they heard the outside door open, then close with a crash, and John Dorris stood in the doorway, facing her.
“You—you lied to me!”
Dr. Barnhelm stepped forward angrily.
“John!”
John did not turn his head but kept his eyes on her.
“You told me that you spent the afternoon with Dr. Rupert’s wife.”
“I did.”
“I met Rupert in the car. I told him what you said,and he laughed at me. His wife is on her way to Europe.”
“No!” Dr. Crossett cried out in denial.
“Why should Rupert tell me so, if it were not true? That is not all. You did not see his wife, Lola, but he saw you. You were at Churchill’s restaurant for two hours, with Dick Fenway!”
“No, John!” Dr. Barnhelm caught him by the arm. “What are you saying?”
“The truth! I made him swear to it. He sat only a few feet away from her. He described her dress; he spoke of telling his friends who she was, when they remarked upon the splendid jewels she wore about her neck.”
“There! He did lie, or he was mistaken. My daughter wears no jewels—you know that, both of you. Just a few little trinkets that were her mother’s. No jewels; not one!”
“Thank God!” exclaimed Dr. Crossett. “Thank God!”
“I will kill that man! You”—the old man glared at John contemptuously—“you, who say you love her—you should have killed him. She has no jewels—see!”
He put his hand in the safe and drew out Lola’s little black jewel box.
“Here is all she has, all that she ever had. The key, Lola, give me the key.”
“Why?”
“I want them to see your poor little trinkets. By God, no man shall doubt my daughter. Give me the key!”
She looked around for a moment, from one to the other, from John to her father, to Dr. Crossett, to Maria, who had entered the room, and stood looking at her. She was trapped. She knew that there was just one chance, hardly worth the trying.
“I—the key is lost, father.”
Dr. Barnhelm did not hesitate. He threw the delicate wooden box to the floor and dashed his foot down on it. It splintered to pieces.
“There! Look! All of you!”
He pointed to a string of amber, a silver pin, and—
“Look!” John stooped and held up before them the string of flashing diamonds.
“Lola!” There was agony in the Doctor’s voice. “Lola!”
“It—it is not mine.”
“It is the box you dropped in here, after you came back from Dick Fenway. You would not let me see what was in it.” John held up the battered leather box. “See how well it fits these diamonds!”
“Then you did open that safe since the Doctor put the money there!” exclaimed Maria. “I knew you did. You took that money.”
“Well, what if I did?” She was at bay now, against them all, and she was glad of it. “I wanted the money. Could I have asked any of you for it? You are all so good, and so respectable that if I told you I wanted a pair of decent gloves you’d say it was a sin.”
She put out her hand and tore the string of diamonds away from John, and clasped them defiantly about her neck.
“This is mine, and the man who gave it to me will give me as many others as I ask of him.”
“Lola!” John cried out in horror, but she turned on him fiercely, scornfully.
A crowd of people.LOLA BEGS DICK FENWAY TO TAKE HER AWAY.
LOLA BEGS DICK FENWAY TO TAKE HER AWAY.
“Why not? What have you to offer me to compare with what he can give me? Am I to go on forever, and ever, and ever, living the same life, thinking the samethoughts—always—always—until I die? If that was to be my life, how dared you bring me back from death, back, with a thousand new feelings, and passions, and desires? It was you who gave them to me.”
She was leaning forward now, across the table, her eyes glaring at her father, who sat huddled in his chair, his face slowly changing from a look of shame and agony to one of horror. “You made me what I am. In your narrow, rusty lives you, none of you,” she turned again to the others, “know that outside your rotten little world there is a life that is all gayety and sunshine. I am going to it. I’m done with you—all of you!”
Before they could stop her, if any there had dared to stop her, she left them. They heard her going down the hall, and heard the door close behind her.