Deadly Nightshade by Elizabeth Daly Read Free Book Online Page A

blood?”
    â€œI am descended in direct line from King James of Scotland, Mr. Gamish.”
    Feeling obscurely Levantine, Gamadge continued: “Then you have second sight, no doubt, as well as the usual gifts of the gypsy.”
    â€œI have the second sight; and I am also the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, Mr. Gamish.”
    â€œNo wonder you saw at once that I was born under a dark star. But do you know its name, Mrs. Stuart? Do you know its name? Ah! I see that you do not.” For the old lady, slightly taken aback, was looking at him with some annoyance.
    â€œI cannot tell the name of the star,” she said at last, with insufferable condescension, “until I know the day and hour of your nativity.”
    â€œThen I’ll tell it to you,” said Gamadge, “and save you all the trouble of figuring it out. It’s the companion of Sirius.”
    Mrs. Stuart continued to fix his eye with her stony black one; he continued:
    â€œThere is no darker star in the heavens. It is so dark that no mortal eye has ever seen it; no, not with the biggest telescope ever fashioned by the hand of man. It is an astronomer’s guess, Mrs. Stuart; a heavenly inference. Can there be a darker star than that? I don’t think so.”
    William Stanley spoke, from the shelter of Georgina’s skirt: “How do they know it’s there?”
    â€œThey know it’s there, William, through the perturbation of orbits. If you are interested, I shall explain fully some other time. Just now, I want to explain to this gifted lady exactly what it is that my nativity means to me: it means that I was born to perturb the orbits of others, myself remaining unsuspected and unseen. I will make a confession to you, Mrs. Stuart: I came here to find out whether you really had extra-sensory perception; I see that you have, and that I can discuss this nightshade mystery with you on equal terms.”
    The old lady, staggered to find her dupe endowed with a line of patter even more outrageous than her own, surveyed him steadily; in fact, the glance they now exchanged somewhat resembled that of two Roman augurs. But Mrs. Stuart found nothing to antagonize her in the personality of the eccentric in well-tailored tweeds who sat quietly in front of her, hands in the pockets of his coat, face serious, legs crossed, one shoulder higher than the other, eyes screwed up against the sun. His blunt features looked amiable; he was not the sort who ever came into her booth at Whitewater Pier, even on a bet. She said politely, and with apparent candor: “We know nothing about the nightshade, gentleman.”
    â€œIf you say so, I believe you, of course. And none of your children here got any of the berries, because they know all the poisonous shrubs. You wouldn’t pick nightshade, would you, William?”
    He swung around on his stump to toss this question casually in William’s direction. William, accustomed to blanket negation on all subjects, shook his head; adding for good measure: “Or the speckled mushrooms; or the poison ivy; or the poison sumac.”
    Gamadge, feeling rather than hearing a slight stir behind him, where Mitchell stood, continued with some haste:
    â€œAnd you wouldn’t take such things as poison berries from a stranger, either; not even from a lady in a car.”
    William lapsed still further; he became informative: “She only gave me a piece of candy, and started to take my picture.”
    â€œOh.” Gamadge was again conscious of that slight, involuntary shuffle of feet behind him. He said: “Started to take your picture, did she?”
    â€œYes, and she had the littlest camera I ever saw.”
    â€œWhen was this?”
    William suddenly became aware of a certain tenseness in the atmosphere about him. He looked around him at the expressionless faces of his relatives, kicked the pine needles beneath his feet, and shook his head.
    â€œYesterday? The day