The Darrow Enigma | Page 9

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 was

merely 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 falling Softly 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 laid her 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