CHAPTER XII

At the Last Extremity

THE diamond brooch seemed to burn Bert's fingers as he held it, and he was glad to thrust it out of sight again beneath the mattress. It was plain now why Prin in her mental wanderings continually spoke of diamonds and glittering things. Poor Prin! Her mind had been sorely troubled in consequence of what she had done. Sin had brought its penalty. Bert's first feeling of shame and indignation changed to pity as he watched her. She was very ill. Even Bert, in his inexperience, could perceive that her sickness was "nigh unto death."

The district nurse came in and looked after the patient, giving to her all the time she could spare from her other cases, which unfortunately were very numerous; for there was much sickness at this time in the close, stifling streets of this poor neighbourhood. The doctor watched the case carefully, but would answer no questions. Bert wondered sadly what the end would be. He could not bear to think of Prin lying cold and still, as he had seen his father lie.

Yet if she lived, would not the police be sure to find her and the stolen brooch, and take her off to prison? Bert had great faith in the omnipotence of the police. The thought of the Princess in prison was terrible. Yet scarcely less grievous was the thought of her guilt. God knew what she had done. God's eye could see the glittering thing hidden beneath the mattress. And God would punish sin. Was it too late to pray, "Deliver her from evil"?

The third day of Prin's illness was drawing to its close. Bert had drawn down the blind and lighted the solitary candle which illumined the room. The Princess had been very ill all day. The nurse had seen her in the morning, and had promised, if possible, to come in later; but she had not come. Bert was feeling intensely anxious about his sister, who had ceased to talk, and now lay in a heavy slumber.

In vain he had tried to induce her to swallow the milk and brandy which the nurse had told him to give her every hour. He had found it impossible to administer it, and he longed for the nurse to come to his help. The outside world was noisy as usual. Never had there been a greater turmoil in the street; but Prin was unconscious of it all. It seemed as if nothing would rouse her. As he sat beside her, Bert himself grew drowsy from protracted watching. His head began to nod as he sat there. How long he thus lost himself he could not have told, when suddenly he sprang up, roused to quick consciousness by Prin's voice. To his surprise, he saw her sitting up in bed and looking about her with a bewildered air.

"Bert," she said, "are you there? Where am I? Have I been ill? What place is this?"

"Why, it's our little room, Prin, where we used to live, don't you know? And you have been ill, very ill; but I'm so glad you're better."

"Where is Lady Millicent?" Prin asked. "Wasn't she here just now?"

"Oh no, Prin. No one's been here except me and the nurse and the doctor."

"But she was here," persisted Prin, "you must have been asleep. She came and stood beside me, and put her soft little hand on my forehead, and said how sorry she was. She said she forgave me, but she was so sorry; because she was going to heaven, and she wanted me to go there too, but I couldn't if I did such things. Oh, Bert, where is she now?"

"She has not been here, Prin. You are mistaken. It is all a dream."

"It can't be a dream," persisted Prin, "I saw her as plain as possible, and I can feel her touch on my forehead now. Is it—is it all a dream that I took the brooch?"

"No, Prin, that's not a dream," said Bert sadly. "It's here under the bed."

Prin uttered a wail of distress and sank back on the pillow. All strength seemed to go from her.

She began to speak; but so faintly that Bert could hardly hear what she said.

"Oh," she murmured, "I can't think what made me do it. And she loved me so. You must take it back to her, Bert; you must tell her how sorry I am. Oh, I feel so ill. Am I going to die?"

"Oh no, not now, Prin," cried Bert; "you are better, I am sure. And the doctor will be here directly. He said he would look in again to-night."

"If he does not come soon, I shall die," she said faintly. "Oh, Bert, I don't want to die—I am so afraid!"

She would have said more, but utterance failed her. Her voice died away. She drew one deep breath, and then there was a stillness which appalled Bert. He bent over her in terror. He tried to force milk down her throat, but it ran out of her mouth as fast as he put it in. He laid his hand on her forehead, and it felt cold and clammy. He called to her loudly, but her ears were deaf to his cry.

Then his heart sank very low, and hope died within him. He caught up the candle, and held it so that its light fell full on Prin's face. The features were set, the eyes half-closed, the mouth a little open, and the countenance was ghastly in its pallor. Just so had he seen his father look when he was dead. So, it was all over. Prin too was dead! With a cry of despair, Bert cast himself face downwards on the bed.

He was roused by a resounding knock on the door. He started up in a dazed condition and went to open it. Two men stood at the foot of the steps. They were not attired as police officers, yet instinctively Bert divined their errand.

"There is a girl living here named Sinclair?" said one.

Bert made no reply.

"She's your sister, isn't she?" said the other.

Bert nodded.

The look of the boy's pale, woe-begone face touched the man's heart, and he said kindly, "I am afraid we've come to bring you trouble, my little man. We have to arrest your sister on the charge of stealing a diamond brooch from the house of Lord Ravenscourt, near Petersfield."

"It's true, she took it," said Bert sadly. "I have it here, and I'll give it to you. But you can't take Prin, for she's gone."

"Gone!" repeated the foremost man sharply. "Where? When?" And he pushed forward into the room.

"She's dead," said Bert.

"Dead!" the two men exclaimed together, in startled tones. They were dismayed and awed. They stood by the door and looked uneasily towards the bed on which the still form lay.

"When did she die?" asked one.

"A few minutes ago," said Bert.

Then the other man walked to the bed and looked closely at Prin, and laid his hand on her forehead.

"It's so," he said; "she's dead."

Bert burst out sobbing; but, struggling with his sobs, he searched beneath the mattress and brought out the diamond star, which he gave to the officers.

"That's it," he said, "and please, when you give it to Lady Millicent, will you say that Prin was very sorry at the last?"

"All right, I'll see about it," said the man, conscious of a queer lump in his throat as he spoke. "And now, what are you going to do? You must get some woman to come and help you."

"The nurse will be here directly," said Bert, "and the doctor too is coming."

"Oh, then, they'll see about things," said the man, relieved. He was oppressed by the atmosphere of that gloomy room and the awful presence of death, and was anxious to get away, though it seemed hard to leave the boy alone with his dead.

"Come, Joe," he said to his subordinate, "we can do no good here."

So they went out. At the head of the area steps, they encountered the doctor, and paused to have a few words with him. But they did not descend again to the room. Even a police officer may have a heart too soft for his profession, and familiarity with painful scenes may fail to render it callous.