But how came I there, and what did I want? A horrible sinking came to my heart. Had I been sent here on some devilish errand? Had that errand already been done? Surely it must; otherwise, why should I be allowed to come back to consciousness? Oh, the agony of that moment! What had I done? I sprang to my feet in my despair, and as I did so a small glass bottle fell from my knees on to the carpet.
It was unbroken, and I picked it up. Outside was written “Sulphuric Acid. Fort.” When I drew the round glass stopper, a thick fume rose slowly up, and a pungent, choking smell pervaded the room. I recognized it as one which I kept for chemical testing in my chambers. But why had I brought a bottle of vitriol into Agatha’s chamber? Was it not this thick, reeking liquid with which jealous women had been known to mar the beauty of their rivals? My heart stood still as I held the bottle to the light. Thank God, it was full! No mischief had been done as yet. But had Agatha come in a minute sooner, was it not certain that the hellish parasite within me would have dashed the stuff into her — — Ah, it will not bear to be thought of! But it must have been for that. Why else should I have brought it? At the thought of what I might have done my worn nerves broke down, and I sat shivering and twitching, the pitiable wreck of a man.
It was the sound of Agatha’s voice and the rustle of her dress which restored me. I looked up, and saw her blue eyes, so full of tenderness and pity, gazing down at me.
“We must take you away to the country, Austin,” she said. “You want rest and quiet. You look wretchedly ill.”
“Oh, it is nothing!” said I, trying to smile. “It was only a momentary weakness. I am all right again now.”
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Poor boy, you must have been here quite half an hour! The vicar was in the drawing-room, and, as I knew that you did not care for him, I thought it better that Jane should show you up here. I thought the man would never go!”
“Thank God he stayed! Thank God he stayed!” I cried hysterically.
“Why, what is the matter with you, Austin?” she asked, holding my arm as I staggered up from the chair. “Why are you glad that the vicar stayed? And what is this little bottle in your hand?”
“Nothing,” I cried, thrusting it into my pocket. “But I must go. I have something important to do.”
“How stern you look, Austin! I have never seen your face like that. You are angry?”
“Yes, I am angry.”
“But not with me?”
“No, no, my darling! You would not understand.”
“But you have not told me why you came.”
“I came to ask you whether you would always love me — no matter what I did, or what shadow might fall on my name. Would you believe in me and trust me however black appearances might be against me?”
“You know that I would, Austin.”
“Yes, I know that you would. What I do I shall do for you. I am driven to it. There is no other way out, my darling!” I kissed her and rushed from the room.
The time for indecision was at an end. As long as the creature threatened my own prospects and my honor there might be a question as to what I should do. But now, when Agatha — my innocent Agatha — was endangered, my duty lay before me like a turnpike road. I had no weapon, but I never paused for that. What weapon should I need, when I felt every muscle quivering with the strength of a frenzied man? I ran through the streets, so set upon what I had to do that I was only dimly conscious of the faces of friends whom I met — dimly conscious also that Professor Wilson met me, running with equal precipitance in the opposite direction. Breathless but resolute I reached the house and rang the bell. A white cheeked maid opened the door, and turned whiter yet when she saw the face that looked in at her.