She has never even seen one of her mother's
people." "But her father's?" "She is just as fortunately placed, from my point of view, in this
regard. Ottley was the only son. And although I believe there is an old
maiden aunt twice removed knocking round somewhere in Wales, I'm not
afraid of her. She's bed-ridden and a pensioner. As I'm trustee of the
estate she'll do what I tell her and stay where she is or I'll know the
reason why." "I'm sure you will," I agreed with pious fervour. "The Fates seem to have deliberately conspired to assist me in every
possible way," continued Belleville. "The only real woman friend Miss
Ottley had, Lady Helen Hubbard, has gone to South America with her
husband, and the only man friend who might have helped her sits in that
chair. There is not another soul in England who has either the shadow
of a right or interest to question my treatment. I'm her sole trustee
and as well as that her legal guardian, for although she is over age
she does not come into control of her fortune until she is twenty-seven
unless she marries in the meanwhile." "You propose, of course, that she shall marry you. When?" "Oh, in a few days' time. It will naturally be a secret marriage
in order to save scandal. But I'm determined it shall take place
immediately." "And afterwards--how will you treat her?" I had hard work to grind this
question out. Belleville gave a nasty laugh. "That depends on herself," he answered. "If she is a dutiful, docile wife she will have little cause to
grumble." "And--if not?" "You know me and ask that?" he cried. Then he laughed again, stood up
and shook himself. "I'm going to indulge in a nice comfortable sleep,"
he said. "You may not know it, Pinsent, but it's almost midnight. Take
my advice and go to by-by, too! Pleasant dreams to you and au revoir." He went out gaping with yawns, but he turned out the lights as he went,
and once more darkness enfolded me. Chapter XXVII

Unbound


It is not worth while describing the next few days. They were quite or
almost colourless. Once each four and twenty hours, Belleville, taking
sound precautions, released me for a short while from my prison chair
to let me stretch my limbs and in the interests of keeping me alive for
his own purposes. We had very little conversation, for he had fallen
into a morose and gloomy mood, the result of an attack of insomnia. In
answer to direct questions I learned that Sir Robert Ottley's funeral
had passed without incident, but that Miss Ottley's violent grief had
been succeeded by a long stupor. She was being nursed by a creature
of Belleville's, an old Frenchwoman named Elise Lorraine in whom he
evidently reposed a deal of confidence. Belleville spent most of his
time at work in the laboratory, but what he did I could not see, for he
conducted his labours behind my chair. On one occasion he gave way to
a savage fit of passion, and without any cause whatever that I could
perceive, he broke a number of glass implements upon the floor. Another
time, having cut his hand in some experiment, he revenged himself by
flogging me with a piece of whalebone until my flesh wherever he could
reach it was covered with weals and blisters. He was not a nice man to
live with and my hatred of him grew daily more intense. But perforce
I was civil to him. On the eighth day he entered the room with a
chalk-white face. I knew at once that something had happened; but I was
not to learn what it was immediately. He disappeared forthwith behind
my chair and for ten minutes stamped about swearing like a pagan. Then the lights went out of a sudden and he departed in the dark. He
returned about four hours later, but I did not see him enter, although
he put on the lights immediately. I heard him pass my chair; that
was all. But a few seconds later a sharp and most acridly irritating
odour filled the room, and soon afterwards he came forward and sank
into his accustomed chair, opposite to mine. He looked positively
ghastly. "To-morrow morning England will mourn the loss of her greatest
physician," he announced in quivering tones. "Sir Philip Lang has just
committed suicide." "What!" I cried in deep astonishment. "Sir Philip Lang!" He bared his teeth. "The world will think so," he snarled. "But in
reality--but there, you shall judge. This afternoon without giving me
notice the fool came to this house, forced his way into the sick room
and had a long private conversation with May Ottley. I do not know
to what conclusion he came, but she must have persuaded him of her
sanity, for he ordered Elise to take her out for a walk; and if it had
not been that Elise refused to obey him pending my arrival there would
have been a pretty kettle of fish for me to fry. However, he won't
trouble me again." "You murdered him!" I gasped. "Like an artist," said Belleville. "I stole upon him while he sat
in his private sitting-room at supper and, standing opposite to him
unseen, I reached out and poured some aconite into his wine. He was
dead inside a quarter hour, and I took care that he made no outcry. The
verdict should be suicide, I think. Don't you?" With that he got up and left me. That night while I slept he dosed me with chloroform, and while I was
senseless he drew over my clothes a suit of rubber overalls. He also
did whatever was necessary to render me invisible, and he gagged me
with a piece of steel thrust under my tongue and secured around my
throat and neck with fine wire that bit deep in the flesh. I awoke
groaning with agony to find that I was stretched out on the naked
framework of an iron bed. Belleville stood over me grasping Miss Ottley by the hand. When I saw
her I stopped groaning as if by instinct. I knew at once that she
did not see anything except the bed. She looked well, but tragically
sorrowful and wild. She was staring as it were through me. "You see nothing," said Belleville's hollow voice, "but his spirit lies
there for all that. It is in my power and cannot escape without I set
it free. You know my price. It is for you to rule his fate, through me
if so you wish. "What!" he continued, "do you not believe--well, then, look now!" Of a sudden he flashed a blue lighted lanthorn into my face and he did
something else which sent a thousand stinging currents of electric
anguish quivering along my nerves. I uttered a shriek, but the gag
stifled it to a hissing wail, and then I fell to breathing groans. Hell can have no worse torments than that villain had devised for my
undoing. Had my mouth been unfettered I should have besought the woman
I adored for death at any price for rest of pain. As it was I prayed
her with my eyes--and she saw and took a message. "Let him go!" she sobbed, "and I will marry you. Oh, this is horrible!" On instant the blue light faded out and a blessed heaven of diminished
torture gave me peace. Belleville took from his breast a naked dagger which he put into the
girl's hand. "Strike, then!" he said, "Strike here," and he put his
finger on my breast.