The Armstrongs left for California, and Arnold's persecutions began
anew. He was furious over the child's disappearance and she was afraid
he would do her some hurt. She left the big house and went down to the
lodge. When I had rented Sunnyside, however, she had thought the
persecutions would stop. She had applied for the position of
housekeeper, and secured it.
That had been on Saturday. That night Louise arrived unexpectedly.
Thomas sent for Mrs. Watson and then went for Arnold Armstrong at the
Greenwood Club. Anne had been fond of Louise--she reminded her of
Lucy. She did not know what the trouble was, but Louise had been in a
state of terrible excitement. Mrs. Watson tried to hide from Arnold,
but he was ugly. He left the lodge and went up to the house about
two-thirty, was admitted at the east entrance and came out again very
soon. Something had occurred, she didn't know what; but very soon Mr.
Innes and another gentleman left, using the car.
Thomas and she had got Louise quiet, and a little before three, Mrs.
Watson started up to the house. Thomas had a key to the east entry,
and gave it to her.
On the way across the lawn she was confronted by Arnold, who for some
reason was determined to get into the house. He had a golf-stick in
his hand, that he had picked up somewhere, and on her refusal he had
struck her with it. One hand had been badly cut, and it was that,
poisoning having set in, which was killing her. She broke away in a
frenzy of rage and fear, and got into the house while Gertrude and Jack
Bailey were at the front door. She went up-stairs, hardly knowing what
she was doing. Gertrude's door was open, and Halsey's revolver lay
there on the bed. She picked it up and turning, ran part way down the
circular staircase. She could hear Arnold fumbling at the lock
outside. She slipped down quietly and opened the door: he was inside
before she had got back to the stairs. It was quite dark, but she
could see his white shirt-bosom. From the fourth step she fired. As
he fell, somebody in the billiard-room screamed and ran. When the
alarm was raised, she had had no time to get up-stairs: she hid in the
west wing until every one was down on the lower floor. Then she
slipped upstairs, and threw the revolver out of an upper window, going
down again in time to admit the men from the Greenwood Club.
If Thomas had suspected, he had never told. When she found the hand
Arnold had injured was growing worse, she gave the address of Lucien at
Richfield to the old man, and almost a hundred dollars. The money was
for Lucien's board until she recovered. She had sent for me to ask me
if I would try to interest the Armstrongs in the child. When she found
herself growing worse, she had written to Mrs. Armstrong, telling her
nothing but that Arnold's legitimate child was at Richfield, and
imploring her to recognize him. She was dying: the boy was an
Armstrong, and entitled to his father's share of the estate. The
papers were in her trunk at Sunnyside, with letters from the dead man
that would prove what she said. She was going; she would not be judged
by earthly laws; and somewhere else perhaps Lucy would plead for her.
It was she who had crept down the circular staircase, drawn by a
magnet, that night Mr. Jamieson had heard some one there. Pursued, she
had fled madly, anywhere--through the first door she came to. She had
fallen down the clothes chute, and been saved by the basket beneath. I
could have cried with relief; then it had not been Gertrude, after all!