XIX

ngwhatitcouldbelikebeingsoneardeath.Mustitnotbebeautiful,thoughtPriscilla,toslipawaysoquietlyinthatsunnyroom,withnosoundtobreakthepeacebutthetickingoftheclockthatmarkedoffthelastminutes,andoutsidetheoccasionalfootstepofapasser-bystillhurryingonlife'sbusiness?Wonderfultohavedonewitheverything,tohaveitallbehindone,settled,livedthrough,endured.Thetroublousjoysaswellasthepains,allfinishedthegriefsandthestinginghappinesses,allalikeliveddownandnowevening,andsleep.InthefewdaysPriscillahadknownhertheoldladyhaddrawnvisiblynearerdeath.Lyingthereonthepillow,solittleandlightthatshehardlypresseditdownatall,shelookedverynearitindeed.AndhowkindDeathwas,rubbingawaythetracesofwhatmusthavebeenasordidexistence,setaboutyearsbackwiththeusualcoarsepleasuresandselfishhopes,—howkindDeathwas,lettingalltherewasofspiritshineoutsosweetlyattheend.TherewasanenlargedphotographofMrs.Jonesandherhusbandoverthefireplace,aphotographtakenfortheirsilverweddingshemusthavebeenaboutforty-fivehowkindDeathwas,thoughtPriscilla,lookingfromthepicturetothefigureonthebed.Shesighedalittle,andgotup.Lifelaybeforeher,anendlessladderupeachofwhosesteeprungsshewouldhavetoclamberineverysortofweathershewouldhavetoclamber,gettingmorebattered,moreblisteredwitheveryrung....Shelookedwistfullyatthefigureonthebed,andsighedalittle.Thenshecreptout,andsoftlyshutthedoor. Shewalkedhomelostinthought.AsshewasgoingupthehilltohercottageFritzingsuddenlyemergedfromitandindulgedinmovementssostrangeandcomplicatedthattheylookedlikenothinglessthanadesperatedancingonthedoorstep.Priscillawalkedfaster,staringinastonishment.Hemadestrangegestures,hisfacewaspale,hishairrubbedupintoakindofinfuriatedmop. "Why,whatintheworld—"begantheamazedPriscilla,assoonasshewasnearenough. "Ma'am,I'vebeenrobbed,"shoutedFritzingandallSymfordmighthaveheardifithadhappenedtobelistening. "Robbed?"repeatedPriscilla."Whatof?" "Ofallmymoney,ma'am.OfallIhad—ofallwehad—toliveon." "Nonsense,Fritzi,"saidPriscillabutshedidturnalittlepaler."Don'tletusstandouthere,"sheaddedandshegothiminandshutthestreetdoor. Hewouldhaveleftitopenandwouldhaveshoutedhiswoesthroughitasthroughatrumpetdownthestreet,obliviousofallthingsunderheavenbuthismisfortune.Hetoreopenthedrawerofthewriting-table."Inthisdrawer—inthepocket-bookyouseeinthisdrawer—inthisnowemptypocket-book,didIleaveit.Itwasthereyesterday.Itwastherelastnight.Nowitisgone.Miscreantsfromwithouthavevisitedus.Orperhaps,vilerstill,miscreantsfromwithin.Amiscreant,Idobelieve,capableofanything—Annalise—" "Fritzi,Itookafive-poundnoteoutofthatlastnight,ifthat'swhatyoumiss." "You,ma'am?" "Topaythegirlwhoworkedhereherwages.Youweren'there.Icouldn'tfindanythingsmaller." "GottseiDank!GottseiDank!"criedFritzing,goingbacktoGermaninhisjoy."Ohma'am,ifyouhadtoldmeearlieryouwouldhavesparedmegreatanguish.Haveyouthechange?" "Didn'tshebringit?" "Bringit,ma'am?" "Igaveittoherlastnighttochange.Shewastobringitroundthismorning.Didn'tshe?" Fritzingstaredaghast.Thenhedisappearedintothekitchen.Inamomenthewasbackagain."Shehasnotbeenhere,"hesaid,inavoicepackedoncemorewithtorment. "Perhapsshehasforgotten." "Ma'am,howcameyou—" "Nowyou'regoingtoscoldme." "No,no—buthowisitpossiblethatyoushouldhavetrusted—" "Fritzi,youaregoingtoscoldme,andI'msotired.Whatelsehasbeentaken?Yousaidallyourmoney—" Hesnatcheduphishat."Nothingelse,ma'am,nothingelse.Iwillgoandseekthegirl."Andheclappeditdown