CHAPTER XXXIII. A FOUL DEED.

Leonard gazed fixedly at Dr. Peterssen, doubting for the moment whether the man was in earnest. There was no doubt of it, however. Dr. Peterssen was speaking the truth.

"I will enlighten you," said Dr. Peterssen, "I am not quite a pretender. I am a doctor with a diploma, and I have practised in all parts of the world. My specialty is diseases of the mind. I do not say I am fond of the study, but when needs must, the devil drives. Returning home--that is, to England, which I look upon as home--chance throws me in the way of a patient with a rich father. The father cannot keep his son at home, and he shrinks from sending him to a regular madhouse. Can he find a capable man who, for a consideration, will take charge of the young man and devote himself to him? I present myself; I am ready to do anything for a consideration. Between ourselves, my diploma is not exactly what it should be, and I could not practise regularly in England; there would be difficulties in my way, there are so many censorious people about. I have no difficulty in convincing the father of my patient that I am what I represent myself to be, and a bargain is struck. The young man, whose name is George Street, is given into my charge, and away we go. One reason that the father wishes to obtain without delay a guardian for his son is that he himself is compelled to leave England for a year or two for his health; another reason is that about twice a year he has a dangerous fit upon him. It lasts for two or three days, and he has to be carefully watched. While the father is absent I have to write to him on the first of every month, acquainting him with the condition of his son. I am to do what I like with the young man, to the extent of indulging in foreign travel for the purpose of diverting his mind. My expenses are paid, but I have to render a strict account, and though I garble them a little I cannot make much out of it. Then I am, like yourself, naturally extravagant, and I am also at heart, I am afraid, a bit of a gambler. I have not been very fortunate hitherto, but my turn will come. In addition to the trifle I make out of cooked accounts--shockingly mild cooking, Leonard, my patient's father being the soul of meanness--I receive three hundred a year. Of course, all my personal expenses are paid, but what can a man do with three hundred a year? It is a miserable pittance. My patient is now asleep; he is perfectly harmless, and he sleeps fifteen hours out of the twenty-four. I have no difficulty with him. He is as tractable as a lamb. 'Get up.' He gets up. 'Come out.' He comes out. 'Read for an hour.' He reads for an hour, or pretends to. 'Sit still till I return.' He sits still till I return. Thus all is plain sailing, and I have nothing to complain of except the salary. However, there is a better prospect before me, perhaps."

Leonard did not respond to the sharp look which Dr. Peterssen gave him. He was revolving things in his mind, groping for a crooked path by which he could reach his goal.

"Well, friend of my heart?" said Dr. Peterssen.

"There is nothing more to be said at present," said Leonard. "It is time for me to join my friends."

"I will go with you."

"We agreed that you were not to intrude upon us."

"I do not intend to. I merely wish to see where you put up. Don't try to give me the slip, Leonard."

"Why should I? You may be of use to me."

They walked together to the little inn in which they had rooms, and there Dr. Peterssen wished Leonard good night.

He was not as good as his word. The next day he contrived that the parties should meet, but he was clever enough to make it appear as if it were an accidental meeting, and Leonard, being to some extent in his power, did not quarrel with him. His patient, George Street, was a quiet young gentleman, whom no person, without foreknowledge, would have supposed to be mad. Upon certain subjects he spoke rationally, but as a rule he was silent and reserved, with the air of one who had some deeply-rooted cause for melancholy. He seemed to fear Dr. Peterssen, and a dog could not have been more obedient to the least motion of its master. He was of about the same age as Gerald, and their statures differed very slightly. In accordance with the advice of Dr. Peterssen, Leonard informed Gerald and Emilia that the young man was not exactly in his right mind, and that they were to be under no apprehension concerning him, as he was as tractable and docile as a child. Emilia conceived a great pity for him, and occasionally walked with him, accompanied by Gerald; for Dr. Peterssen evinced no immediate intention of leaving their society.

"The presence of a lady so gentle as yourself," he said to Emilia, "is good for the poor fellow; he is benefiting by your kindness already."

"He will get well, I hope," said Emilia, solicitously. "There is no doubt of it," said Dr. Peterssen. "In less than twelve months his cure will be perfect."

Some three weeks passed, and they were now in the Engadine, located in a comfortable inn in the valley of Roseg. For some reason of his own which he disclosed to not one of the party, not even to Leonard, Dr. Peterssen gave out that he expected from day to day to be called home by his patient's father, and that he might be compelled to leave them suddenly. His mind was busy with a diabolical scheme, which, however, he might not have succeeded in carrying out had not circumstances favored him. During the time they had been together he had extracted cleverly from one or the other information relating to the positions the step-brothers held toward each other, by which he learnt that the fortune enjoyed by Gerald would revert to Leonard if Gerald were out of the way. Leonard was annoyed by his pertinacious desire for details and particulars, but Dr. Peterssen, with his hand on the plough, never turned back. The fatality which assisted him to the cruel end he had in view was the indisposition of Emilia, who, in the Roseg Valley, exhibited signs of fatigue and depression. The local doctor prescribed rest, and Gerald gave up the mountain excursions which afforded him so much pleasure.

"When you are quite strong," he said to her, "we will return to England." And whispered, "Our child shall be born there."

Emilia, whose head was reclining on his shoulder, kissed him softly, and hid her face in his breast.

"Before we leave these beautiful scenes, my darling," he said, "I shall pluck some edelweiss for you with my own hands. That will insure you good luck all your life."

A woman in one of the villages had told Emilia that purchased edelweiss lost its charm, and that its potency could only be preserved if plucked and presented by the man one loved. Emilia had told this to Gerald, and he had set his heart upon finding the white flower for Emilia. Hitherto he had been unsuccessful. It was no secret between Gerald and Emilia; the whole of the party were acquainted with the wish of the loving couple; and it was this simple and innocent desire which was to bring a woful tragedy into the lives of Gerald and Emilia.

It was afternoon, and Emilia was sitting at the window, gazing upon the wondrous vista of snow mountains which lined the horizon. Gerald came to her with excitement in his face.

"Mr. Street and the doctor are below," he said. "They are going in search of the edelweiss, and they know where it is to be found."

"You wish to go with them," said Emilia, with a smile. "Go, love."

"But you will be alone."

"I shall be very happy and contented, Gerald. Go and pluck me the magic flower with your own dear hands."

How often in after life did these fatal words recur to her. "Go and pluck me the magic flower with your own dear hands!" Ah, if the effect of words were known before they were uttered, how many breaking hearts would at this moment be filled with happiness!

"I may not have another opportunity," said Gerald. "I shall be home before sunset. Good-by, dear love. God bless you!"

He was gone, and Emilia waved her handkerchief to him from the window. He looked back and smiled, and waved his hand gayly, and soon was lost to sight. "My darling!" she murmured, and leaned back in her chair, and thought with ineffable bliss of the time soon to come when she would hold out her babe to him for a father's kiss. One arm rested upon a table which Gerald had drawn close to her side. Upon the table was an open cedar-wood desk of Indian workmanship, inlaid with silver, and Emilia's fingers touched a dagger which Gerald was in the habit of using as a paper-knife, its handle resembling a twisted snake, the mouth open, and in its head a ruby to represent an eye. For a few moments she toyed with it idly, thinking of words Gerald had spoken to her with reference to the desk. "There is a secret drawer in this desk, Emilia, and in the desk something which concerns you nearly." He had said it smilingly, and she had merely nodded, but now, between sleeping and waking, she dwelt upon the words, and indolently resolved to ask Gerald when he came home what it was the secret drawer contained which concerned her nearly. With these thoughts in her mind she fell asleep.

George Street turned to Dr. Peterssen when they were at some distance from the village. Dr. Peterssen nodded, and the four men--for Leonard was with them--paused.

"This foolish fellow," said Dr. Peterssen to Gerald, laying his hand kindly on his patient's shoulder, "has a great wish to lead you himself to where the edelweiss is to be found--you and he alone, and I am almost inclined to humor him."

"Why not?" asked Gerald, who had never yet detected any sign of insanity in his young companion.

Dr. Peterssen took Gerald aside. "He knows the road to take, but he is in my care. Between you and me he is as sensible as we are, but still I feel somewhat anxious. I am responsible for him to his father you know."

"We shall be able to take care of ourselves," said Gerald.

"Then go. We will await your return at the inn." Away went the young men, and Dr. Peterssen and Leonard were left together.

"What does it all mean?" asked Leonard.

"Simply that you can compass your wishes if you desire it."

"I do desire it."

"Come with me, then."

They turned in another direction, but not toward the valley. They continued to ascend the rocky ranges.

"We shall get there half an hour before them," said Dr. Peterssen. "I have carefully studied the route, and have traversed it twice--in your interests."

"Explain yourself."

"I will, as we walk along. There is nobody in sight, is there?"

"Not a living being."

"We must be sure of that, as we proceed. Answer me, Mr. Leonard Paget. If I remove your step brother from your path--he is, after all, no relation to speak of--what will you give me?"

"You said something about a thousand pounds," said Leonard, his face growing white.

"Not enough. Not half enough."

"There is his wife also in the way, remember."

"Rubbish! She may die; the shock will probably kill her."

"But if it should not?"

"If--if--if--!" exclaimed Dr. Peterssen, impatiently. "There is no if in the case when two clever scoundrels like ourselves are in the game. Has he made a will?"

"I am sure he has not.

"Make a clean breast of everything if you want to succeed. I know only half the story. I must know the rest, and I will stake my future that I show you a dozen ways to conquer her, even if she lives. Don't lag. It is hard work mounting these ranges, but the reward is worth it. Did you observe that they took the tracks to the left. We are taking those to the right; and we are both making for the same point. Now, Leonard, out with every detail of this romantic story, which is as yet only half finished. It is your last chance, old fellow."

Thus urged, Leonard related everything he knew concerning Gerald and Emilia. Dr. Peterssen laughed, and instilled into Leonard's ear certain counsel which Leonard was only too ready to follow. It was a risk, but as Dr. Peterssen said, the reward was worth it.

In a couple of hours they had reached the spot they had been making for. They had not met a soul on the way, and they saw nothing of Gerald and George Street.

"They will come into view in half an hour or so," said Dr. Peterssen, "and if not we will go and hurry them up."

They had halted on a wild spot. They were surrounded by enormous glaciers, and all around them lay dangerous precipices. At a dozen points an unsuspicious man might be pushed without effort into abysses where he would be almost certain to meet with death. It was this infernal plan which Dr. Peterssen had conceived, and which Leonard guessed at, but was too timid to ask about. Easy to carry out a bloody deed in such a place, without a living witness to bring evidence against them.

"Sit down," said Dr. Peterssen.

He pulled out a flask of brandy, and gave it to Leonard. The treacherous friend took a long drink. Dr. Peterssen also drank, but more sparingly.

"If I don't mistake," he said, "you have a check book in your pocket."

"What if I have?"

"Everything. Answer my questions. You are acting as your brother's treasurer."

"I am."

"With full authority, as I understand."

"With full authority."

"The bank in which his money is deposited has written instructions to that effect."

"It has--but what are you driving at?"

"Easy, Mr. Paget, easy. Do you know that I am about to lose a patient?"

"Your own doing."

"But for your ends. Now, I want a guarantee. I had a little private conversation with your step-brother yesterday, in which I skilfully pumped him. What do you think I learned? That you had been realizing a quantity of valuable securities for him lately, and that there was a very considerable balance at the bank to his credit."

"You are an infernal meddler."

"All in your interest, Leonard, and a little, a very little, in my own. You will give me here, and now, a check for two thousand pounds."

"You are out of your senses."

"Most absolutely and positively in them, my dear fellow. What I am about to do for you is worth ten times the sum, so I am not hard on you. In brains, Leonard, you have the best of me--I am a very candid and honest scoundrel, you must admit--but when the pinch comes you lose your nerve. Take another pull at the brandy. Down with it, man. It will bring some color to your cheeks, and perhaps some false courage to your chicken heart. We--fellows like myself--are the real men. If I had lived three or four centuries ago I should have been a man of mark. Produce your check-book."

"What is the use? I have no pen and ink."

"Ha ha, my honest comrade, I have provided for that. I had just enough brains to think of the contingency. Here are the requisites. Now, fill in and sign. Date it two days ago."

There was a brute ferocity in Dr. Peterssen which compelled and overawed Leonard, and with a sullen look he wrote the check and signed it.

"I warrant," said Dr. Peterssen, examining the check narrowly and carefully pocketing it, "that you have feathered your nest pretty well. In the event of Gerald Paget leaving a widow behind him--though that will not be so in this case, Leonard, for there can be no widow where there was no wife--you could strip her of every farthing of ready cash by drawing the entire balance from the bank, dating the check yesterday, as a measure of precaution. Hush--they are coming! Behind this rock--crouch down, and don't so much as breathe!"

Almost breathless Gerald and George Street halted within two feet of them, standing side by side on the edge of a precipice.

"It makes me dizzy looking down," said George Street. "Does it not you?"

"No," said Gerald. "And we have not found the edelweiss after all. It is a great disappointment to me."

"It grows on the edge of the precipice," said George Street. "Let us kneel and look over. I am sure this was the spot Dr. Peterssen pointed out to me."

The young men knelt down and looked over the precipice, Gerald keeping tight hold of his companion. As they bent their heads there came a fierce and sudden movement behind them, and with a loud cry the two young men sank into the abyss.