The Jewel of Seven Stars eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 326 pages of information about The Jewel of Seven Stars.

I was pretty well accustomed in my Jermyn Street chambers to passing sounds; usually I did not concern myself, sleeping or waking, with the doings, however noisy, of my neighbours.  But this noise was too continuous, too insistent, too imperative to be ignored.  There was some active intelligence behind that ceaseless sound; and some stress or need behind the intelligence.  I was not altogether selfish, and at the thought of someone’s need I was, without premeditation, out of bed.  Instinctively I looked at my watch.  It was just three o’clock; there was a faint edging of grey round the green blind which darkened my room.  It was evident that the knocking and ringing were at the door of our own house; and it was evident, too, that there was no one awake to answer the call.  I slipped on my dressing-gown and slippers, and went down to the hall door.  When I opened it there stood a dapper groom, with one hand pressed unflinchingly on the electric bell whilst with the other he raised a ceaseless clangour with the knocker.  The instant he saw me the noise ceased; one hand went up instinctively to the brim of his hat, and the other produced a letter from his pocket.  A neat brougham was opposite the door, the horses were breathing heavily as though they had come fast.  A policeman, with his night lantern still alight at his belt, stood by, attracted to the spot by the noise.

“Beg pardon, sir, I’m sorry for disturbing you, but my orders was imperative; I was not to lose a moment, but to knock and ring till someone came.  May I ask you, sir, if Mr. Malcolm Ross lives here?”

“I am Mr. Malcolm Ross.”

“Then this letter is for you, sir, and the bro’am is for you too, sir!”

I took, with a strange curiosity, the letter which he handed to me.  As a barrister I had had, of course, odd experiences now and then, including sudden demands upon my time; but never anything like this.  I stepped back into the hall, closing the door to, but leaving it ajar; then I switched on the electric light.  The letter was directed in a strange hand, a woman’s.  It began at once without “dear sir” or any such address: 

“You said you would like to help me if I needed it; and I believe you meant what you said.  The time has come sooner than I expected.  I am in dreadful trouble, and do not know where to turn, or to whom to apply.  An attempt has, I fear, been made to murder my Father; though, thank God, he still lives.  But he is quite unconscious.  The doctors and police have been sent for; but there is no one here whom I can depend on.  Come at once if you are able to; and forgive me if you can.  I suppose I shall realise later what I have done in asking such a favour; but at present I cannot think.  Come!  Come at once!  Margaret Trelawny.”

Pain and exultation struggled in my mind as I read; but the mastering thought was that she was in trouble and had called on me—­me!  My dreaming of her, then, was not altogether without a cause.  I called out to the groom: 

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The Jewel of Seven Stars from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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