“Shubal!” Persis broke in. “But how-”
“Mrs. Pryor heard him being ill in the night. I would advise a very light diet—say broth—perhaps a custard,” the doctor continued. “But I have given them both a draft, and do not offer them food until they ask for it. And how have you been feeling?” He peered at her with the intent he might have given to some plant he wished to classify—the closest and most measuring look Persis remembered ever having from him. “You do not look quite the thing yourself, Miss Rooke.”
“I had a nightmare,” Persis replied. “But you are sure—about Molly and Shubal? Molly has never been ill that I can remember.”
Dr. Veering shrugged. “Such a history does not guarantee she never will, you know. But I would say that the worst is over. She and your manservant need the rest—and then judicious feeding up. Leave it to Mrs. Pryor, she has had much experience with such indispositions.”
But when the doctor had left the room, Molly’s head moved on the pillow, her eyes looked wide and frightened.
“It ain’t like he said, Miss Persis,” her voice was weak but urgent. “We didn’t eat any food that wasn’t served to the family. We—we was overlooked!”
“Overlooked?” Persis could not understand.
“It was done a-purpose, Miss Persis. Me, I’d swear m’dyin’ oath to that.”
“Poison!” Persis stared back at the maid, completely confounded.
“Not bad enough to kill us maybe.” Molly’s face looked very wan, even her full cheeks seemed to have collapsed into wrinkled folds. “To keep us abed— maybe away from you.”
“That is silly!” Persis retorted more sharply than she meant to. “We’re not in any danger. Molly, it is impossible and don’t you dare say anything to Mrs. Pryor like that! We’re guests here and not prisoners.”
The maid reached out her hand and caught at a fold of Persis’ skirt as the girl got to her feet.
“There ain’t no way of us gettin’ off this island, less they help us. And there’s that witch woman hangin’ around. Mam Rose said as how in the old days they killed people—sent ’em out, as they said, as messengers to their old heathen gods. The Captain, he’s let that Askra come here and call upon those gods. She was a-doin’ that last night. I heard her, Miss Persis. How do we know that she didn’t want to send us somewheres— we being strangers an’ no one carin’ ’bout us here? She knows herbs—she could—”
“Was she in the kitchen when the cooking was going on?” Persis demanded. Molly’s wild idea had a kind of crazy logic. She remembered, in spite of all her efforts, her own terrible night—the dreams—and finally watching the torch held by the masked figure disappear into the thick vegetation below.
“I wasn’t in the kitchen all the time, Miss Persis. How would I know? Only all them others—Mam Rose, Sukie, the rest, they steer a wide path around her and they’re afraid of her. They say she has powers—”
Molly grew more animated as she talked, as if the need for making an impression on Persis gave her the strength she had lost during her bouts of nausea.
“Was you sick last night, Miss Persis?”
Could one call those vivid dreams a kind of sickness, Persis wondered. But she refused to allow fancy to stray so far.
“No. I just had a couple of bad dreams,” she returned shortly and positively. “Now, Molly, you heard what the doctor said—eating unusual food can bring about the reaction you, and apparently Shubal, have had. We are strangers here and are unaccustomed to some of the fruit.”
“It was done—a-purpose, Miss Persis, you’ll see—it was done with a purpose.” Molly settled her head back on her pillow. “Jus’ you watch out good. There’s somethin’ mighty queer happenin’ here. I ain’t one to go seein’ what ain’t solid an’ what I can’t touch, but now I have a bad feelin’ ’bout this place, Miss Persis. Seems like we’d better get away as soon as we can.”
“Yes,” to that Persis could agree. She smoothed the bed cover and moved the shutter of the near window so the hot beam of the sun would not touch Molly’s wan face. “I promise you, Molly, that’s just what we’re going to do.”
But that the illness of the only two she could completely trust under this roof had been planned—that was too wild to even consider. She paid a visit to Shubal and found him asleep, his face against the pillow carrying a greater appearance of age than she had ever seen. But Shubal was old—nearly able to match Uncle Augustin in years. As long as his master had been alive one had not been so aware of that. It was as if his constant preoccupation with Uncle Augustin’s needs and desires had so filled his life that even age could not threaten him. Only now that that occupation was gone he had nothing to fill the void and was so empty he was only a fading shell of a man. She must keep appealing for his help, let him see that he would be, was, of use still—that she must have his aid. That, Persis thought, might give him a new lease on life—or at least she could hope so.
She met Mrs. Pryor as she came down into the second hallway. The housekeeper had just come out of Captain Leverett’s chamber and there was a kind of quiet triumph on her face as she exhibited a tray on which only used dishes remained—no sign of food.
“He made a good breakfast,” she greeted Persis. “And he threw a saucer at the houseboy when he would not help him to do more than sit up with a second pillow.” She appeared to believe that a most encouraging sign. “He might be glad of a little company, Miss Rooke, if you are wishful to offer it.”
“Perhaps after a while.” Captain Leverett was no longer her problem, Molly and Shubal were. “My servants—”
“Ah, yes, Dr. Veering told me. It is not unusual, Miss Rooke. I have seen such upsets from a change in diet many times. We have had other shipwrecked guests and a number of them have suffered so. The results are only temporary. I assure you. And I have a good stock broth ready. Perhaps later in the day they will fancy that. There is nothing better for the return of strength. You, yourself, have had no difficulties?”
Persis shook her head. “None. I did not sleep well. There was a sound—like singing—or chanting—”
Mrs. Pryor’s lips pinched together. “Yes. It is a time of some ceremony for Askra. The Captain has given her full permission to follow her own ways here. We are lucky in times of Indian troubles—and mainly because this Key and Askra make the Seminoles uneasy. They say they defeated the Old Ones, but they believe that their ghosts linger here and are reluctant to face them. Askra has been of great service in furthering that belief—which is a true one as far as she is concerned. She is a very strange person with knowledge which comes from another time and another people. And perhaps those descended from the ancient enemies of her own clan have good reason to be afraid of that knowledge.”
Mrs. Pryor had always been so sensible that her present words made an even deeper impression on Persis. Perhaps there was something about this house, the mound, Lost Lady Key which could make the improbable seem possible. Persis remembered again her alarms of the night, but those were only dreams. Except—
She made some answer to Mrs. Pryor which she hoped was civil and went quickly to her own chamber. Kneeling by the chest of drawers she searched. There it lay in truth—the fan dagger. How could Mrs. Pryor answer this appearance? Was it put there as a warning, or a threat? But why would either be aimed at her? Swiftly she pushed the petticoats back into place over it. Somehow she did not want to ask anyone here any questions concerning it. She just wanted to forget she had ever seen it at all.
But try as she would to exile the thought of it, it still intruded into her mind as she ate with Lydia and Mrs. Pryor later. They were not yet through the meal when the braying of the conch horn—which Persis had come to associate now with the sighting of a ship—broke the silence which had held the three of them. Lydia, for one, appeared half-asleep—as if she had spent no better a night than had Persis—and Mrs. Pryor was apparently deep in some problem to do with the household.
The shell horn brought Lydia in tautly alert. And Persis could not help but wonder if Ralph Grillon, knowing that Captain Leverett was confined to his chamber, would dare once more to brazenly and openly visit the Key. But Sukie came in to relay the message that it was the mail packet which had been sighted.