"Wilkie Collins - The Evil Genius" - читать интересную книгу автора (Collins Wilkie)

Tearless and silent, she waited by her husband's side. He had only noticed her
for a moment. All his interest seemed to be centered in his children. The girl
stood nearest to him, he looked at her with a faint smile.
The poor child understood him. Crying piteously, she put her arms around his
neck and kissed him. "Dear papa," she said; "come home and let me nurse you."
The surgeon, watching the father's face, saw a change in him which the other
persons present had not observed. The failing heart felt that parting moment,
and sank under it. "Take the child away," the surgeon whispered to the mother.
Brandy was near him; he administered it while he spoke, and touched the
fluttering pulse. It felt, just felt, the stimulant. He revived for a moment,
and looked wistfully for his son. "The boy," he murmured; "I want my boy." As
his wife brought the child to him, the surgeon whispered to her again. "If you
have anything to say to him be quick about it!" She shuddered; she took his cold
hand. Her touch seemed to nerve him with new strength; he asked her to stoop
over him. "They won't let me write here," he whispered, "unless they see my
letter." He paused to get his breath again. "Lift up my left arm," he gasped.
"Open the wrist-band."
She detached the stud which closed the wrist-band of the shirt. On the inner
side of the linen there was a line written in red letters--red of the color of
blood. She saw these words: Look in the lining of my trunk.
"What for?" she asked.
The fading light in his eyes flashed on her a dreadful look of doubt. His lips
fell apart in the vain effort to answer. His last sigh fluttered the light
ringlets of her hair as she bent over him.
The surgeon pointed to her children. "Take the poor things home," he said; "they
have seen the last of their father."
Mrs. Westerfield obeyed in silence. She had her own reasons for being in a hurry
to get home. Leaving the children under the servant's care, she locked herself
up in the dead man's room, and emptied his trunk of the few clothes that had
been left in it.
The lining which she was now to examine was of the customary material, and of
the usual striped pattern in blue and white. Her fingers were not sufficiently
sensitive to feel anything under the surface, when she tried it with her hand.
Turning the empty trunk with the inner side of the lid toward the light, she
discovered, on one of the blue stripes of the lining, a thin little shining
stain which looked like a stain of dried gum. After a moment's consideration,
she cut the gummed line with a penknife. Something of a white color appeared
through the aperture. She drew out a folded sheet of paper.
It proved to be a letter in her husband's hand-writing. An inclosure dropped to
the floor when she opened it, in the shape of a small slip of paper. She picked
it up. The morsel of paper presented letters, figures, and crosses arranged in
lines, and mingled together in what looked like hopeless confusion.
3.--The Letter.
Mrs. Westerfield laid the incomprehensible slip of paper aside, and, in search
of an explanation, returned to the letter. Here again she found herself in a
state of perplexity. Directed to "Mrs. Roderick Westerfield," the letter began
abruptly, without the customary form of address. Did it mean that her husband
was angry with her when he wrote? It meant that he doubted her.
In these terms he expressed himself: