The Seeing

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eric Griffith descended to the great hall and walked into the library. Maud sat on the arm of a chair, massaging the worrisome pain in her shoulder.

Eric surveyed with satisfaction his flickering image in the brass facings that framed the fireplace. Another loose end neatly tied up, he thought, and smiled at the play on words. Two pairs of Maud’s nylons and a swatch of adhesive tape had done the trick, and there would be no more threats or dangerous behavior from milady, Jessica, who now lay trussed up in her bedroom behind a securely locked door.

“I’m worried, Eric.”

“What about? I can’t see a cloud on the horizon.” He glanced at his watch. “Saxe and Benny are just about airborne by now. One last detail and we’ll be on our way, Maud—” His voice sharpened. “—with an honest-to-god shot at the jackpot.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She looked at him resentfully, wincing as she touched the flesh below her collarbone. “Ever since the lights went out, I’ve had a terrible pain like a needle in my shoulder.”

Eric made an effort to mask his exasperation. It was just like her to pick a time like this for one of her neurotic attacks.

“I suggest you get hold of yourself, Maudie.”

“Stop using that tone. I’m not some kind of hypochondriac freak.”

“But you’re always worked up about something. Now it’s your shoulder.”

“I’m worried sick, damn it!”

“Ah-ha! Now you’ve put your finger on it. You’re not worried because you’re sick. You’re sick because you’re worried.”

A clap of thunder sounded and Maud started nervously. The window panes trembled, creating a singing hum on the air. A gust of wind from the fireplace caused the lighted candles to flicker erratically, sending shadows leaping about the tiered room.

“God, I’ve come to hate this place!” Maud said.

“Steady, old girl. We’re almost home free. The first thing in London, we’ll get you to a doctor — not just the hotel chap; I’ll call a specialist. Meanwhile, I’ve got a job for you.

“I want you to write a cheerful note to Jessica. We’ll both sign it. Tell her how much we’ve liked being here—” Pacing, Eric composed his thoughts. “Tell her how much we enjoyed meeting her friends, Miss Bostwick and old Ryan. Say we’re taking the early flight from Shannon to London and will be at the Cumberland. Didn’t want to disturb her at such an ungodly hour and so forth.

“Assure her that we’re eager to have her visit us in the States the first chance she gets. Then close with love and best wishes for health and happiness from her auntie and uncle.”

Eric made a drink and raised the glass to Maud. “You see, it is absolutely essential that the authorities conclude that the child took her last ride up the cliffs after you and I left for Shannon Airport.”

“Eric, will you really help me find a specialist in London?”

“You have my word on it.”

Eric left the library and went into the drawing room off the great hall. This elegant room faced the driveway and park. Candles created cones of warm light in the corners, providing a feeling of sanctuary against the storm still battering the trees and walls of the mansion.

Eric drank several whiskeys. The dark thought of what lay ahead blurred by the liquor, he slumped into his chair, his head lolling back against the leather cushion.

His thoughts were slow and drowsy. The sequence of events was inevitable. He enjoyed seeing them parade in measured cadences through his lulled consciousness.

There would be a funeral mass, of course, here where she had lived most of her life, lamentation for the soul borne to her final resting place in the cemetery. He would be there, of course, the devoted uncle, eyes flushed with tears, steadying himself with a hand on old Ryan’s arm. Whispers around them... “He’s an American, her uncle is. They were very close.”

And then as the seasons wheeled, Boniface might stay on here, somewhere in the neighborhood, a snug home with a view of the sea perhaps, servants, and enough land for a few good horses. There was salmon fishing. He had never tried that and he imagined he would fancy it. And riding on frosty mornings, the horse’s hooves like iron on the hard ground, the village lads would greet him with quick smiles...

The empty glass slipped from his fingers and dropped with a muffled thump onto the carpeting.

Maud sat at the desk in Andrew Dalworth’s private study. Attempting without success to ignore the storm sounding around the house, she completed the letter Eric had requested her to write to Jessica, signing it — “with all love, Auntie Maud,” leaving room for Eric’s signature under hers.

It was then that the phone on Dalworth’s desk rang shrilly, like a file rasping across her straining nerves.

Clearing her throat, she picked up the receiver and said as casually as she could manage, “Yes? This is Easter Hill...”

A voice she had heard before but was at a loss to place said, “To whom would I be speaking?”

“Mrs. Eric Griffith.”

“Mrs. Griffith, there’s been an accident in—”

“Who is this?” Maud said sharply.

“Begging your pardon, madam, this is Constable Riley calling from Ballytone. If you recall, we had the opportunity to meet on another occasion.”

“What’s happened? What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Griffith, but I have quite shocking news. An elderly couple was driving a pony trap up the high street this evening. A black convertible passed them at high speed, causing the horse to rear, and something must have happened to the—”

“Can’t you speak up? Was someone hurt?” Maud demanded.

“It’s queer, the old couple escaped without a scratch, but— May I ask you, are you seated, ma’am?”

“Yes.” Maud whispered.

Listening, she sank slowly into the deep chair behind Dalworth’s desk.

Jessica lay on the bed in her room in the darkness, tightly drawn loops of nylon binding her wrists and ankles. Her eyes were closed and she was staring at an inner vision, dappled in brilliant lights and threaded with shifting, monstrous shadows. What she saw was so potentially senseless and violent that the vistas brought a sting of tears to her eyes.

She heard quick footsteps outside her door. Then the knob turned back and forth, desperately but futilely.

Standing outside Jessica’s room, Maud twisted the handle of the door helplessly, a sob sounding in her throat. The upper floors of Easter Hill were dark with shadows. Only a shifting illumination from the candelabra in the great hall penetrated the gloom of the staircase.

Maud turned and ran toward that uncertain light, the slim silver scissors she had taken from Dalworth’s desk gripped in her hand.

Descending the stairs, she crossed the hall quickly, silently. In the drawing room, she cautiously approached Eric’s sleeping figure, listening to heavy breathing that caused a rhythmic bubble of saliva to rise and break on his lips.

Moving his arm gingerly, Maud went through the pockets of his jacket, finding coins, a cigarette lighter, a roll of peppermints. She moved around the chair and checked his vest pockets, watching his flushed features and lidded eyes for any response to her searching fingers.

Maud found what she was looking for, the key to Jessica’s room, in his lapel pocket behind a display handkerchief. Fishing it out, she rose and tiptoed swiftly from the salon, her heart pounding like some wild animal caged behind her ribs. With a heavy candlestick, Maud went quickly up the stairs, the soft light from the candle revealing the pallor that had spread in her cheeks since she had first heard the sound of Constable Riley’s voice.

Unlocking the door to her niece’s room, Maud placed the candlestick on a bureau from where its flame enclosed the bound child in a cone of light. Maud sat beside Jessica on the bed and used the scissors to cut away the swatch of adhesive tape across her lips.

“I’ve been your friend, I haven’t hurt you,” Maud said, her voice strained. She was trembling so that the scissors almost slipped from her fingers. Placing them on the bedside table, she brushed a strand of hair from Jessica’s forehead. “You must help me! For God’s sake, please! All my life I’ve been afraid of dying.”

Maud laughed softly, a fragile sound which echoed the terror glittering in her eyes. “It’s not knowing when it will happen, that’s what terrifies me. I don’t care how much time I’ve got left. But I’ve got to know when. Please tell me, Jessica.”

Maud knelt on the floor, her hands locked in front of her. “Please help me... I want to know where I’ll be when it happens, what I’ll be doing. I can’t bear to be taken by surprise...”

Jessica said quietly, “I’m sorry, Aunt Maud.”

“Don’t say that! You said they were going to die. You knew exactly how it would happen.”

“I know what will happen to people if they won’t stop what they’re doing or change their courses — and you won’t change...”

“I don’t believe you! Why are you lying to me? I’ve got to know.”

A hinge creaked behind them and the door was shoved open unexpectedly. “All right, Maud. Get on your feet.” The words were slurred, and Eric swayed as he entered the room, a hand reaching for support to the carved bedstead.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at Maud, still kneeling beside Jessica, an expression of shock and fear on her face.

“Supposing you tell me what kind of deal you’re trying to cook up with the little princess here.”

“Eric, I’ve talked to Constable Riley in Ballytone. He—”

“What a busy lady you are, Maud. Picking my pockets for the key, sneaking up here to conspire with Jessica the minute my back was turned. Why, Maud? Why? What were you hoping to find out?”

“Goddammit, didn’t you hear me?” Maud said, screaming the words at him. “Constable Riley telephoned while you were dead drunk, lost to the world. They aren’t on their way to England, Eric. They aren’t on their way anywhere. They’re lying dead right now in Ballytone.”

“What... what’re you saying? Who’re you talking about?” Eric’s expression was baffled, his voice stuttering in confusion. “Not to England — what in hell do you mean, Maud?”

“I mean they’re all dead, Eric. That’s what I mean! Tony Saxe, Benny Stiff, and that kid they took with them, they were all killed in a freak car crash down in the village.”

Jessica closed her eyes and said, “Not Kevin,” in a soft, ambiguous whisper.

“Yes, all of them,” Maud said. “And Tony and Benny Stiff died exactly as she said they would. Benny died in flames, trapped in the car when it flipped over and the gas tank exploded. But Tony Saxe was thrown out right in front of the Hannibal Arms. He went right through the plate glass window—” Maud laughed shakily and pointed at Jessica. “That’s right, Eric. Just like she told us! Tony Saxe landed on that big elephant tusk right at the end of the bar. Just as Jessica predicted, that’s how Tony died... gored to death by the tusk of an elephant.”

The full impact was cushioned for Eric by the liquor he had absorbed. Narcotized by strong spirits, he was aware most forcefully of only one thing. That was the fact that here was indisputable truth that his niece could, in fact, foretell the future. With that realization, he could feel the surge of adrenalin charging through his body.

“Good God, Maud! Don’t you see what this means? No, no, you don’t,” he said, the words running together with his excitement. “It means that the horses she gave us for the Grand National are good as gold!”

Suddenly Eric struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Oh, my God! What happened to the money? What happened to all our money, Maud?”

“I was too frightened to think about that.”

“Jesus Christ! That’s the first thing you should have asked the Constable about... the money. It’s more important than ever now, because now we don’t have to split it three ways.”

As the flash-point of his anger subsided, Eric realized it had been therapeutic. It had burned away the whiskey fumes crowding his mind. Clear-headed and alert, he said, “Put that tape back on her mouth and get downstairs. We’ve got work to do.”

After he had gone, Maud turned and stared at Jessica.

“Why won’t you help me? Why should I be so frightened of death? Can’t you even tell me that?”

In the new deep tones that so terrified Maud, Jessica said: “If you fear the question, then you must fear the answer. I will tell you only this: As long as Uncle Eric lives, you shall live longer still.”

“You can’t leave it like that!” Maud said, trembling with excitement. “You must tell me — how long he will live...”

“I will give you this knowledge,” Jessica said. “His death will dissolve your every fear, give you the freedom you so long for.”

Maud looked intently at her, feeling a numbing chill as she noticed the strange, knowing smile curving the girl’s lips. Then she felt faint, her knees trembling with fatigue.

Dreading the next answer, she said, “You know that I’m terrified, Jessica. And now even Eric is afraid. He’s pretending... but he is afraid. You know something else we don’t. I can tell from your eyes. You’re not afraid, are you? You’re not afraid, damn you!”

“Only for you,” Jessica said in tones that broke the last straining links of Maud’s control.

“Oh, dear God!” Maud said in a ragged voice. She grabbed the candlestick and ran from the room, hurrying unsteadily through the shadows to the staircase.

Thunder broke above Easter Hill. A flaring bolt of lightning flooded the gardens with brightness, shimmering on brass weather-vanes and the wet panes of the house, falling in erratic patterns through the draperies of Jessica’s bedroom. The spreading radiance traced glowing streaks along the silver scissors that lay close to Jessica on the night table.