The devil takes a hand by ward, Stirling Tenant stopped outside the door of
his wife's room and went over the details of his plan for the last time.
The thing was so absurdly simple, he wondered why he had not thought
of it months before. There was not the least chance of a failure.
He had only to plant the idea in her diseased brain, and she,
with cunning that all maniacs possess, would do the rest. Every one knew
her suicidal mania. It had been brought out at the time of the hearing.
No blame could possibly be attached to him for her death, had not
the nurse frustrated her in a half a dozen attempts. Damn that fool nurse.
Anyway, she had too exalted an idea of the importance of her position.
But after all, it was possibly a good thing that she had been
so vigilant. People couldn't say that it was carelessness. Then, he smiled
to himself as he recalled the kind of things their friends had said when he
refused to send his wife to an asylum after the court had pronounced her insane.
They imagined that it was his great love that made him keep her with
him. It was laughable how easily people could be fooled. How were they
to know that he had made a careful investigation and found that too close a
watch was kept on inmates of such institutions. There was a better chance of
her making a successful attempt right here at home. Accidents are always liable to
happen in private homes. In public institutions, people are paid to guard against
such things. Curse the fool law that prohibited a man from getting a divorce
from an insane wife. Such laws made a criminal of a person. Otherwise
he could have married Helen a year ago. He must guard against him love
for her being found out, It might cause someone to cast suspicion his way.
Of course, they would never be able to confirm their conjectures. But
his position in the community was too high to have even a finger of scorn
pointed in his direction. It would never do for a deacon of the church
and a prominent professional man to let people know that he was guilty of evil,
even in thought. No, he must keep away from Helen until he
had shown the proper amount of respect for his deceased wife, For he had
begun to think of her as already dead. After a period of hypocritical mourning,
they could be quietly married, and he would still retain the love and
respect of his fellow townsmen. Of course, it met several months waiting.
It would be hard, but they would have the rest of their lives together.
And both of them were young, and there was a matter of Grace's
inheritance to be considered too good thing. They had never had a child.
It would be all his now, that is, after the proper formalities had
been gone through. Naturally, he would erect an expensive headstone in her memory
and give her an elaborate funeral. Some people measured a man's love for his
wife by the amount of money he spent on her funeral. Yes, the
scheme was simple, machiavellian in its magnitude, and with the requisite amount of
attention paid to the details, there was not the least bit of danger.
He turned the knob and entered the room with a tender kiss for the woman
with lustless eyes, who sat mumbling to herself in a low wicker chair,
nervously picking at the folds of her dress. He turned to the middle aged
woman in the nurse's garb, who sat in the window near by. Take
an hour's walk, miss Gorman, he said, kindly, you look tagged
out. I'll look after missus Tenant until you return. The nurse rose wearily.
It's awfully kind of you, mister Tenant. I am tired. She's
been bad to day, she ended significantly. Tenant's face took on a worried
look. She'll probably settle down after an hour or so, he responded.
I've a little work to do. I can do it just as well in
the other room and still keep an eye on my poor little girl. There's
nothing around that she can get hold of, is there. He settled himself
in the chair beside his wife and patted her white hand affectionately, with a
tear in her kindly irish eyes. For the little, unobstantious display of love.
Miss Gorman left the room, and a minute later Tenant, from his
place in the window, saw her swinging down the street. The time was
at hand you. Pressing his wife's hand tightly between his own, Tenant addressed
her in the tone one uses to talk to a little child. I've often
wondered, he said, quietly, why you didn't commit suicide? Grace?
Of course, I know that you've tried it, but your methods have been
all wrong. Do you understand what I am getting at? I want to
help you. He looked at the woman keenly. He imagined that her dull
eyes took on an added brightness that she was not plucking at the hem of
her dress. So nervously, he hurried on, Now, I'm going to
show you how to do it, sweetheart. Then when the nurse is out
of the room some day for a few minutes, you can put one over
on her. It'll be a good joke on her, won't it. Come
on, I'll show you how to do it. Apathetically, she rose and
followed him across the room to where the big, old fashioned bed stood in
the distant corner. Now watch me, dearie, and see how I do
it, he continued. The nurse thinks she's got you cheated by removing everything
that you might use. But we'll show her, won't we. He removed
the light counterpane from the bed and twisted it into a rope. See,
girlie, how it's done. Just the right size to hang one's self with,
isn't it. Now? Then we carry this chair across the room and
put it under this chandelier. Get the idea. The demented woman made no
answer, but Tenant knew that her suicidal mind was attracted by the scheme,
that the seed planted in her brain was already sprouting. She followed close behind
him, her dull, impassive eyes watching his every move. He stepped upon
the chair and attached the improvised rope to the chandelier. See how easy it
is, dear, he went on. Now, next, we make a
noose in the rope like this. See is just as easy as rolling off
a log. Then we put the noose over our head and pull it up
tightly about our neck. Understand Now, all that's left is to kick the
chair out from underneath, and the devil and all couldn't keep a person from
choking to death, could he? From his height the top of the chair,
he looked down upon the woman. She was gazing up at him,
fascinated, her eyes burning brightly. Now the idea pleases you, doesn't it,
sweetheart? He smiled. She nodded understandingly. Then suddenly she made a
leap for the chair and tore it from beneath his feet with a frightened yell.
The man dropped to the end of the rope, his toes almost but
not quite touching the floor. The maniac stepped back with a shrill, little
cry of delight, and watched him gyrate and whirl as the improvised rope twisted
and untwisted itself. His mouth was open, his eyes bulged from their sockets,
his tongue stuck out oddly. His breath came gurglingly, sobbingly, gaspingly.
His face grew black and mottled. His arms and legs danced about curiously,
twitchingly. His peculiar antics filled her with delight. She forgot her depression
in her new found happiness. He was teaching her some new game. She
clapped her hands together and shouted for more, And when he hung quietly,
she seized him by the legs and swung him to and fro yelling joyously.
And thus the nurse found them the living and the dead. An hour later,
when she returned from her walk, The end of the Devil takes a hand