The Black Swan

“I imagine it will be quite six weeks out there and then of course there is the journey to and from. I must say it is very convenient to have their hospitality. Their place is only a five-minute walk from the House, and there’s always someone to let me in and the room is kept ready. I think Sir John likes to hear all that went on the previous night. He’s always wanting a good chat in the morning.”

“I suppose Bates could bring you home.”

Bates was the coachman who drove him to the House but he always came home by cab because of the uncertainty of the time.

“It would be impossible,” he said now. “He might be there all night. No. This is an excellent arrangement. I’m lucky to have friends so near. It’s become a custom. I think they’d be hurt if I didn’t make use of it.”

“Will you be going to the House this afternoon?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Another late sitting?”

“Who knows? But I expect everyone will be a little weary after last night. There’s a great deal going on, though. I don’t think the government can last. Salisbury is eagerly waiting in the wings, and this defeat from the Lords over the Bill...” I said nothing. I did not want to stress his part in the defeat.

He was ready to leave in mid-afternoon.

“I can’t believe it will be another late night,” he said, “but have my supper waiting just in case.”

“I will,” I promised.

In the hall I helped him into his coat and put the white silk scarf about his neck.

“You need that,” I said. “This horrible wind cuts right through you.” He smiled indulgently at me, pretending to laugh at my coddling; but I knew he liked it.

Bates, the coachman, had brought the carriage round from the mews and was waiting for him; the horse was pawing the ground impatiently.

I went down the four steps with him to the carriage door; he turned to me to smile as he prepared to get in. Then it happened. I heard the loud explosion. I saw the look of surprise on my father’s face. The blood was spurting over his coat, staining the white silk scarf which I had just a few moments before put round his neck. Then I saw the man standing there... the gun in his hand.

My father swayed toward me. I put out my hands and held him as slowly he slipped to the ground.

I knelt beside him and looked about me helplessly. I was stunned. Briefly I saw the man, then I knew that although he was dressed differently, he was the one I had seen last night waiting on the other side of the road. He had changed his opera cloak and hat for a cloth cap which was pulled down over his eyes. For a second we looked fully at each other. I could not see the widow’s peak, but I did recognize the scar on his left cheek; and instinctively I knew that he was the man who had stood on the other side of the road, and that last night he had been waiting for my father so that he might do then what he had done today. He had turned away and made off.

People were shouting. They were all round us. Bates was kneeling by my father, and servants were dashing out of the house.

It was like a nightmare... fearfully real. A terrible fear had come over me. I might never wait for him to come home to a late supper... never again talk to him of his ambitions.

I had never known such desolation.

My memories of that time come back to me like a series of bad dreams-overshadowed by a terrible sense of loss. I found myself trying to cling to the past, telling myself that it had not really happened... but it had.

Celeste was beside me. She clung to me. She was as dazed as I was. They had taken him to the hospital. Celeste and I went with him. We sat side by side, holding hands, waiting.

I think I knew from the start that there was no hope. He had been shot through the heart and was on the point of death by the time they got him to the hospital. Celeste, I am sure, found a grain of comfort in looking after me. I had been there at the vital moment, I had seen it happen. Small wonder that I was in a state of shock.

I was taken back to the house. There was a hushed atmosphere there. It did not seem like the same house. The servants were silent. There was tension everywhere. I was given something to drink and made to lie on my bed; and after a while I slipped into blessed oblivion.

But soon I was awake again. My respite was brief; and the nightmare continued. I soon realized that I was to play an important part in the drama, for I was the one who had been with my father when it happened. I was the one the police wanted to talk to.

I soon found myself in their company. They asked questions which I tried to answer.

The conversation kept going round and round in my head.

“Did you see the man with the gun?”

“Yes. I saw him.”

“Would you recognize him again?”

“Yes.”

“You seem certain.”

“I saw him the night before.”