Maitland, who had been startled by the old gentleman's conduct, now returned to the window and opened it about six inches.There was no other window open in the room, and yet so fresh was the air that we were not uncomfortable.Darrow, with ill-concealed pride, then asked his daughter to sing, and she left him and went to the piano."Shall I not light the lamp?" I asked."I think we shall not need it," the old gentleman replied, "music is always better in the gloaming."In order that you may understand what follows, it will be necessary for me to describe to you our several positions in the room.The apartment is large, nearly square, and occupies the southeast corner of the house.The eastern side of the room has one window, that which had been left open about six inches, and on the southern side of the room there were two windows, both of which were securely fastened and the blinds of which had been closed by the painters who, that morning, had primed the eastern and southern sides of the house, preparatory to giving it a thorough repainting.On the north side of the room, but much nearer to the western than the eastern end, are folding doors.These on this occasion were closed and fastened.On the western side of the room is the piano, and to the left of it, near the southwest corner, is a door leading to the hallway.This door was closed.As I have already told you, Darrow sat in a high- backed easy-chair facing the piano and almost in the centre of the room.The partly opened window on the east side was directly behind him and fully eight feet away.Herne and Browne sat upon Darrow's right and a little in front of him against the folding doors, while Maitland and I were upon his left, between him and the hall door.Gwen was at the piano.There are no closets, draperies, or niches in the room.I think you will now be able to understand the situation fully.
Whether the gloom of the scene suggested it to her, or whether it wasmerely a coincidence, I do not know, but Miss Darrow began to sing "In the Gloaming" in a deep, rich contralto voice which seemed fraught with a weird, melancholy power.When I say that her voice was ineffably sympathetic I would not have you confound this quality either with the sepulchral or the aspirated tone which usually is made to do duty for sympathy, especially in contralto voices.Every note was as distinct, as brilliantly resonant, as a cello in a master's hand.So clear, so full the notes rang out that I could plainly feel the chair vibrate beneath me.
"In the gloaming, 0 my darling! When the lights are dim and low, And the quiet shadows fallingSoftly come and softly go.When the winds are sobbing faintly With a gentle unknown woe, Will you think of me and love me As you did once, long ago?
"In the gloaming, 0 my darling! Think not bitterly of me, Though I passed away in silence,Left you lonely, set you free.For my heart was crushed with longing.What had been could never be: It was best to leave you thus, dear, Best for you and best"But the line was never finished.With a wild cry, more of fear than of pain, Darrow sprang from his chair."Gentlemen, I have been stabbed!" was all he said, and fell back heavily into his seat.Gwen was kneeling before him in an instant, even before I could assist him.His right hand was pressed to his throat and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets as he shouted hoarsely: "A light, a light! For God's sake, don't let him strike me again in the dark!" Maitland was already lighting the gas and Herne and Browne, so Browne afterward told me, were preparing to seize the assailant.I remembered, after it all was over, a quick movement Browne had made toward the darkest corner of the room.
The apartment was now flooded with light, and I looked for the assassin.He was not to be found! The room contained only Gwen, Darrow, and his four invited guests! The doors were closed; the windows had not been touched.No one could possibly have entered or left the room, and yet the assassin was not there.But one solution remained; Darrow was labouring under a delusion, and Gwen's voice would restore him.As she was about to speak I stepped back to note the effect of her words upon him."Do not fear, father," she said in a low voice as she laidher face against his cheek, "there is nothing here to hurt you.You are ill,- I will get you a glass of cordial and you will be yourself again in a moment." She was about to rise when her father seized her frantically by the arm, exclaiming in a hoarse whisper: "Don't leave me! Can't you see? Don't leave me!" and for the first time he removed his hand from his throat, and taking her head between his palms, gazed wistfully into her face.He tried to speak again, but could not, and glanced up at us with=20a helpless expression which I shall never forget.Maitland, his eyes riveted upon the old gentleman, whose thoughts he seemed to divine, hurriedly produced a pencil and note-book and held them toward him, but he did not see them, for he had drawn Gwen's face down to him and was kissing her passionately.The next instant he was on his feet and from the swollen veins that stood out like cords upon his neck and forehead, we could see the terrible effort he was making to speak.At last the words came, - came as if they were torn hissing from his throat, for he took a full breath between each one of them."Gwen - I - knew - it! Good-bye! Remember - your - promise!" - and he fell a limp mass into his chair, overcome, I felt sure, by the fearful struggle he had made.Maitland seized a glass of water and threw it in his face.I loosened the clothing about his neck and, in doing so, his head fell backward and his face was turned upward toward me.The features were drawn, - the eyes were glazed and set.I felt of his heart; he was dead!
