Indeed,
it would almost seem as if he expected something to happen.... I wonder
if it would be possible to learn anything about that! Surely his
papers would show or suggest something.... It is a difficult matter to
tackle; but it might have to be done. His present condition cannot go
on for ever; and if anything should happen there would have to be an
inquest. In such case full examination would have to be made into
everything.... As it stands, the police evidence would show a murderous
attack more than once repeated. As no clue is apparent, it would be
necessary to seek one in a motive.”

He was silent. The last words seemed to come in a lower and lower tone
as he went on. It had the effect of hopelessness. It came to me as a
conviction that now was my time to find out if he had any definite
suspicion; and as if in obedience to some command, I asked:

“Do you suspect anyone?”  He seemed in a way startled rather than
surprised as he turned his eyes on me:

“Suspect anyone? Any thing, you mean. I certainly suspect that there
is some influence; but at present my suspicion is held within such
limit. Later on, if there be any sufficiently definite conclusion to
my reasoning, or my thinking—for there are not proper data for
reasoning—I may suspect; at present however—”

He stopped suddenly and looked at the door. There was a faint sound as
the handle turned. My own heart seemed to stand still. There was over
me some grim, vague apprehension. The interruption in the morning,
when I was talking with the Detective, came back upon me with a rush. The door opened, and Miss Trelawny entered the room. When she saw us, she started back; and a deep flush swept her face. For a few seconds she paused; at such a time a few succeeding seconds
seem to lengthen in geometrical progression. The strain upon me, and,
as I could easily see, on the Doctor also, relaxed as she spoke:

“Oh, forgive me, I did not know that you were engaged. I was looking
for you, Doctor Winchester, to ask you if I might go to bed tonight
with safety, as you will be here. I feel so tired and worn-out that I
fear I may break down; and tonight I would certainly not be of any
use.”  Doctor Winchester answered heartily:

“Do! Do go to bed by all means, and get a good night’s sleep. God
knows! you want it. I am more than glad you have made the suggestion,
for I feared when I saw you tonight that I might have you on my hands a
patient next.”

She gave a sigh of relief, and the tired look seemed to melt from her
face. Never shall I forget the deep, earnest look in her great,
beautiful black eyes as she said to me:

“You will guard Father tonight, won’t you, with Doctor Winchester? I
am so anxious about him that every second brings new fears. But I am
really worn-out; and if I don’t get a good sleep, I think I shall go
mad. I will change my room for tonight. I’m afraid that if I stay so
close to Father’s room I shall multiply every sound into a new terror. But, of course, you will have me waked if there be any cause. I shall
be in the bedroom of the little suite next the boudoir off the hall. I
had those rooms when first I came to live with Father, and I had no
care then.... It will be easier to rest there; and perhaps for a few
hours I may forget. I shall be all right in the morning. Good-night!”

When I had closed the door behind her and come back to the little table
at which we had been sitting, Doctor Winchester said:

“That poor girl is overwrought to a terrible degree. I am delighted
that she is to get a rest. It will be life to her; and in the morning
she will be all right. Her nervous system is on the verge of a
breakdown. Did you notice how fearfully disturbed she was, and how red
she got when she came in and found us talking? An ordinary thing like
that, in her own house with her own guests, wouldn’t under normal
circumstances disturb her!”

I was about to tell him, as an explanation in her defence, how her
entrance was a repetition of her finding the Detective and myself alone
together earlier in the day, when I remembered that that conversation
was so private that even an allusion to it might be awkward in evoking
curiosity. So I remained silent. We stood up to go to the sick-room; but as we took our way through the
dimly-lighted corridor I could not help thinking, again and again, and
again—ay, and for many a day after—how strange it was that she had
interrupted me on two such occasions when touching on such a theme. There was certainly some strange web of accidents, in whose meshes we
were all involved. Chapter VII

The Traveller’s Loss


That night everything went well. Knowing that Miss Trelawny herself
was not on guard, Doctor Winchester and I doubled our vigilance. The
Nurses and Mrs. Grant kept watch, and the Detectives made their visit
each quarter of an hour. All night the patient remained in his trance. He looked healthy, and his chest rose and fell with the easy breathing
of a child. But he never stirred; only for his breathing he might have
been of marble. Doctor Winchester and I wore our respirators, and
irksome they were on that intolerably hot night. Between midnight and
three o’clock I felt anxious, and had once more that creepy feeling to
which these last few nights had accustomed me; but the grey of the
dawn, stealing round the edges of the blinds, came with inexpressible
relief, followed by restfulness, went through the household. During
the hot night my ears, strained to every sound, had been almost
painfully troubled; as though my brain or sensoria were in anxious
touch with them. Every breath of the Nurse or the rustle of her dress;
every soft pat of slippered feet, as the Policeman went his rounds;
every moment of watching life, seemed to be a new impetus to
guardianship. Something of the same feeling must have been abroad in
the house; now and again I could hear upstairs the sound of restless
feet, and more than once downstairs the opening of a window. With the
coming of the dawn, however, all this ceased, and the whole household
seemed to rest. Doctor Winchester went home when Sister Doris came to
relieve Mrs. Grant. He was, I think, a little disappointed or
chagrined that nothing of an exceptional nature had happened during his
long night vigil. At eight o’clock Miss Trelawny joined us, and I was amazed as well as
delighted to see how much good her night’s sleep had done her. She was
fairly radiant; just as I had seen her at our first meeting and at the
picnic. There was even a suggestion of colour in her cheeks, which,
however, looked startlingly white in contrast with her black brows and
scarlet lips. With her restored strength, there seemed to have come a
tenderness even exceeding that which she had at first shown to her sick
father. I could not but be moved by the loving touches as she fixed
his pillows and brushed the hair from his forehead.