Some Must Watch by Ethel Lina White (books for 5 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📕

shall

know how to deal with you,”

 

Before Mrs. Oates could retaliate, she had gone from the room.

 

“Well,” gasped Mrs. Oates, sniffing vigorously, “wot a nasty smell.

She’d better try no tricks on me, nor call me out of my name, or I’ll

give her a thick ear… I won’t be bullied by that.” “That’?” echoed

Helen. “Well, who’s to say if it’s a woman, or a man?”

 

Again Helen was gripped with the nightmare horror of the situation, as

Mrs. Oates sunk her voice to a hoarse whisper. She had drained her glass

again, in greedy gulps. It was only too clear that her guardian was

slipping away from her, leaving her to solve the enigma of the nurse.

 

It was true that she had still the moral support of the Professor and

his sister; but they were too negligible to help. They seemed to retreat

always to their distant horizons—aloof and invulnerable as shadows.

 

As a child, she had the reputation of never crying; but at this crisis

she suddenly broke down.

 

“Oh, don’t,” she cried piteously. “I can’t stand much more.”

 

As she began to cry, Mrs. Oates looked at her with puzzled eyes.

 

“What’s the matter, dearie?” she asked.

 

“I’m terrified,” confessed Helen. “You keep on drinking. Soon, you’ll be

a log, and then you’ll be in her power. You’re asking for it. I’ll do my

best, of course—but she’d make three of me, and leave scrapings. And

upstairs they won’t believe a word I say, until it’s too late.”

 

Helen spoke wildly, but her exaggeration had the desired effect of

sobering Mrs. Oates. In her turn she daubed lurid colors on her picture

of the future.

 

“It’s you she’s after,” she said. “She wants to do me in, to get at you.

Well, we’ll show her.”

 

Gulping with emotion, she pushed the bottle of brandy across the table.

 

“Put it somewhere where I can’t reach it.”

 

Helen took a rapid survey of the kitchen, while Mrs. Oates watched her

with painful interest. She had repented her noble resolution before the

girl started to climb up on to the tall dresser. She had to pull herself

up to the second shelf, before she was able to hoist the bottle on to

the top ledge: but directly it was out of Mrs. Oates’ reach, she felt a

sudden glow of confidence.

 

Scrambling from her perilous perch, she began to make a bargain. “You’ve

been wonderful,” she said. “If only you’ll go on playing the game, I

promise you shall finish that bottle, tomorrow evening, in my

sitting-room. I’ll keep Oates out, and I’ll stand any racket.”

 

“Swear,” said Mrs. Oates.

 

Helen went through the ritual of crossing her throat.

 

“Now, I’m going to make some strong coffee, to pull you round,” she

said.

 

“Cawfee,” groaned Mrs. Oates. “If ever you get a man who lifts his

elbow, Heaven help the poor bloke.”

 

Helen actually whistled when she was in her sitting room, for lighting

the spirit-stove revived memories of Dr. Parry. Since he had gone she had

experienced such a whirl of emotions that she had no time to think of

him. But as she passed the episode in retrospect it glowed with the dawn

of happiness.

 

She remembered his eyes when he prophesied her marraige, and his recent

promise to come to her aid if she were in need of him. At that moment

she re-lived her previous experience, when she had stood looking at the

refuge of the Summit, across the division of a dark spread of country.

 

She felt that, now, she was gazing down the length of a pitchy tunnel,

to a golden glory, which shone at its end. But, between her and the dawn

of a new day coiled the black serpent of the night.

 

The water boiled over and she made the coffee, filling a cup with strong

dark fluid, which she carried to Mrs. Oates.

 

“Here you are,” she said, “Black as night and hot as hell.”

 

“Hell,” repeated Mrs. Oates, as she held her nose and swallowed it in a

draught.

 

“Mrs. Oates,” asked Helen suddenly, “is Dr. Parry engaged?”

 

“Not yet, but may be soon,” replied Mrs. Oates. “I’m always asking him

when he’s going to get married and he always says he is waiting for a

young lady as he can pick up and pitch over the moon.”

 

Although Mrs. Oates’ remark was under suspicion of being inspired by her

audience, Helen smiled, and felt she must spread a little of her own

happiness. “I’ll take some coffee up to the nurse,” she said.. “I’m

afraid we hurt her feelings just now.”

 

When she reached the blue room, she knocked several times, but Nurse

Barker did not appear.

 

After a slight hesitation, Helen cautiously opened the Door an inch, and

peeped into the room.

 

It was in semi-darkness, for the electric light had been switched off;

only a faint bluish light from a shaded lamp, and the fitful glow from

the fire illumined the gloom. Stealing over the thick carpet, she could

make out the outline of Lady Warren’s fleecy jacket between the

bed-hangings of ultramarine. Apparently the old lady was asleep, for her

snores whined up and down the scale.

 

Afraid of waking her, Helen could not warn Nurse Barker of her approach.

The light shining through the partially-opened door of the dressing

room, told her that the nurse was inside.

 

Creeping closer, Helen took her unawares. She was apparently busy with

her toilet, for she stood before the glass intently examining her

reflection. As she rubbed a finger over her chin, Helen caught the gleam

of some small glittering object in her doubled-up fist.

 

She started violently as Helen scraped on the panel of thedoor, and

looked at the girl suspiciously.

 

“Well,” she said bitterly. “This is the one place where I thought I

might expect some privacy.”

 

“Yes, the arrangements are abominable,” agreed Helen. “I thought you

might like some coffee.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Nurse Barker began to sip with studied refinement, which reminded Helen

of a stage performance she had witnessed.

 

“But the man I saw gave a more natural female-impersonation,” she

thought. She was so fascinated that she tried to find some excuse for

lingering.

 

“As you saw, Mrs. Oates has been drinking,” she said. “Can you tell me

of anything that will put her right?”

 

“Try an egg in Worcester sauce, and a hair of the dog that bit her,”

advised Nurse Barker. “What time do you go to bed?”

 

“About ten. But I’m not going to bed tonight.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, someone must sit up to let Oates in.”

 

Suddenly Nurse’ Barker pounced on the girl.

 

“So you’ve forgotten the Professor’s order already? He said you were to

admit no one.”

 

Helen looked the picture of guilt as she remembered Dr. Parry’s promise.

If he came, she did not intend t keep him outside.

 

“I did forget,” she confessed. “Please don’t tell the Pro fessor or Miss

Warren.”

 

“I’ll make no promises,” declared Nurse Barker. “If you are not watched

constantly, you will imperil the safety of everyone under this

roof… It’s bad enough having you here, at all—to draw him on us.

For he’s after you.”

 

At the reminder, Helen felt a tightening of her scalp.

 

“Why do you keep on trying to frighten me?” she asked.

 

“Because you forget.” Nurse Barker laid down her empty cup and

approached Helen. “There’s another thing I’ve been saving up to tell

you,” she added. “I’m not satisfied about that Welsh doctor.”

 

“Dr. Parry?” asked Helen incredulously.

 

“Yes, he’s a queer, excitable type—unbalanced and neurotic. He might be

a homicidal maniac.”

 

“Oh, don’t be a tool,” Helen said.

 

“You know nothing about him,” went on Nurse Barker. “These crimes are

committed by some man who inspires the confidence of his victims, and

who can move quickly from place to place… Well, think of the way

he rushes all over the country on his motor-bike—here, one minute—a

mile away, the next. And everyone trusts the doctor.”

 

“Of course they do,” declared Helen hotly. “I do, for one. I’d trust

Dr. Parry with my life. He’s a darling. He’s promised to come to the

Summit, in this awful storm, if I feel nervous.”

 

Nurse Barker took a cigarette from her case and stuck It—unlighted—in

the corner of her mouth.

 

“You needn’t trouble to send for him,” she sneered. “He may come without

waiting for an invitation.”

 

Helen turned towards the door. “I won’t disturb you any longer,” she

said. “Besides—I think you’re goofy.”

 

Nurse Barker gripped her arm.

 

“You’re afraid of me,” she said.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“What do you think of me?”

 

“I think you are very reliant—and clever.”

 

“A fool?”

 

“Oh, anything but that.”

 

“Then,” said Nurse Barker, “perhaps you will listen to me… unless

you are a fool yourself… The man who commits these crimes is

normal when the fit has passed. So you’ll have no warning: You may meet

him tonight. If you do, he’ll be the biggest surprise of your life. And

the last.”

 

As she listened Helen’s heart gave a sharp double-knock, and her head

swam, while Nurse Barker appeared to shoot up until she towered above

her like a white pillar. She felt that she was losing her grip upon

actuality. Everything was changing before her eyes in a hideous

transformation. She did not know whom to trust—what to believe. In the

confusion, friends masqueraded as enemies—humanity lost the common

touch.

 

What really’ worried her was the fact that Dr. Parry had spoken to her

in the same horrible language. She, had a vision of his face changing

before her gaze—his smile stiffening to a grimace—the red touch of

murder glowing behind his eyes.

 

The mist cleared from her vision as Nurse Barker lit a cigarette. All

her unwholesome dream was burned away, like withered membrane, as one

fear was killed by another. For the flame which reddened Nurse Barker’s

face revealed the shaven lip of a man.