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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:44 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:44 -0700 |
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diff --git a/13261-h/13261-h.htm b/13261-h/13261-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb98f28 --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/13261-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11174 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + <title>Jason: A Romance</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + p + {text-align: justify;} + + blockquote + {text-align: justify;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 + {text-align: center;} + + hr + {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + + html>body hr + {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + + hr.full + {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full + {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + + pre + {font-size: 0.7em; color: #000; background-color: #FFF;} + + .poetry + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 0%; + text-align: left;} + + .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em;} + + .index + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: center;} + + .figure + {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; + text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + + .date + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: right;} + + span.rightnote + {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 1%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.leftnote + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 92%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.linenum + {float:right; + text-align: right; font-size: 0.7em;} + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13261 ***</div> + +<h1>JASON</h1> +<h2>A ROMANCE</h2><br /> +<br /> +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>JUSTUS MILES FORMAN</h2><br /> +<br /> +<h3>AUTHOR OF</h3> +<h2>"A STUMBLING BLOCK" "BUCHANAN'S WIFE"</h2> +<h2>"THE ISLAND OF ENCHANTMENT"</h2> +<br /> +<h3>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</h3> +<h2>W. HATHERELL, R.I.</h2> +<br /> +<h3>HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS</h3> +<h3>NEW YORK AND LONDON</h3> +<h3>MCMIX</h3><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<h3>Copyright, 1908.</h3> + +<hr /> + +<center><br /> +<b>À PARIS</b><br /> +<br /> +MÈRE MYSTÉRIEUSE ... SOEUR CONSOLATRICE<br /> +ENCHANTERESSE AUX YEUX VOILÉS<br /> +JÉ DÉDIE CE PETIT ROMAN<br /> +EN RECONNAISSANCE<br /> +J.M.F.<br /> +</center><br /> + +<hr /> + +</a> <p class="figure"> <a name="jason001"><img +width="80%" alt="Illustration: MLLE. COIRA O'HARA SAT ALONE UPON THE STONE +BENCH " src="images/jason001.png" /></a><br /> MLLE. COIRA O'HARA SAT ALONE UPON +THE STONE BENCH </p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<a href='#I'>I. STE. MARIE HEARS OF A MYSTERY AND MEETS A DARK LADY</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#II'>II. THE LADDER TO THE STARS</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#III'>III. STE. MARIE MAKES A VOW, BUT A PAIR OF EYES HAUNT HIM</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#IV'>IV. OLD DAVID STEWART</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#V'>V. JASON SETS FORTH UPON THE GREAT ADVENTURE</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#VI'>VI. A BRAVE GENTLEMAN RECEIVES A HURT, BUT VOLUNTEERS IN A GOOD CAUSE</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#VII'>VII. CAPTAIN STEWART MAKES A KINDLY OFFER</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#VIII'>VIII. JASON MEETS WITH A MISADVENTURE AND DREAMS A DREAM</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#IX'>IX. JASON GOES UPON A JOURNEY, AND RICHARD HARTLEY PLEADS FOR HIM</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#X'>X. CAPTAIN STEWART ENTERTAINS</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XI'>XI. A GOLDEN LADY ENTERS--THE EYES AGAIN</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XII'>XII. THE NAME OF THE LADY WITH THE EYES--EVIDENCE HEAPS UP SWIFTLY</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XIII'>XIII. THE VOYAGE TO COLCHIS</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XIV'>XIV. THE WALLS OF AEA</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XV'>XV. A CONVERSATION AT LA LIERRE</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XVI'>XVI. THE BLACK CAT</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XVII'>XVII. THOSE WHO WERE LEFT BEHIND</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XVIII'>XVIII. A CONVERSATION OVERHEARD</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XIX'>XIX. THE INVALID TAKES THE AIR</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XX'>XX. THE STONE BENCH AT THE ROND POINT</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXI'>XXI. A MIST DIMS THE SHINING STAR</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXII'>XXII. A SETTLEMENT REFUSED</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXIII'>XXIII. THE LAST ARROW</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXIV'>XXIV. THE JOINT IN THE ARMOR</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXV'>XXV. MEDEA GOES OVER TO THE ENEMY</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXVI'>XXVI. BUT THE FLEECE ELECTS TO REMAIN</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXVII'>XXVII. THE NIGHT'S WORK</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXVIII'>XXVIII. MEDEA'S LITTLE HOUR</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXIX'>XXIX. THE SCALES OF INJUSTICE</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#XXX'>XXX. JASON SAILS BACK TO COLCHIS--JOURNEY'S END</a><br /> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<a href='#jason001'>MLLE. COIRA O'HARA SAT ALONE UPON THE +STONE BENCH</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#jason002'>"THE FAMILY IS IN GREAT DISTRESS OF MIND +OVER THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MY YOUNG +NEPHEW"</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#jason003'>HE SAW CAPTAIN STEWART MOVING AMONG +THEM</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#jason004'>CAPTAIN STEWART LAY HUDDLED AND WRITHING +UPON THE FLOOR</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#jason005'>THERE APPEARED TWO YOUNG PEOPLE MOVING +SLOWLY IN THE DIRECTION OF THE HOUSE</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#jason006'>"TELL ME ABOUT HIM, THIS STE. MARIE! DO +YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM?"</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#jason007'>HIS HAND WENT SWIFTLY TO HIS COAT-POCKET</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href='#jason008'>THE GIRL FUMBLED DESPERATELY WITH THE +CLUMSY KEY</a><br /> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_1"></a><h2><a name='I'></a>I</h2> + +<h3>STE. MARIE HEARS OF A MYSTERY AND MEETS A DARK LADY</h3> + + +<p>From Ste. Marie's little flat, which overlooked the gardens, they drove +down the quiet rue du Luxembourg, and at the Place St. Sulpice turned to +the left. They crossed the Place St. Germain des Prés, where lines +of home-bound working-people stood waiting for places in the electric +trams, and groups of students from the Beaux Arts or from Julien's sat +under the awnings of the Deux Magots, and so, beyond that busy square, they +came into the long and peaceful stretch of the Boulevard St. Germain. The +warm, sweet dusk gathered round them as they went, and the evening air was +fresh and aromatic in their faces. There had been a little gentle shower in +the late afternoon, and roadway and pavement were still damp with it. It +had wet the new-grown leaves of the chestnuts and acacias that bordered the +street. The scent of that living green blended with the scent of laid dust +and the fragrance of the last late-clinging chestnut blossoms; it caught up +a fuller, richer burden from the overflowing front of a florist's shop; it +stole from open windows a savory whiff of cooking, a salt tang of wood +smoke; and <a name="Page_2"></a>the soft little breeze--the breeze of +coming summer--mixed all together and tossed them and bore them down the +long, quiet street; and it was the breath of Paris, and it shall be in your +nostrils and mine, a keen agony of sweetness, so long as we may live and so +wide as we may wander--because we have known it and loved it--and in the +end we shall go back to breathe it when we die.</p> + +<p>The strong white horse jogged evenly along over the wooden pavement, its +head down, the little bell at its neck jingling pleasantly as it went. The +cocher, a torpid, purplish lump of gross flesh, pyramidal, pearlike, sat +immobile in his place. The protuberant back gave him an extraordinary +effect of being buttoned into his fawn-colored coat wrong side before. At +intervals he jerked the reins like a large strange toy, and his strident +voice said:</p> + +<p>"Hé!" to the stout white horse, which paid no attention whatever. +Once the beast stumbled and the pearlike lump of flesh insulted it, +saying:</p> + +<p>"Hé! veux tu, cochon!"</p> + +<p>Before the War Office a little black slip of a milliner's girl dodged +under the horse's head, saving herself and the huge box slung to her arm by +a miracle of agility, and the cocher called her the most frightful names, +without turning his head and in a perfunctory tone quite free from +passion.</p> + +<p>Young Hartley laughed and turned to look at his companion, but Ste. +Marie sat still in his place, his hat pulled a little down over his brows +and his handsome chin buried in the folds of the white silk muffler with +which for some obscure reason he had swathed his neck.</p> + +<p>"This is the first time in many years," said the Englishman, "that I +have known you to be silent for ten whole <a name="Page_3"></a>minutes. Are +you ill, or are you making up little epigrams to say at the +dinner-party?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie waved a despondent glove.</p> + +<p>"I 'ave," said he, "w'at you call ze blue. Papillons noirs--clouds in my +soul." It was a species of jest with Ste. Marie--and he seemed never to +tire of it--to pretend that he spoke English very brokenly. As a matter of +fact, he spoke it quite as well as any Englishman and without the slightest +trace of accent. He had discovered a long time before this--it may have +been while the two were at Eton together--that it annoyed Hartley very +much, particularly when it was done in company and before strangers. In +consequence he became on such occasions a sort of comic-paper caricature of +his race, and by dint of much practice, added to a naturally alert mind, he +became astonishingly ingenious in the torture of that honest but +unimaginative gentleman whom he considered his best friend. He achieved the +most surprising expressions by the mere literal translation of French +idiom, and he could at any time bring Hartley to a crimson agony by calling +him "my dear "'before other men, whereas at the equivalent "mon cher" the +Englishman would doubtless never, as the phrase goes, have batted an +eye.</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," he continued, sadly, "I 'ave ze blue. I weep. Weez ze tears +full ze eyes. Yes." He descended into English. "I think something's going +to happen to me. There's calamity, or something, in the air. Perhaps I'm +going to die."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what you are going to do, right enough," said the other man. +"You're going to meet the most beautiful woman--girl--in the world at +dinner, and of course you are going to fall in love with her."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_4"></a>"Ah, the Miss Benham!" said Ste. Marie, with a +faint show of interest. "I remember now, you said that she was to be there. +I had forgotten. Yes, I shall be glad to meet her. One hears so much. But +why am I of course going to fall in love with her?"</p> + +<p>"Well, in the first place," said Hartley, "you always fall in love with +all pretty women as a matter of habit, and, in the second place, +everybody--well, I suppose you--no one could help falling in love with her, +I should think."</p> + +<p>"That's high praise to come from you," said the other. And Hartley said, +with a short, not very mirthful laugh:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't pretend to be immune. We all--everybody who knows her. +You'll understand presently."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie turned his head a little and looked curiously at his friend, +for he considered that he knew the not very expressive intonations of that +young gentleman's voice rather well, and this was something unusual. He +wondered what had been happening during his six months' absence from +Paris.</p> + +<p>"I dare say that's what I feel in the air, then," he said, after a +little pause. "It's not calamity; it's love.</p> + +<p>"Or maybe," he said, quaintly, "it's both. L'un n'empêche pas +I'autre." And he gave an odd little shiver, as if that something in the air +had suddenly blown chill upon him.</p> + +<p>They were passing the corner of the Chamber of Deputies, which faces the +Pont de la Concorde. Ste. Marie pulled out his watch and looked at it.</p> + +<p>"Eight-fifteen," said he. "What time are we asked for--eight-thirty? +That means nine: It's an English house, and nobody will be on time. It's +out of fashion to be prompt nowadays."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_5"></a>"I should hardly call the Marquis de Saulnes +English, you know," objected Hartley.</p> + +<p>"Well, his wife is," said the other, "and they're altogether English in +manner. Dinner won't be before nine. Shall we get out, and walk across the +bridge and up the Champs-Elysées? I should like to, I think. I like +to walk at this time of the evening--between the daylight and the dark." +Hartley nodded a rather reluctant assent, and Ste. Marie prodded the +pear-shaped cocher in the back with his stick. So they got down at the +approach to the bridge, Ste. Marie gave the cocher a piece of two francs, +and they turned away on foot. The pear-shaped one looked at the coin in his +fat hand as if it were something unclean and contemptible--something to be +despised. He glanced at the dial of his taximeter, which had registered one +franc twenty-five, and pulled the flag up. He spat gloomily out into the +street, and his purple lips moved in words. He seemed to say something like +"Sale diable de métier!" which, considering the fact that he had +just been overpaid, appears unwarrantably pessimistic in tone. Thereafter +he spat again, picked up his reins and jerked them, saying:</p> + +<p>"Hè, Jean Baptiste! Uip, uip!" The unemotional white horse turned +up the boulevard, trotting evenly at its steady pace, head down, the little +bell at its neck jingling pleasantly as it went. It occurs to me that the +white horse was probably unique. I doubt that there was another horse in +Paris rejoicing in that extraordinary name.</p> + +<p>But the two young men walked slowly on across the Pont de la Concorde. +They went in silence, for Hartley was thinking still of Miss Helen Benham, +and Ste. Marie was thinking of Heaven knows what. His gloom was +unaccountable <a name="Page_6"></a>unless he had really meant what he said +about feeling calamity in the air. It was very unlike him to have nothing +to say. Midway of the bridge he stopped and turned to look out over the +river, and the other man halted beside him. The dusk was thickening almost +perceptibly, but it was yet far from dark. The swift river ran leaden +beneath them, and the river boats, mouches and hirondelles, darted silently +under the arches of the bridge, making their last trips for the day. Away +to the west, where their faces were turned, the sky was still faintly +washed with color, lemon and dusky orange and pale thin green. A single +long strip of cirrus cloud was touched with pink, a lifeless old rose, such +as is popular among decorators for the silk hangings of a woman's boudoir. +And black against this pallid wash of colors the tour Eiffel stood high and +slender and rather ghostly. By day it is an ugly thing, a preposterous iron +finger upthrust by man's vanity against God's serene sky; but the haze of +evening drapes it in a merciful semi-obscurity and it is beautiful.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie leaned upon the parapet of the bridge, arms folded before him +and eyes afar. He began to sing, à demi-voix, a little phrase out of +<i>Louise</i>--an invocation to Paris--and the Englishman stirred uneasily +beside him. It seemed to Hartley that to stand on a bridge, in a top-hat +and evening clothes, and sing operatic airs while people passed back and +forth behind you, was one of the things that are not done. He tried to +imagine himself singing in the middle of Westminster Bridge at half-past +eight of an evening, and he felt quite hot all over at the thought. It was +not done at all, he said to himself. He looked a little nervously at the +people who were passing, and it seemed to him that they stared at him and +at the unconscious <a name="Page_7"></a>Ste. Marie, though in truth they +did nothing of the sort. He turned back and touched his friend on the arm, +saying:</p> + +<p>"I think we'd best be getting along, you know." But Ste. Marie was very +far away, and did not hear. So then he fell to watching the man's dark and +handsome face, and to thinking how little the years at Eton and the year or +two at Oxford had set any real stamp upon him. He would never be anything +but Latin, in spite of his Irish mother and his public school. Hartley +thought what a pity that was. As Englishmen go, he was not illiberal, but, +no more than he could have altered the color of his eyes, could he have +believed that anything foreign would not be improved by becoming English. +That was born in him, as it is born in most Englishmen, and it was a +perfectly simple and honest belief. He felt a deeper affection for this +handsome and volatile young man whom all women loved, and who bade fair to +spend his life at their successive feet--for he certainly had never shown +the slightest desire to take up any sterner employment--he felt a deeper +affection for Ste. Marie than for any other man he knew, but he had always +wished that Ste. Marie were an Englishman, and he had always felt a slight +sense of shame over his friend's un-English ways.</p> + +<p>After a moment he touched him again on the arm, saying:</p> + +<p>"Come along! We shall be late, you know. You can finish your little +concert another time."</p> + +<p>"Eh!" cried Ste. Marie. "Quoi, donc?" He turned with a start.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" said he. "Yes, come along! I was mooning. Allons! Allons, my +old!" He took Hartley's arm <a name="Page_8"></a>and began to shove him +along at a rapid walk. "I will moon no more," he said. "Instead, you shall +tell me about the wonderful Miss Benham whom everybody is talking about. +Isn't there something odd connected with the family? I vaguely recall +something unusual--some mystery or misfortune or something. But first a +moment! One small moment, my old. Regard me that!" They had come to the end +of the bridge, and the great Place de la Concorde lay before them.</p> + +<p>"In all the world," said Ste. Marie--and he spoke the truth--"there is +not another such square. Regard it, mon brave! Bow yourself before it! It +is a miracle."</p> + +<p>The great bronze lamps were alight, and they cast reflections upon the +still damp pavement about them. To either side, the trees of the Tuileries +gardens and of the Cours la Reine and the Champs-Elysées lay in a +solid black mass; in the middle, the obelisk rose slender and straight, its +pointed top black against the sky; and beneath, the water of the +Nèreid fountains splashed and gurgled. Far beyond, the gay lights of +the rue Royale shone in a yellow cluster; and beyond these still, the tall +columns of the Madeleine ended the long vista. Pedestrians and cabs crept +across that vast space and seemed curiously little, like black insects, and +round about it all the eight cities of France sat atop their stone +pedestals and looked on. Ste. Marie gave a little sigh of pleasure, and the +two moved forward, bearing to the left, toward the +Champs-Elysées.</p> + +<p>"And now," said he, "about these Benhams. What is the thing I cannot +quite recall? What has happened to them?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said the other man, "you mean the disappearance of Miss +Benham's young brother a month ago--before <a name="Page_9"></a>you +returned to Paris. Yes, that was certainly very odd--that is, it was either +very odd or very commonplace. And in either case the family is terribly cut +up about it. The boy's name was Arthur Benham, and he was rather a young +fool, but not downright vicious, I should think. I never knew him at all +well, but I know he spent his time chiefly at the Café de Paris and +at the Olympia and at Longchamps and at Henry's Bar. Well, he just +disappeared, that is all. He dropped completely out of sight between two +days, and though the family has had a small army of detectives on his trail +they've not discovered the smallest clew. It's deuced odd altogether. You +might think it easy to disappear like that, but it's not."</p> + +<p>"No--no," said Ste. Marie, thoughtfully. "No, I should fancy not.</p> + +<p>"This boy," he said, after a pause--"I think I had seen him--had him +pointed out to me--before I went away. I think it was at Henry's Bar, where +all the young Americans go to drink strange beverages. I am quite sure I +remember his face. A weak face, but not quite bad."</p> + +<p>And after another little pause he asked:</p> + +<p>"Was there any reason why he should have gone away--any quarrel or that +sort of thing?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said the other man, "I rather think there was something of the +sort. The boy's uncle--Captain Stewart--middle-aged, rather prim old +party--you'll have met him, I dare say--he intimated to me one day that +there had been some trivial row. You see, the lad isn't of age yet, though +he is to be in a few months, and so he has had to live on an allowance +doled out by his grandfather, who's the head of the house. The boy's father +is dead. There's a quaint old beggar, if you like--the grandfather. He was +<a name="Page_10"></a>rather a swell in the diplomatic, in his day, it +seems--rather an important swell. Now he's bedridden. He sits all day in +bed and plays cards with his granddaughter or with a very superior valet, +and talks politics with the men who come to see him. Oh yes, he's a quaint +old beggar. He has a great quantity of white hair and an enormous square +white beard and the fiercest eyes I ever saw, I should think. Everybody's +frightened out of their wits of him. Well, he sits up there and rules his +family in good old patriarchal style, and it seems he came down a bit hard +on the poor boy one day over some folly or other, and there was a row and +the boy went out of the house swearing he'd be even."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, then," said Ste. Marie, "the matter seems simple enough. A +foolish boy's foolish pique. He is staying in hiding somewhere to frighten +his grandfather. When he thinks the time favorable he will come back and be +wept over and forgiven."</p> + +<p>The other man walked a little way in silence.</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," he said, at last. "Yes, possibly. Possibly you are right. +That's what the grandfather thinks. It's the obvious solution. +Unfortunately there is more or less against it. The boy went away with--so +far as can be learned--almost no money, almost none at all. And he has +already been gone a month. Miss Benham, his sister, is sure that something +has happened to him, and I'm a bit inclined to think so, too. It's all very +odd. I should think he might have been kidnapped but that no demand has +been made for money."</p> + +<p>"He was not," suggested Ste. Marie--"not the sort of young man to do +anything desperate--make away with himself?" Hartley laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord, no!" said he. "Not that sort of young man <a +name="Page_11"></a>at all. He was a very normal type of rich and spoiled +and somewhat foolish American boy."</p> + +<p>"Rich?" inquired the other, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; they're beastly rich. Young Arthur is to come into something +very good at his majority, I believe, from his father's estate, and the old +grandfather is said to be indecently rich--rolling in it! There's another +reason why the young idiot wouldn't be likely to stop away of his own +accord. He wouldn't risk anything like a serious break with the old +gentleman. It would mean a loss of millions to him, I dare say, for the old +beggar is quite capable of cutting him off if he takes the notion. Oh, it's +a bad business all through."</p> + +<p>And after they had gone on a bit he said it again, shaking his head:</p> + +<p>"It's a bad business! That poor girl, you know. It's hard on her. She +was fond of the young ass for some reason or other. She's very much broken +up over it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Ste. Marie, "it is hard for her--for all the family, of +course. A bad business, as you say." He spoke absently, for he was looking +ahead at something which seemed to be a motor accident. They had by this +time got well up the Champs-Elysées and were crossing the Rond +Point. A motor-car was drawn up alongside the curb just beyond, and a +little knot of people stood about it and seemed to look at something on the +ground.</p> + +<p>"I think some one has been run down," said Ste. Marie. "Shall we have a +look?" They quickened their pace and came to where the group of people +stood in a circle looking upon the ground, and two gendarmes asked many +questions and wrote voluminously in their little books. It appeared that a +delivery boy mounted upon a tricycle cart <a name="Page_12"></a>had turned +into the wrong side of the avenue and had got himself run into and +overturned by a motor-car going at a moderate rate of speed. For once the +sentiment of those mysterious birds of prey which flock instantaneously +from nowhere round an accident, was against the victim and in favor of the +frightened and gesticulating chauffeur.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie turned an amused face from this voluble being to the other +occupants of the patently hired car, who stood apart, adding very little to +the discussion. He saw a tall and bony man with very bright blue eyes and +what is sometimes called a guardsman's mustache--the drooping, walruslike +ornament which dates back a good many years now. Beyond this gentleman he +saw a young woman in a long, gray silk coat and a motoring veil. He was +aware that the tall man was staring at him rather fixedly and with a +half-puzzled frown, as though he thought that they had met before and was +trying to remember when, but Ste. Marie gave the man but a swift glance. +His eyes were upon the dark face of the young woman beyond, and it seemed +to him that she called aloud to him in an actual voice that rang in his +ears. The young woman's very obvious beauty, he thought, had nothing to do +with the matter. It seemed to him that her eyes called him. Just that. +Something strange and very potent seemed to take sudden and almost tangible +hold upon him--a charm, a spell, a magic--something unprecedented, new to +his experience. He could not take his eyes from hers, and he stood +staring.</p> + +<p>As before, on the Pont de la Concorde, Hartley touched him on the arm, +and abruptly the chains that had bound him were loosened.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_13"></a>"We must be going on, you know," the Englishman +said, and Ste. Marie said, rather hurriedly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, to be sure! Come along!" But at a little distance he turned +once more to look back. The chauffeur had mounted to his place, the +delivery boy was upon his feet again, little the worse for his tumble, and +the knot of bystanders had begun to disperse, but it seemed to Ste. Marie +that the young woman in the long silk coat stood quite still where she had +been, and that her face was turned toward him, watching.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice that girl?" said Hartley, as they walked on at a brisker +pace. "Did you see her face? She was rather a tremendous beauty, you know, +in her gypsyish fashion. Yes, by Jove, she was!"</p> + +<p>"Did I see her?" repeated Ste. Marie. "Yes. Oh yes. She had very strange +eyes. At least, I think it was the eyes. I don't know. I've never seen any +eyes quite like them. Very odd!"</p> + +<p>He said something more in French which Hartley did not hear, and the +Englishman saw that he was frowning.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I shouldn't have said there was anything strange about them," +Hartley said; "but they certainly were beautiful. There's no denying that. +The man with her looked rather Irish, I thought."</p> + +<p>They came to the Etoile, and cut across it toward the Avenue Hoche. Ste. +Marie glanced back once more, but the motor-car and the delivery boy and +the gendarmes were gone.</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" he asked, idly.</p> + +<p>"I said the man looked Irish," repeated his friend. All at once Ste. +Marie gave a loud exclamation.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_14"></a>"Sacred thousand devils! Fool that I am! Dolt! Why +didn't I think of it before?"</p> + +<p>Hartley stared at him, and Ste. Marie stared down the +Champs-Elysées like one in a trance.</p> + +<p>"I say," said the Englishman, "we really must be getting on, you know; +we're late." And as they went along down the Avenue Hoche, he demanded: +"Why are you a dolt and whatever else it was? What struck you so +suddenly?"</p> + +<p>"I remembered all at once," said Ste. Marie, "where I had seen that man +before and with whom I last saw him. I'll tell you about it later. Probably +it's of no importance, though."</p> + +<p>"You're talking rather like a mild lunatic," said the other. "Here we +are at the house!"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_15"></a><h2><a name='II'></a>II</h2> + +<h3>THE LADDER TO THE STARS</h3> + + +<p>Miss Benham was talking wearily to a strange, fair youth with an +impediment in his speech, and was wondering why the youth had been asked to +this house, where in general one was sure of meeting only interesting +people, when some one spoke her name, and she turned with a little sigh of +relief. It was Baron de Vries, the Belgian First Secretary of Legation, an +old friend of her grandfather's, a man made gentle and sweet by infinite +sorrow. He bowed civilly to the fair youth and bent over the girl's +hand.</p> + +<p>"It is very good," he said, "to see you again in the world. We have need +of you, nous autres. Madame your mother is well, I hope--and the bear?" He +called old Mr. Stewart "the bear" in a sort of grave jest, and that fierce +octogenarian rather liked it.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," the girl said, "we're all fairly well. My mother had one of +her headaches to-night and so didn't come here, but she's as well as usual, +and 'the bear'--yes, he's well enough physically, I should think, but he +has not been quite the same since--during the past month. It has told upon +him, you know. He grieves over it much more than he will admit."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Baron de Vries, gravely. "Yes, I know." <a +name="Page_16"></a>He turned about toward the fair young man, but that +youth had drifted away and joined himself to another group. Miss Benham +looked after him and gave a little exclamation of relief.</p> + +<p>"That person was rather terrible," she said. "I can't think why he is +here. Marian so seldom has dull people."</p> + +<p>"I believe," said the Belgian, "that he is some connection of De +Saulnes'. That explains his presence." He lowered his voice. "You have +heard no--news? They have found no trace?"</p> + +<p>"No," said she. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm rather in despair. It's +all so hideously mysterious. I am sure, you know, that something has +happened to him. It's--very, very hard. Sometimes I think I can't bear it. +But I go on. We all go on."</p> + +<p>Baron de Vries nodded his head strongly.</p> + +<p>"That, my dear child, is just what you must do," said he. "You must go +on. That is what needs the real courage, and you have courage. I am not +afraid for you. And sooner or later you will hear of him--from him. It is +impossible nowadays to disappear for very long. You will hear from him." He +smiled at her, his slow, grave smile that was not of mirth but of kindness +and sympathy and cheer.</p> + +<p>"And if I may say so," he said, "you are doing very wisely to come out +once more among your friends. You can accomplish no good by brooding at +home. It is better to live one's normal life--even when it is not easy to +do it. I say so who know."</p> + +<p>The girl touched Baron de Vries' arm for an instant with her hand--a +little gesture that seemed to express thankfulness and trust and +affection.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_17"></a>"If all my friends were like you!" she said to +him. And after that she drew a quick breath as if to have done with these +sad matters, and she turned her eyes once more toward the broad room where +the other guests stood in little groups, all talking at once, very rapidly +and in loud voices.</p> + +<p>"What extraordinarily cosmopolitan affairs these dinner-parties in new +Paris are!" she said. "They're like diplomatic parties, only we have a +better time and the men don't wear their orders. How many nationalities +should you say there are in this room now?"</p> + +<p>"Without stopping to consider," said Baron de Vries, "I say ten." They +counted, and out of fourteen people there were represented nine races.</p> + +<p>"I don't see Richard Hartley," Miss Benham said. "I had an idea he was +to be here. Ah!" she broke off, looking toward the doorway. "Here he comes +now!" she said. "He's rather late. Who is the Spanish-looking man with him, +I wonder? He's rather handsome, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>Baron de Vries moved a little forward to look, and exclaimed in his +turn. He said:</p> + +<p>"Ah, I did not know he was returned to Paris. That is Ste. Marie." Miss +Benham's eyes followed the Spanish-looking young man as he made his way +through the joyous greetings of friends toward his hostess.</p> + +<p>"So that is Ste. Marie!" she said, still watching him. "The famous Ste. +Marie!" She gave a little laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't wonder at the reputation he bears for--gallantry and that +sort of thing. He looks the part, doesn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," admitted her friend. "Yes, he is sufficiently beau +garçon. But--yes--well, that is not all, by any means. You must not +get the idea that Ste. Marie is nothing but a <a name="Page_18"></a>genial +and romantic young squire-of-dames. He is much more than that. He has very +fine qualities. To be sure, he appears to possess no ambition in +particular, but I should be glad if he were my son. He comes of a very old +house, and there is no blot upon the history of that house--nothing but +faithfulness and gallantry and honor. And there is, I think, no blot upon +Ste. Marie himself. He is fine gold."</p> + +<p>The girl turned and stared at Baron de Vries with some astonishment.</p> + +<p>"You speak very strongly," said she. "I have never heard you speak so +strongly of any one, I think."</p> + +<p>The Belgian made a little deprecatory gesture with his two hands, and he +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I like the boy. And I should hate to have you meet him for +the first time under a misconception. Listen, my child! When a young man is +loved equally by both men and women, by both old and young, that young man +is worthy of friendship and trust. Everybody likes Ste. Marie. In a sense, +that is his misfortune. The way is made too easy for him. His friends stand +so thick about him that they shut off his view of the heights. To waken +ambition in his soul he has need of solitude or misfortune or grief. Or," +said the elderly Belgian, laughing gently--"or perhaps the other thing +might do it best--the more obvious thing?"</p> + +<p>The girl's raised eyebrows questioned him, and when he did not answer, +she said:</p> + +<p>"What thing, then?"</p> + +<p>"Why, love," said Baron de Vries. "Love, to be sure. Love is said to +work miracles, and I believe that to be a perfectly true saying. Ah, he is +coming here!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_19"></a>The Marquise de Saulnes, who was a very pretty +little Englishwoman with a deceptively doll-like look, approached, dragging +Ste. Marie in her wake. She said:</p> + +<p>"My dearest dear, I give you of my best. Thank me and cherish him! I +believe he is to lead you to the place where food is, isn't he?" She beamed +over her shoulder and departed, and Miss Benham found herself confronted by +the Spanish-looking man. Her first thought was that he was not as handsome +as he had seemed at a distance, but something much better. For a young man +she thought his face was rather oddly weather-beaten, as if he might have +been very much at sea, and it was too dark to be entirely pleasing. But she +liked his eyes, which were not brown or black, as she had expected, but a +very unusual dark gray--a sort of slate color. And she liked his mouth, +too, while disapproving of the fierce little upturned mustache which seemed +to her a bit operatic. It was her habit--and it is not an unreliable +habit--to judge people by their eyes and mouths. Ste. Marie's mouth pleased +her because the lips were neither thin nor thick, they were not drawn into +an unpleasant line by unpleasant habits, they did not pout as so many Latin +lips do, and they had at one corner a humorous expression which she found +curiously agreeable.</p> + +<p>"You are to cherish me," Ste. Marie said. "Orders from headquarters. How +does one cherish people?" The corner of his very expressive mouth twitched, +and he grinned at her.</p> + +<p>Miss Benham did not approve of young men who began an acquaintance in +this very familiar manner. She thought that there was a certain preliminary +and more formal stage which ought to be got through with first, but Ste, +Marie's <a name="Page_20"></a>grin was irresistible. In spite of herself, +she found that she was laughing.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know," she said. "It sounds rather appalling, doesn't it? +Marian has such an extraordinary fashion of hurling people at each other's +heads! She takes my breath away at times."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," said Ste. Marie, "perhaps we can settle upon something when +I've led you to the place where food is. And, by-the-way, what are we +waiting for? Are we not all here? There's an even number." He broke off +with a sudden exclamation of pleasure; and when Miss Benham turned to look, +she found that Baron de Vries, who had been talking to some friends, had +once more come up to where she stood.</p> + +<p>She watched the greeting between the two men, and its quiet affection +impressed her very much. She knew Baron de Vries well, and she knew that it +was not his habit to show or to feel a strong liking for young and idle +men. This young man must be very worth while to have won the regard of that +wise old Belgian. Just then Hartley, who had been barricaded behind a +cordon of friends, came up to her in an abominable temper over his ill +luck, and a few moments later the dinner procession was formed and they +went in.</p> + +<p>At table Miss Benham found herself between Ste. Marie and the same +strange, fair youth who had afflicted her in the drawing-room. She looked +upon him now with a sort of dismayed terror, but it developed that there +was nothing to fear from the fair youth. He had no attention to waste upon +social amenities. He fell upon his food with a wolfish passion +extraordinary to see and also--alas!--to hear. Miss Benham turned from him +to meet Ste. Marie's delighted eye.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_21"></a>"Tell him for me," begged that gentleman, "that +soup should be seen--not heard."</p> + +<p>But Miss Benham gave a little shiver of disgust. "I shall tell him +nothing whatever," she said. "He's quite too dreadful, really! People +shouldn't be exposed to that sort of thing. It's not only the noises. +Plenty of very charming and estimable Germans, for example, make strange +noises at table. But he behaves like a famished dog over a bone. I refuse +to have anything to do with him. You must make up the loss to me, M. Ste. +Marie. You must be as amusing as two people." She smiled across at him in +her gravely questioning fashion. "I'm wondering," she said, "if I dare ask +you a very personal question. I hesitate because I don't like people who +presume too much upon a short acquaintance--and our acquaintance has been +very, very short, hasn't it? even though we may have heard a great deal +about each other beforehand. I wonder--"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should ask it if I were you!" said Ste. Marie, at once. "I'm an +extremely good-natured person. And, besides, I quite naturally feel +flattered at your taking interest enough to ask anything about me."</p> + +<p>"Well," said she, "it's this: Why does everybody call you just 'Ste. +Marie'? Most people are spoken of as Monsieur this or that--if there isn't +a more august title; but they all call you Ste. Marie without any Monsieur. +It seems rather odd."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked puzzled. "Why," he said, "I don't believe I know, +just. I'd never thought of that. It's quite true, of course. They never do +use a Monsieur or anything, do they? How cheeky of them! I wonder why it +is? I'll ask Hartley."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_22"></a>He did ask Hartley later on, and Hartley didn't +know, either. Miss Benham asked some other people, who were vague about it, +and in the end she became convinced that it was an odd and quite +inexplicable form of something like endearment. But nobody seemed to have +formulated it to himself.</p> + +<p>"The name is really 'De Ste. Marie,'" he went on, "and there's a title +that I don't use, and a string of Christian names that one never employs. +My people were Béarnais, and there's a heap of ruins on top of a +hill in the Pyrenees where they lived. It used to be Ste. Marie de +Mont-les-Roses, but afterward, after the Revolution, they called it Ste. +Marie de Mont Perdu. My great-grandfather was killed there, but some old +servants smuggled his little son away and saved him."</p> + +<p>He seemed to Miss Benham to say that in exactly the right manner, not in +the cheap and scoffing fashion which some young men affect in speaking of +ancestral fortunes or misfortunes, nor with too much solemnity. And when +she allowed a little silence to occur at the end, he did not go on with his +family history, but turned at once to another subject. It pleased her +curiously.</p> + +<p>The fair youth at her other side continued to crouch over his food, +making fierce and animal-like noises. He never spoke or seemed to wish to +be spoken to, and Miss Benham found it easy to ignore him altogether. It +occurred to her once or twice that Ste. Marie's other neighbor might desire +an occasional word from him, but, after all, she said to herself that was +his affair and beyond her control. So these two talked together through the +entire dinner period, and the girl was aware that she was being much more +deeply affected by the simple, magnetic charm of a <a +name="Page_23"></a>man than ever before in her life. It made her a little +angry, because she was unfamiliar with this sort of thing and distrusted +it. She was rather a perfect type of that phenomenon before which the +British and Continental world stands in mingled delight and +exasperation--the American unmarried young woman, the creature of +extraordinary beauty and still more extraordinary poise, the virgin with +the bearing and savoir-faire of a woman of the world, the fresh-cheeked +girl with the calm mind of a savante and the cool judgment, in regard to +men and things, of an ambassador. The European world says she is cold, and +that may be true; but it is well enough known that she can love very +deeply. It says that, like most queens, and for precisely the same set of +reasons, she later on makes a bad mother; but it is easy to point to queens +who are the best of mothers. In short, she remains an enigma, and, like all +other enigmas, forever fascinating.</p> + +<p>Miss Benham reflected that she knew almost nothing about Ste. Marie save +for his reputation as a carpet knight, and Baron de Vries' good opinion, +which could not be despised. And that made her the more displeased when she +realized how promptly she was surrendering to his charm. In a moment of +silence she gave a sudden little laugh which seemed to express a half-angry +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What was that for?" Ste. Marie demanded.</p> + +<p>The girl looked at him for an instant and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you," said she. "That's rude, isn't it? I'm sorry. Perhaps +I will tell you one day, when we know each other better."</p> + +<p>But inwardly she was saying: "Why, I suppose this is how they all +begin--all these regiments of women who make <a name="Page_24"></a>fools of +themselves about him! I suppose this is exactly what he does to them +all!"</p> + +<p>It made her angry, and she tried quite unfairly to shift the anger, as +it were, to Ste. Marie--to put him somehow in the wrong. But she was by +nature very just, and she could not quite do that, particularly as it was +evident that the man was using no cheap tricks. He did not try to flirt +with her, and he did not attempt to pay her veiled compliments, though she +was often aware that when her attention was diverted for a few moments his +eyes were always upon her, and that is a compliment that few women can find +it in their hearts to resent.</p> + +<p>"You say," said Ste. Marie, "'when we know each other better.' May one +twist that into a permission to come and see you--I mean, really see +you--not just leave a card at your door to-morrow by way of observing the +formalities?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "Oh yes, one may twist it into something like that +without straining it unduly, I think. My mother and I shall be very glad to +see you. I'm sorry she is not here to-night to say it herself."</p> + +<p>Then the hostess began to gather together her flock, and so the two had +no more speech. But when the women had gone and the men were left about the +dismantled table, Hartley moved up beside Ste. Marie and shook a sad head +at him. He said:</p> + +<p>"You're a very lucky being. I was quietly hoping, on the way here, that +I should be the fortunate man, but you always have all the luck. I hope +you're decently grateful."</p> + +<p>"Mon vieux," said Ste. Marie, "my feet are upon the stars. No!" He shook +his head as if the figure displeased him. "No, my feet are upon the ladder +to the stars. Grateful? What does a foolish word like grateful mean? Don't +<a name="Page_25"></a>talk to me. You are not worthy to trample among my +magnificent thoughts. I am a god upon Olympus."</p> + +<p>"You said just now," objected the other man, practically, "that your +feet were on a ladder. There are no ladders from Olympus to the stars."</p> + +<p>"Ho!" said Ste. Marie. "Ho! Aren't there, though? There shall be ladders +all over Olympus, if I like. What do you know about gods and stars? I shall +be a god climbing to the heavens, and I shall be an angel of light, and I +shall be a miserable worm grovelling in the night here below, and I shall +be a poet, and I shall be anything else I happen to think of--all of them +at once, if I choose. And you shall be the tongue-tied son of perfidious +Albion that you are, gaping at my splendors from a fog-bank--a November +fog-bank in May. Who is the desiccated gentleman bearing down upon us?"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_26"></a><h2><a name='III'></a>III</h2> + +<h3>STE. MARIE MAKES A VOW, BUT A PAIR OF EYES HAUNT HIM</h3> + + +<p>Hartley looked over his shoulder and gave a little exclamation of +distaste.</p> + +<p>"It's Captain Stewart, Miss Benham's uncle," he said, lowering his +voice. "I'm off. I shall abandon you to him. He's a good old soul, but he +bores me." Hartley nodded to the man who was approaching, and then made his +way to the end of the table, where their host sat discussing aero-club +matters with a group of the other men.</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart dropped into the vacant chair, saying: "May I recall +myself to you, M. Ste. Marie? We met, I believe, once or twice, a couple of +years ago. My name's Stewart."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart--the title was vaguely believed to have been borne some +years before in the American service, but no one appeared to know much +about it--was not an old man. He could not have been, at this time, much +more than fifty, but English-speaking acquaintances often called him "old +Stewart," and others "ce vieux Stewart." Indeed, at a first glance he might +have passed for anything up to sixty, for his face was a good deal more +lined and wrinkled than it should have been at his age. Ste. Marie's +adjective had been rather apt. The man had a desiccated appearance. <a +name="Page_27"></a>Upon examination, however, one saw that the blood was +still red in his cheeks and lips, and, although his neck was thin and +withered like an old man's, his brown eyes still held their fire. The hair +was almost gone from the top of his large, round head, but it remained at +the sides--stiff, colorless hair, with a hint of red in it. And there were +red streaks in his gray mustache, which was trained outward in two loose +tufts, like shaving-brushes. The mustache and the shallow chin under it +gave him an odd, catlike appearance. Hartley, who rather disliked the man, +used to insist that he had heard him mew.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie said something politely non-committal, though he did not at +all remember the alleged meeting two years before, and he looked at Captain +Stewart with a real curiosity and interest in his character as Miss +Benham's uncle. He thought it very civil of the elder man to make these +friendly advances when it was in no way incumbent upon him to do so.</p> + +<p>"I noticed," said Captain Stewart, "that you were placed next my niece, +Helen Benham, at dinner. This must be the first time you two have met, is +it not? I remember speaking of you to her some months ago, and I am quite +sure she said that she had not met you. Ah, yes, of course, you have been +away from Paris a great deal since she and her mother--her mother is my +sister: that is to say, my half-sister--have come here to live with my +father." He gave a little gentle laugh. "I take an elderly uncle's +privilege," he said, "of being rather proud of Helen. She is called very +pretty, and she certainly has great poise."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie drew a quick breath, and his eyes began to flash as they had +done a few moments before when he told Hartley that his feet were upon the +ladder to the stars.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_28"></a>"Miss Benham!" he cried. "Miss Benham is--" He +hung poised so for a moment, searching, as it were, for words of sufficient +splendor, but in the end he shook his head and the gleam faded from his +eyes. He sank back in his chair, sighing. "Miss Benham," said he, "is +extremely beautiful."</p> + +<p>And again her uncle emitted his little gentle laugh, which may have +deceived Hartley into believing that he had heard the man mew. The sound +was as much like mewing as it was like anything else.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad," Captain Stewart said, "to see her come out once more +into the world. She needs distraction. We--You may possibly have heard that +the family is in great distress of mind over the disappearance of my young +nephew. Helen has suffered particularly, because she is convinced that the +boy has met with foul play. I myself think it very unlikely--very unlikely +indeed. The lack of motive, for one thing, and for another--Ah, well, a +score of reasons! But Helen refuses to be comforted. It seems to me much +more like a boy's prank--his idea of revenge for what he considered unjust +treatment at his grandfather's hands. He was always a headstrong youngster, +and he has been a bit spoiled. Still, of course, the uncertainty is very +trying for us all--very wearing."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Ste. Marie, gravely. "It is most unfortunate. Ah, +by-the-way!" He looked up with a sudden interest. "A rather odd thing +happened," he said, "as Hartley and I were coming here this evening. We +walked up the Champs-Elysées from the Concorde, and on the way +Hartley had been telling me of your nephew's disappearance. Near the Rond +Point we came upon a motor-car which was drawn up at the side of the +street--there <a name="Page_29"></a>had been an accident of no consequence, +a boy tumbled over but not hurt. Well, one of the two occupants of the +motor-car was a man whom I used to see about Maxim's and the Café de +Paris and the Montmartre places, too, some time ago--a rather shady +character whose name I've forgotten. The odd part of it all was that on the +last occasion or two on which I saw your nephew he was with this man. I +think it was in Henry's Bar. Of course, it means nothing at all. Your +nephew doubtless knew scores of people, and this man is no more likely to +have information about his present whereabouts than any of the others. +Still, I should have liked to ask him. I didn't remember who he was till he +had gone."</p> + +<p class="figure"> <a name="jason002"><img +width="80%" alt="Illustration: THE FAMILY IS IN GREAT DISTRESS OF MIND OVER +THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MY YOUNG NEPHEW" src="images/jason002.png" /></a><br /> THE +FAMILY IS IN GREAT DISTRESS OF MIND OVER THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MY YOUNG +NEPHEW</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart shook his head sadly, frowning down upon the cigarette +from which he had knocked the ash.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid poor Arthur did not always choose his friends with the best +of judgment," said he. "I am not squeamish, and I would not have boys kept +in a glass case, but--yes, I'm afraid Arthur was not always too careful." +He replaced the cigarette neatly between his lips. "This man, now--this man +whom you saw to-night--what sort of looking man will he have been?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a tall, lean man," said Ste. Marie. "A tall man with blue eyes and +a heavy, old-fashioned mustache. I just can't remember the name."</p> + +<p>The smoke stood still for an instant over Captain Stewart's cigarette, +and it seemed to Ste. Marie that a little contortion of anger fled across +the man's face and was gone again. He stirred slightly in his chair. After +a moment he said:</p> + +<p>"I fancy, from your description--I fancy I know who the man was. If it +is the man I am thinking of, the name is--Powers. He is, as you have said, +a rather shady character, <a name="Page_30"></a>and I more than once warned +my nephew against him. Such people are not good companions for a boy. Yes, +I warned him."</p> + +<p>"Powers," said Ste. Marie, "doesn't sound right to me, you know. I can't +say the fellow's name myself, but I'm sure--that is, I think--it's not +Powers."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Captain Stewart, with an elderly man's half-querulous +certainty. "Yes, the name is Powers. I remember it well. And I +remember--Yes, it was odd, was it not, your meeting him like that, just as +you were talking of Arthur? You--oh, you didn't speak to him, you say? No, +no, to be sure! You didn't recognize him at once. Yes, it was odd. Of +course, the man could have had nothing to do with poor Arthur's +disappearance. His only interest in the boy at any time would have been for +what money Arthur might have, and he carried none, or almost none, away +with him when he vanished. Eh, poor lad! Where can he be to-night, I +wonder? It's a sad business, M. Ste. Marie--a sad business."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart fell into a sort of brooding silence, frowning down at +the table before him, and twisting with his thin ringers the little liqueur +glass and the coffee-cup which were there. Once or twice, Ste. Marie +thought, the frown deepened and twisted into a sort of scowl, and the man's +fingers twitched on the cloth of the table; but when at last the group at +the other end of the board rose and began to move towards the door, Captain +Stewart rose also and followed them. At the door he seemed to think of +something, and touched Ste. Marie upon the arm.</p> + +<p>"This--ah, Powers," he said, in a low tone--"this man whom you saw +to-night! You said he was one of two <a name="Page_31"></a>occupants of a +motor-car. Yes? Did you by any chance recognize the other?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the other was a young woman," said Ste. Marie. "No, I never saw her +before. She was very handsome."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart said something under his breath and turned abruptly +away. But an instant later he faced about once more, smiling. He said, in a +man-of-the-world manner, which sat rather oddly upon him:</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, we all have our little love-affairs. I dare say this shady +fellow has his." And for some obscure reason Ste. Marie found the speech +peculiarly offensive.</p> + +<p>In the drawing-room he had opportunity for no more than a word with Miss +Benham, for Hartley, enraged over his previous ill success, cut in ahead of +him and manoeuvred that young lady into a corner, where he sat before her, +turning a square and determined back to the world. Ste. Marie listlessly +played bridge for a time, but his attention was not upon it, and he was +glad when the others at the table settled their accounts and departed to +look in at a dance somewhere. After that he talked for a little with Marian +de Saulnes, whom he liked and who made no secret of adoring him. She +complained loudly that he was in a vile temper, which was not true; he was +only restless and distrait and wanted to be alone; and so, at last, he took +his leave without waiting for Hartley.</p> + +<p>Outside, in the street, he stood for a moment, hesitating, and an +expectant fiacre drew up before the house, the cocher raising an +interrogative whip. In the end Ste. Marie shook his head and turned away on +foot. It was a still, sweet night of soft airs, and a moonless, starlit +sky, and the man was very fond of walking in the dark. From the Etoile he +walked down the Champs-Elysées, but presently turned <a +name="Page_32"></a>toward the river. His eyes were upon the mellow stars, +his feet upon the ladder thereunto. He found himself crossing the Pont des +Invalides, and halted midway to rest and look. He laid his arms upon the +bridge's parapet and turned his face outward. Against it bore a little +gentle breeze that smelled of the purifying water below and of the night +and of green things growing. Beneath him the river ran black as flowing +ink, and across its troubled surface the many-colored lights of the many +bridges glittered very beautifully, swirling arabesques of gold and +crimson. The noises of the city--beat of hoofs upon wooden pavements, horn +of train or motor-car, jingle of bell upon cab-horse--came here faintly and +as if from a great distance. Above the dark trees of the Cours la Reine the +sky glowed, softly golden, reflecting the million lights of Paris.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie closed his eyes, and against darkness he saw the beautiful +head of Helen Benham, the clear-cut, exquisite modelling of feature and +contour, the perfection of form and color. Her eyes met his eyes, and they +were very serene and calm and confident. She smiled at him, and the new +contours into which her face fell with the smile were more perfect than +before. He watched the turn of her head, and the grace of the movement was +the uttermost effortless grace one dreams that a queen should have. The +heart of Ste. Marie quickened in him, and he would have gone down upon his +knees.</p> + +<p>He was well aware that with the coming of this girl something +unprecedented, wholly new to his experience, had befallen him--an awakening +to a new life. He had been in love a very great many times. He was usually +in love. And each time his heart had gone through the same sweet and bitter +anguish, the same sleepless nights had come and <a name="Page_33"></a>gone +upon him, the eternal and ever new miracle had wakened spring in his soul, +had passed its summer solstice, had faded through autumnal regrets to +winter's death; but through it all something within him had waited +asleep.</p> + +<p>He found himself wondering dully what it was--wherein lay the great +difference?--and he could not answer the question he asked. He knew only +that whereas before he had loved, he now went down upon prayerful knees to +worship. In a sudden poignant thrill the knightly fervor of his forefathers +came upon him, and he saw a sweet and golden lady set far above him upon a +throne. Her clear eyes gazed afar, serene and untroubled. She sat wrapped +in a sort of virginal austerity, unaware of the base passions of men. The +other women whom Ste. Marie had--as he was pleased to term it--loved had +certainly come at least half-way to meet him, and some of them had come a +good deal farther than that. He could not, by the wildest flight of +imagination, conceive this girl doing anything of that sort. She was to be +won by trial and high endeavor, by prayer and self-purification--not +captured by a warm eye-glance, a whispered word, a laughing kiss. In fancy +he looked from the crowding cohorts of these others to that still, sweet +figure set on high, wrapped in virginal austerity, calm in her serene +perfection, and his soul abased itself before her. He knelt in an awed and +worshipful adoration.</p> + +<p>So before quest or tournament or battle must those elder Ste. +Maries--Ste. Maries de Mont-les-Roses---have knelt, each knight at the feet +of his lady, each knightly soul aglow with the chaste ardor of +chivalry.</p> + +<p>The man's hands tightened upon the parapet of the bridge, he lifted his +face again to the shining stars where-among, as his fancy had it, she sat +enthroned. Exultingly <a name="Page_34"></a>he felt under his feet the +rungs of the ladder, and in the darkness he swore a great oath to have done +forever with blindness and grovelling, to climb and climb, forever to +climb, until at last he should stand where she was--cleansed and made +worthy by long endeavor--at last meet her eyes and touch her hand.</p> + +<p>It was a fine and chivalric frenzy, and Ste. Marie was passionately in +earnest about it, but his guardian angel--indeed, Fate herself--must have +laughed a little in the dark, knowing what manner of man he was in less +exalted hours.</p> + +<p>It was an odd freak of memory that at last recalled him to earth. Every +man knows that when a strong and, for the moment, unavailing effort has +been made to recall something lost to mind, the memory, in some mysterious +fashion, goes on working long after the attention has been elsewhere +diverted, and sometimes hours afterward, or even days, produces quite +suddenly and inappropriately the lost article. Ste. Marie had turned, with +a little sigh, to take up, once more, his walk across the Pont des +Invalides, when seemingly from nowhere, and certainly by no conscious +effort, a name flashed into his mind. He said it aloud:</p> + +<p>"O'Hara! O'Hara! That tall, thin chap's name was O'Hara, by Jove! It +wasn't Powers at all!" He laughed a little as he remembered how very +positive Captain Stewart had been. And then he frowned, thinking that the +mistake was an odd one, since Stewart had evidently known a good deal about +this adventurer. Captain Stewart, though, Ste. Marie reflected, was exactly +the sort to be very sure he was right about things. He had just the neat +and precise and semi-scholarly personality of the man who always knows. So +Ste. Marie dismissed the matter with <a name="Page_35"></a>another brief +laugh, but a cognate matter was less easy to dismiss. The name brought with +it a face--a dark and splendid face with tragic eyes that called. He walked +a long way thinking about them and wondering. The eyes haunted him. It will +have been reasonably evident that Ste. Marie was a fanciful and imaginative +soul. He needed but a chance word, the sight of a face in a crowd, the +glance of an eye, to begin story-building, and he would go on for hours +about it and work himself up to quite a passion with his imaginings. He +should have been a writer of fiction.</p> + +<p>He began forthwith to construct romances about this lady of the +motor-car. He wondered why she should have been with the shady Irishman--if +Irishman he was--O'Hara, and with some anxiety he wondered what the two +were to each other. Captain Stewart's little cynical jest came to his mind, +and he was conscious of a sudden desire to kick Miss Benham's middle-aged +uncle.</p> + +<p>The eyes haunted him. What was it they suffered? Out of what misery did +they call--and for what? He walked all the long way home to his little flat +overlooking the Luxembourg Gardens, haunted by those eyes. As he climbed +his stair it suddenly occurred to him that they had quite driven out of his +mind the image of his beautiful lady who sat among the stars, and the +realization came to him with a shock.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_36"></a><h2><a name='IV'></a>IV</h2> + +<h3>OLD DAVID STEWART</h3> + + +<p>It was Miss Benham's custom, upon returning home at night from +dinner-parties or other entertainments, to look in for a few minutes on her +grandfather before going to bed. The old gentleman, like most elderly +people, slept lightly, and often sat up in bed very late into the night, +reading or playing piquet with his valet. He suffered hideously at times +from the malady which was killing him by degrees, but when he was free from +pain the enormous recuperative power, which he had preserved to his +eighty-sixth year, left him almost as vigorous and clear-minded as if he +had never been ill at all. Hartley's description of him had not been +altogether a bad one: "a quaint old beggar... a great quantity of white +hair and an enormous square white beard and the fiercest eyes I ever +saw..." He was a rather "quaint old beggar," indeed! He had let his thick, +white hair grow long, and it hung down over his brows in unparted locks as +the ancient Greeks wore their hair. He had very shaggy eyebrows, and the +deep-set eyes under them gleamed from the shadow with a fierceness which +was rather deceptive but none the less intimidating. He had a great beak of +a nose, but the mouth below could not be seen. It was hidden by the +mustache and the enormous square beard. His face was colorless, almost as +white as <a name="Page_37"></a>hair and beard; there seemed to be no shadow +or tint anywhere except the cavernous recesses from which the man's eyes +gleamed and sparkled. Altogether he was certainly "a quaint old +beggar."</p> + +<p>He had, during the day and evening, a good many visitors, for the old +gentleman's mind was as alert as it ever had been, and important men +thought him worth consulting. The names which the admirable valet Peters +announced from time to time were names which meant a great deal in the +official and diplomatic world of the day. But if old David felt flattered +over the unusual fashion in which the great of the earth continued to come +to him, he never betrayed it. Indeed, it is quite probable that this view +of the situation never once occurred to him. He had been thrown with the +great of the earth for more than half a century, and he had learned to take +it as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>On her return from the Marquise de Saulnes' dinner-party, Miss Benham +went at once to her grandfather's wing of the house, which had its own +street entrance, and knocked lightly at his door. She asked the admirable +Peters, who opened to her, "Is he awake?" and being assured that he was, +went into the vast chamber, dropping her cloak on a chair as she +entered.</p> + +<p>David Stewart was sitting up in his monumental bed behind a sort of +invalid's table which stretched across his knees without touching them. He +wore over his night-clothes a Chinese mandarin's jacket of old red satin, +wadded with down, and very gorgeously embroidered with the cloud and bat +designs, and with large round panels of the imperial five-clawed dragon in +gold. He had a number of these jackets--they seemed to be his one vanity in +things external--and they were so made that they could be slipped about him +<a name="Page_38"></a>without disturbing him in his bed, since they hung +down only to the waist or thereabouts. They kept the upper part of his +body, which was not covered by the bedclothes, warm, and they certainly +made him a very impressive figure.</p> + +<p>He said: "Ah, Helen! Come in! Come in! Sit down on the bed there and +tell me what you have been doing!" He pushed aside the pack of cards which +was spread out on the invalid's table before him, and with great care +counted a sum of money in francs and half-francs and nickel twenty-five +centime pieces. "I've won seven francs fifty from Peters to-night," he +said, chuckling gently. "That is a very good evening, indeed. Very good! +Where have you been, and who were there?"</p> + +<p>"A dinner-party at the De Saulnes'," said Miss Benham, making herself +comfortable on the side of the great bed. "It's a very pleasant place. +Marian is, of course, a dear, and they're quite English and unceremonious. +You can talk to your neighbor at dinner instead of addressing the house +from a platform, as it were. French dinner-parties make me nervous."</p> + +<p>Old David gave a little growling laugh.</p> + +<p>"French dinner-parties at least keep people up to the mark in the art of +conversation," said he. "But that is a lost art, anyhow, nowadays, so I +suppose one might as well be quite informal and have done with it. Who were +there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well"--she considered, "no one, I should think, who would interest +you. Rather an indifferent set. Pleasant people, but not inspiring. The +Marquis had some young relative or connection who was quite odious and made +the most surprising noises over his food. I met a new man whom I think I am +going to like very much, indeed. He <a name="Page_39"></a>wouldn't interest +you, because he doesn't mean anything in particular, and of course he +oughtn't to interest me for the same reason. He's just an idle, pleasant +young man, but--he has great charm--very great charm. His name is Ste. +Marie. Baron de Vries seems very fond of him, which surprised me, +rather."</p> + +<p>"Ste. Marie!" exclaimed the old gentleman, in obvious astonishment. +"Ste. Marie de Mont Perdu?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "Yes, that is the name, I believe. You know him, then? +I wonder he didn't mention it."</p> + +<p>"I knew his father," said old David. "And his grandfather, for that +matter. They're Gascon, I think, or Béarnais; but this boy's mother +will have been Irish, unless his father married again.</p> + +<p>"So you've been meeting a Ste. Marie, have you?--and finding that he has +great charm?" The old gentleman broke into one of his growling laughs, and +reached for a long black cigar, which he lighted, eying his granddaughter +the while over the flaring match. "Well," he said, when the cigar was +drawing, "they all have had charm. I should think there has never been a +Ste. Marie without it. They're a sort of embodiment of romance, that +family. This boy's great-grandfather lost his life defending a castle +against a horde of peasants in 1799; his grandfather was killed in the +French campaign in Mexico in '39--at Vera Cruz it was, I think; and his +father died in a filibustering expedition ten years ago. I wonder what will +become of the last Ste. Marie?" Old David's eyes suddenly sharpened. +"You're not going to fall in love with Ste. Marie and marry him, are you?" +he demanded.</p> + +<p>Miss Benham gave a little angry laugh, but her grandfather saw the color +rise in her cheeks for all that.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_40"></a>"Certainly not," she said, with great decision, +"What an absurd idea! Because I meet a man at a dinner-party and say I like +him, must I marry him to-morrow? I meet a great many men at dinners and +things, and a few of them I like. Heavens!"</p> + +<p>"'Methinks the lady doth protest too much,'" muttered old David into his +huge beard.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?" asked Miss Benham, politely.</p> + +<p>But he shook his head, still growling inarticulately, and began to draw +enormous clouds of smoke from the long black cigar. After a time he took +the cigar once more from his lips and looked thoughtfully at his +granddaughter, where she sat on the edge of the vast bed, upright and +beautiful, perfect in the most meticulous detail. Most women when they +return from a long evening out look more or less the worse for it--deadened +eyes, pale cheeks, loosened coiffure tell their inevitable tale. Miss +Benham looked as if she had just come from the hands of a very excellent +maid. She looked as freshly soignée as she might have looked at +eight that evening instead of at one. Not a wave of her perfectly undulated +hair was loosened or displaced, not a fold of the lace at her breast had +departed from its perfect arrangement.</p> + +<p>"It is odd," said old David Stewart, "your taking a fancy to young Ste. +Marie. Of course, it's natural, too, in a way, because you are complete +opposites, I should think--that is, if this lad is like the rest of his +race. What I mean is that merely attractive young men don't, as a rule, +attract you."</p> + +<p>"Well, no," she admitted, "they don't usually. Men with brains attract +me most, I think--men who are making civilization, men who are ruling the +world, or at least doing <a name="Page_41"></a>important things for it. +That's your fault, you know. You taught me that."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman laughed.</p> + +<p>"Possibly," said he. "Possibly. Anyhow, that is the sort of men you +like, and they like you. You're by no means a fool, Helen; in fact, you're +a woman with brains. You could wield great influence married to the proper +sort of man."</p> + +<p>"But not to M. Ste. Marie," she suggested, smiling across at him.</p> + +<p>"Well, no," he said. "No, not to Ste. Marie. It would be a mistake to +marry Ste. Marie--if he is what the rest of his house have been. The Ste. +Maries live a life compounded of romance and imagination and emotion. +You're not emotional."</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Benham, slowly and thoughtfully. It was as if the idea +were new to her. "No, I'm not, I suppose. No. Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact," said old David, "you're by nature rather cold. +I'm not sure it isn't a good thing. Emotional people, I observe, are +usually in hot water of some sort. When you marry you're very likely to +choose with a great deal of care and some wisdom. And you're also likely to +have what is called a career. I repeat that you could wield great influence +in the proper environment."</p> + +<p>The girl frowned across at her grandfather reflectively.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean by that," she asked, after a little silence--"do you mean +that you think I am likely to be moved by sheer ambition and nothing else +in arranging my life? I've never thought of myself as a very ambitious +person."</p> + +<p>"Let us substitute for ambition common-sense," said old David. "I think +you have a great deal of common-sense <a name="Page_42"></a>for a +woman--and so young a woman. How old are you by-the-way? Twenty-two? Yes, +to be sure. I think you have great common-sense and appreciation of values. +And I think you're singularly free of the emotionalism that so often plays +hob with them all. People with common-sense fall in love in the right +places."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite like the sound of it," said Miss Benham. "Perhaps I am +rather ambitious--I don't know. Yes, perhaps. I should like to play some +part in the world, I don't deny that. But--am I as cold as you say? I doubt +it very much. I doubt that."</p> + +<p>"You're twenty-two," said her grandfather, "and you have seen a good +deal of society in several capitals. Have you ever fallen in love?"</p> + +<p>Oddly, the face of Ste. Marie came before Miss Benham's eyes as if she +had summoned it there. But she frowned a little and shook her head, +saying:</p> + +<p>"No, I can't say that I have. But that means nothing. There's plenty of +time for that. And you know," she said, after a pause--"you know I'm rather +sure I could fall in love--pretty hard. I'm sure of that. Perhaps I have +been waiting. Who knows?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, who knows?" said David. He seemed all at once to lose interest in +the subject, as old people often do without apparent reason, for he +remained silent for a long time, puffing at the long black cigar or rolling +it absently between his fingers. After awhile he laid it down in a metal +dish which stood at his elbow, and folded his lean hands before him over +the invalid's table. He was still so long that at last his granddaughter +thought he had fallen asleep, and she began to rise from her seat, taking +care to make no noise; but at that the old man stirred and <a +name="Page_43"></a>put out his hand once more for the cigar. "Was young +Richard Hartley at your dinner-party?" he asked, and she said:</p> + +<p>"Yes. Oh yes, he was there. He and M. Ste. Marie came together, I +believe. They are very close friends."</p> + +<p>"Another idler," growled old David. "The fellow's a man of parts--and a +man of family. What's he idling about here for? Why isn't he in Parliament, +where he belongs?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said the girl, "I should think it is because he is too much a +man of family--as you put it. You see, he'll succeed his cousin, Lord +Risdale, before very long, and then all his work would have been for +nothing, because he'll have to take his seat in the Lords. Lord Risdale is +unmarried, you know, and a hopeless invalid. He may die any day. I think I +sympathize with poor Mr. Hartley. It would be a pity to build up a career +for one's self in the lower House, and then suddenly, in the midst of it, +have to give it all up. The situation is rather paralyzing to endeavor, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I dare say," said old David, absently. He looked up sharply. +"Young Hartley doesn't come here as much as he used to do."</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Benham, "he doesn't." She gave a little laugh. "To avoid +cross-examination," she said, "I may as well admit that he asked me to +marry him and I had to refuse. I'm sorry, because I like him very much, +indeed."</p> + +<p>Old David made an inarticulate sound which may have been meant to +express surprise--or almost anything else. He had not a great range of +expression.</p> + +<p>"I don't want," said he, "to seem to have gone daft on <a +name="Page_44"></a>the subject of marriage, and I see no reason why you +should be in any haste about it. Certainly I should hate to lose you, my +child, but--Hartley as the next Lord Risdale is undoubtedly a good match. +And you say you like him."</p> + +<p>The girl looked up with a sort of defiance, and her face was a little +flushed.</p> + +<p>"I don't love him," she said. "I like him immensely, but I don't love +him, and, after all--well, you say I'm cold, and I admit I'm more or less +ambitious, but, after all--well, I just don't quite love him. I want to +love the man I marry."</p> + +<p>Old David Stewart held up his black cigar and gazed thoughtfully at the +smoke which streamed thin and blue and veil-like from its lighted end.</p> + +<p>"Love!" he said, in a reflective tone. "Love!" He repeated the word two +or three times slowly, and he stirred a little in his bed. "I have +forgotten what it is," said he. "I expect I must be very old. I have +forgotten what love--that sort of love--is like. It seems very far away to +me and rather unimportant. But I remember that I thought it important +enough once, a century or two ago. Do you know, it strikes me as rather odd +that I have forgotten what love is like. It strikes me as rather pathetic." +He gave a sort of uncouth grimace and stuck the black cigar once more into +his mouth. "Egad!" said he, mumbling indistinctly over the cigar, "how +foolish love seems when you look back at it across fifty or sixty +years!"</p> + +<p>Miss Benham rose to her feet smiling, and she came and stood near where +the old man lay propped up against his pillows. She touched his cheek with +her cool hand, and old David put up one of his own hands and patted it.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_45"></a>"I'm going to bed now," said she. "I've sat here +talking too long. You ought to be asleep, and so ought I."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps! Perhaps!" the old man said. "I don't feel sleepy, though. I +dare say I shall read a little." He held her hand in his and looked up at +her.</p> + +<p>"I've been talking a great deal of nonsense about marriage," said he. +"Put it out of your head! It's all nonsense. I don't want you to marry for +a long time. I don't want to lose you." His face twisted a little, quite +suddenly. "You're precious near all I have left, now," he said.</p> + +<p>The girl did not answer at once, for it seemed to her that there was +nothing to say. She knew that her grandfather was thinking of the lost boy, +and she knew what a bitter blow the thing had been to him. She often +thought that it would kill him before his old malady could run its +course.</p> + +<p>But after a moment she said, very gently: "We won't give up hope. We'll +never give up hope. Think! he might come home to-morrow! Who knows?"</p> + +<p>"If he has stayed away of his own accord," cried out old David Stewart, +in a loud voice, "I'll never forgive him--not if he comes to me to-morrow +on his knees! Not even if he comes to me on his knees!"</p> + +<p>The girl bent over her grandfather, saying: "Hush! hush! You mustn't +excite yourself." But old David's gray face was working, and his eyes +gleamed from their cavernous shadows with a savage fire.</p> + +<p>"If the boy is staying away out of spite," he repeated, "he need never +come back to me. I won't forgive him." He beat his unemployed hand upon the +table before him, and the things which lay there jumped and danced. "And if +he waits until I'm dead and then comes back," said he, "he'll find he has +made a mistake--a great mistake. He'll <a name="Page_46"></a>find a +surprise in store for him, I can tell you that. I won't tell you what I +have done, but it will be a disagreeable surprise for Master Arthur, you +may be sure."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman fell to frowning and muttering in his choleric +fashion, but the fierce glitter began to go out of his eyes and his hands +ceased to tremble and clutch at the things before him. The girl was silent, +because again there seemed to her to be nothing that she could say. She +longed very much to plead her brother's cause, but she was sure that would +only excite her grandfather, and he was growing quieter after his burst of +anger. She bent down over him and kissed his cheek.</p> + +<p>"Try to go to sleep," she said. "And don't torture yourself with +thinking about all this. I'm as sure that poor Arthur is not staying away +out of spite as if he were myself. He's foolish and headstrong, but he's +not spiteful, dear. Try to believe that. And now I'm really going. +Good-night." She kissed him again and slipped out of the room. And as she +closed the door she heard her grandfather pull the bell-cord which hung +beside him and summoned the excellent Peters from the room beyond.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_47"></a><h2><a name='V'></a>V</h2> + +<h3>JASON SETS FORTH UPON THE GREAT ADVENTURE</h3> + + +<p>Miss Benham stood at one of the long drawing-room windows of the house +in the rue de l'Université, and looked out between the curtains upon +the rather grimy little garden, where a few not very prosperous cypresses +and chestnuts stood guard over the rows of lilac shrubs and the +box-bordered flower-beds and the usual moss-stained fountain. She was +thinking of the events of the past month, the month which had elapsed since +the evening of the De Saulnes' dinner-party. They were not at all startling +events; in a practical sense there were no events at all, only a quiet +sequence of affairs which was about as inevitable as the night upon the +day--the day upon the night again. In a word, this girl, who had considered +herself very strong and very much the mistress of her feelings, found, for +the first time in her life, that her strength was as nothing at all against +the potent charm and magnetism of a man who had almost none of the +qualities she chiefly admired in men. During the month's time she had +passed from a phase of angry self-scorn through a period of bewilderment +not unmixed with fear, and from that she had come into an unknown world, a +land very strange to her, where old standards and judgments seemed to be +valueless--a place seemingly ruled altogether by new emotions, sweet and +thrilling, <a name="Page_48"></a>or full of vague terrors as her mood +veered here or there.</p> + +<p>That sublimated form of guesswork which is called "woman's intuition" +told her that Ste. Marie would come to her on this afternoon, and that +something in the nature of a crisis would have to be faced. It can be +proved even by poor masculine mathematics that guesswork, like other +gambling ventures, is bound to succeed about half the time, and it +succeeded on this occasion. Even as Miss Benham stood at the window looking +out through the curtains, M. Ste. Marie was announced from the doorway.</p> + +<p>She turned to meet him with a little frown of determination, for in his +absence she was often very strong, indeed, and sometimes she made up and +rehearsed little speeches of great dignity and decision in which she told +him that he was attempting a quite hopeless thing, and, as a well-wishing +friend, advised him to go away and attempt it no longer. But as Ste. Marie +came quickly across the room toward her, the little frown wavered and at +last fled from her face and another look came there. It was always so. The +man's bodily presence exerted an absolute spell over her.</p> + +<p>"I have been sitting with your grandfather for half an hour," Ste. Marie +said. And she said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm glad! I'm very glad! You always cheer him up. He hasn't been +too cheerful or too well of late." She unnecessarily twisted a chair about, +and after a moment sat down in it. And she gave a little laugh. "This +friendship which has grown up between my grandfather and you," said she--"I +don't understand it at all. Of course, he knew your father and all that; +but you two seem such very different types, I shouldn't think you would +amuse <a name="Page_49"></a>each other at all. There's Mr. Hartley, for +example. I should expect my grandfather to like him very much better than +you, but he doesn't--though I fancy he approves of him much more."</p> + +<p>She laughed again, but a different laugh; and when he heard it Ste. +Marie's eyes gleamed a little and his hands moved beside him.</p> + +<p>"I expect," said she--"I expect, you know, that he just likes you +without stopping to think why--as everybody else does. I fancy it's just +that. What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I?" said the man. "I--how should I know? I know it's a great +privilege to be allowed to see him--such a man as that. And I know we get +on wonderfully well. He doesn't condescend, as most old men do who have led +important lives. We just talk as two men in a club might talk, and I tell +him stories and make him laugh. Oh yes, we get on wonderfully well."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said she, "I've often wondered what you talk about. What did you +talk about to-day?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie turned abruptly away from her and went across to one of the +windows--the window where she had stood earlier, looking out upon the dingy +garden. She saw him stand there, with his back turned, the head a little +bent, the hands twisting together behind him, and a sudden fit of nervous +shivering wrung her. Every woman knows when a certain thing is going to be +said to her, and usually she is prepared for it, though usually, also, she +says she is not. Miss Benham knew what was coming now, and she was +frightened, not of Ste. Marie, but of herself. It meant so very much to +her--more than to most women at such a time. It meant, if she said yes to +him, the surrender of almost all the things she had cared for and hoped <a +name="Page_50"></a>for. It meant the giving up of that career which old +David Stewart had dwelt upon a month ago.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie turned back into the room. He came a little way toward where +the girl sat, and halted, and she could see that he was very pale. A sort +of critical second self noticed that he was pale and was surprised, +because, although men's faces often turn red, they seldom turn noticeably +pale except in very great nervous crises--or in works of fiction; while +women, on the contrary, may turn red and white twenty times a day, and no +harm done. He raised his hands a little way from his sides in the beginning +of a gesture, but they dropped again as if there was no strength in +them.</p> + +<p>"I told him," said Ste. Marie, in a flat voice--"I told your grandfather +that I--loved you more than anything in this world or in the next. I told +him that my love for you had made another being of me--a new being. I told +him that I wanted to come to you and to kneel at your feet, and to ask you +if you could give me just a little, little hope--something to live for, a +light to climb toward. That is what we talked about, your grandfather and +I."</p> + +<p>"Ste. Marie! Ste. Marie!" said the girl, in a half whisper. "What did my +grandfather say to you?" she asked, after a silence.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked away.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you," he said. "He--was not quite sympathetic."</p> + +<p>The girl gave a little cry.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what he said!" she demanded. "I must know what he said."</p> + +<p>The man's eyes pleaded with her, but she held him with her gaze, and in +the end he gave in.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_51"></a>"He said I was a damned fool," said Ste. +Marie.</p> + +<p>And the girl, after an instant of staring, broke into a little fit of +nervous, overwrought laughter, and covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>He threw himself upon his knees before her, and her laughter died away. +An Englishman or an American cannot do that. Richard Hartley, for example, +would have looked like an idiot upon his knees, and he would have felt it. +But it did not seem extravagant with Ste. Marie. It became him.</p> + +<p>"Listen! Listen!" he cried to her, but the girl checked him before he +could go on.</p> + +<p>She dropped her hands from her face, and she bent a little forward over +the man as he knelt there. She put out her hands and took his head for a +swift instant between them, looking down into his eyes. At the touch a +sudden wave of tenderness swept her--almost an engulfing wave; it almost +overwhelmed her and bore her away from the land she knew. And so when she +spoke her voice was not quite steady. She said:</p> + +<p>"Ah, dear Ste. Marie! I cannot pretend to be cold toward you. You have +laid a spell upon me, Ste. Marie. You enchant us all, somehow, don't you? I +suppose I'm not so different from the others as I thought I was. And yet," +she said, "he was right, you know. My grandfather was right. No, let me +talk, now. I must talk for a little. I must try to tell you how it is with +me--try somehow to find a way. He was right. He meant that you and I were +utterly unsuited to each other, and so, in calm moments, I know we are. I +know that well enough. When you're not with me, I feel very sure about it. +I think of a thousand excellent reasons why you and I ought to be no more +to each <a name="Page_52"></a>other than friends. Do you know, I think my +grandfather is a little uncanny. I think he has prophetic powers. They say +very old people often have. He and I talked about you when I came home from +that dinner-party at the De Saulnes', a month ago--the dinner-party where +you and I first met. I told him that I had met a man whom I liked very +much--a man with great charm; and though I must have said the same sort of +thing to him before about other men, he was quite oddly disturbed, and +talked for a long time about it--about the sort of man I ought to marry and +the sort I ought not to marry. It was unusual for him. He seldom says +anything of that kind. Yes, he is right. You see, I'm ambitious in a +particular way. If I marry at all I ought to marry a man who is working +hard in politics or in something of that kind. I could help him. We could +do a great deal together."</p> + +<p>"I could go into politics!" cried Ste. Marie; but she shook her head, +smiling down upon him.</p> + +<p>"No, not you, my dear. Politics least of all. You could be a soldier, if +you chose. You could fight as your father and your grandfather and the +others of your house have done. You could lead a forlorn hope in the field. +You could suffer and starve and go on fighting. You could die splendidly, +but--politics, no! That wants a tougher shell than you have. And a +soldier's wife! Of what use to him is she?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie's face was very grave. He looked up to her, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Do you set ambition before love, my Queen?" he asked, and she did not +answer him at once.</p> + +<p>She looked into his eyes, and she was as grave as he.</p> + +<p>"Is love all?" she said, at last. "Is love all? Ought one <a +name="Page_53"></a>to think of nothing but love when one is settling one's +life forever? I wonder? I look about me, Ste. Marie," she said, "and in the +lives of my friends--the people who seem to me to be most worth while, the +people who are making the world's history for good or ill--and it seems to +me that in their lives love has the second place--or the third. I wonder if +one has the right to set it first. There is, of course," she said, "the +merely domestic type of woman--the woman who has no thought and no interest +beyond her home. I am not that type of woman. Perhaps I wish I were. +Certainly they are the happiest. But I was brought up among--well, among +important people--men of my grandfather's kind. All my training has been +toward that life. Have I the right, I wonder, to give it all up?"</p> + +<p>The man stirred at her feet, and she put out her hands to him +quickly.</p> + +<p>"Do I seem brutal?" she cried. "Oh, I don't want to be! Do I seem very +ungenerous and wrapped up in my own side of the thing? I don't mean to be +that, but--I'm not sure. I expect it's that. I'm not sure, and I think I'm +a little frightened." She gave him a brief, anxious smile that was not +without its tenderness. "I'm so sure," she said, "when I'm away from you. +But when you're here--oh, I forget all I've thought of. You lay your spell +upon me."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie gave a little wordless cry of joy. He caught her two hands in +his and held them against his lips. Again that great wave of tenderness +swept her, almost engulfing. But when it had ebbed she sank back once more +in her chair, and she withdrew her hands from his clasp.</p> + +<p>"You make me forget too much," she said. "I think you make me forget +everything that I ought to remember. <a name="Page_54"></a>Oh, Ste. Marie, +have I any right to think of love and happiness while this terrible mystery +is upon us--while we don't know whether poor Arthur is alive or dead? +You've seen what it has brought my grandfather to! It is killing him. He +has been much worse in the past fortnight. And my mother is hardly a ghost +of herself in these days. Ah, it is brutal of me to think of my own +affairs--to dream of happiness at such a time." She smiled across at him +very sadly. "You see what you have brought me to!" she said.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie rose to his feet. If Miss Benham, absorbed in that warfare +which raged within her, had momentarily forgotten the cloud of sorrow under +which her household lay, so much the more had he, to whom the sorrow was +less intimate, forgotten it. But he was ever swift to sympathy, Ste. +Marie--as quick as a woman, and as tender. He could not thrust his love +upon the girl at such a time as this. He turned a little away from her, and +so remained for a moment. When he faced about again the flush had gone from +his cheeks and the fire from his eyes. Only tenderness was left there.</p> + +<p>"There has been no news at all this week?" he asked, and the girl shook +her head.</p> + +<p>"None! None! Shall we ever have news of him, I wonder? Must we go on +always and never know? It seems to me almost incredible that any one could +disappear so completely. And yet, I dare say, many people have done it +before and have been as carefully sought for. If only I could believe that +he is alive! If only I could believe that!"</p> + +<p>"I believe it," said Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>"Ah," she said, "you say that to cheer me. You have no reason to +offer."</p> + +<p>"Dead bodies very seldom disappear completely," said <a +name="Page_55"></a>he. "If your brother died anywhere there would be a +record of the death. If he were accidentally killed there would be a record +of that, too; and, of course, you are having all such records constantly +searched?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," she said. "Yes, of course--at least, I suppose so. My uncle +has been directing the search. Of course, he would take an obvious +precaution like that."</p> + +<p>"Naturally," said Ste. Marie. "Your uncle, I should say, is an unusually +careful man." He paused a moment to smile. "He makes his little mistakes, +though. I told you about that man O'Hara, and about how sure Captain +Stewart was that the name was Powers. Do you know"--Ste. Marie had been +walking up and down the room, but he halted to face her--"do you know, I +have a very strong feeling that if one could find this man O'Hara, one +would learn something about what became of your brother? I have no reason +for thinking that, but I feel it."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the girl, doubtfully, "I hardly think that could be so. What +motive could the man have for harming my brother?"</p> + +<p>"None," said Ste. Marie; "but he might have an excellent motive for +hiding him away--kidnapping him. Is that the word? Yes, I know, you're +going to say that no demand has been made for money, and that is where my +argument--if I can call it an argument--is weak. But the fellow may be +biding his time. Anyhow, I should like to have five minutes alone with him. +I'll tell you another thing. It's a trifle, and it may be of no +consequence, but I add it to my vague and--if you like--foolish feeling, +and make something out of it. I happened, some days ago, to meet at the +Café de Paris a man who I knew used to know this O'Hara. He was not, +I think, a friend of his at all, <a name="Page_56"></a>but an acquaintance. +I asked him what had become of O'Hara, saying that I hadn't seen him in +some weeks. Well, this man said O'Hara had gone away somewhere a couple of +months ago. He didn't seem at all surprised, for it appears the +Irishman--if he is an Irishman--is decidedly a haphazard sort of person, +here to-day, gone to-morrow. No, the man wasn't surprised, but he was +rather angry, because he said O'Hara owed him some money. I said I thought +he must be mistaken about the fellow's absence, because I'd seen him in the +street within the month--on the evening of our dinner-party, you +remember--but this man was very sure that I had made a mistake. He said +that if O'Hara had been in town he was sure to have known it. Well, the +point is here. Your brother disappears at a certain time. At the same time +this Irish adventurer disappears, too, <i>and</i> your brother was known to +have frequented the Irishman's company. It may be only a coincidence, but I +can't help feeling that there's something in it."</p> + +<p>Miss Benham was sitting up straight in her chair with a little alert +frown.</p> + +<p>"Have you spoken of this to my uncle?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Well--no," said Ste. Marie. "Not the latter part of it--that is, not my +having heard of O'Hara's disappearance. In the first place, I learned of +that only three days ago, and I have not seen Captain Stewart since--I +rather expected to find him here to-day; and, in the second place, I was +quite sure that he would only laugh. He has laughed at me two or three +times for suggesting that this Irishman might know something. Captain +Stewart is--not easy to convince, you know."</p> + +<p>"I know," she said, looking away. "He's always very <a +name="Page_57"></a>certain that he's right. Well, perhaps he is right. Who +knows?" She gave a little sob. "Oh!" she cried, "shall we ever have my +brother back? Shall we ever see him again? It is breaking my heart, Ste. +Marie, and it is killing my grandfather and, I think, my mother, too! Oh, +can nothing be done?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie was walking up and down the floor before her, his hands +clasped behind his back. When she had finished speaking the girl saw him +halt beside one of the windows, and after a moment she saw his head go up +sharply and she heard him give a sudden cry. She thought he had seen +something from the window which had wrung that exclamation from him, and +she asked:</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>But abruptly the man turned back into the room and came across to where +she sat. It seemed to her that his face had a new look--a very strange +exaltation which she had never before seen there. He said:</p> + +<p>"Listen! I do not know if anything can be done that has not been done +already, but if there is anything I shall do it, you may be sure."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i>, Ste. Marie?" she cried, in a sharp voice. "<i>You?</i>"</p> + +<p>"And why not I?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my friend," said she, "you could do nothing! You wouldn't know +where to turn, how to set to work. Remember that a score of men who are +skilled in this kind of thing have been searching for two months. What +could you do that they haven't done?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, my Queen," said Ste. Marie, "but I shall do what I can. +Who knows? Sometimes the fool who rushes in where angels have feared to +tread succeeds where they have failed. Oh, let me do this!" he cried out. +<a name="Page_58"></a>"Let me do it for both our sakes--for yours and for +mine! It is for your sake most. I swear that! It is to set you at peace +again, bring back the happiness you have lost. But it is for my sake, too, +a little. It will be a test of me, a trial. If I can succeed here where so +many have failed, if I bring back your brother to you--or, at least, +discover what has become of him--I shall be able to come to you with less +shame for my--unworthiness."</p> + +<p>He looked down upon her with eager, burning eyes, and, after a little, +the girl rose to face him. She was very white, and she stared at him +silently.</p> + +<p>"When I came to you to-day," he went on, "I knew that I had nothing to +offer you but my faithful love and my life, which has been a life without +value. In exchange for that I asked too much. I knew it, and you knew it, +too. I know well enough what sort of man you ought to marry, and what a +brilliant career you could make for yourself in the proper place--what +great influence you could wield. But I asked you to give that all up, and I +hadn't anything to offer in its place--nothing but love. My Queen, give me +a chance now to offer you more! If I can bring back your brother or news of +him, I can come to you without shame and ask you to marry me, because if I +can succeed in that you will know that I can succeed in other things. You +will be able to trust me. You'll know that I can climb. It shall be a sort +of symbol. Let me go!"</p> + +<p>The girl broke into a sort of sobbing laughter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, divine madman!" she cried. "Are you all mad, you Ste. Maries, that +you must be forever leading forlorn hopes? Oh, how you are, after all, a +Ste. Marie! Now, at last, I know why one cannot but love you. You're the <a +name="Page_59"></a>knight of old. You're chivalry come down to us. You're a +ghost out of the past when men rode in armor with pure hearts seeking the +Great Adventure. Oh, my friend," she said, "be wise. Give this up in time. +It is a beautiful thought, and I love you for it, but it is madness--yes, +yes, a sweet madness, but mad, nevertheless! What possible chance would you +have of success? And think--think how failure would hurt you--and me! You +must not do it, Ste. Marie."</p> + +<p>"Failure will never hurt me, my Queen," said he, "because there are no +hurts in the grave, and I shall never give over searching until I succeed +or until I am dead." His face was uplifted, and there was a sort of +splendid fervor upon it. It was as if it shone.</p> + +<p>The girl stared at him dumbly. She began to realize that the knightly +spirit of those gallant, long dead gentlemen was indeed descended upon the +last of their house, that he burnt with the same pure fire which had long +ago lighted them through quest and adventure, and she was a little afraid +with an almost superstitious fear. She put out her hands upon the man's +shoulders, and she moved a little closer to him, holding him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, madness, madness!" she said, watching his face.</p> + +<p>"Let me do it!" said Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>And after a silence that seemed to endure for a long time, she sighed, +shaking her head, and said she:</p> + +<p>"Oh, my friend, there is no strength in me to stop you. I think we are +both a little mad, and I know that you are very mad, but I cannot say no. +You seem to have come out of another century to take up this quest. How can +I prevent you? But listen to one thing. If I accept this sacrifice, if I +let you give your time and your strength to <a name="Page_60"></a>this +almost hopeless attempt, it must be understood that it is to be within +certain limits. I will not accept any indefinite thing. You may give your +efforts to trying to find trace of my brother for a month if you like, or +for three months, or six, or even a year, but not for more than that. If he +is not found in a year's time we shall know that--we shall know that he is +dead, and that--further search is useless. I cannot say how I--Oh, Ste. +Marie, Ste. Marie, this is a proof of you, indeed! And I have called you +idle. I have said hard things of you. It is very bitter to me to think that +I have said those things."</p> + +<p>"They were true, my Queen," said he, smiling. "They were quite, quite +true. It is for me to prove now that they shall be true no longer." He took +the girl's hand in his rather ceremoniously, and bent his head and kissed +it. As he did so he was aware that she stirred, all at once, uneasily, and +when he had raised his head he looked at her in question.</p> + +<p>"I thought some one was coming into the room," she explained, looking +beyond him. "I thought some one started to come in between the +portières yonder. It must have been a servant."</p> + +<p>"Then it is understood," said Ste. Marie. "To bring you back your +happiness, and to prove myself in some way worthy of your love, I am to +devote myself with all my effort and all my strength to finding your +brother or some trace of him, and until I succeed I will not see your face +again, my Queen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that!" she cried--"that, too?"</p> + +<p>"I will not see you," said he, "until I bring you news of him, or until +my year is passed and I have failed utterly. I know what risk I run. If I +fail, <a name="Page_61"></a>I lose you. That is understood, too. But if I +succeed--"</p> + +<p>"Then?" she said, breathing quickly. "Then?"</p> + +<p>"Then," said he, "I shall come to you, and I shall feel no shame in +asking you to marry me, because then you will know that there is in me some +little worthiness, and that in our lives together you need not be buried in +obscurity--lost to the world."</p> + +<p>"I cannot find any words to say," said she. "I am feeling just now very +humble and very ashamed. It seems that I haven't known you at all. Oh yes, +I am ashamed."</p> + +<p>The girl's face, habitually so cool and composed, was flushed with a +beautiful flush, and it had softened, and it seemed to quiver between a +smile and a tear. With a swift movement she leaned close to him, holding by +his shoulder, and for an instant her cheek was against his. She whispered +to him:</p> + +<p>"Oh, find him quickly, my dear! Find him quickly, and come back to +me!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie began to tremble, and she stood away from him. Once he looked +up, but the flush was gone from Miss Benham's cheeks and she was pale +again. She stood with her hands tight clasped over her breast. So he bowed +to her very low, and turned and went out of the room and out of the +house.</p> + +<p>So quickly did he move at this last that a man who had been, for some +moments, standing just outside the portières of the doorway had +barely time to step aside into the shadows of the dim hall. As it was, Ste. +Marie, in a more normal moment, must have seen that the man was there; but +his eyes were blind, and he saw nothing. He groped for his hat and stick as +if the place were a place of <a name="Page_62"></a>gloom, and, because the +footman who should have been at the door was in regions unknown, he let +himself out, and so went away.</p> + +<p>Then the man who stood apart in the shadows crossed the hall to a small +room which was furnished as a library, but not often used. He closed the +door behind him, and went to one of the windows which gave upon the street. +And he stood there for a long time, drawing absurd invisible pictures upon +the glass with one finger and staring thoughtfully out into the late June +afternoon.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_63"></a><h2><a name='VI'></a>VI</h2> + +<h3>A BRAVE GENTLEMAN RECEIVES A HURT, BUT VOLUNTEERS IN A GOOD CAUSE</h3> + + +<p>When Ste. Marie had gone, Miss Benham sat alone in the drawing-room for +almost an hour. She had been stirred that afternoon more deeply than she +thought she had ever been stirred before, and she needed time to regain +that cool poise, that mental equilibrium, which was normal to her and +necessary for coherent thought.</p> + +<p>She was still in a sort of fever of bewilderment and exaltation, still +all aglow with the man's own high fervor; but the second self which so +often sat apart from her, and looked on with critical, mocking eyes, +whispered that to-morrow, the fever past, the fervor cooled, she must see +the thing in its true light--a glorious lunacy born of a moment of +enthusiasm. It was finely romantic of him, this mocking second self +whispered to her--picturesque beyond criticism--but, setting aside the +practical folly of it, could even the mood last?</p> + +<p>The girl rose to her feet with an angry exclamation. She found herself +intolerable at such times as this.</p> + +<p>"If there's a heaven," she cried out, "and by chance I ever go there, I +suppose I shall walk sneering through the streets and saying to myself: 'Oh +yes, it's pretty enough, but how absurd and unpractical!'"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_64"></a>She passed before one of the small, narrow mirrors +which were let into the walls of the room in gilt Louis Seize frames with +candles beside them, and she turned and stared at her very beautiful +reflection with a resentful wonder.</p> + +<p>"Shall I always drag along so far behind him?" she said. "Shall I never +rise to him, save in the moods of an hour?"</p> + +<p>She began suddenly to realize what the man's going away meant--that she +might not see him again for weeks, months, even a year. For was it at all +likely that he could succeed in what he had undertaken?</p> + +<p>"Why did I let him go?" she cried. "Oh, fool, fool, to let him go!" But +even as she said it she knew that she could not have held him back.</p> + +<p>She began to be afraid, not for him, but of herself. He had taught her +what it might be to love. For the first time love's premonitory +thrill--promise of unspeakable, uncomprehended mysteries--had wrung her, +and the echo of that thrill stirred in her yet; but what might not happen +in his long absence? She was afraid of that critical and analyzing power of +mind which she had so long trained to attack all that came to her. What +might it not work with the new thing that had come? To what pitiful shreds +might it not be rent while he who only could renew it was away? She looked +ahead at the weeks and months to come, and she was terribly afraid.</p> + +<p>She went out of the room and up to her grandfather's chamber and knocked +there. The admirable Peters, who opened to her, said that his master had +not been very well, and was just then asleep, but as they spoke together in +low tones the old gentleman cried, testily, from within:</p> + +<p>"Well? Well? Who's there? Who wants to see me? Who is it?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_65"></a>Miss Benham went into the dim, shaded room, and +when old David saw who it was he sank back upon his pillows with a pacified +growl. He certainly looked ill, and he had grown thinner and whiter within +the past month, and the lines in his waxlike face seemed to be deeper +scored.</p> + +<p>The girl went up beside the bed and stood there a moment, after she had +bent over and kissed her grandfather's cheek, stroking with her hand the +absurdly gorgeous mandarin's jacket--an imperial yellow one this time.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this new?" she asked. "I seem never to have seen this one before. +It's quite wonderful."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman looked down at it with the pride of a little girl over +her first party frock. He came as near simpering as a fierce person of +eighty-six, with a square white beard, can come.</p> + +<p>"Rather good--what? What?" said he. "Yes, it's new. De Vries sent it me. +It is my best one. Imperial yellow. Did you notice the little Show +medallions with the swastika? Young Ste. Marie was here this afternoon." He +introduced the name with no pause or change of expression, as if Ste. Marie +were a part of the decoration of the mandarin's jacket. "I told him he was +a damned fool."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Benham, "I know. He said you did. I suppose," she said, +"that in a sort of very informal fashion I am engaged to him. Well, no, +perhaps not quite that; but he seems to consider himself engaged to me, and +when he has finished something very important that he has undertaken to do +he is coming to ask me definitely to marry him. No, I suppose we aren't +engaged yet; at least, I'm not. But it's almost the same, because I suppose +I shall accept him whether he fails or succeeds in what he is doing."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_66"></a>"If he fails in it, whatever it may be," said old +David, "he won't give you a chance to accept him; he won't come back. I +know him well enough for that. He's a romantic fool, but he's a +thoroughgoing fool. He plays the game." The old man looked up to his +granddaughter, scowling a little. "You two are absurdly unsuited to each +other," said he, "and I told Ste. Marie so. I suppose you think you're in +love with him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the girl, "I suppose I do."</p> + +<p>"Idleness and all? You were rather severe on idleness at one time."</p> + +<p>"He isn't idle any more," said she. "He has undertaken--of his own +accord--to find Arthur. He has some theory about it; and he is not going to +see me again until he has succeeded--or until a year is past. If he fails, +I fancy he won't come back."</p> + +<p>Old David gave a sudden hoarse exclamation, and his withered hands shook +and stirred before him. Afterward he fell to half-inarticulate +muttering.</p> + +<p>"The young romantic fool!--Don Quixote--like all the rest of them--those +Ste. Maries. The fool and the angels. The angels and the fool."</p> + +<p>The girl distinguished words from time to time. For the most part, he +mumbled under his breath. But when he had been silent a long time, he said, +suddenly:</p> + +<p>"It would be ridiculously like him to succeed."</p> + +<p>The girl gave a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"I wish I dared hope for it," said she. "I wish I dared hope for +it."</p> + +<p>She had left a book that she wanted in the drawing-room, and, when +presently her grandfather fell asleep in his fitful manner, she went down +after it. In crossing the <a name="Page_67"></a>hall she came upon Captain +Stewart, who was dressed for the street and had his hat and stick in his +hands. He did not live in his father's house, for he had a little flat in +the rue du Faubourg St. Honoré, but he was in and out a good deal. +He paused when he saw his niece, and smiled upon her a benignant smile +which she rather disliked, because she disliked benignant people. The two +really saw very little of each other, though Captain Stewart often sat for +hours together with his sister, up in a little boudoir which she had +furnished in the execrable taste which to her meant comfort, while that +timid and colorless lady embroidered strange tea cloths with stranger +flora, and prattled about the heathen, in whom she had an academic +interest.</p> + +<p>He said: "Ah, my dear! It's you?"</p> + +<p>Indisputably it was, and there seemed to be no use of denying it, so +Miss Benham said nothing, but waited for the man to go on if he had more to +say.</p> + +<p>"I dropped in," he continued, "to see my father, but they told me he was +asleep, and so I didn't disturb him. I talked a little while with your +mother instead."</p> + +<p>"I have just come from him," said Miss Benham. "He dozed off again as I +left. Still, if you had anything in particular to tell him, he'd be glad to +be wakened, I fancy. There's no news?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Captain Stewart, sadly--"no, nothing. I do not give up hope, +but I am, I confess, a little discouraged."</p> + +<p>"We are all that, I should think," said Miss Benham, briefly.</p> + +<p>She gave him a little nod and turned away into the drawing-room. Her +uncle's peculiar dry manner irritated <a name="Page_68"></a>her at times +beyond bearing, and she felt that this was one of the times. She had never +had any reason for doubting that he Was a good and kindly soul, but she +disliked him because he bored her. Her mother bored her, too--the poor +woman bored everybody--but the sense of filial obligation was strong enough +in the girl to prevent her from acknowledging this even to herself. In +regard to her uncle she had no sense of obligation whatever, except to be +as civil to him as possible, and so she kept out of his way. She heard the +heavy front door close, and gave a little sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"If he had come in here and tried to talk to me," she said, "I should +have screamed."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Meanwhile Ste. Marie, a man moving in a dream, uplifted, +cloud-enwrapped, made his way homeward. He walked all the long +distance--that is, looking backward upon it, later, he thought he must have +walked, but the half-hour was a blank to him, an indeterminate, a chaotic +whirl of things and emotions.</p> + +<p>In the little flat in the rue d'Assas he came upon Richard Hartley, who, +having found the door unlocked and the master of the place absent, had sat +comfortably down, with a pipe and a stack of <i>Couriers +Français</i>, to wait. Ste. Marie burst into the doorway of the room +where his friend sat at ease. Hat, gloves, and stick fell away from him in +a sort of shower. He extended his arms high in the air. His face was, as it +were, luminous. The Englishman regarded him morosely. He said:</p> + +<p>"You look as if somebody had died and left you money. What the devil you +looking like that for?"</p> + +<p>"Hé!" cried Ste. Marie, in a great voice. "Hé, the <a +name="Page_69"></a>world is mine! Embrace me, my infant! Sacred name of a +pig, why do you sit there? Embrace me!"</p> + +<p>He began to stride about the room, his head between his hands. Speech +lofty and ridiculous burst from him in a sort of splutter of fireworks, but +the Englishman sat still in his chair, and a gray, bleak look came upon +him, for he began to understand. He was more or less used to these +outbursts, and he bore them as patiently as he could, but though seven +times out of the ten they were no more than spasms of pure joy of living, +and meant, "It's a fine spring day," or "I've just seen two beautiful +princesses of milliners in the street," an inner voice told him that this +time it meant another thing. Quite suddenly he realized that he had been +waiting for this--bracing himself against its onslaught. He had not been +altogether blind through the past month. Ste. Marie seized him and dragged +him from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Dance, lump of flesh! Dance, sacred English rosbif that you are! Sing, +gros polisson! Sing!" Abruptly, as usual, the mania departed from him, but +not the glory; his eyes shone bright and triumphant. "Ah, my old," said he, +"I am near the stars at last. My feet are on the top rungs of the ladder. +Tell me that you are glad!"</p> + +<p>The Englishman drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"I take it," said he, "that means that you're--that she has accepted +you, eh?" He held out his hand. He was a brave and honest man. Even in pain +he was incapable of jealousy. He said: "I ought to want to murder you, but +I don't. I congratulate you. You're an undeserving beggar, but so were the +rest of us. It was an open field, and you've won quite honestly. My best +wishes!"</p> + +<p>Then at last Ste. Marie understood, and in a flash the <a +name="Page_70"></a>glory went out of his face. He cried: "Ah, mon cher ami! +Pig that I am to forget. Pig! Pig! Animal!"</p> + +<p>The other man saw that tears had sprung to his eyes, and was horribly +embarrassed to the very bottom of his good British soul.</p> + +<p>"Yes! Yes!" he said, gruffly. "Quite so, quite so! No consequence!" He +dragged his hands away from Ste. Marie's grasp, stuck them in his pockets, +and turned to the window beside which he had been sitting. It looked out +over the sweet green peace of the Luxembourg Gardens, with their winding +paths and their clumps of trees and shrubbery, their flaming flower-beds, +their groups of weather-stained sculpture. A youth in laborer's corduroys +and an unclean beret strolled along under the high palings; one arm was +about the ample waist of a woman somewhat the youth's senior, but, as ever, +love was blind. The youth carolled in a high, clear voice, "Vous êtes +si jolie," a song of abundant sentiment, and the woman put up one hand and +patted his cheek. So they strolled on and turned up into the rue Vavin.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie, across the room, looked at his friend's square back, and +knew that in his silent way the man was suffering. A great sadness, the +recoil from his trembling heights of bliss, came upon him and enveloped +him. Was it true that one man's joy must inevitably be another's pain? He +tried to imagine himself in Hartley's place, Hartley in his, and he gave a +little shiver. He knew that if that bouleversement were actually to take +place he would be as glad for his friend's sake as poor Hartley was now for +his, but he knew also that the smile of congratulation would be a grimace +of almost intolerable pain, and so he knew what Hartley's black hour must +be like.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_71"></a>"You must forgive me," he said. "I had forgotten. +I don't know why. Well, yes, happiness is a very selfish state of mind, I +suppose. One thinks of nothing but one's self--and one other. I--during +this past month I've been in the clouds. You must forgive me."</p> + +<p>The Englishman turned back into the room. Ste. Marie saw that his face +was as completely devoid of expression as it usually was, that his hands, +when he chose and lighted a cigarette, were quite steady, and he marvelled. +That would have been impossible for him under such circumstances.</p> + +<p>"She has accepted you, I take it?" said Hartley again.</p> + +<p>"Not quite that," said he. "Sit down and I'll tell you about it." So he +told him about his hour with Miss Benham, and about what had been agreed +upon between them, and about what he had undertaken to do. "Apart from +wishing to do everything in this world that I can do to make her happy," he +said--"and she will never be at peace again until she knows the truth about +her brother--apart from that, I'm purely selfish in the thing. I've got to +win her respect, as well as--the rest. I want her to respect me, and she +has never quite done that. I'm an idler. So are you, but you have a +perfectly good excuse. I have not. I've been an idler because it suited me, +because nothing turned up, and because I have enough to eat without working +for my living. I know how she has felt about all that. Well, she shall feel +it no longer."</p> + +<p>"You're taking on a big order," said the other man.</p> + +<p>"The bigger the better," said Ste. Marie. "And I shall succeed in it or +never see her again. I've sworn that."</p> + +<p>The odd look of exaltation that Miss Benham had seen in his face, the +look of knightly fervor, came there again, <a name="Page_72"></a>and +Hartley saw it, and knew that the man was stirred by no transient whim. +Oddly enough he thought, as had the girl earlier in the day, of those elder +Ste. Maries, who had taken sword and lance and gone out into a strange +world--a place of unknown terrors--afire for the Great Adventure. And this +was one of their blood.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you don't realize," he went on, "the difficulties you've got +to face. Better men than you have failed over this thing, you know."</p> + +<p>"A worse might nevertheless succeed," said Ste. Marie. And the other +said:</p> + +<p>"Yes. Oh yes. And there's always luck to be considered, of course. You +might stumble on some trace." He threw away his cigarette and lighted +another, and he smoked it down almost to the end before he spoke. At last +he said: "I want to tell you something. The reason why I want to tell it +comes a little later. A few weeks before you returned to Paris I asked Miss +Benham to marry me."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked up with a quick sympathy. "Ah," said he. "I have +sometimes thought--wondered. I have wondered if it went as far as that. Of +course, I could see that you had known her well, though you seldom go there +nowadays."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hartley, "it went as far as that, but no farther. She--well, +she didn't care for me--not in that way. So I stiffened my back and shut my +mouth, and got used to the fact that what I'd hoped for was impossible. And +now comes the reason for telling you what I've told. I want you to let me +help you in what you're going to do--if you think you can, that is. +Remember, I--cared for her, too. I'd like to do something for her. It would +never have occurred to me to do this until you thought of it, but I should +<a name="Page_73"></a>like very much to lend a hand--do some of the work. +D'you think you could let me in?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie stared at him in open astonishment, and, for an instant, +something like dismay.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! I know what you're thinking," said the Englishman. "You'd +hoped to do it all yourself. It's <i>your</i> game. I know. Well, it's your +game even if you let me come in. I'm just a helper. Some one to run +errands. Some one, perhaps, to take counsel with now and then. Look at it +on the practical side. Two heads are certainly better than one. Certainly I +could be of use to you. And besides--well, I want to do something for her. +I--cared, too, you see. D'you think you could take me in?"</p> + +<p>It was the man's love that made his appeal irresistible. No one could +appeal to Ste. Marie on that score in vain. It was true that he had hoped +to work alone--to win or lose alone; to stand, in this matter, quite on his +own feet; but he could not deny the man who had loved her and lost her. +Ste. Marie thrust out his hand.</p> + +<p>"You love her, too!" he said. "That is enough. We work together. I have +a possibly foolish idea that if we can find a certain man we will learn +something about Arthur Benham. I'll tell you about it."</p> + +<p>But before he could begin the door-bell jangled.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_74"></a><h2><a name='VII'></a>VII</h2> + +<h3>CAPTAIN STEWART MAKES A KINDLY OFFER</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie scowled.</p> + +<p>"A caller would come singularly malapropos just now," said he. "I've +half a mind not to go to the door. I want to talk this thing over with +you."</p> + +<p>"Whoever it is," objected Hartley, "has been told by the concierge that +you're at home. It may not be a caller, anyhow. It may be a parcel or +something. You'd best go."</p> + +<p>So Ste. Marie went out into the little passage, blaspheming fluently the +while. The Englishman heard him open the outer door of the flat. He heard +him exclaim, in great surprise:</p> + +<p>"Ah, Captain Stewart! A great pleasure! Come in! Come in!"</p> + +<p>And he permitted himself a little blaspheming on his own account, for +the visitor, as Ste. Marie had said, came most malapropos, and, besides, he +disliked Miss Benham's uncle. He heard the American say:</p> + +<p>"I have been hoping for some weeks to give myself the pleasure of +calling here, and to-day such an excellent pretext presented itself that I +came straightaway."</p> + +<p>Hartley heard him emit his mewing little laugh, and heard him say, with +the elephantine archness affected by certain dry and middle-aged +gentlemen:</p> + +<p><a name="Page_75"></a>"I come with congratulations. My niece has told me +all about it. Lucky young man! Ah--"</p> + +<p>He reached the door of the inner room and saw Richard Hartley standing +by the window, and he began to apologize profusely, saying that he had had +no idea that Ste. Marie was not alone. But Ste. Marie said:</p> + +<p>"It doesn't in the least matter. I have no secrets from Hartley. Indeed, +I have just been talking with him about this very thing."</p> + +<p>But for all that he looked curiously at the elder man, and it struck him +as very odd that Miss Benham should have gone straight to her uncle and +told him all this. It did not seem in the least like her, especially as he +knew the two were on no terms of intimacy. He decided that she must have +gone up to her grandfather's room to discuss it with that old gentleman--a +reasonable enough hypothesis--and that Captain Stewart must have come in +during the discussion. Quite evidently he had wasted no time in setting out +upon his errand of congratulation.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Captain Stewart, "if I am to be good-naturedly forgiven for +my stupidity, let me go on and say, in my capacity as a member of the +family, that the news pleased me very much. I was glad to hear it."</p> + +<p>He shook Ste. Marie's hand, looking very benignant indeed, and Ste. +Marie was quite overcome with pleasure and gratitude; it seemed to him such +a very kindly act in the elder man. He produced things to smoke and drink, +and Captain Stewart accepted a cigarette and mixed himself a rather stiff +glass of absinthe--it was between five and six o'clock.</p> + +<p>"And now," said he, when he was at ease in the most comfortable of the +low cane chairs, and the glass of opalescent <a name="Page_76"></a>liquor +was properly curdled and set at hand--"now, having congratulated you +and--ah, welcomed you, if I may put it so, as a probable future member of +the family--I turn to the other feature of the affair."</p> + +<p>He had an odd trick of lowering his head and gazing benevolently upon an +auditor as if over the top of spectacles. It was one of his elderly ways. +He beamed now upon Ste. Marie in this manner, and, after a moment, turned +and beamed upon Richard Hartley, who gazed stolidly back at him without +expression.</p> + +<p>"You have determined, I hear," said he, "to join us in our search for +poor Arthur. Good! Good! I welcome you there, also."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie stirred uneasily in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, "in a sense, yes. That is, I've determined to devote +myself to the search, and Hartley is good enough to offer to go in with me; +but I think, if you don't mind--of course, I know it's very presumptuous +and doubtless idiotic of us--but, if you don't mind, I think we'll work +independently. You see--well, I can't quite put it into words, but it's our +idea to succeed or fail quite by our own efforts. I dare say we shall fail, +but it won't be for lack of trying."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart looked disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think--" said he. "Pardon me for saying it, but I think you're +rather foolish to do that." He waved an apologetic hand. "Of course, I +comprehend your excellent motive. Yes, as you say, you want to succeed +quite on your own. But look at the practical side! You'll have to go over +all the weary weeks of useless labor we have gone over. We could save you +that. We have examined and followed up, and at last given over, a hundred +clews <a name="Page_77"></a>that on the surface looked quite possible of +success. You'll be doing that all over again. In short, my dear friend, you +will merely be following along a couple of months behind us. It seems to me +a pity. I sha'n't like to see you wasting your time and efforts."</p> + +<p>He dropped his eyes to the glass of Pernod which stood beside him, and +he took it in his hand and turned it slowly and watched the light gleam in +strange pearl colors upon it. He glanced up again with a little smile which +the two younger men found oddly pathetic.</p> + +<p>"I should like to see you succeed," said Captain Stewart. "I like to see +youth and courage and high hope succeed." He said: "I am past the age of +romance, though I am not so very old in years. Romance has passed me by, +but--I love it still. It still stirs me surprisingly when I see it in other +people--young people who are simple and earnest, and who--and who are in +love." He laughed gently, still turning the glass in his hand. "I am afraid +you will call me a sentimentalist," he said, "and an elderly sentimentalist +is, as a rule, a ridiculous person. Ridiculous or not, though, I have +rather set my heart on your success in this undertaking. Who knows? You may +succeed where we others have failed. Youth has such a way of charging in +and carrying all before it by assault--such a way of overleaping barriers +that look unsurmountable to older eyes! Youth! Youth! Eh, my God," said he, +"to be young again, just for a little while! To feel the blood beat strong +and eager! Never to be tired! Eh, to be like one of you youngsters! You, +Ste. Marie, or you, Hartley! There's so little left for people when youth +is gone!"</p> + +<p>He bent his head again, staring down upon the glass before <a +name="Page_78"></a>him, and for a while there was a silence which neither +of the younger men cared to break.</p> + +<p>"Don't refuse a helping hand," said Captain Stewart, looking up once +more. "Don't be over-proud. I may be able to set you upon the right path. +Not that I have anything definite to work upon--I haven't, alas! But each +day new clews turn up. One day we shall find the real one, and that may be +one that I have turned over to you to follow out. One never knows."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked across at Richard Hartley, but that gentleman was +blowing smoke-rings and to all outward appearance giving them his entire +attention. He looked back to Captain Stewart, and Stewart's eyes regarded +him, smiling a little wistfully, he thought. Ste. Marie scowled out of the +window at the trees of the Luxembourg Gardens.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know," said he. "Of course, I sound a braying ass in +hesitating even a moment; but, in a way, you understand, I'm so anxious to +do this or to fail in it quite on my own. You're--so tremendously kind +about it that I don't know what to say. I must seem very ungrateful, I +know; but I'm not."</p> + +<p>"No," said the elder man, "you don't seem ungrateful at all. I +understand exactly how you feel about it, and I applaud your feeling--but +not your judgment. I am afraid that for the sake of a sentiment you're +taking unnecessary risks of failure."</p> + +<p>For the first time Richard Hartley spoke.</p> + +<p>"I've an idea, you know," said he, "that it's going to be a matter +chiefly of luck. One day somebody will stumble on the right trail, and that +might as well be Ste. Marie or I as your trained detectives. If you don't +mind my saying <a name="Page_79"></a>so, sir--I don't want to seem +rude--your trained detectives do not seem to accomplish much in two months, +do they?"</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart looked thoughtfully at the younger man.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, at last. "I am sorry to say they don't seem to have +accomplished much--except to prove that there are a great many places poor +Arthur has <i>not</i> been to and a great many people who have <i>not</i> +seen him. After all, that is something--the elimination of ground that need +not be worked over again." He set down the glass from which he had been +drinking. "I cannot agree with your theory," he said. "I cannot agree that +such work as this is best left to an accidental solution. Accidents are too +rare. We have tried to go at it in as scientific a way as could be +managed--by covering large areas of territory, by keeping the police +everywhere on the alert, by watching the boy's old friends and searching +his favorite haunts. Personally, I am inclined to think that he managed to +slip away to America very early in the course of events, before we began to +search for him, and, of course, I am having a careful watch kept there as +well as here. But no trace has appeared as yet--nothing at all trustworthy. +Meanwhile, I continue to hope and to work, but I grow a little discouraged. +In any case, though, we shall hear of him in three months more if he is +alive."</p> + +<p>"Why three months?" asked Ste. Marie. "What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"In three months," said Captain Stewart, "Arthur will be of age, and he +can demand the money left him by his father. If he is alive he will turn up +for that. I have thought, from the first, that he is merely hiding +somewhere until this time should be past. He--you must know that he went +away very angry, after a quarrel with his grandfather? <a +name="Page_80"></a>My father is not a patient man. He may have been very +harsh with the boy."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," said Hartley; "but no boy, however young or angry, would be +foolish enough to risk an absolute break with the man who is going to leave +him a large fortune. Young Benham must know that his grandfather would +never forgive him for staying away all this time if he stayed away of his +own accord. He must know that he'd be taking tremendous risks of being cut +off altogether."</p> + +<p>"And besides," added Ste. Marie, "it is quite possible that your father, +sir, may die at any time--any hour. And he's very angry at his grandson. He +may have cut him off already."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart's eyes sharpened suddenly, but he dropped them to the +glass in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Have you any reason for thinking that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," said Ste. Marie. "I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have said it. +That is a matter which concerns your family alone. I forgot myself. The +possibility occurred to me suddenly for the first time."</p> + +<p>But the elder man looked up at him with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Pray don't apologize," said he. "Surely we three can speak frankly +together! And, frankly, I know nothing of my father's will. But I don't +think he would cut poor Arthur off, though he is, of course, very angry +about the boy's leaving in the manner he did. No, I am sure he wouldn't cut +him off. He was fond of the lad, very fond--as we all were."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart glanced at his watch and rose with a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"I must be off," said he. "I have to dine out this evening, and I must +get home to change. There is a cabstand <a name="Page_81"></a>near you?" He +looked out of the window. "Ah, yes! Just at the corner of the Gardens."</p> + +<p>He turned about to Ste. Marie, and held out his hand with a smile. He +said:</p> + +<p>"You refuse to join forces with us, then? Well, I'm sorry. But, for all +that, I wish you luck. Go your own way, and I hope you'll succeed. I +honestly hope that, even though your success may show me up for an +incompetent bungler."</p> + +<p>He gave a little kindly laugh, and Ste. Marie tried to protest.</p> + +<p>"Still," said the elder man, "don't throw me over altogether. If I can +help you in any way, little or big, let me know. If I can give you any +hints, any advice, anything at all, I want to do it. And if you happen upon +what seems to be a promising clew come and talk it over with me. Oh, don't +be afraid! I'll leave it to you to work out. I sha'n't spoil your +game."</p> + +<p>"Ah, now, that's very good of you," said Ste. Marie. "Only you make me +seem more than ever an ungrateful fool. Thanks, I will come to you with my +troubles if I may. I have a foolish idea that I want to follow out a little +first, but doubtless I shall be running to you soon for information."</p> + +<p>The elder man's eyes sharpened again with keen interest.</p> + +<p>"An idea!" he said, quickly. "You have an idea? What--May I ask what +sort of an idea?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing," declared Ste. Marie. "You have already laughed at +it. I just want to find that man O'Hara, that's all. I've a feeling that I +should learn something from him."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_82"></a>"Ah!" said Captain Stewart, slowly. "Yes, the man +O'Hara. There's nothing in that, I'm afraid. I've made inquiries about +O'Hara. It seems he left Paris six months ago, saying he was off for +America. An old friend of his told me that. So you must have been mistaken +when you thought you saw him in the Champs-Elysées; and he couldn't +very well have had anything to do with poor Arthur. I'm afraid that idea is +hardly worth following up."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," said Ste. Marie. "I seem to start badly, don't I? Ah, +well, I'll have to come to you all the sooner, then."</p> + +<p>"You'll be welcome," promised Captain Stewart. "Good-bye to you! +Good-day, Hartley. Come and see me, both of you. You know where I +live."</p> + +<p>He took his leave then, and Hartley, standing beside the window, watched +him turn down the street, and at the corner get into one of the fiacres +there and drive away.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"There's the second time," said he, "that I've had him about O'Hara. If +he is as careless as that about everything, I don't wonder he hasn't found +Arthur Benham. O'Hara disappeared from Paris--publicly, that is--at about +the time young Benham disappeared. As a matter of fact, he remains, or at +least for a time remained, in the city without letting his friends know, +because I made no mistake about seeing him in the Champs-Elysées. +All that looks to me suspicious enough to be worth investigation. Of +course," he admitted, doubtfully--"of course, I'm no detective; but that's +how it looks to me."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe Stewart is any detective, either," said Richard +Hartley. "He's altogether too cocksure. That sort of man would rather die +than admit he is wrong about <a name="Page_83"></a>anything. He's a good +old chap, though, isn't he? I liked him to-day better than ever before. I +thought he was rather pathetic when he went on about his age."</p> + +<p>"He has a good heart," said Ste. Marie. "Very few men under the +circumstances would come here and be as decent as he was. Most men would +have thought I was a presumptuous ass, and would have behaved +accordingly."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie took a turn about the room, and his face began to light up +with its new excitement and exaltation.</p> + +<p>"And to-morrow!" he cried--"to-morrow we begin! To-morrow we set out +into the world and the Adventure is on foot! God send it success!"</p> + +<p>He laughed across at the other man; but it was a laugh of eagerness, not +of mirth.</p> + +<p>"I feel," said he, "like Jason. I feel as if we were to set sail +to-morrow for Colchis and the Golden Fleece."</p> + +<p>"Y-e-s," said the other man, a little dryly--"yes, perhaps. I don't want +to seem critical, but isn't your figure somewhat ill chosen?"</p> + +<p>"'Ill chosen'?" cried Ste. Marie. "What d'you mean? Why ill chosen?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of Medea," said Richard Hartley.</p> + +<hr /> + + + +<a name="Page_84"></a><h2><a name='VIII'></a>VIII</h2> + +<h3>JASON MEETS WITH A MISADVENTURE AND DREAMS A DREAM</h3> + + +<p>So on the next day these two rode forth upon their quest, and no quest +was ever undertaken with a stouter courage or with a grimmer determination +to succeed. To put it fancifully, they burned their tower behind them, for +to one of them, at least--to him who led--there was no going back.</p> + +<p>But, after all, they set forth under a cloud, and Ste. Marie took a +heavy heart with him. On the evening before an odd and painful incident had +befallen--a singularly unfortunate incident.</p> + +<p>It chanced that neither of the two men had a dinner engagement that +evening, and so, after their old habit, they dined together. There was some +wrangling over where they should go, Hartley insisting upon Armenonville or +the Madrid, in the Bois, Ste. Marie objecting that these would be full of +tourists so late in June, and urging the claims of some quiet place in the +Quarter, where they could talk instead of listening perforce to loud music. +In the end, for no particular reason, they compromised on the little +Spanish restaurant in the rue Helder. They went there about eight o'clock, +without dressing, for it is a very quiet place which the world does not +visit, and they had a sopa de yerbas, and some langostinos, which are +shrimps, and a <a name="Page_85"></a>heavenly arroz, with fowl in it, and +many tender, succulent strips of red pepper. They had a salad made out of a +little of everything that grows green, with the true Spanish oil, which has +a tang and a bouquet unappreciated by the Philistine; and then they had a +strange pastry and some cheese and green almonds. And to make then glad, +they drank a bottle of old red Valdepenas, and afterward a glass each of a +special Manzanilla, upon which the restaurant very justly prides +itself.</p> + +<p>It was a simple dinner and a little stodgy for that time of the year, +but the two men were hungry and sat at table, almost alone in the upper +room, for a long time, saying how good everything was, and from time to +time despatching the saturnine waiter, a Madrileno, for more peppers. When +at last they came out into the narrow street, and thence to the thronged +Boulevard des Italiens, it was nearly eleven o'clock. They stood for a +little time in the shelter of a kiosk, looking down the boulevard to where +the Place de l'Opéra opened wide and the lights of the Café +de la Paix shone garish in the night. And Ste. Marie said:</p> + +<p>"There's a street fête in Montmartre. We might drive home that +way."</p> + +<p>"An excellent idea," said the other man. "The fact that Montmartre lies +in an opposite direction from home makes the plan all the better. And after +that we might drive home through the Bois. That's much farther in the wrong +direction. Lead on!"</p> + +<p>So they sprang into a waiting fiacre, and were dragged up the steep, +stone-paved hill to the heights, where La Bohême still reigns, though +the glory of Moulin Rouge has departed and the trail of the tourist is over +all. They found Montmartre very much en fête. In the Place Blanche +were two <a name="Page_86"></a>of the enormous and brilliantly lighted +merry-go-rounds, which only Paris knows--one furnished with stolid cattle, +theatrical-looking horses, and Russian sleighs; the other with the +ever-popular galloping pigs. When these dreadful machines were in rotation, +mechanical organs, concealed somewhere in their bowels, emitted hideous +brays and shrieks which mingled with the shrieks of the ladies mounted upon +the galloping pigs, and together insulted a peaceful sky.</p> + +<p>The square was filled with that extremely heterogeneous throng which the +Parisian street fête gathers together, but it was, for the most part, +a well-dressed throng, largely recruited from the boulevards, and it was +quite determined to have a very good time in the cheerful, harmless Latin +fashion. The two men got down from their fiacre and elbowed a way through +the good-natured crowd to a place near the more popular of the +merry-go-rounds. The machine was in rotation. Its garish lights shone and +glittered, its hidden mechanical organ blared a German waltz tune, the +huge, pink-varnished pigs galloped gravely up and down as the platform upon +which they were mounted whirled round and round. A little group of American +trippers, sight-seeing with a guide, stood near by, and one of the group, a +pretty girl with red hair, demanded plaintively of the friend upon whose +arm she hung: "Do you think momma would be shocked if we took a ride? +Wouldn't I love to!"</p> + +<p>Hartley turned, laughing, from this distressed maiden to Ste. Marie. He +was wondering, with mild amusement, why anybody should wish to do such a +foolish thing; but Ste. Marie's eyes were fixed upon the galloping pigs, +and the eyes shone with a wistful excitement. To tell the truth, <a +name="Page_87"></a>it was impossible for him to look on at any form of +active amusement without thirsting to join it. A joyous and carefree lady +in a blue hat, who was mounted astride upon one of the pigs, hurled a paper +serpentine at him and shrieked with delight when it knocked his hat +off.</p> + +<p>"That's the second time she has hit me with one of those things," he +said, groping about his feet for the hat. "Here, stop that boy with the +basket!"</p> + +<p>A vendor of the little rolls of paper ribbon was shouting his wares +through the crowd. Ste. Marie filled his pockets with the things, and when +the lady with the blue hat came round, on the next turn, lassoed her neatly +about the neck and held the end of the ribbon till it broke. Then he caught +a fat gentleman, who was holding himself on by his steed's neck, in the +ear, and the red-haired American girl laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"When the thing stops," said Ste. Marie, "I'm going to take a ride--just +one ride. I haven't ridden a pig for many years."</p> + +<p>Hartley jeered at him, calling him an infant, but Ste. Marie bought more +serpentines, and when the platform came to a stop clambered up to it and +mounted the only unoccupied pig he could find. His friend still scoffed at +him and called him names, but Ste. Marie tucked his long legs round the +pig's neck and smiled back, and presently the machine began again to +revolve.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first revolution Hartley gave a shout of delight, for +he saw that the lady with the blue hat had left her mount and was making +her way along the platform toward where Ste. Marie sat hurling serpentines +in the face of the world. By the next time round she had come to where he +was, mounted astride behind him, and <a name="Page_88"></a>was holding +herself with one very shapely arm round his neck, while with the other she +rifled his pockets for ammunition. Ste. Marie grinned, and the public, loud +in its acclaims, began to pelt the two with serpentines until they were +hung with many-colored ribbons like a Christmas-tree. Even Richard Hartley +was so far moved out of the self-consciousness with which his race is +cursed as to buy a handful of the common missiles, and the lady in the blue +hat returned his attention with skill and despatch.</p> + +<p>But as the machine began to slacken its pace, and the hideous wail and +blare of the concealed organ died mercifully down, Hartley saw that his +friend's manner had all at once altered, that he sat leaning forward away +from the enthusiastic lady with the blue hat, and that the paper +serpentines had dropped from his hands. Hartley thought that the rapid +motion must have made him a little giddy, but presently, before the +merry-go-round had quite stopped, he saw the man leap down and hurry toward +him through the crowd. Ste. Marie's face was grave and pale. He caught +Hartley's arm in his hand and turned him round, crying, in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Come out of this as quickly as you can! No, in the other direction. I +want to get away at once!"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Hartley demanded. "Lady in the blue hat too +friendly? Well, if you're going to play this kind of game you might as well +play it."</p> + +<p>"Helen Benham was down there in the crowd," said Ste. Marie. "On the +opposite side from you. She was with a party of people who got out of two +motor-cars to look on. They were in evening things, so they had come from +dinner somewhere, I suppose. She saw me."</p> + +<p>"The devil!" said Hartley, under his breath. Then he <a +name="Page_89"></a>gave a shout of laughter, demanding: "Well, what of it? +You weren't committing any crime, were you? There's no harm in riding a +silly pig in a silly merry-go-round. Everybody does it in these fête +things." But even as he spoke he knew how extremely unfortunate the meeting +was, and the laughter went out of his voice.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," said Ste. Marie, "she won't see the humor of it. Good God, +what a thing to happen! <i>You</i> know well enough what she'll think of +me. At five o'clock this afternoon," he said, bitterly, "I left her with a +great many fine, high-sounding words about the quest I was to give my days +and nights to--for her sake. I went away from her like a--knight going into +battle--consecrated. I tell you, there were tears in her eyes when I went. +And <i>now</i>--now, at midnight--she sees me riding a galloping pig in a +street fête with a girl from the boulevards sitting on the pig with +me and holding me round the neck before a thousand people. What will she +think of me? What but one thing can she possibly think? Oh, I know well +enough! I saw her face before she turned away. And," he cried, "I can't +even go to her and explain--if there's anything to explain, and I suppose +there is not. I can't even go to her. I've sworn not to see her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll do that," said the other man. "I'll explain it to her, if any +explanation's necessary. I think you'll find that she will laugh at +it."</p> + +<p>But Ste. Marie shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No, she won't," said he.</p> + +<p>And Hartley could say no more; for he knew Miss Benham, and he was very +much afraid that she would not laugh.</p> + +<p>They found a fiacre at the side of the square and drove <a +name="Page_90"></a>home at once. They were almost entirely silent all the +long way, for Ste. Marie was buried in gloom, and the Englishman, after +trying once or twice to cheer him up, realized that he was best left to +himself just then, and so held his tongue. But in the rue d'Assas, as Ste. +Marie was getting down--Hartley kept the fiacre to go on to his rooms in +the Avenue de l'Observatoire--he made a last attempt to lighten the man's +depression. He said:</p> + +<p>"Don't you be a silly ass about this! You're making much too much of it, +you know. I'll go to her to-morrow or next day and explain, and she'll +laugh---if she hasn't already done so. You know," he said, almost believing +it himself, "you are paying her a dashed poor compliment in thinking she's +so dull as to misunderstand a little thing of this kind. Yes, by Jove, you +are!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked up at him, and his face, in the light of the cab lamp, +showed a first faint gleam of hope.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" he demanded. "Do you really think that? Maybe I am. +But--Oh, Lord, who would understand such an idiocy? Sacred imbecile that I +am! Why was I ever born? I ask you."</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly, and began to ring at the door, casting a brief +"Good-night" over his shoulder. And after a moment Hartley gave it up and +drove away.</p> + +<p>Above, in the long, shallow front room of his flat, with the three +windows overlooking the Gardens, Ste. Marie made lights, and after much +rummaging unearthed a box of cigarettes of a peculiarly delectable flavor +which had been sent him by a friend in the Khedivial household. He allowed +himself one or two of them now and then, usually in sorrowful moments, as +an especial treat; and this seemed to him to be the moment for smoking all +that were <a name="Page_91"></a>left. Surely his need had never been +greater. In England he had, of course, learned to smoke a pipe, but +pipe-smoking always remained with him a species of accomplishment; it never +brought him the deep and ruminative peace with which it enfolds the +Anglo-Saxon heart. The "vieux Jacob" of old-fashioned Parisian Bohemia +inspired in him unconcealed horror, of cigars he was suspicious because, he +said, most of the unpleasant people he knew smoked cigars, so he soothed +his soul with cigarettes, and he was usually to be found with one between +his fingers.</p> + +<p>He lighted one of the precious Egyptians, and after a first ecstatic +inhalation went across to one of the long windows, which was open, and +stood there with his back to the room, his face to the peaceful, fragrant +night. A sudden recollection came to him of that other night a month before +when he had stood on the Pont des Invalides with his eyes upon the stars, +his feet upon the ladder thereunto. His heart gave a sudden exultant leap +within him when he thought how far and high he had climbed, but after the +leap it shivered and stood still when this evening's misadventure came +before him.</p> + +<p>Would she ever understand? He had no fear that Hartley would not do his +best with her. Hartley was as honest and as faithful as ever a friend was +in this world. He would do his best. But even then--It was the girl's +inflexible nature that made the matter so dangerous. He knew that she was +inflexible, and he took a curious pride in it. He admired it. So must have +been those calm-eyed, ancient ladies for whom other Ste. Maries went out to +do battle. It was well-nigh impossible to imagine them lowering their eyes +to silly revelry. They could not stoop to such as that. It was beneath +their high dignity. And <a name="Page_92"></a>it was beneath hers also. As +for himself, he was a thing of patches. Here a patch of exalted chivalry--a +noble patch--there a patch of bourgeois, childlike love of fun; here a +patch of melancholic asceticism, there one of something quite the reverse. +A hopeless patchwork he was. Must she not shrink from him when she knew? He +could not quite imagine her understanding the wholly trivial and +meaningless impulse that had prompted him to ride a galloping pig and cast +paper serpentines at the assembled world.</p> + +<p>Apart from her view of the affair, he felt no shame in it. The moment of +childish gayety had been but a passing mood. It had in no way slackened his +tense enthusiasm, dulled the keenness of his spirit, lowered his high +flight. He knew that well enough. But he wondered if she would understand, +and he could not believe it possible. The mood of exaltation in which they +had parted that afternoon came to him, and then the sight of her shocked +face as he had seen it in the laughing crowd in the Place Blanche.</p> + +<p>"What must she think of me?" he cried, aloud. "What must she think of +me?"</p> + +<p>So, for an hour or more, he stood in the open window staring into the +fragrant night, or tramped up and down the long room, his hands behind his +back, kicking out of his way the chairs and things which impeded him, +torturing himself with fears and regrets and fancies, until at last, in a +calmer moment, he realized that he was working himself up into an absurd +state of nerves over something which was done and could not now be helped. +The man had an odd streak of fatalism in his nature--that will have come of +his Southern blood--and it came to him now in his need. For the work upon +which he was to enter with the <a name="Page_93"></a>morrow he had need of +clear wits, not scattered ones; a calm judgment, not disordered nerves. So +he took himself in hand, and it would have been amazing to any one +unfamiliar with the abrupt changes of the Latin temperament to see how +suddenly Ste. Marie became quiet and cool and master of himself.</p> + +<p>"It is done," he said, with a little shrug, and if his face was for a +moment bitter it quickly enough became impassive. "It is done, and it +cannot be undone--unless Hartley can undo it. And now, revenons à +nos moutons! Or, at least," said he, looking at his watch--and it was +between one and two--"at least, to our beds!"</p> + +<p>So he went to bed, and, so well had he recovered from his fit of +excitement, he fell asleep almost at once. But for all that the jangled +nerves had their revenge. He who commonly slept like the dead, without the +slightest disturbance, dreamed a strange dream. It seemed to him that he +stood spent and weary in a twilight place--a waste place at the foot of a +high hill. At the top of the hill She sat upon a sort of throne, golden in +a beam of light from heaven--serene, very beautiful, the end and crown of +his weary labors. His feet were set to the ascent of the height whereon she +waited, but he was withheld. From the shadows at the hill's foot a voice +called to him in distress, anguish of spirit--a voice he knew; but he could +not say whose voice. It besought him out of utter need, and he could not +turn away from it.</p> + +<p>Then from those shadows eyes looked upon him, very great and dark eyes, +and they besought him, too; he did not know what they asked, but they +called to him like the low voice, and he could not turn away.</p> + +<p>He looked to the far height, and with all his power he <a +name="Page_94"></a>strove to set his feet toward it--the goal of long labor +and desire; but the eyes and the piteous voice held him motionless--for +they needed him.</p> + +<p>From this anguish he awoke trembling. And after a long time, when he was +composed, he fell asleep once more, and once more he dreamed the dream.</p> + +<p>So morning found him pallid and unrefreshed. But by daylight he knew +whose eyes had besought him, and he wondered and was a little afraid.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_95"></a><h2><a name='IX'></a>IX</h2> + +<h3>JASON GOES UPON A JOURNEY, AND RICHARD HARTLEY PLEADS FOR HIM</h3> + + +<p>It may as well be admitted at the outset that neither Ste. Marie nor +Richard Hartley proved themselves to be geniuses, hitherto undeveloped, in +the detective science. They entered upon their self-appointed task with a +fine fervor, but, as Miss Benham had suggested, with no other +qualifications in particular. Ste. Marie had a theory that, when engaged in +work of this nature, you went into questionable parts of the city, ate and +drank cheek by jowl with questionable people--if possible, got them drunk +while you remained sober (difficult feat), and sooner or later they said +things which put you on the right road to your goal, or else confessed to +you that they themselves had committed the particular crime in which you +were interested. He argued that this was the way it happened in books, and +that surely people didn't write books about things of which they were +ignorant.</p> + +<p>Hartley, on the other hand, preferred the newer, or scientific, methods. +You sat at home with a pipe and a whiskey-and-water--if possible, in a long +dressing-gown with a cord round its middle. You reviewed all the known +facts of the case, and you did mathematics about them with Xs and Ys and +many other symbols, and in the end, by a system of <a +name="Page_96"></a>elimination, you proved that a certain thing must +infallibly be true. The chief difficulty for him in this was, he said, that +he had been at Oxford instead of at Cambridge, and so the mathematics were +rather beyond him.</p> + +<p>In practice, however, they combined the two methods, which was doubtless +as well as if they hadn't, because for some time they accomplished nothing +whatever, and so neither one was able to sneer at the other's +stupidity.</p> + +<p>This is not to say that they found nothing in the way of clews. They +found an embarrassment of them, and for some days went about in a fever of +excitement over these; but the fever cooled when clew after clew turned out +to be misleading. Of course, Ste. Marie's first efforts were directed +toward tracing the movements of the Irishman O'Hara, but the efforts were +altogether unavailing. The man seemed to have disappeared as noiselessly +and completely as had young Arthur Benham himself. He was unable even to +settle with any definiteness the time of the man's departure from Paris. +Some of O'Hara's old acquaintances maintained that they had seen the last +of him two months before, but a shifty-eyed person in rather cheaply smart +clothes came up to Ste. Marie one evening in Maxim's and said he had heard +that Ste. Marie was making inquiries about M. O'Hara. Ste. Marie said he +was, and that it was an affair of money; whereupon the cheaply smart +individual declared that M. O'Hara had left Paris six months before to go +to the United States of America, and that he had had a picture postal-card +from him, some weeks since, from New York. The informant accepted an +expensive cigar and a Dubonnet by way of reward, but presently departed +into the night, and Ste. Marie was left in some discouragement, his theory +badly damaged.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_97"></a>He spoke of this encounter to Richard Hartley, who +came on later to join him, and Hartley, after an interval of silence and +smoke, said: "That was a lie! The man lied!"</p> + +<p>"Name of a dog, why?" demanded Ste. Marie; but the Englishman shrugged +his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said. "But I believe it was a lie. The man came to +you--sought you out to tell his story, didn't he? And all the others have +given a different date? Well, there you are! For some reason, this man or +some one behind him--O'Hara himself, probably--wants you to believe that +O'Hara is in America. I dare say he's in Paris all the while."</p> + +<p>"I hope you're right," said the other. "And I mean to make sure, too. It +certainly was odd, this strange being hunting me out to tell me that. I +wonder, by-the-way, how he knew I'd been making inquiries about O'Hara. +I've questioned only two or three people, and then in the most casual way. +Yes, it's odd."</p> + +<p>It was about a week after this--a fruitless week, full of the alternate +brightness of hope and the gloom of disappointment--that he met Captain +Stewart, to whom he had been, more than once, on the point of appealing. He +happened upon him quite by chance one morning in the rue Royale. Captain +Stewart was coming out of a shop, a very smart-looking shop, devoted, as +Ste. Marie, with some surprise and much amusement, observed, to ladies' +hats, and the price of hats must have depressed him, for he looked in an +ill humor, and older and more yellow than usual. But his face altered +suddenly when he saw the younger man, and he stopped and shook Ste. Marie's +hand with every evidence of pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Well met! Well met!" he exclaimed. "If you are not <a +name="Page_98"></a>in a hurry, come and sit down somewhere and tell me +about yourself."</p> + +<p>They picked their way across the street to the terrace of the Taverne +Royale, which was almost deserted at that hour, and sat down at one of the +little tables, well back from the pavement, in a corner.</p> + +<p>"Is it fair," queried Captain Stewart--"is it fair, as a rival +investigator, to ask you what success you have had?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie laughed rather ruefully, and confessed that he had as yet no +success at all.</p> + +<p>"I've just come," said he, "from pricking one bubble that promised well, +and Hartley is up in Montmartre destroying another, I fancy. Oh, well, we +didn't expect it to be child's play."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart raised his little glass of dry vermouth in an +old-fashioned salute and drank it.</p> + +<p>"You," said he--"you were--ah, full of some idea of connecting this man, +this Irishman O'Hara, with poor Arthur's disappearance. You've found that +not so promising as you went on, I take it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I've been unable to trace O'Hara," said Ste. Marie. "He seems to +have disappeared as completely as your nephew. I suppose you have no clews +to spare? I confess I'm out of them at the moment."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have plenty," said the elder man. "A hundred. More than I can +possibly look after." He gave a little chuckling laugh. "I've been waiting +for you to come to me," he said. "It was a little ungenerous, perhaps, but +we all love to say, 'I told you so.' Yes, I have a great quantity of clews, +and of course they all seem to be of the greatest and most exciting +importance. That's a way clews have."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_99"></a>He took an envelope from an inner pocket of his +coat, and sorted several folded papers which were in it.</p> + +<p>"I have here," said he, "memoranda of two--chances, shall I call +them?--which seem to me very good, though, as I have already said, every +clew seems good. That is the maddening, the heart-breaking, part of such an +investigation. I have made these brief notes from letters received, one +yesterday, one the day before, from an agent of mine who has been searching +the bains de mer of the north coast. This agent writes that some one very +much resembling poor Arthur has been seen at Dinard and also at Deauville, +and he urges me to come there or to send a man there at once to look into +the matter. You will ask, of course, why this agent himself does not pursue +the clew he has found. Unfortunately, he has been called to London upon +some pressing family matter of his own; he is an Englishman."</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you gone yourself?" asked Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>But the elder man shrugged his shoulders and smiled a tired, deprecatory +smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my friend," said he, "if I should attempt personally to investigate +one-half of these things, I should be compelled to divide myself into +twenty parts. No, I must stay here. There must be, alas! the spider at the +centre of the web. I cannot go; but if you think it worth while, I will +gladly turn over the memoranda of these last clews to you. They may be the +true clews, they may not. At any rate, some one must look into them. Why +not you and your partner--or shall I say assistant?"</p> + +<p>"Why, thank you!" cried Ste. Marie. "A thousand thanks! Of course, I +shall be--we shall be glad to try this chance. On the face of it, it sounds +very reasonable. <a name="Page_100"></a>Your nephew, from what I remember +of him, is much more apt to be in some place that is amusing, some place of +gayety, than hiding away where it is merely dull, if he has his choice in +the matter--that is, if he is free. And yet--" He turned and frowned +thoughtfully at the elder man. "What I want to know," said he, "is how the +boy is supporting himself all this time? You say he had no money, or very +little, when he went away. How is he managing to live if your theory is +correct--that he is staying away of his own accord? It costs a lot of money +to live as he likes to live."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart nodded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that," said he--"that is a question I have often proposed to +myself. Frankly, it's beyond me. I can only surmise that poor Arthur, who +had scattered a small fortune about in foolish loans, managed, before he +actually disappeared (mind you, we didn't begin to look for him until a +week had gone by)--managed to collect some of this money, and so went away +with something in pocket. That, of course, is only a guess."</p> + +<p>"It is possible," said Ste. Marie, doubtfully, "but--I don't know. It is +not very easy to raise money from the sort of people I imagine your nephew +to have lent it to. They borrow, but they don't repay." He glanced up with +a half-laughing, half-defiant air. "I can't," said he, "rid myself of a +belief that the boy is here in Paris, and that he is not free to come or +go. It's only a feeling, but it is very strong in me. Of course, I shall +follow out these clews you've been so kind as to give me. I shall go to +Dinard and Deauville, and Hartley, I imagine, will go with me, but I +haven't great confidence in them."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart regarded him reflectively for a time, and in the end he +smiled.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_101"></a>"If you will pardon my saying it," he said, "your +attitude is just a little womanlike. You put away reason for something +vaguely intuitive. I always distrust intuition myself."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie frowned a little and looked uncomfortable. He did not relish +being called womanlike--few men do; but he was bound to admit that the +elder man's criticism was more or less just.</p> + +<p>"Moreover," pursued Captain Stewart, "you altogether ignore the point of +motive--as I may have suggested to you before. There could be no possible +motive, so far as I am aware, for kidnapping or detaining, or in any way +harming, my nephew except the desire for money; but, as you know, he had no +large sum of money with him, and no demand has been made upon us since his +disappearance. I'm afraid you can't get round that."</p> + +<p>"No," said Ste. Marie, "I'm afraid I can't. Indeed, leaving that +aside--and it can't be left aside--I still have almost nothing with which +to prop up my theory. I told you it was only a feeling."</p> + +<p>He took up the memoranda which Captain Stewart had laid upon the +marble-topped table between them, and read the notes through.</p> + +<p>"Please," said he, "don't think I am ungrateful for this chance. I am +not. I shall do my best with it, and I hope it may turn out to be +important." He gave a little wry smile. "I have all sorts of reasons," he +said, "for wishing to succeed as soon as possible. You may be sure that +there won't be any delays on my part. And now I must be going on. I am to +meet Hartley for lunch on the other side of the river, and, if we can +manage it, I should like to start north this afternoon or evening."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_102"></a>"Good!" said Captain Stewart, smiling. "Good! +That is what I call true promptness. You lose no time at all. Go to Dinard +and Deauville, by all means, and look into this thing thoroughly. Don't be +discouraged if you meet with ill success at first. Take Mr. Hartley with +you, and do your best."</p> + +<p>He paid for the two glasses of apéritif, and Ste. Marie could not +help observing that he left on the table a very small tip. The waiter +cursed him audibly as the two walked away.</p> + +<p>"If you have returned by a week from to-morrow," he said, as they shook +hands, "I should like to have you keep that evening--Thursday--for me. I am +having a very informal little party in my rooms. There will be two or three +of the opera people there, and they will sing for us, and the others will +be amusing enough. All young--all young. I like young people about me." He +gave his odd little mewing chuckle. "And the ladies must be beautiful as +well as young. Come if you are here! I'll drop a line to Mr. Hartley +also."</p> + +<p>He shook Ste. Marie's hand, and went away down the street toward the rue +du Faubourg St. Honoré where he lived.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie met Hartley as he expected to do, at lunch, and they talked +over the possibilities of the Dinard and Deauville expedition. In the end +they decided that Ste. Marie should go alone, but that he was to telegraph, +later on, if the clew looked promising. Hartley had two or three +investigations on foot in Paris, and stayed on to complete these. Also he +wished, as soon as possible, to see Helen Benham and explain Ste. Marie's +ride on the galloping pigs. Ten days had elapsed since that evening, but +Miss <a name="Page_103"></a>Benham had gone into the country the next day +to make a visit at the De Saulnes' château on the Oise.</p> + +<p>So Ste. Marie packed a portmanteau with clothes and things, and departed +by a mid-afternoon train to Dinard, and toward five Richard Hartley walked +down to the rue de I'Université. He thought it just possible that +Miss Benham might by now have returned to town, but if not he meant to have +half an hour's chat with old David Stewart, whom he had not seen for some +weeks.</p> + +<p>At the door he learned that mademoiselle was that very day returned and +was at home. So he went in to the drawing-room, reserving his visit to old +David until later. He found the room divided into two camps. At one side +Mrs. Benham conversed in melancholic monotones with two elderly French +ladies who were clad in depressing black of a dowdiness surpassed only in +English provincial towns. It was as if the three mourned together over the +remains of some dear one who lay dead among them. Hartley bowed low, with +an uncontrollable shiver, and turned to the tea-table, where Miss Benham +sat in the seat of authority, flanked by a young American lady whom he had +met before, and by Baron de Vries, whom he had not seen since the evening +of the De Saulnes' dinner-party.</p> + +<p>Miss Benham greeted him with evident pleasure, and to his great delight +remembered just how he liked his tea--three pieces of sugar and no milk. It +always flatters a man when his little tastes of this sort are remembered. +The four fell at once into conversation together, and the young American +lady asked Hartley why Ste. Marie was not with him.</p> + +<p>"I thought you two always went about together," she <a +name="Page_104"></a>said--"were never seen apart and all that--a sort of +modern Damon and Phidias."</p> + +<p>Hartley caught Baron de Vries' eye, and looked away again hastily.</p> + +<p>"My--ah, Phidias," said he, resisting an irritable desire to correct the +lady, "got mislaid to-day. It sha'n't happen again, I promise you. He's a +very busy person just now, though. He hasn't time for social dissipation. +I'm the butterfly of the pair."</p> + +<p>The lady gave a sudden laugh.</p> + +<p>"He was busy enough the last time I saw him," she said, crinkling her +eyelids. She turned to Miss Benham. "Do you remember that evening we were +going home from the Madrid and motored round by Montmartre to see the +fête?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Benham, unsmiling, "I remember."</p> + +<p>"Your friend Ste. Marie," said the American lady to Hartley, "was +distinctly the lion of the fête--at the moment we arrived, anyhow. He +was riding a galloping pig and throwing those paper streamer things--what +do you call them?--with both hands, and a genial lady in a blue hat was +riding the same pig and helping him out. It was just like the <i>Vie de +Bohème</i> and the other books. I found it charming."</p> + +<p>Baron de Vries emitted an amused chuckle.</p> + +<p>"That was very like Ste. Marie," he said. "Ste. Marie is a very +exceptional young man. He can be an angel one moment, a child playing with +toys the next, and--well, a rather commonplace social favorite the third. +It all comes of being romantic--imaginative. Ste. Marie--I know nothing +about this evening of which you speak, but Ste. Marie is quite capable of +stopping on his way to a funeral to ride a galloping pig--or on his way to +his own wedding. <a name="Page_105"></a>And the pleasant part of it is," +said Baron de Vries, "that the lad would turn up at either of these two +ceremonies not a bit the worse, outside or in, for his ride."</p> + +<p>"Ah, now, that's an oddly close shot," said Hartley. He paused a moment, +looking toward Miss Benham, and said: "I beg pardon! Were you going to +speak?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Benham, moving the things about on the tea-table before +her, and looking down at them. "No, not at all!"</p> + +<p>"You came oddly close to the truth," the man went on, turning back to +Baron de Vries.</p> + +<p>He was speaking for Helen Benham's ears, and he knew she would +understand that, but he did not wish to seem to be watching her.</p> + +<p>"I was with Ste. Marie on that evening," he said. "No, I wasn't riding a +pig, but I was standing down in the crowd throwing serpentines at the +people who were. And I happen to know that he--that Ste. Marie was on that +day, that evening, more deeply concerned about something, more absolutely +wrapped up in it, devoted to it, than I have ever known him to be about +anything since I first knew him. The galloping pig was an incident that +made, except for the moment, no impression whatever upon him." Hartley +nodded his head. "Yes," said he, "Ste. Marie can be an angel one moment and +a child playing with toys the next. When he sees toys he always plays with +them, and he plays hard, but when he drops them they go completely out of +his mind."</p> + +<p>The American lady laughed.</p> + +<p>"Gracious me!" she cried. "You two are emphatic enough about him, aren't +you?"</p> + +<p>"We know him," said Baron de Vries.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_106"></a>Hartley rose to replace his empty cup on the +tea-table. Miss Benham did not meet his eyes, and as he moved away again +she spoke to her friend about something they were going to do on the next +day, so Hartley went across to where Baron de Vries sat at a little +distance, and took a place beside him on the chaise lounge. The Belgian +greeted him with raised eyebrows and the little, half-sad, half-humorous +smile which was characteristic of him in his gentler moments.</p> + +<p>"You were defending our friend with a purpose," he said, in a low voice. +"Good! I am afraid he needs it--here."</p> + +<p>The younger man hesitated a moment. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"I came on purpose to do that. Ste. Marie knows that she saw him on that +confounded pig. He was half wild with distress over it, because--well, the +meeting was singularly unfortunate just then. I can't explain--"</p> + +<p>"You needn't explain," said the Belgian, gravely. "I know. Helen told me +some days ago, though she did not mention this encounter. Yes, defend him +with all your power, if you will. Stay after we others have gone and--have +it out with her. The Phidias lady (I must remember that mot, by-the-way) is +preparing to take her leave now, and I will follow her at once. She shall +believe that I am enamoured, that I sigh for her. Eh!" said he, shaking his +head--and the lines in the kindly old face seemed to deepen, but in a sort +of grave tenderness--"eh, so love has come to the dear lad at last! Ah, of +course, the hundred other affairs! Yes, yes. But they were light. No +seriousness in them. The ladies may have loved. He didn't--very much. This +time, I'm afraid--"</p> + +<p>Baron de Vries paused as if he did not mean to finish his sentence, and +Hartley said:</p> + +<p><a name="Page_107"></a>"You say 'afraid'! Why afraid?"</p> + +<p>The Belgian looked up at him reflectively.</p> + +<p>"Did I say 'afraid'?" he asked. "Well, perhaps it was the word I wanted. +I wonder if these two are fitted for each other. I am fond of them both. I +think you know that, but--she's not very flexible, this child. And she +hasn't much humor. I love her, but I know those things are true. I wonder +if one ought to marry Ste. Marie without flexibility and without +humor."</p> + +<p>"If they love each other," said Richard Hartley, "I expect the other +things don't count. Do they?"</p> + +<p>Baron de Vries rose to his feet, for he saw that the Phidias lady was +going.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," said he; "I hope not. In any case, do your best for him +with Helen. Make her comprehend if you can. I am afraid she is unhappy over +the affair."</p> + +<p>He made his adieus, and went away with the American lady, to that young +person's obvious excitement. And after a moment the three ladies across the +room departed also, Mrs. Benham explaining that she was taking her two +friends up to her own sitting-room, to show them something vaguely related +to the heathen. So Hartley was left alone with Helen Benham.</p> + +<p>It was not his way to beat about the bush, and he gave battle at once. +He said, standing, to say it more easily:</p> + +<p>"You know why I came here to-day? It was the first chance I've had since +that--unfortunate evening. I came on Ste. Marie's account."</p> + +<p>Miss Benham said a weak "Oh!" And because she was nervous and +overwrought, and because the thing meant so much to her, she said, cheaply: +"He owes me no apologies. He has a perfect right to act as he pleases, you +know."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_108"></a>The Englishman frowned across at her. "I didn't +come to make apologies," said he. "I came to explain. Well, I have +explained--Baron de Vries and I together. That's just how it happened. And +that's just how Ste. Marie takes things. The point is that you've got to +understand it. I've got to make you."</p> + +<p>The girl smiled up at him dolefully. "You look," she said, "as if you +were going to beat me if necessary. You look very warlike."</p> + +<p>"I feel warlike," the man said, nodding. He said: "I'm fighting for a +friend to whom you are doing, in your mind, an injustice. I know him better +than you do, and I tell you you're doing him a grave injustice. You're +failing altogether to understand him."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," the girl said, looking very thoughtfully down at the table +before her.</p> + +<p>"I know," said he.</p> + +<p>Quite suddenly she gave a little overwrought cry, and she put up her +hands over her face. "Oh, Richard!" she said, "that day when he was here! +He left me--oh, I cannot tell you at what a height he left me! It was +something new and beautiful. He swept me to the clouds with him. And I +might--perhaps I might have lived on there. Who knows? But then that +hideous evening! Ah, it was too sickening: the fall back to common earth +again!"</p> + +<p>"I know," said the man, gently--"I know. And <i>he</i> knew, too. +Directly he'd seen you he knew how you would feel about it. I'm not +pretending that it was of no consequence. It was unfortunate, of course. +But the point is, it did not mean in him any slackening, any stooping, any +letting go. It was a moment's incident. We went to the wretched place by +accident after dinner. Ste. Marie saw <a name="Page_109"></a>those childish +lunatics at play, and for about two minutes he played with them. The lady +in the blue hat made it appear a little more extreme, and that's all."</p> + +<p>Miss Benham rose to her feet and moved restlessly back and forth. "Oh, +Richard," she said, "the golden spell is broken--the enchantment he laid +upon me that day. I'm not like him, you know. Oh, I wish I were! I wish I +were! I can't change from hour to hour. I can't rise to the clouds again +after my fall to earth. It has all--become something different. Don't +misunderstand me!" she cried. "I don't mean that I've ceased to care for +him. No, far from that! But I was in such an exalted heaven, and now I'm +not there any more. Perhaps he can lift me to it again. Oh yes, I'm sure he +can, when I see him once more; but I wanted to go on living there so +happily while he was away! Do you understand at all?"</p> + +<p>"I think I do," the man said, but he looked at her very curiously and a +little sadly, for it was the first time he had ever seen her swept from her +superb poise by any emotion, and he hardly recognized her. It was very +bitter to him to realize that he could never have stirred her to +this--never, under any conceivable circumstances.</p> + +<p>The girl came to him where he stood, and touched his arm with her hand. +"He is waiting to hear how I feel about it all, isn't he?" she said. "He is +waiting to know that I understand. Will you tell him a little lie for me, +Richard? No, you needn't tell a lie. I will tell it. Tell him that I said I +understood perfectly. Tell him that I was shocked for a moment, but that +afterward I understood and thought no more about it. Will you tell him I +said that? It won't be a lie from you, because I did say it. Oh, I will not +grieve him or hamper him now while he is <a name="Page_110"></a>working in +my cause! I'll tell him a lie rather than have him grieve."</p> + +<p>"Need it be a lie?" said Richard Hartley. "Can't you truly believe what +you've said?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head slowly.</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said she, "but--my golden spell is broken and I can't mend +it alone. I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>He turned with a little sigh to leave her, but Miss Benham followed him +toward the door of the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"You're a good friend, Richard," she said, when she had come +near--"you're a good friend to him."</p> + +<p>"He deserves good friends," said the young man, stoutly. "And besides," +said he, "we're brothers in arms nowadays. We've enlisted together to fight +for the same cause." The girl fell back with a little cry.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," she said, after a moment--"do you mean that <i>you</i> +are working with him--to find Arthur?"</p> + +<p>Hartley nodded.</p> + +<p>"But--" said she, stammering. "But, Richard--"</p> + +<p>The man checked her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what I'm doing," said he. "My eyes are open. I know that I'm +not--well, in the running. I work for no reward except a desire to help you +and Ste. Marie. That's all. It pleases me to be useful."</p> + +<p>He went away with that, not waiting for an answer, and the girl stood +where he had left her, staring after him.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_111"></a><h2><a name='X'></a>X</h2> + +<h3>CAPTAIN STEWART ENTERTAINS</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie returned, after three days, from Dinard in a depressed and +somewhat puzzled frame of mind. He had found no trace whatever of Arthur +Benham, either at Dinard or at Deauville, and, what was more, he was unable +to discover that any one even remotely resembling that youth had been seen +at either place. The matter of identification, it seemed to him, should be +a rather simple one. In the first place, the boy's appearance was not at +all French, nor, for that matter, English; it was very American. Also, he +spoke French--so Ste. Marie had been told--very badly, having for the +language that scornful contempt peculiar to Anglo-Saxons of a certain type. +His speech, it seemed, was, like his appearance, ultra-American--full of +strange idioms and oddly pronounced. In short, such a youth would be rather +sure to be remembered by any hotel management and staff with which he might +have come in contact.</p> + +<p>At first Ste. Marie pursued his investigations quietly and, as it were, +casually; but after his initial failure he went to the managements of the +various hotels and lodging-houses, and to the cafés and bathing +establishments, and told them, with all frankness, a part of the +truth--that he was searching for a young man whose disappearance had caused +great <a name="Page_112"></a>distress to his family. He was not long in +discovering that no such young man could have been either in Dinard or +Deauville.</p> + +<p>The thing which puzzled him was that, apart from finding no trace of the +missing boy, he also found no trace of Captain Stewart's agent--the man who +had been first on the ground. No one seemed able to recollect that such a +person had been making inquiries, and Ste. Marie began to suspect that his +friend was being imposed upon. He determined to warn Stewart that his +agents were earning their fees too easily.</p> + +<p>So he returned to Paris more than a little dejected, and sore over this +waste of time and effort. He arrived by a noon train, and drove across the +city in a fiacre to the rue d'Assas. But as he was in the midst of +unpacking his portmanteau--for he kept no servant; a woman came in once a +day to "do" the rooms--the door-bell rang. It was Baron de Vries, and Ste. +Marie admitted him with an exclamation of surprise and pleasure.</p> + +<p>"You passed me in the street just now," explained the Belgian, "and as I +was a few minutes early for a lunch engagement I followed you up." He +pointed with his stick at the open bag. "Ah, you have been on a journey! +Detective work?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie pushed his guest into a chair, gave him cigarettes, and told +him about the fruitless expedition to Dinard. He spoke, also, of his belief +that Captain Stewart's agent had never really found a clew at all; and at +that Baron de Vries nodded his gray head and said, "Ah!" in a tone of some +significance. Afterward he smoked a little while in silence, but presently +he said, as if with some hesitation: "May I be permitted to offer a word of +advice?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_113"></a>"But surely!" cried Ste. Marie, kicking away the +half-empty portmanteau. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Do whatever you are going to do in this matter according to your own +judgment," said the elder man, "or according to Mr. Hartley's and your +combined judgments. Make your investigations without reference to our +friend Captain Stewart." He halted there as if that were all he had meant +to say, but when he saw Ste. Marie's raised eyebrows he frowned and went +on, slowly, as if picking his words with some care. "I should be sorry," he +said, "to have Captain Stewart at the head of any investigation of this +nature in which I was deeply interested--just now, at any rate. I am +afraid--it is difficult to say; I do not wish to say too much--I am afraid +he is not quite the man for the position."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie nodded his head with great emphasis. "Ah," he cried, "that's +just what I have felt, you know, all along! And it's what Hartley felt, +too, I'm sure. No, Stewart is not the sort for a detective. He's too +cocksure. He won't admit that he might possibly be wrong now and then. He's +too--"</p> + +<p>"He is too much occupied with other matters," said Baron de Vries.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie sat down on the edge of a chair. "Other matters?" he +demanded. "That sounds mysterious. What other matters?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is nothing very mysterious about it," said the elder man. He +frowned down at his cigarette, and brushed some fallen ash neatly from his +knees. "Captain Stewart," said he, "is badly worried, and has been for the +past year or so--badly worried over money matters and other things. He has +lost enormous sums at play, as I happen to know, <a name="Page_114"></a>and +he has lost still more enormous sums at Auteuil and at Longchamps. Also, +the ladies are not without their demands."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie gave a shout of laughter. "Comment donc!" he cried. "Ce +vieillard?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," deprecated the other man. "Vieillard is putting it rather +high. He can't be more than fifty, I should think. To be sure, he looks +older; but then, in his day, he lived a great deal in a short time. Do you +happen to remember Olga Nilssen?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said Ste. Marie. "I remember her very well, indeed. I was a sort +of go-between in settling up that affair with Morrison. Morrison's people +asked me to do what I could. Yes, I remember her well, and with some +pleasure. I felt sorry for her, you know. People didn't quite know the +truth of that affair. Morrison behaved very badly to her."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Baron de Vries, "and Captain Stewart has behaved very badly +to her also. She is furious with rage or jealousy--or both. She goes about, +I am told, threatening to kill him, and it would be rather like her to do +it one day. Well, I have dragged in all this scandal by way of showing you +that Stewart has his hands full of his own affairs just now, and so cannot +give the attention he ought to give to hunting out his nephew. As you +suggest, his agents may be deceiving him. I don't know. I suppose they +could do it easily enough. If I were you I should set to work quite +independently of him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Ste. Marie, in an absent tone. "Oh yes, I shall do that, you +may be sure." He gave a sudden smile. "He's a queer type, this Captain +Stewart. He begins to interest me very much. I had never suspected this +side of him, though I remember now that I once saw him coming <a +name="Page_115"></a>out of a milliner's shop. He looks rather an +ascetic--rather donnish, don't you think? I remember that he talked to me +one day quite pathetically about feeling his age and about liking young +people round him. He's an odd character. Fancy him mixed up in an affair +with Olga Nilssen! Or, rather, fancy her involved in an affair with him! +What can she have seen in him? She's not mercenary, you know--at least, she +used not to be."</p> + +<p>"Ah! there," said Baron de Vries, "you enter upon a terra incognita. No +one can say what a woman sees in this man or in that. It's beyond our +ken."</p> + +<p>He rose to take his leave, and Ste. Marie went with him to the door.</p> + +<p>"I've been asked to a sort of party at Stewart's rooms this week," Ste. +Marie said. "I don't know whether I shall go or not. Probably not. I +suppose I shouldn't find Olga Nilssen there?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no," said the Belgian, laughing. "No, I hardly think so. +Good-bye! Think over what I've told you. Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>He went away down the stair, and Ste. Marie returned to his +unpacking.</p> + +<p>Nothing more of consequence occurred in the next few days. Hartley had +unearthed a somewhat shabby adventurer who swore to having seen the +Irishman O'Hara in Paris within a month, but it was by no means certain +that this being did not merely affirm what he believed to be desired of +him, and in any case the information was of no especial value, since it was +O'Hara's present whereabouts that was the point at issue. So it came to +Thursday evening. Ste. Marie received a note from Captain Stewart during +the day, reminding him that he was to come to the <a +name="Page_116"></a>rue du Faubourg St. Honoré that evening, and +asking him to come early, at ten or thereabouts, so that the two could have +a comfortable chat before any one else turned up. Ste. Marie had about +decided not to go at all, but the courtesy of this special invitation from +Miss Benham's uncle made it rather impossible for him to stay away. He +tried to persuade Hartley to follow him on later in the evening, but that +gentleman flatly refused and went away to dine with some English friends at +Armenonville.</p> + +<p>So Ste. Marie, in a vile temper, dined quite alone at Lavenue's, beside +the Gare Montparnasse, and toward ten o'clock drove across the river to the +rue du Faubourg. Captain Stewart's flat was up five stories, at the top of +the building in which it was located, and so, well above the noises of the +street. Ste. Marie went up in the automatic lift, and at the door above his +host met him in person, saying that the one servant he kept was busy making +preparations in the kitchen beyond. They entered a large room, long but +comparatively shallow, in shape not unlike the sitting-room in the rue +d'Assas, but very much bigger, and Ste. Marie uttered an exclamation of +surprise and pleasure, for he had never before seen an interior anything +like this. The room was decorated and furnished entirely in Chinese and +Japanese articles of great age and remarkable beauty. Ste. Marie knew +little of the hieratic art of these two countries, but he fancied that the +place must be an endless delight to the expert.</p> + +<p>The general tone of the room was gold, dulled and softened by great age +until it had ceased to glitter, and relieved by the dusty Chinese blue and +by old red faded to rose and by warm ivory tints. The great expanse of the +walls was covered by a brownish-yellow cloth, coarse like burlap, <a +name="Page_117"></a>and against it, round the room, hung sixteen large +panels representing the sixteen Rakan. They were early copies--fifteenth +century, Captain Stewart said--of those famous originals by the Chinese +Sung master Ririomin, which have been for six hundred years or more the +treasures of Japan. They were mounted upon Japanese brocade of blue and +dull gold, framed in keyaki wood, and out of their brown, time-stained +shadows the great Rakan scowled or grinned or placidly gazed, grotesquely +graceful masterpieces of a perished art.</p> + +<p>At the far end of the room, under a gilded canopy of intricate +wood-carving, stood upon his pedestal of many-petalled lotus a great statue +of Amida Buddha in the yogi attitude of contemplation, and at intervals +against the other walls other smaller images stood or sat: Buddha, in many +incarnations; Kwannon, goddess of mercy; Jizo Bosatzu Hotei, pot-bellied, +god of contentment; Jingo-Kano, god of war. In the centre of the place was +a Buddhist temple table, and priests' chairs, lacquered and inlaid, stood +about the room. The floor was covered with Chinese rugs, dull yellow with +blue flowers, and over a doorway which led into another room was fixed a +huge rama of Chinese pierced carving, gilded, in which there were trees and +rocks and little grouped figures of the hundred immortals.</p> + +<p>It, was, indeed an extraordinary room. Ste. Marie looked about its +mellow glow with a half-comprehending wonder, and he looked at the man +beside him curiously, for here was another side to this many-sided +character. Captain Stewart smiled.</p> + +<p>"You like my museum?" he asked. "Few people care much for it except, of +course, those who go in for the Oriental arts. Most of my friends think it +bizarre--too <a name="Page_118"></a>grotesque and unusual. I have tried to +satisfy them by including those comfortable low divan-couches (they refuse +altogether to sit in the priests' chairs), but still they are unhappy."</p> + +<p>He called his servant, who came to take Ste. Marie's hat and coat and +returned with smoking things.</p> + +<p>"It seems entirely wonderful to me," said the younger man. "I'm not an +expert at all--I don't know who the gentlemen in those sixteen panels are, +for example--but it is very beautiful. I have never seen anything like it +at all." He gave a little laugh. "Will it sound very impertinent in me, I +wonder, if I express surprise--not surprise at finding this magnificent +room, but at discovering that this sort of thing is a taste and, very +evidently, a serious study of yours? You--I remember your saying once with +some feeling that it was youth and beauty and--well, freshness that you +liked best to be surrounded by. This," said Ste. Marie, waving an inclusive +hand, "was young so many centuries ago! It fairly breathes antiquity and +death."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Captain Stewart, thoughtfully. "Yes, that is quite +true."</p> + +<p>The two had seated themselves upon one of the broad, low benches which +had been built into the place to satisfy the Philistine.</p> + +<p>"I find it hard to explain," he said, "because both things are passions +of mine. Youth--I could not exist without it. Since I have it no longer in +my own body, I wish to see it about me. It gives me life. It keeps my heart +beating. I must have it near. And then this--antiquity and death, beautiful +things made by hands dead centuries ago in an alien country! I love this, +too. I didn't speak too <a name="Page_119"></a>strongly; it is a sort of +passion with me--something quite beyond the collector's mania--quite beyond +that. Sometimes, do you know, I stay at home in the evening, and I sit here +quite alone, with the lights half on, and for hours together I smoke and +watch these things--the quiet, sure, patient smile of that Buddha, for +example. Think how long he has been smiling like that, and waiting! Waiting +for what? There is something mysterious beyond all words in that smile of +his, that fixed, crudely carved wooden smile--no, I'll be hanged if it's +crude! It is beyond our modern art. The dead men carved better than we do. +We couldn't manage that with such simple means. We can only reproduce what +is before us. We can't carve questions--mysteries--everlasting +riddles."</p> + +<p>Through the pale-blue, wreathing smoke of his cigarette Captain Stewart +gazed down the room to where eternal Buddha stood and smiled eternally. And +from there the man's eyes moved with slow enjoyment along the opposite wall +over those who sat or stood there, over the panels of the ancient Rakan, +over carved lotus, and gilt contorted dragon forever in pursuit of the holy +pearl. He drew a short breath which seemed to bespeak extreme contentment, +the keenest height of pleasure, and he stirred a little where he sat and +settled himself among the cushions. Ste. Marie watched him, and the +expression of the man's face began to be oddly revolting. It was the face +of a voluptuary in the presence of his desire. He was uncomfortable, and +wished to say something to break the silence, but, as often occurs at such +a time, he could think of nothing to say. So there was a brief silence +between them. But presently Captain Stewart roused himself with an obvious +effort.</p> + +<p>"Here, this won't do!" said he, in a tone of whimsical <a +name="Page_120"></a>apology. "This won't do, you know. I'm floating off on +my hobby (and there's a mixed metaphor that would do credit to your own +Milesian blood!). I'm boring you to extinction, and I don't want to do +that, for I'm anxious that you should come here again--and often. I should +like to have you form the habit. What was it I had in mind to ask you +about? Ah, yes! The journey to Dinard and Deauville. I am afraid it turned +out to be fruitless or you would have let me know."</p> + +<p>"Entirely fruitless," said Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>He went on to tell the elder man of his investigation, and of his +certainty that no one resembling Arthur Benham had been at either of the +two places.</p> + +<p>"It's no affair of mine, to be sure," he said, "but I rather suspect +that your agent was deceiving you--pretending to have accomplished +something by way of making you think he was busy."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie was so sure the other would immediately disclaim this that he +waited for the word, and gave a little smothered laugh when Captain Stewart +said, promptly:</p> + +<p>"Oh no! No! That is impossible. I have every confidence in that man. He +is one of my best. No, you are mistaken there. I am more disappointed than +you could possibly be over the failure of your efforts, but I am quite sure +my man thought he had something worth working upon. By-the-way, I have +received another rather curious communication--from Ostend this time. I +will show you the letter, and you may try your luck there if you would care +to." He felt in his pockets and then rose. "I've left the thing in another +coat," said he; "if you will allow me, I'll fetch it." But before he had +turned away the door-bell rang and he paused. "Ah, well," he said, "another +<a name="Page_121"></a>time. Here are some of my guests. They have come +earlier than I had expected."</p> + +<p class="figure"> <a name="jason003"><img +width="80%" alt="Illustration: HE SAW CAPTAIN STEWART MOVING AMONG THEM" +src="images/jason003.png" /></a><br /> HE SAW CAPTAIN STEWART MOVING AMONG +THEM</p> + +<p>The new arrivals were three very perfectly dressed ladies, one of them +an operatic light, who chanced not to be singing that evening and whom Ste. +Marie had met before. The two others were rather difficult of +classification, but probably, he thought, ornaments of that mysterious +border-land between the two worlds which seems to give shelter to so many +people against whose characters nothing definite is known, but whose +antecedents and connections are not made topics of conversation. The three +ladies seemed to be on very friendly terms with Captain Stewart, and +greeted him with much noisy delight. One of the unclassified two, when her +host, with a glance toward Ste. Marie, addressed her formally, seemed +inordinately amused, and laughed for a long time.</p> + +<p>Within the next hour ten or a dozen other guests had arrived, and they +all seemed to know one another very well, and proceeded to make themselves +quite at home. Ste. Marie regarded them with a reflective and not +over-enthusiastic eye, and he wondered a good deal why he had been asked +here to meet them. He was as far from a prig or a snob as any man could +very well be, and he often went to very Bohemian parties which were given +by his painter or musician friends, but these people seemed to him quite +different. The men, with the exception of two eminent opera-singers, who +quite obviously had been asked because of their voices, were the sort of +men who abound at such places as Ostend and Monte Carlo, and Baden-Baden in +the race week. That is not to say that they were ordinary racing touts or +the cheaper kind of adventurers (there was a count among them, and a +marquis who had recently been <a name="Page_122"></a>divorced by his +American wife), but adventurers of a sort they undoubtedly were. There was +not one of them, so far as Ste. Marie was aware, who was received anywhere +in good society, and he resented very much being compelled to meet +them.</p> + +<p>Naturally enough, he felt much less concern on the score of the ladies. +It is an undoubted and well-nigh universal truth that men who would refuse +outright to meet certain classes of their own sex show no reluctance +whatever over meeting the women of a corresponding circle--that is, if the +women are attractive. It is a depressing fact and inclines one to sighs and +head-shakes, and some moral indignation, until the reverse truth is brought +to light--namely, that women have identically the same point of view; that, +while they cast looks of loathing and horror upon certain of their sisters, +they will meet with pleasure any presentable man whatever his crimes or +vices.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie was very much puzzled over all this. It seemed to him so +unnecessary that a man who really had some footing in the newer society of +Paris should choose to surround himself with people of this type; but as he +looked on and wondered he became aware of a curious and, in the light of a +past conversation, significant fact: all of the people in the room were +young; all of them in their varying fashions and degrees very attractive to +look upon; all full to overflowing of life and spirits and the +determination to have a good time. He saw Captain Stewart moving among +them, playing very gracefully his rôle of host, and the man seemed to +have dropped twenty years from his shoulders. A miracle of rejuvenation +seemed to have come upon him: his eyes were bright and eager, the color was +high in his cheeks, and the dry, pedantic tone had gone from his voice. <a +name="Page_123"></a>Ste. Marie watched him, and at last he thought he +understood. It was half revolting, half pathetic, he thought, but it +certainly was interesting to see.</p> + +<p>Duval, the great basso of the Opéra, accompanied at the piano by +one of the unclassified ladies, was just finishing Mephistopheles' drinking +song out of <i>Faust</i> when the door-bell rang.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_124"></a><h2><a name='XI'></a>XI</h2> + +<h3>A GOLDEN LADY ENTERS--THE EYES AGAIN</h3> + + +<p>The music of voice and piano was very loud just then, so that the +little, soft, whirring sound of the electric bell reached only one or two +pairs of ears in the big room. It did not reach the host certainly, and +neither he nor most of the others observed the servant make his way among +the groups of seated or standing people and go to the outer door, which +opened upon a tiny hallway. The song came to an end, and everybody was +cheering and applauding and crying "Bravo!" or "Bis!" or one of the other +things that people shout at such times, when, as if in unexpected answer to +the outburst, a lady appeared between the yellow portières and came +forward a little way into the room. She was a tall lady of an extraordinary +and immediately noticeable grace of movement--a lady with rather fair hair; +but her eyebrows and eyelashes had been stained darker than it was their +nature to be. She had the classic Greek type of face--and figure, too--all +but the eyes, which were long and narrow--narrow, perhaps, from a habit of +going half closed; and when they were a little more than half closed they +made a straight black line that turned up very slightly at the outer end +with an Oriental effect which went oddly in that classic face. There is a +popular piece of sculpture now in the Luxembourg Gallery for which this +lady "sat" as model to <a name="Page_125"></a>a great artist. Sculptors +from all over the world go there to dream over its perfect line and +contour, and little schoolgirls pretend not to see it, and middle-aged +maiden tourists, with red Baedekers in their hands, regard it furtively and +pass on, and after a while come back to look again.</p> + +<p>The lady was dressed in some very close-clinging material which was not +cloth of gold, but something very like it, only much duller--something +which gleamed when she stirred, but did not glitter--and over her splendid +shoulders was hung an Oriental scarf heavily worked with metallic gold. She +made an amazing and dramatic picture in that golden room. It was as if she +had known just what her surroundings would be and had dressed expressly for +them.</p> + +<p>The applause ceased as suddenly as if it had been trained to break off +at a signal, and the lady came forward a little way, smiling a quiet, +assured smile. At each step her knee threw out the golden stuff of her gown +an inch or two, and it flashed suddenly--a dull, subdued flash in the +overhead light--and died and flashed again. A few of the people in the room +knew who the lady was, and they looked at one another with raised eyebrows +and startled faces; but the others stared at her with an eager admiration, +thinking that they had seldom seen anything so beautiful or so effective. +Ste. Marie sat forward on the edge of his chair. His eyes sparkled, and he +gave a little quick sigh of pleasurable excitement. This was drama, and +very good drama, too, and he suspected that it might at any moment turn +into a tragedy.</p> + +<p>He saw Captain Stewart, who had been among a group of people half-way +across the room, turn his head to look when the cries and the applause +ceased so suddenly, and he saw the man's face stiffen by swift degrees, all +the joyous, <a name="Page_126"></a>buoyant life gone out of it, until it +was yellow and rigid like a dead man's face; and Ste. Marie, out of his +knowledge of the relations between these two people, nodded, en +connaisseur, for he knew that the man was very badly frightened.</p> + +<p>So the host of the evening hung back, staring for what must have seemed +to him a long and terrible time, though in reality it was but an instant; +then he came forward quickly to greet the new-comer, and if his face was +still yellow-white there was nothing in his manner but the courtesy +habitual with him. He took the lady's hand, and she smiled at him, but her +eyes did not smile--they were hard. Ste. Marie, who was the nearest of the +others, heard Captain Stewart say:</p> + +<p>"This is an unexpected pleasure, my dearest Olga!"</p> + +<p>And to that the lady replied, more loudly: "Yes, I returned to Paris +only to-day. You didn't know, of course. I heard you were entertaining this +evening, and so I came, knowing that I should be welcome."</p> + +<p>"Always!" said Captain Stewart--"always more than welcome!"</p> + +<p>He nodded to one or two of the men who stood near, and when they +approached presented them. Ste. Marie observed that he used the lady's true +name--she had, at times, found occasion to employ others--and that he +politely called her "Madame Nilssen" instead of "Mademoiselle." But at that +moment the lady caught sight of Ste. Marie, and, crying out his name in a +tone of delighted astonishment, turned away from the other men, brushing +past them as if they had been furniture, and advanced holding out both her +hands in greeting.</p> + +<p>"Dear Ste. Marie!" she exclaimed. "Fancy finding you <a +name="Page_127"></a>here! I'm so glad! Oh, I'm so very glad! Take me away +from these people! Find a corner where we can talk. Ah, there is one with a +big seat! Allons-y!"</p> + +<p>She addressed him for the most part in English, which she spoke +perfectly--as perfectly as she spoke French and German and, presumably, her +native tongue, which must have been Swedish.</p> + +<p>They went to the broad, low seat, a sort of hard-cushioned bench, which +stood against one of the walls, and made themselves comfortable there by +the only possible means, which, owing to the width of the thing, was to sit +far back with their feet stuck straight out before them. Captain Stewart +had followed them across the room and showed a strong tendency to remain. +Ste. Marie observed that his eyes were hard and bright and very alert, and +that there were two bright spots of color in his yellow cheeks. It occurred +to Ste. Marie that the man was afraid to leave him alone with Olga Nilssen, +and he smiled to himself, reflecting that the lady, even if indiscreetly +inclined, could tell him nothing--save in details--that he did not already +know. But after a few rather awkward moments Mile. Nilssen waved an +irritated hand.</p> + +<p>"Go away!" she said to her host. "Go away to your other guests! I want +to talk to Ste. Marie. We have old times to talk over."</p> + +<p>And after hesitating awhile uneasily, Captain Stewart turned back into +the room; but for some time thereafter Ste. Marie was aware that a vigilant +eye was being kept upon them and that their host was by no means at his +ease.</p> + +<p>When they were left alone together the girl turned to him and patted his +arm affectionately. She said:</p> + +<p><a name="Page_128"></a>"Ah, but it is very good to see you again, mon +cher ami! It has been so long!" She gave an abrupt frown. "What are you +doing here?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>And she said an unkind thing about her fellow-guests. She called them +"canaille." She said:</p> + +<p>"Why are you wasting your time among these canaille? This is not a place +for you. Why did you come?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Ste. Marie. He was still a little resentful, and he +said so. He said: "I didn't know it was going to be like this. I came +because Stewart went rather out of his way to ask me. I'd known him in a +very different milieu."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes!" she said, reflectively. "Yes, he does go into the world also, +doesn't he? But this is what he likes, you know." Her lips drew back for an +instant, and she said: "He is a pig-dog!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked at her gravely. She had used that offensive name with +a little too much fierceness. Her face had turned for an instant quite +white, and her eyes had flashed out over the room a look that meant a great +deal to any one who knew her as well as Ste. Marie did. He sat forward and +lowered his voice. He said:</p> + +<p>"Look here, Olga! I'm going to be very frank for a moment. May I?"</p> + +<p>For just an instant the girl drew away from him with suspicion in her +eyes, and something else, alertly defiant. Then she put out her hands to +his arm.</p> + +<p>"You may be what you like, dear Ste. Marie," she said, "and say what you +like. I will take it all--and swallow it alive--good as gold. What are you +going to do to me?"</p> + +<p>"I've always been fair with you, haven't I?" he urged. <a +name="Page_129"></a>"I've had disagreeable things to say or do, but--you +knew always that I liked you and--where my sympathies were."</p> + +<p>"Always! Always, mon cher!" she cried. "I trusted you always in +everything. And there is no one else I trust. No one! No one!--Ste. +Marie!"</p> + +<p>"What then?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ste. Marie," she said, "why did you never fall in love with me, as the +other men did?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder!" said he. "I don't know. Upon my word, I really don't +know."</p> + +<p>He was so serious about it that the girl burst into a shriek of +laughter. And in the end he laughed, too.</p> + +<p>"I expect it was because I liked you too well," he said, at last. "But +come! We're forgetting my lecture. Listen to your grandpère Ste. +Marie! I have heard--certain things--rumors--what you will. Perhaps they +are foolish lies, and I hope they are. But if not, if the fear I saw in +Stewart's face when you came here to-night, was--not without cause, let me +beg you to have a care. You're much too savage, my dear child. Don't be so +foolish as to--well, turn comedy into the other thing. In the first place, +it's not worth while, and, in the second place, it recoils always. Revenge +may be sweet. I don't know. But nowadays, with police courts and all that, +it entails much more subsequent annoyance than it is worth. Be wise, +Olga!"</p> + +<p>"Some things, Ste. Marie," said the golden lady, "are worth all the +consequences that may follow them."</p> + +<p>She watched Captain Stewart across the room, where he stood chatting +with a little group of people, and her beautiful face was as hard as marble +and her eyes were as dark <a name="Page_130"></a>as a stormy night, and her +mouth, for an instant, was almost like an animal's mouth--cruel and +relentless.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie saw, and he began to be a bit alarmed in good earnest. In his +warning he had spoken rather more seriously than he felt the occasion +demanded, but he began at last to wonder if the occasion was not in reality +very serious, indeed. He was sure, of course, that Olga Nilssen had come +here on this evening to annoy Captain Stewart in some fashion. As he put it +to himself, she probably meant to "make a row," and he would not have been +in the least surprised if she had made it in the beginning, upon her very +dramatic entrance. Nothing more calamitous than that had occurred to him. +But when he saw the woman's face turned a little away and gazing fixedly at +Captain Stewart, he began to be aware that there was tragedy very near +him--or all the makings of it.</p> + +<p>Mlle. Nilssen turned back to him. Her face was still hard, and her eyes +dark and narrowed with their oddly Oriental look. She bent her shoulders +together for an instant and her hands moved slowly in her lap, stretching +out before her in a gesture very like a cat's when it wakes from sleep and +yawns and extends its claws, as if to make sure that they are still there +and ready for use.</p> + +<p>"I feel a little like Samson to-night," she said. "I am tired of almost +everything, and I should like very much to pull the world down on top of me +and kill everybody in it--except you, Ste. Marie, dear; except you!--and be +crushed under the ruins!"</p> + +<p>"I think," said Ste. Marie, practically--and the speech sounded rather +like one of Hartley's speeches--"I think it was not quite the world that +Samson pulled down, but a temple--or a palace--something of that kind."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_131"></a>"Well," said the golden lady, "this place is +rather like a temple--a Chinese temple, with the pig-dog for +high-priest."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie frowned at her.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" he demanded, sharply. "What did you come +here to do? Mischief of some kind--bien entendu--but what?"</p> + +<p>"Do?" she said, looking at him with her narrowed eyes. "I? Why, what +should I do? Nothing, of course! I merely said I should like to pull the +place down. Of course, I couldn't do that quite literally, now, could I? +No. It is merely a mood. I'm not going to do anything."</p> + +<p>"You're not being honest with me," he said.</p> + +<p>And at that her expression changed, and she patted his arm again with a +gesture that seemed to beg forgiveness.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," she said, "if you must know, maybe I did come here for a +purpose. I want to have it out with our friend Captain Stewart about +something. And Ste. Marie, dear," she pleaded, "please, I think you'd +better go home first. I don't care about these other animals, but I don't +want you dragged into any row of any sort. Please be a sweet Ste. Marie and +go home. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely, no!" said Ste. Marie. "I shall stay, and I shall try my +utmost to prevent you from doing anything foolish. Understand that! If you +want to have rows with people, Olga, for Heaven's sake don't pick an +occasion like this for the purpose. Have your rows in private!"</p> + +<p>"I rather think I enjoy an audience," she said, with a reflective air, +and Ste. Marie laughed aloud because he knew that the naïve speech was +so very true. This lady, with her many good qualities and her bad ones--not +a <a name="Page_132"></a>few, alas!--had an undeniable passion for red fire +that had amused him very much on more than one past occasion.</p> + +<p>"Please go home!" she said once more.</p> + +<p>But when the man only shook his head, she raised her hands a little way +and dropped them again in her lap, in an odd gesture which seemed to say +that she had done all she could do, and that if anything disagreeable +should happen now, and he should be involved in it, it would be entirely +his fault because she had warned him.</p> + +<p>Then quite abruptly a mood of irresponsible gayety seemed to come upon +her. She refused to have anything more to do with serious topics, and when +Ste. Marie attempted to introduce them she laughed in his face. As she had +said in the beginning she wished to do, she harked back to old days (the +earlier stages of what might be termed the Morrison régime), and it +seemed to afford her great delight to recall the happenings of that epoch. +The conversation became a dialogue of reminiscence which would have been +entirely unintelligible to a third person, and was, indeed, so to Captain +Stewart, who once came across the room, made a feeble effort to attach +himself, and presently wandered away again.</p> + +<p>They unearthed from the past an exceedingly foolish song all about one +"Little Willie" and a purple monkey climbing up a yellow stick. It was set +to a well-known air from <i>Don Giovanni</i>, and when Duval, the basso, +heard them singing it he came up and insisted upon knowing what it was +about. He laughed immoderately over the English words when he was told what +they meant, and made Ste. Marie write them down for him on two +visiting-cards. So they made a trio out of "Little Willie," the great Duval +inventing a bass part quite marvellous in its ingenuity, <a +name="Page_133"></a>and they were compelled to sing it over and over again, +until Ste. Marie's falsetto imitation of a tenor voice cracked and gave out +altogether, since he was by nature barytone, if anything at all.</p> + +<p>The other guests had crowded round to hear the extraordinary song, and +when the song was at last finished several of them remained, so that Ste. +Marie saw he was to be allowed an uninterrupted +tête-à-tête with Olga Nilssen no longer. He therefore +drifted away, after a few moments, and went with Duval and one of the other +men across the room to look at some small jade objects--snuff-bottles, +bracelets, buckles, and the like--which were displayed in a cabinet +cleverly reconstructed out of a Japanese shrine. It was perhaps ten minutes +later when he looked round the place and discovered that neither Mlle. +Nilssen nor Captain Stewart was to be seen.</p> + +<p>His first thought was of relief, for he said to himself that the two had +sensibly gone into one of the other rooms to "have it out" in peace and +quiet. But following that came the recollection of the woman's face when +she had watched her host across the room. Her words came back to him: "I +feel a little like Samson to-night.... I should like very much to pull the +world down on top of me and kill everybody in it!" Ste. Marie thought of +these things, and he began to be uncomfortable. He found himself watching +the yellow-hung doorway beyond, with its intricate Chinese carving of trees +and rocks and little groups of immortals, and he found that unconsciously +he was listening for something--he did not know what--above the chatter and +laughter of the people in the room. He endured this for possibly five +minutes, and all at once found that he could endure it no longer. He began +to make his <a name="Page_134"></a>way quietly through the groups of people +toward the curtained doorway.</p> + +<p>As he went, one of the women near by complained in a loud tone that the +servant had disappeared. She wanted, it seemed, a glass of water, having +already had many glasses of more interesting things. Ste. Marie said he +would get it for her, and went on his way. He had an excuse now.</p> + +<p>He found himself in a square, dimly lighted room much smaller than the +other. There was a round table in the centre, so he thought it must be +Stewart's dining-room. At the left a doorway opened into a place where +there were lights, and at the other side was another door closed. From the +room at the left there came a sound of voices, and though they were not +loud, one of them, Mlle. Olga Nilssen's voice, was hard and angry and not +altogether under control. The man would seem to have been attempting to +pacify her, and he would seem not to have been very successful.</p> + +<p>The first words that Ste. Marie was able to distinguish were from the +woman. She said, in a low, fierce tone:</p> + +<p>"That is a lie, my friend! That is a lie! I know all about the road to +Clamart, so you needn't lie to me any longer. It's no good."</p> + +<p>She paused for just an instant there, and in the pause St. Marie heard +Stewart give a sort of inarticulate exclamation. It seemed to express anger +and it seemed also to express fear. But the woman swept on, and her voice +began to be louder. She said:</p> + +<p>"I've given you your chance. You didn't deserve it, but I've given it +you--and you've told me nothing but lies. Well, you'll lie no more. This +ends it."</p> + +<p>Upon that Ste. Marie heard a sudden stumbling shuffle of feet and a low, +hoarse cry of utter terror--a cry more <a name="Page_135"></a>animal-like +than human. He heard the cry break off abruptly in something that was like +a cough and a whine together, and he heard the sound of a heavy body +falling with a loose rattle upon the floor.</p> + +</a> <p class="figure"> <a name="jason004"><img +width="80%" alt="Illustration: CAPTAIN STEWART LAY HUDDLED AND WRITHING +UPON THE FLOOR" src="images/jason004.png" /></a><br /> CAPTAIN STEWART LAY HUDDLED +AND WRITHING UPON THE FLOOR</p> + +<p>With the sound of that falling body he had already reached the doorway +and torn aside the heavy portière. It was a sleeping-room he looked +into, a room of medium size with two windows and an ornate bed of the +Empire style set sidewise against the farther wall. There were electric +lights upon imitation candles which were grouped in sconces against the +wall, and these were turned on, so that the room was brightly illuminated. +Midway between the door and the ornate Empire bed Captain Stewart lay +huddled and writhing upon the floor, and Olga Nilssen stood upright beside +him, gazing down upon him quite calmly. In her right hand, which hung at +her side, she held a little flat black automatic pistol of the type known +as Brownings--and they look like toys, but they are not.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie sprang at her silently and caught her by the arm, twisting +the automatic pistol from her grasp, and the woman made no effort whatever +to resist him. She looked into his face quite frankly and unmoved, and she +shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I haven't harmed him," she said. "I was going to, yes--and then +myself--but he didn't give me a chance. He fell down in a fit." She nodded +down toward the man who lay writhing at their feet. "I frightened him," she +said, "and he fell in a fit. He's an epileptic, you know. Didn't you know +that? Oh yes."</p> + +<p>Abruptly she turned away shivering, and put up her hands over her face. +And she gave an exclamation of uncontrollable repulsion.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_136"></a>"Ugh!" she cried, "it's horrible! Horrible! I +can't bear to look. I saw him in a fit once before--long ago--and I +couldn't bear even to speak to him for a month. I thought he had been +cured. He said--Ah, it's horrible!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie had dropped upon his knees beside the fallen man, and Mlle. +Nilssen said, over her shoulder:</p> + +<p>"Hold his head up from the floor, if you can bear to. He might hurt +it."</p> + +<p>It was not an easy thing to do, for Ste. Marie had the natural sense of +repulsion in such matters that most people have, and this man's appearance, +as Olga Nilssen had said, was horrible. The face was drawn hideously, and +in the strong, clear light of the electrics it was a deathly yellow. The +eyes were half closed, and the eyeballs turned up so that only the whites +of them showed between the lids. There was froth upon the distorted mouth, +and it clung to the catlike mustache and to the shallow, sunken chin +beneath. But Ste. Marie exerted all his will power, and took the jerking, +trembling head in his hands, holding it clear of the floor.</p> + +<p>"You'd better call the servant," he said. "There may be something that +can be done."</p> + +<p>But the woman answered, without looking:</p> + +<p>"No, there's nothing that can be done, I believe, except to keep him +from bruising himself. Stimulants--that sort of thing--do more harm than +good. Could you get him on the bed here?"</p> + +<p>"Together we might manage it," said Ste. Marie. "Come and help!"</p> + +<p>"I can't!" she cried, nervously. "I can't--touch him. Please, I can't do +it."</p> + +<p>"Come!" said the man, in a sharp tone. "It's no time <a +name="Page_137"></a>for nerves. I don't like it, either, but it's got to be +done."</p> + +<p>The woman began a half-hysterical sobbing, but after a moment she turned +and came with slow feet to where Stewart lay.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie slipped his arms under the man's body and began to raise him +from the floor.</p> + +<p>"You needn't help, after all," he said. "He's not heavy."</p> + +<p>And, indeed, under his skilfully shaped and padded clothes the man was a +mere waif of a man--as unbelievably slight as if he were the victim of a +wasting disease. Ste. Marie held the body in his arms as if it had been a +child, and carried it across and laid it on the bed; but it was many months +before he forgot the horror of that awful thing shaking and twitching in +his hold, the head thumping hideously upon his shoulder, the arms and legs +beating against him. It was the most difficult task he had ever had to +perform. He laid Captain Stewart upon the bed and straightened the helpless +limbs as best he could.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he said, rising again--"I suppose when the man comes out of +this he'll be frightfully exhausted and drop off to sleep, won't he? We'll +have to--"</p> + +<p>He halted abruptly there, and for a single swift instant he felt the +black and rushing sensation of one who is going to faint away. The wall +behind the ornate Empire bed was covered with photographs, some in frames, +others left, as they had been received, upon the large squares of weird +cardboard which are termed "art mounts."</p> + +<p>"Come here a moment, quickly!" said Ste. Marie, in a sharp voice.</p> + +<p>Mlle. Nilssen's sobs had died down to a silent, spasmodic <a +name="Page_138"></a>catching of the breath, but she was still much +unnerved, and she approached the bed with obvious unwillingness, dabbing at +her eyes with a handkerchief. Ste. Marie pointed to an unframed photograph +which was fastened to the wall by thumb-tacks, and his outstretched hand +shook as he pointed. Beneath them the other man still writhed and tumbled +in his epileptic fit.</p> + +<p>"Do you know who that woman is?" demanded Ste. Marie, and his tone was +such that Olga Nilssen turned slowly and stared at him.</p> + +<p>"That woman," said she, "is the reason why I wished to pull the world +down upon Charlie Stewart and me to-night. That's who she is."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie gave a sort of cry.</p> + +<p>"Who is she?" he insisted. "What is her name? I--have a particularly +important reason for wanting to know. I've got to know."</p> + +<p>Mlle. Nilssen shook her head, still staring at him.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you that," said she. "I don't know the name. I only know +that--when he met her, he--I don't know her name, but I know where she +lives and where he goes every day to see her--a house with a big garden and +walled park on the road to Clamart. It's on the edge of the wood, not far +from Fort d'Issy. The Clamart-Vanves-Issy tram runs past the wall of one +side of the park. That's all I know."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie clasped his head with his hands.</p> + +<p>"So near to it!" he groaned, "and yet--Ah!" He bent forward suddenly +over the bed and spelled out the name of the photographer which was +pencilled upon the brown cardboard mount. "There's still a chance," he +said, "There's still one chance."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_139"></a>He became aware that the woman was watching him +curiously, and nodded to her.</p> + +<p>"It's something you don't know about," he explained. "I've got to find +out who this--girl is. Perhaps the photographer can help me. I used to know +him." All at once his eyes sharpened. "Tell me the simple truth about +something!" said he. "If ever we have been friends, if you owe me any good +office, tell me this: Do you know anything about young Arthur Benham's +disappearance two months ago, or about what has become of him?"</p> + +<p>Again the woman shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No," said she. "Nothing at all. I hadn't even heard of it. Young Arthur +Benham! I've met him once or twice. I wonder--I wonder Stewart never spoke +to me about his disappearance! That's very odd."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Ste. Marie, absently, "it is." He gave a little sigh. "I +wonder about a good many things," said he.</p> + +<p>He glanced down upon the bed before them, and Captain Stewart lay still, +save for a slight twitching of the hands. Once he moved his head restlessly +from side to side and said something incoherent in a weak murmur.</p> + +<p>"He's out of it," said Olga Nilssen. "He'll sleep now, I think. I +suppose we must get rid of those people and then leave him to the care of +his man. A doctor couldn't do anything for him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Ste. Marie, nodding, "I'll call the servant and tell the +people that Stewart has been taken ill."</p> + +<p>He looked once more toward the photograph on the wall, and under his +breath he said, with an odd, defiant fierceness: "I won't believe it!" But +he did not explain what he wouldn't believe. He started out of the room, +but, half-way, <a name="Page_140"></a>halted and turned back. He looked +Olga Nilssen full in the eyes, saying:</p> + +<p>"It is safe to leave you here with him while I call the servant? +There'll be no more--?"</p> + +<p>But the woman gave a low cry and a violent shiver with it.</p> + +<p>"You need have no fear," she said. "I've no desire now to--harm him. +The--reason is gone. This has cured me. I feel as if I could never bear to +see him again. Oh, hurry! Please hurry! I want to get away from here!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie nodded, and went out of the room.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_141"></a><h2><a name='XII'></a>XII</h2> + +<h3>THE NAME OF THE LADY WITH THE EYES--EVIDENCE HEAPS UP SWIFTLY</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie drove home to the rue d'Assas with his head in a whirl, and +with a sense of great excitement beating somewhere within him--probably in +the place where his heart ought to be. He had a curiously sure feeling that +at last his feet were upon the right path. He could not have explained this +to himself--indeed, there was nothing to explain, and if there had been he +was in far too great an inner turmoil to manage it. It was a mere +feeling--the sort of thing which he had once tried to express to Captain +Stewart and had got laughed at for his pains.</p> + +<p>There was, in sober fact, no reason whatever why Captain Stewart's +possession of a photograph of the beautiful lady whom Ste. Marie had once +seen in company with O'Hara should be taken as significant of anything +except an appreciation of beauty on the part of Miss Benham's uncle--not +even if, as Mlle. Nilssen believed, Captain Stewart was in love with the +lady. But to Ste. Marie, in his whirl of reawakened excitement, the +discovery loomed to the skies, and in a series of ingenious but very vague +leaps of the imagination he saw himself, with the aid of this new evidence +(which was no evidence at all, if he had been calm enough to realize it), +victorious in his great <a name="Page_142"></a>quest: leading young Arthur +Benham back to the arms of an ecstatic family, and kneeling at the feet of +that youth's sister to claim his reward. All of which seems a rather +startling flight of the imagination to have had its beginning in the sight +of one photograph of a young woman. But, then, Ste. Marie was imaginative +if he was anything.</p> + +<p>He fell to thinking of this girl whose eyes, after one sight of them, +had so long haunted him. He thought of her between those two men, the +hard-faced Irish adventurer, and the other, Stewart, strange compound of +intellectual and voluptuary, and his eyes flashed in the dark and he +gripped his hands together upon his knees. He said again:</p> + +<p>"I won't believe it! I won't believe it!" Believe what? one wonders.</p> + +<p>He slept hardly at all: only, toward morning, falling into an uneasy +doze. And in the doze he dreamed once more the dream of the dim, waste +place and the hill, and the eyes and voice that called him back--because +they needed him.</p> + +<p>As early as he dared, after his morning coffee, he took a fiacre and +drove across the river to the Boulevard de la Madeleine, where he climbed a +certain stair, at the foot of which were two glass cases containing +photographs of, for the most part, well-known ladies of the Parisian stage. +At the top of the stair he entered the reception-room of a young +photographer who is famous now the world over, but who, at the beginning of +his career, when he had nothing but talent and no acquaintance, owed +certain of his most important commissions to M. Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>The man, whose name was Bernstein, came forward eagerly from the studio +beyond to greet his visitor, and Ste. Marie complimented him chaffingly +upon his very sleek and prosperous appearance, and upon the new decorations +<a name="Page_143"></a>of the little salon, which were, in truth, +excellently well judged. But after they had talked for a little while of +such matters, he said:</p> + +<p>"I want to know if you keep specimen prints of all the photographs you +have made within the past few months, and, if so, I should like to see +them."</p> + +<p>The young Jew went to a wooden portfolio-holder which stood in a corner, +and dragged it out into the light.</p> + +<p>"I have them all here," said he--"everything that I have made within the +past ten or twelve months. If you will let me draw up a chair you can look +them over comfortably."</p> + +<p>He glanced at his former patron with a little polite curiosity as Ste. +Marie followed his suggestion, and began to turn over the big portfolio's +contents; but he did not show any surprise nor ask questions. Indeed, he +guessed, to a certain extent, rather near the truth of the matter. It had +happened before that young gentlemen--and old ones, too--wanted to look +over his prints without offering explanations, and they generally picked +out all the photographs there were of some particular lady and bought them +if they could be bought.</p> + +<p>So he was by no means astonished on this occasion, and he moved about +the room putting things to rights, and even went for a few moments into the +studio beyond until he was recalled by a sudden exclamation from his +visitor--an exclamation which had a sound of mingled delight and +excitement.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie held in his hands a large photograph, and he turned it toward +the man who had made it.</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask you some questions," said he, "that will sound rather +indiscreet and irregular, but I beg you <a name="Page_144"></a>to answer +them if you can, because the matter is of great importance to a number of +people. Do you remember this lady?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said the Jew, readily, "I remember her very well. I never +forget people who are as beautiful as this lady was." His eyes gleamed with +retrospective joy. "She was splendid!" he declared. "Sumptuous! No, I +cannot describe her. I have not the words. And I could not photograph her +with any justice, either. She was all color: brown skin, with a dull-red +stain under the cheeks, and a great mass of hair that was not black but +very nearly black--except in the sun, and then there were red lights in it. +She was a goddess, that lady, a queen of goddesses-- the young Juno before +marriage--the--"</p> + +<p>"Yes," interrupted Ste. Marie--"yes, I see. Yes, quite evidently she was +beautiful; but what I wanted in particular to know was her name, if you +feel that you have a right to give it to me (I remind you again that the +matter is very important), and any circumstances that you can remember +about her coming here: who came with her, for instance and things of that +sort."</p> + +<p>The photographer looked a little disappointed at being cut off in the +middle of his rhapsody, but he began turning over the leaves of an +order-book which lay upon a table near by.</p> + +<p>"Here is the entry," he said, after a few moments. "Yes, I thought so, +the date was nearly three months ago--April 5th. And the lady's name was +Mlle. Coira O'Hara."</p> + +<p>"What!" cried the other man, sharply. "What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Mlle. Coira O'Hara was the name," repeated the photographer. "I +remember the occasion perfectly. The <a name="Page_145"></a>lady came here +with three gentlemen--one tall, thin gentleman with an eyeglass, an +Englishman, I think, though he spoke very excellent French when he spoke to +me. Among themselves they spoke, I think, English, though I do not +understand it, except a few words, such as ''ow moch?' and 'sank you' and +'rady, pleas', now.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!" cried Ste. Marie, impatiently. And the little Jew could see +that he was laboring under some very strong excitement, and he wondered +mildly about it, scenting a love-affair.</p> + +<p>"Then," he pursued, "there was a very young man in strange clothes--a +tourist, I should think, like those Americans and English who come in the +summer with little red books and sit on the terrace of the Café de +la Paix." He heard his visitor draw a swift, sharp breath at that, but he +hurried on before he could be interrupted. "This young man seemed to be +unable to take his eyes from the lady--and small wonder! He was very much +épris--very much épris, indeed. Never have I seen a youth +more so. Ah, it was something to see, that--a thing to touch the +heart!"</p> + +<p>"What did the young man look like?" demanded Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>The photographer described the youth as best he could from memory, and +he saw his visitor nod once or twice, and at the end he said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I thought so. Thank you."</p> + +<p>The Jew did not know what it was the other thought, but he went on:</p> + +<p>"Ah, a thing to touch the heart! Such devotion as that! Alas, that the +lady should seem so cold to it! Still, a goddess! What would you? A queen +among goddesses. One would not have them laugh and make little jokes--make +<a name="Page_146"></a>eyes at love-sick boys. No, indeed!" He shook his +head rapidly and sighed.</p> + +<p>M. Ste. Marie was silent for a little space, but at length he looked up +as if he had just remembered something.</p> + +<p>"And the third man?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, the third gentleman," said Bernstein. "I had forgotten him. +The third gentleman I knew well. He had often been here. It was he who +brought these friends to me. He was M. le Capitaine Stewart. Everybody +knows M. le Capitaine Stewart--everybody in Paris."</p> + +<p>Again he observed that his visitor drew a little, swift, sharp breath, +and that he seemed to be laboring under some excitement.</p> + +<p>However, Ste. Marie did not question him further, and so he went on to +tell the little more he knew of the matter--how the four people had +remained for an hour or more, trying many poses; how they had returned, all +but the tall gentleman, three days later to see the proofs and to order +certain ones to be printed (the young man paying on the spot in advance), +and how the finished prints had been sent to M. le Capitaine Stewart's +address.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, his visitor sat for a long time silent, his head +bent a little, frowning upon the floor and chafing his hands together over +his knees. But at last he rose rather abruptly. He said:</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much, indeed. You have done me a great service. If ever +I can repay it, command me. Thank you!"</p> + +<p>The Jew protested, smiling, that he was still too deeply in debt to M. +Ste. Marie, and so, politely wrangling, they reached the door, and with a +last expression of gratitude the visitor departed down the stair. A client +came in just <a name="Page_147"></a>then for a sitting, and so the little +photographer did not have an opportunity to wonder over the rather odd +affair as much as he might have done. Indeed, in the press of work, it +slipped from his mind altogether.</p> + +<p>But down in the busy boulevard Ste. Marie stood hesitating on the curb. +There were so many things to be done, in the light of these new +developments, that he did not know what to do first.</p> + +<p>"Mlle. Coira O'Hara!--<i>Mademoiselle!</i>" The thought gave him a +sudden sting of inexplicable relief and pleasure. She would be O'Hara's +daughter, then. And the boy, Arthur Benham (there was no room for doubt in +the photographer's description) had seemed to be badly in love with her. +This was a new development, indeed! It wanted thought, reflection, +consultation with Richard Hartley. He signalled to a fiacre, and when it +had drawn up before him sprang into it and gave Richard Hartley's address +in the Avenue de l'Observatoire. But when they had gone a little way he +changed his mind and gave another address, one in the Boulevard de la Tour +Maubourg. It was where Mlle. Olga Nilssen lived. She had told him when he +parted from her the evening before.</p> + +<p>On the way he fell to thinking of what he had learned from the little +photographer Bernstein, to setting the facts, as well as he could, in +order, endeavoring to make out just how much or how little they signified +by themselves or added to what he had known before. But he was in far too +keen a state of excitement to review them at all calmly. As on the previous +evening, they seemed to him to loom to the skies, and again he saw himself +successful in his quest--victorious--triumphant. That this leap to +conclusions was but a little less absurd than the first did not occur to <a +name="Page_148"></a>him. He was in a fine fever of enthusiasm, and such +difficulties as his eye perceived lay in a sort of vague mist to be +dissipated later on, when he should sit quietly down with Hartley and sift +the wheat from the chaff, laying out a definite scheme of action.</p> + +<p>It occurred to him that in his interview with the photographer he had +forgotten one point, and he determined to go back, later on, and ask about +it. He had forgotten to inquire as to Captain Stewart's attitude toward the +beautiful lady. Young Arthur Benham's infatuation had filled his mind at +the time, and had driven out of it what Olga Nilssen had told him about +Stewart. He found himself wondering if this point might not be one of great +importance--the rivalry of the two men for O'Hara's daughter. Assuredly +that demanded thought and investigation.</p> + +<p>He found the prettily furnished apartment in the Avenue de la Tour +Maubourg a scene of great disorder, presided over by a maid who seemed to +be packing enormous quantities of garments into large trunks. The maid told +him that her mistress, after a sleepless night, had departed from Paris by +an early train, quite alone, leaving the servant to follow on when she had +telegraphed or written an address. No, Mlle. Nilssen had left no address at +all--not even for letters or telegrams. In short, the entire proceeding +was, so the exasperated woman viewed it, everything that is imbecile.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie sat down on a hamper with his stick between his knees, and +wrote a little note to be sent on when Mlle. Nilssen's whereabouts should +be known. It was unfortunate, he reflected, that she should have fled away +just now, but not of great importance to him, because he did not believe +that he could learn very much more from <a name="Page_149"></a>her than he +had learned already. Moreover, he sympathized with her desire to get away +from Paris--as far away as possible from the man whom she had seen in so +horrible a state on the evening past.</p> + +<p>He had kept the fiacre at the door, and he drove at once back to the rue +d'Assas. As he started to mount the stair the concierge came out of her +loge to say that Mr. Hartley had called soon after Monsieur had left the +house that morning, had seemed very much disappointed on not finding +Monsieur, and before going away again had had himself let into Monsieur's +apartment with the key of the femme de ménage, and had written a +note which Monsieur would find là haut.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie thanked the woman, and went on up to his rooms, wondering why +Hartley had bothered to leave a note instead of waiting or returning at +lunch-time, as he usually did. He found the communication on his table and +read it at once. Hartley said:</p> + +<p>I have to go across the river to the Bristol to see some relatives who +are turning up there to-day, and who will probably keep me until evening, +and then I shall have to go back there to dine. So I'm leaving a word for +you about some things I discovered last evening. I met Miss Benham at +Armenonville, where I dined, and in a tête-à-tête +conversation we had after dinner she let fall two facts which seem to me +very important. They concern Captain S. In the first place, when he told us +that day, some time ago, that he knew nothing about his father's will or +any changes that might have been made in it, he lied. It seems that old +David, shortly after the boy's disappearance, being very angry at what he +considered, and still considers, a bit of spite on the boy's part, cut +young Arthur Benham out of his will and transferred that share <a +name="Page_150"></a>to <i>Captain S.</i> (Miss Benham learned this from the +old man only yesterday). Also it appears that he did this after talking the +matter over with Captain S., who affected unwillingness. So, as the will +reads now, Miss B. and Captain S. stand to share equally the bulk of the +old man's money, which is several millions--in dollars, of course. Miss +B.'s mother is to have the interest of half of both shares as long as she +lives. Now mark this: Prior to this new arrangement, Captain S. was to +receive only a small legacy, on the ground that he already had a +respectable fortune left him by his mother, old David's first wife (I've +heard, by-the-way, that he has squandered a good share of this.)</p> + +<p>Miss B. is, of course, much cut up over the injustice to the boy, but +she can't protest too much, as it only excites old David. She says the old +man is much weaker.</p> + +<p>You see, of course, the significance of all this. If David Stewart dies, +as he's likely to do, before young Arthur's return, Captain S. gets the +money.</p> + +<p>The second fact I learned was that Miss Benham did not tell her uncle +about her semi-engagement to you or about your volunteering to search for +the boy. She thinks her grandfather must have told him. I didn't say so to +her, but that is hardly possible in view of the fact that Stewart came on +here to your rooms very soon after you had reached them yourself.</p> + +<p>So that makes two lies for our gentle friend--and serious lies, both of +them. To my mind, they point unmistakably to a certain conclusion. +<i>Captain S. has been responsible for putting his nephew out of the +way</i>. He has either hidden him somewhere and is keeping him in +confinement, or he has killed him.</p> + +<p>I wish we could talk it over to-day, but, as you see, I'm helpless. +Remain in to-night, and I'll come as soon as I can get rid of these +confounded people of mine.</p> + +<p>One word more. Be careful! Miss B. is, up to this <a +name="Page_151"></a>point, merely puzzled over things. She doesn't suspect +her uncle of any crookedness, I'm sure. So we shall have to tread softly +where she is concerned.</p> + +<p>I shall see you to-night. R.H.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie read the closely written pages through twice, and he thought +how like his friend it was to take the time and trouble to put what he had +learned into this clear, concise form. Another man would have scribbled, +"Important facts--tell you all about it to-night," or something of that +kind. Hartley must have spent a quarter of an hour over his writing.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie walked up and down the room with all his strength forcing his +brain to quiet, reasonable action. Once he said, aloud:</p> + +<p>"Yes, you're right, of course. Stewart has been at the bottom of it all +along." He realized that he had been for some days slowly arriving at that +conclusion, and that since the night before he had been practically certain +of it, though he had not yet found time to put his suspicions into logical +order. Hartley's letter had driven the truth concretely home to him, but he +would have reached the same truth without it--though that matter of the +will was of the greatest importance. It gave him a strong weapon to strike +with.</p> + +<p>He halted before one of the front windows, and his eyes gazed unseeing +across the street into the green shrubbery of the Luxembourg Gardens. The +lace curtains had been left by the femme de ménage hanging straight +down, and not, as usual, looped back to either side, so he could see +through them with perfect ease, although he could not be seen from +outside.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_152"></a>He became aware that a man who was walking slowly +up and down a path inside the high iron palings was in some way familiar to +him, and his eyes sharpened. The man was inconspicuously dressed, and +looked like almost any other man whom one might pass in the streets without +taking any notice of him; but Ste. Marie knew that he had seen him often, +and he wondered how and where. There was a row of lilac shrubs against the +iron palings just inside and between the palings and the path, but two of +the shrubs were dead and leafless, and each time the man passed this spot +he came into plain view; each time, also, he directed an oblique glance +toward the house opposite. Presently he turned aside and sat down upon one +of the public benches, where he was almost, but not quite, hidden by the +intervening foliage.</p> + +<p>Then at last Ste. Marie gave a sudden exclamation and smote his hands +together.</p> + +<p>"The fellow's a spy!" he cried, aloud. "He's watching the house to see +when I go out." He began to remember how he had seen the man in the street +and in cafés and restaurants, and he remembered that he had once or +twice thought it odd, but without any second thought of suspicion. So the +fellow had been set to spy upon him, watch his goings and comings and +report them to--no need of asking to whom.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie stood behind his curtains and looked across into the pleasant +expanse of shrubbery and greensward. He was wondering if it would be worth +while to do anything. Men and women went up and down the path, hurrying or +slowly, at ease with the world--laborers, students, bonnes with +market-baskets in their hands and long bread loaves under their arms, +nurse-maids herding small <a name="Page_153"></a>children, bigger children +spinning diabolo spools as they walked. A man with a pointed black beard +and a soft hat passed once and returned to seat himself upon the public +bench that Ste. Marie was watching. For some minutes he sat there idle, +holding the soft felt hat upon his knees for coolness. Then he turned and +looked at the other occupant of the bench, and Ste. Marie thought he saw +the other man nod, though he could not be sure whether either one spoke or +not. Presently the new-comer rose, put on the soft hat again, and +disappeared down the path going toward the gate at the head of the rue du +Luxembourg.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later the door-bell rang.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_154"></a><h2><a name='XIII'></a>XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE VOYAGE TO COLCHIS</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie turned away from the window and crossed to the door. The man +with the pointed beard removed his soft hat, bowed very politely, and asked +if he had the honor to address M. Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>"That is my name," said Ste. Marie. "Entrez, Monsieur!" He waved his +visitor to a chair and stood waiting.</p> + +<p>The man with the beard bowed once more. He said:</p> + +<p>"I have not the great honor of Monsieur's acquaintance, but +circumstances, which I will explain later, have put it in my power--have +made it a sacred duty, if I may be permitted to say the word--to place in +Monsieur's hands a piece of information."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie smiled slightly and sat down. He said:</p> + +<p>"I listen with pleasure--and anticipation. Pray go on!"</p> + +<p>"I have information," said the visitor, "of the whereabouts of M. Arthur +Benham."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie waved his hand.</p> + +<p>"I feared as much," said he. "I mean to say, I hoped so. Proceed, +Monsieur!"</p> + +<p>"And learning," continued the other, "that M. Ste. Marie was conducting +a search for that young gentleman, I hastened at once to place this +information in his hands."</p> + +<p>"At a price," suggested his host. "At a price, to be sure."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_155"></a>The man with the beard spread out his hands in a +beautiful and eloquent gesture which well accompanied his Marseillais +accent.</p> + +<p>"Ah, as to that!" he protested. "My circumstances--I am poor, Monsieur. +One must gain the livelihood. What would you? A trifle. The merest +trifle."</p> + +<p>"Where is Arthur Benham?" asked Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>"In Marseilles, Monsieur. I saw him a week ago--six days. And, so far as +I could learn, he had no intention of leaving there immediately--though it +is, to be sure, hot."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie laughed a laugh of genuine amusement, and the man with the +pointed beard stared at him with some wonder. Ste. Marie rose and crossed +the room to a writing-desk which stood against the opposite wall. He +fumbled in a drawer of this, and returned holding in his hand a +pink-and-blue note of the Banque de France. He said:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur--pardon! I have forgotten to ask the name--you have remarked +quite truly that one must gain a livelihood. Therefore, I do not presume to +criticise the way in which you gain yours. Sometimes one cannot choose. +However, I should like to make a little bargain with you, Monsieur. I know, +of course, being not altogether imbecile, who sent you here with this story +and why you were sent--why, also, your friend who sits upon the bench in +the garden across the street follows me about and spies upon me. I know all +this, and I laugh at it a little. But, Monsieur, to amuse myself further, I +have a desire to hear from your own lips the name of the gentleman who is +your employer. Amusement is almost always expensive, and so I am prepared +to pay for this. I have here a note of one hundred francs. It is yours in +return for the name--the <i>right</i> name. Remember, I know it +already."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_156"></a>The man with the pointed beard sprang to his feet +quivering with righteous indignation. All Southern Frenchmen, like all +other Latins, are magnificent actors. He shook one clinched hand in the +air, his face was pale, and his fine eyes glittered. Richard Hartley would +have put himself promptly in an attitude of defence, but Ste. Marie nodded +a smiling head in appreciation. He was half a Southern Frenchman +himself.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur!" cried his visitor, in a choked voice, "Monsieur, have a +care! You insult me! Have a care, Monsieur! I am dangerous! My anger, when +roused, is terrible!"</p> + +<p>"I am cowed," observed Ste. Marie, lighting a cigarette. "I quail."</p> + +<p>"Never," declaimed the gentleman from Marseilles, "have I received an +insult without returning blow for blow! My blood boils!"</p> + +<p>"The hundred francs, Monsieur," said Ste. Marie, "will doubtless cool +it. Besides, we stray from our sheep. Reflect, my friend! I have not +insulted you. I have asked you a simple question. To be sure, I have said +that I knew your errand here was not--not altogether sincere, but I +protest, Monsieur, that no blame attaches to yourself. The blame is your +employer's. You have performed your mission with the greatest of +honesty--the most delicate and faithful sense of honor. That is +understood."</p> + +<p>The gentleman with the beard strode across to one of the windows and +leaned his head upon his hand. His shoulders still heaved with emotion, but +he no longer trembled. The terrible crisis bade fair to pass. Then, +abruptly, in the frank and open Latin way, he burst into tears, and wept +with copious profusion, while Ste. Marie smoked his cigarette and +waited.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_157"></a>When at length the Marseillais turned back into +the room he was calm once more, but there remained traces of storm and +flood. He made a gesture of indescribable and pathetic resignation.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," he exclaimed, "you have a heart of gold--of gold, Monsieur! +You understand. Behold us, two men of honor! Monsieur," he said, "I had no +choice. I was poor. I saw myself face to face with the misère. What +would you? I fell. We are all weak flesh. I accepted the commission of the +pig who sent me here to you."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie smoothed the pink-and-blue bank-note in his hands, and the +other man's eye clung to it as though he were starving and the bank-note +was food.</p> + +<p>"The name?" prompted Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>The gentleman from Marseilles tossed up his hands.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur already knows it. Why should I hesitate? The name is +Ducrot."</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Ste. Marie, sharply. "What is that? Ducrot?"</p> + +<p>"But naturally!" said the other man, with some wonder. "Monsieur said he +knew. Certainly, Ducrot. A little, withered man, bald on the top of the +head, creases down the cheeks, a mustache like this"--he made a descriptive +gesture--"a little chin. A man like an elderly cat. M. Ducrot."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie gave a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said he. "Ducrot is as good a name as another. The gentleman +has more than one, it appears. Monsieur, the hundred-franc note is +yours."</p> + +<p>The gentleman from Marseilles took it with a slightly trembling hand, +and began to bow himself toward the door <a name="Page_158"></a>as if he +feared that his host would experience a change of heart; but Ste. Marie +checked him, saying:</p> + +<p>"One moment. I was thinking," said he, "that you would perhaps not care +to present yourself to your--employer, M. Ducrot, immediately--not for a +few days, at least, in view of the fact that certain actions of mine will +show him your mission has--well, miscarried. It would, perhaps, be well for +you not to communicate with M. Ducrot. He might be displeased with +you."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said the gentleman with the beard, "you speak with acumen +and wisdom. I shall neglect to report myself to M. Ducrot, who, I repeat, +is a pig."</p> + +<p>"And," pursued Ste. Marie, "the individual on the bench across the +street?"</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary that I meet that individual, either!" said the +Marseillais, hastily. "Monsieur, I bid you adieu!" He bowed again, a +profound, a scraping bow, and disappeared through the door.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie crossed to the window and looked down upon the pavement +below. He saw his late visitor emerge from the house and slip rapidly down +the street toward the rue Vavin. He glanced across into the gardens and the +spy still sat there on his bench, but his head lay back and he slept--the +sleep of the unjust. One imagined that he must be snoring, for an +incredibly small urchin in a blue apron stood on the path before him and +watched with the open mouth of astonishment.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie turned back into the room, and began to tramp up and down as +was his way in a perplexity or in any time of serious thought. He wished +very much that Richard Hartley were there to consult with. He considered +Hartley to have a judicial mind--a mind to establish, <a +name="Page_159"></a>out of confusion, something like logical order, and he +was very well aware that he himself had not that sort of mind at all. In +action he was sufficiently confident of himself, but to construct a course +of action he was afraid, and he knew that a misstep now, at this critical +point, might be fatal--turn success into disaster.</p> + +<p>He fell to thinking of Captain Stewart (alias M. Ducrot) and he longed +most passionately to leap into a fiacre at the corner below, to drive at a +gallop across the city to the rue du Faubourg St. Honoré, to fall +upon that smiling hypocrite in his beautiful treasure-house, to seize him +by the withered throat and say:</p> + +<p>"Tell me what you have done with Arthur Benham before I tear your head +from your miserable body!"</p> + +<p>Indeed, he was far from sure that this was not what it would come to, in +the end, for he reflected that he had not only a tremendous accumulation of +evidence with which to face Captain Stewart, but also a very terrible +weapon to hold over his head--the threat of exposure to the old man who lay +slowly dying in the rue de l'Université! A few words in old David's +ear, a few proofs of their truth, and the great fortune for which the son +had sold his soul--if he had any left to sell--must pass forever out of his +reach, like gold seen in a dream.</p> + +<p>This is what it might well come to, he said to himself. Indeed, it +seemed to him at that moment far the most feasible plan, for to such +accusations, such demands as that, Captain Stewart could offer no defence. +To save himself from a more complete ruin he would have to give up the boy +or tell what he knew of him. But Ste. Marie was unwilling to risk +everything on this throw without <a name="Page_160"></a>seeing Richard +Hartley first, and Hartley was not to be had until evening.</p> + +<p>He told himself that, after all, there was no immediate hurry, for he +was quite sure the man would be compelled to keep to his bed for a day or +two. He did not know much about epilepsy, but he knew that its paroxysms +were followed by great exhaustion, and he felt sure that Stewart was far +too weak in body to recuperate quickly from any severe call upon his +strength. He remembered how light that burden had been in his arms the +night before, and then an uncontrollable shiver of disgust went over him as +he remembered the sight of the horribly twisted and contorted face, felt +again the shaking, thumping head as it beat against his shoulder. He +wondered how much Stewart knew, how much he would be able to remember of +the events of the evening before, and he was at a loss there because of his +unfamiliarity with epileptic seizures. Of one thing, however, he was almost +certain, and that was that the man could scarcely have been conscious of +who were beside him when the fit was over. If he had come at all to his +proper senses before the ensuing slumber of exhaustion, it must have been +after Mlle. Nilssen and himself had gone away.</p> + +<p>Upon that he fell to wondering about the spy and the gentleman from +Marseilles--he was a little sorry that Hartley could not have seen the +gentleman from Marseilles--but he reflected that the two were, without +doubt, acting upon old orders, and that the latter had probably been +stalking him for some days before he found him at home.</p> + +<p>He looked at his watch and it was half-past twelve. There was nothing to +be done, he considered, but wait--get through the day somehow; and so, +presently, he went <a name="Page_161"></a>out to lunch. He went up the rue +Vavin to the Boulevard Montparnasse and down that broad thoroughfare to +Lavenue's, on the busy Place de Rennes, where the cooking is the best in +all this quarter, and can, indeed, hold up its head without shame in the +face of those other more widely famous restaurants across the river, +frequented by the smart world and by the travelling gourmet.</p> + +<p>He went through to the inner room, which is built like a raised loggia +round two sides of a little garden, and which is always cool and fresh in +summer. He ordered a rather elaborate lunch, and thought that he sat a very +long time at it, but when he looked again at his watch only an hour and a +half had gone by. It was a quarter-past two. Ste. Marie was depressed. +There remained almost all of the afternoon to be got through, and Heaven +alone could say how much of the evening, before he could have his +consultation with Richard Hartley. He tried to think of some way of passing +the time, but although he was not usually at a loss he found his mind empty +of ideas. None of his common occupations recommended themselves to him. He +knew that whatever he tried to do he would interrupt it with pulling out +his watch every half-hour or so and cursing the time because it lagged so +slowly. He went out to the terrace for coffee, very low in his mind.</p> + +<p>But half an hour later, as he sat behind his little marble-topped table, +smoking and sipping a liqueur, his eyes fell upon something across the +square which brought him to his feet with a sudden exclamation. One of the +big electric trams that ply between the Place St. Germain des Prés +and Clamart, by way of the Porte de Versailles and Vanves, was dragging its +unwieldy bulk round the turn from the rue de Rennes into the boulevard. He +could <a name="Page_162"></a>see the sign-board along the +impériale--"Clamart-St. Germain des Prés," with "Issy" and +"Vanves" in brackets between.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie clinked a franc upon the table and made off across the Place +at a run. Omnibuses from Batignolles and Menilmontant got in his way, +fiacres tried to run him down, and a motor-car in a hurry pulled up just in +time to save his life, but Ste. Marie ran on and caught the tram before it +had completed the negotiation of the long curve and gathered speed for its +dash down the boulevard. He sprang upon the step, and the conductor +reluctantly unfastened the chain to admit him. So he climbed up to the top +and seated himself, panting. The dial high on the façade of the Gare +Montparnasse said ten minutes to three.</p> + +<p>He had no definite plan of action. He had started off in this headlong +fashion upon the spur of a moment's impulse, and because he knew where the +tram was going. Now, embarked, he began to wonder if he was not a fool. He +knew every foot of the way to Clamart, for it was a favorite half-day's +excursion with him to ride there in this fashion, walk thence through the +beautiful Meudon wood across to the river, and from Bellevue or Bas-Meudon +take a Suresnes boat back into the city. He knew, or thought he knew, just +where lay the house, surrounded by garden and half-wild park, of which Olga +Nilssen had told him; he had often wondered whose place it was as the tram +rolled along the length of its high wall. But he knew, also, that he could +do nothing there, single-handed and without excuse or preparation. He could +not boldly ring the bell, demand speech with Mile. Coira O'Hara, and ask +her if she knew anything of the whereabouts of young Arthur Benham, whom a +photographer had suspected of being in love with <a +name="Page_163"></a>her. He certainly could not do that. And there seemed +to be nothing else that--Ste. Marie broke off this somewhat despondent +course of reasoning with a sudden little voiceless cry. For the first time +it occurred to him to connect the house on the Clamart road and Mlle. Coira +O'Hara and young Arthur Benham (it will be remembered that the man had not +yet had time to arrange his suddenly acquired mass of evidence in logical +order and to make deductions from it), for the first time he began to put +two and two together. Stewart had hidden away his nephew; this nephew was +known to have been much enamoured of the girl Coira O'Hara; Coira O'Hara +was said to be living--with her father, probably--in the house on the +outskirts of Paris, where she was visited by Captain Stewart. Was not the +inference plain enough--sufficiently reasonable? It left, without doubt, +many puzzling things to be explained--perhaps too many; but Ste. Marie sat +forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming, his face tense with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Is young Arthur Benham in the house on the Clamart road?"</p> + +<p>He said the words almost aloud, and he became aware that the fat woman +with a live fowl at her feet and the butcher's boy on his other side were +looking at him curiously. He realized that he was behaving in an excited +manner, and so sat back and lowered his eyes. But over and over within him +the words said themselves--over and over, until they made a sort of mad, +foolish refrain.</p> + +<p>"Is Arthur Benham in the house on the Clamart road? Is Arthur Benham in +the house on the Clamart road?" He was afraid that he would say it aloud +once more, and, he tried to keep a firm hold upon himself.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_164"></a>The tram swung into the rue de Sevres, and rolled +smoothly out the long, uninteresting stretch of the rue Lecourbe, far out +to where the houses, became scattered, where mounds and pyramids of red +tiles stood alongside the factory where they had been made, where an acre +of little glass hemispheres in long, straight rows winked and glistened in +the afternoon sun--the forcing-beds of some market gardener; out to the +Porte de Versailles at the city wall, where a group of customs officers +sprawled at ease before their little sentry-box or loafed over to inspect +an incoming tram.</p> + +<p>A bugle sounded and a drum beat from the great fosse under the wall, and +a company of piou-pious, red-capped, red-trousered, shambled through their +evolutions in a manner to break the heart of a British or a German +drill-sergeant. Then out past level fields to little Vanves, with its steep +streets and its old gray church, and past the splendid grounds of the +Lycée beyond. The fat woman got down, her live fowl shrieking +protest to the movement, and the butcher's boy got down, too, so that Ste. +Marie was left alone upon the impériale save for a snuffy old +gentleman in a pot-hat who sat in a corner buried behind the day's +<i>Droits de l'Homme</i>.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie moved forward once more and laid his arms upon the iron rail +before him. They were coming near. They ran past plum and apple orchards +and past humble little detached villas, each with a bit of garden in front +and an acacia or two at the gate-posts. But presently, on the right, the +way began to be bordered by a high stone wall, very long, behind which +showed the trees of a park, and among them, far back from the wall beyond a +little rise of ground, the gables and chimneys of a house could <a +name="Page_165"></a>be made out. The wall went on for perhaps a quarter of +a mile in a straight sweep, but half-way the road swung apart from it to +the left, dipped under a stone railway bridge, and so presently ended at +the village of Clamart.</p> + +<p>As the tram approached the beginning of that long stone wall it began to +slacken speed, there was a grating noise from underneath, and presently it +came to an abrupt halt. Ste. Marie looked over the guard-rail and saw that +the driver had left his place and was kneeling in the dust beside the car +peering at its underworks. The conductor strolled round to him after a +moment and stood indifferently by, remarking upon the strange vicissitudes +to which electrical propulsion is subject. The driver, without looking up, +called his colleague a number of the most surprising and, it is to be +hoped, unwarranted names, and suddenly began to burrow under the tram, +wriggling his way after the manner of a serpent until nothing could be seen +of him but two unrestful feet. His voice, though muffled, was still +tolerably distinct. It cursed, in an unceasing staccato and with admirable +ingenuity, the tram, the conductor, the sacred dog of an impediment which +had got itself wedged into one of the trucks, and the world in general.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie, sitting aloft, laughed for a moment, and then turned his +eager eyes upon what lay across the road. The halt had taken place almost +exactly at the beginning of that long stretch of park wall which ran beside +the road and the tramway. From where he sat he could see the other wing +which led inward from the road at something like a right angle, but was +presently lost to sight because of a sparse and unkempt patch of young +trees and shrubs, well-nigh choked with undergrowth, which extended for +some <a name="Page_166"></a>distance from the park wall backward along the +road-side toward Vanves. Whoever owned that stretch of land had seemingly +not thought it worth while to cultivate it or to build upon it or even to +clear it off.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie's first thought, as his eye scanned the two long stretches of +wall and looked over their tops to the trees of the park and the far-off +gables and chimneys of the house, was to wonder where the entrance to the +place could be, and he decided that it must be on the side opposite to the +Clamart tram-line. He did not know the smaller roads hereabouts, but he +guessed that there must be one somewhere beyond, between the route de +Clamart and Fort d'Issy, and he was right. There is a little road between +the two; it sweeps round in a long curve and ends near the tiny public +garden in Issy, and it is called the rue Barbés.</p> + +<p>His second thought was that this unkempt patch of tree and brush offered +excellent cover for any one who might wish to pass an observant hour +alongside that high stone wall; for any one who might desire to cast a +glance over the lie of the land, to see at closer range that house of which +so little could be seen from the route de Clamart, to look over the wall's +coping into park and garden.</p> + +<p>The thought brought him to his feet with a leaping heart, and before he +realized that he had moved he found himself in the road beside the halted +tram. The conductor brushed past him, mounting to his place, and from the +platform beckoned, crying out:</p> + +<p>"En voiture, Monsieur! En voiture!"</p> + +<p>Again something within Ste. Marie that was not his conscious direction +acted for him, and he shook his head. The conductor gave two little blasts +upon his horn, the tram <a name="Page_167"></a>wheezed and moved forward. +In a moment it was on its way, swinging along at full speed toward the +curve in the line that bore to the left and dipped under the railway +bridge. Ste. Marie stood in the middle of that empty road, staring after it +until it had disappeared from view.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_168"></a><h2><a name='XIV'></a>XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE WALLS OF AEA</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie had acted upon an impulse of which he was scarcely conscious +at all, and when he found himself standing alone in the road and watching +the Clamart tram disappear under the railway bridge he called himself hard +names and wondered what he was to do next. He looked before and behind him, +and there was no living soul in sight. He bent his eyes again upon that +unkempt patch of young trees and undergrowth, and once more the thought +forced itself to his brain that it would make excellent cover for one who +wished to observe a little--to reconnoitre.</p> + +<p>He knew that it was the part of wisdom to turn his back upon this place, +to walk on to Clamart or return to Vanves and mount upon a homeward-bound +tram. He knew that it was the part of folly, of madness even, to expose +himself to possible discovery by some one within the walled enclosure. What +though no one there were able to recognize him, still the sight of a man +prowling about the walls, seeking to spy over them, might excite an alarm +that would lead to all sorts of undesirable complications. Dimly Ste. Marie +realized all this, and he tried to turn his back and walk away, but the +patch of little trees and shrubbery drew him with an irresistible +fascination. "Just a little <a name="Page_169"></a>look along that unknown +wall," he said to himself, "just the briefest of all brief reconnaissances, +the merest glance beyond the masking screen of wood growth, so that in case +of sudden future need he might have the lie of the place clear in his +mind;" for without any sound reason for it he was somehow confident that +this walled house and garden were to play an important part in the rescue +of Arthur Benham. It was once more a matter of feeling. The rather +womanlike intuition which had warned him that O'Hara was concerned in young +Benham's disappearance, and that the two were not far from Paris, was again +at work in him, and he trusted it as he had done before.</p> + +<p>He gave a little nod of determination, as one who, for good or ill, +casts a die, and he crossed the road. There was a deep ditch, and he had to +climb down into it and up its farther side, for it was too broad to be +jumped. So he came into the shelter of the young poplars and elms and oaks. +The underbrush caught at his clothes, and the dead leaves of past seasons +crackled underfoot; but after a little space he came to somewhat clearer +ground, though the saplings still stood thick about him and hid him +securely.</p> + +<p>He made his way inward along the wall, keeping a short distance back +from it, and he saw that after twenty or thirty yards it turned again at a +very obtuse angle away from him and once more ran on in a long straight +line. Just beyond this angle he came upon a little wooden door thickly +studded with nails. It was made to open inward, and on the outside there +was no knob or handle of any kind, only a large key-hole of the simple, +old-fashioned sort. Slipping up near to look, Ste. Marie observed that the +edges of the key-hole were rusty, but scratched a little through the rust +with <a name="Page_170"></a>recent marks; so the door, it seemed, was +sometimes used. He observed another thing. The ground near by was less +encumbered with trees than at any other point, and the turf was depressed +with many wheel marks--broad marks, such as are made only by the wheels of +a motor-car. He followed these tracks for a little distance, and they wound +in and out among the trees, and beyond the thin fringe of wood swept away +in a curve toward Issy, doubtless to join the road which he had already +imagined to lie somewhere beyond the enclosure.</p> + +<p>Beyond the more open space about this little door the young trees stood +thick together again, and Ste. Marie pressed cautiously on. He stopped now +and then to listen, and once he thought that he heard from within the sound +of a woman's laugh, but he could not be sure. The slight change of +direction had confused him a little, and he was uncertain as to where the +house lay. The wall was twelve or fifteen feet high, and from the level of +the ground he could, of course, see nothing over it but tree tops. He went +on for what may have been a hundred yards, but it seemed to him very much +more than that, and he came to a tall gnarled cedar-tree which stood almost +against the high wall. It was half dead, but its twisted limbs were thick +and strong, and by force of the tree's cramped position they had grown in +strange and grotesque forms. One of them stretched across the very top of +the stone wall, and with the wind's action it had scraped away the coping +of tiles and bottle-glass and had made a little depression there to rest +in.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked up along this natural ladder, and temptation smote him +sorely. It was so easy and so safe! There was enough foliage left upon the +half-dead tree to screen him well, but whether or no it is probable that he +<a name="Page_171"></a>would have yielded to the proffered lure. There +seems to have been more than chance in Ste. Marie's movements upon this +day; there seems to have been something like the hand of Fate in them--as +doubtless there is in most things, if one but knew.</p> + +<p>He left his hat and stick behind him, under a shrub, and he began to +make his way up the half-bare branches of the gnarled cedar. They bore him +well, without crack or rustle, and the way was very easy. No ladder made by +man could have offered a much simpler ascent. So, mounting slowly and with +care, his head came level with the top of the wall. He climbed to the next +branch, a foot higher, and rested there. The drooping foliage from the +upper part of the cedar-tree, which was still alive, hung down over him and +cloaked him from view, but through its aromatic screen he could see as +freely as through the window curtain in the rue d'Assas.</p> + +<p>The house lay before him, a little to the left and perhaps a hundred +yards away. It was a disappointing house to find in that great enclosure, +for though it was certainly neither small nor trivial, it was as certainly +far from possessing anything like grandeur. It had been in its day a +respectable, unpretentious square structure of three stories, entirely +without architectural beauty, but also entirely without the ornate +hideousness of the modern villas along the route de Clamart. Now, however, +the stucco was gone in great patches from its stone walls, giving them an +unpleasantly diseased look, and long neglect of all decent cares had lent +the place the air almost of desertion. Anciently the grounds before the +house had been laid out in the formal fashion with a terrace and +geometrical lawns and a pool and a fountain and a rather fine, long vista +<a name="Page_172"></a>between clipped larches, but the same neglect which +had made shabby the stuccoed house had allowed grass and weeds to grow over +the gravel paths, underbrush to spring up and to encroach upon the +geometrical turf-plots, the long double row of clipped larches to flourish +at will or to die or to fall prostrate and lie where they had fallen.</p> + +<p>So all the broad enclosure was a scene of heedless neglect, a riot of +unrestrained and wanton growth, where should have been decorous and orderly +beauty. It was a sight to bring tears to a gardener's eyes, but it had a +certain untamed charm of its own, for all that. The very riot of it, the +wanton prodigality of untouched natural growth, produced an effect that was +by no means all disagreeable.</p> + +<p>An odd and whimsical thought came into Ste. Marie's mind that thus must +have looked the garden and park round the castle of the sleeping beauty +when the prince came to wake her.</p> + +<p>But sleeping beauties and unkempt grounds went from him in a flash when +he became aware of a sound which was like the sound of voices. +Instinctively he drew farther back into the shelter of his aromatic screen. +His eyes swept the space below him from right to left, and could see no +one. So he sat very still, save for the thunderous beat of a heart which +seemed to him like drum-beats when soldiers are marching, and he +listened--"all ears," as the phrase goes.</p> + +<p>The sound was in truth a sound of voices. He was presently assured of +that, but for some time he could not make out from which direction it came. +And so he was the more startled when quite suddenly there appeared from +behind a row of tall shrubs two young people moving slowly together up the +untrimmed turf in the direction of the house.</p> + +<p class="figure"> <a name="jason005"><img +width="80%" alt="Illustration: THERE APPEARED TWO YOUNG PEOPLE MOVING +SLOWLY IN THE DIRECTION OF THE HOUSE" src="images/jason005.png" /></a><br /> THERE +APPEARED TWO YOUNG PEOPLE MOVING SLOWLY IN THE DIRECTION OF THE +HOUSE</p> + +<p><a name="Page_173"></a>The two young people were Mlle. Coira O'Hara and +Arthur Benham, and upon the brow of this latter youth there was no sign of +dungeon pallor, upon his free-moving limbs no ball and chain. There was no +apparent reason why he should not hasten back to the eager arms in the rue +de l'Université if he chose to--unless, indeed, his undissembling +attitude toward Mlle. Coira O'Hara might serve as a reason. The young man +followed at her heel with much the manner and somewhat the appearance of a +small dog humbly conscious of unworthiness, but hopeful nevertheless of an +occasional kind word or pat on the head.</p> + +<p>The world wheeled multi-colored and kaleidoscopic before Ste. Marie's +eyes, and in his ears there was a rushing of great winds, but he set his +teeth and clung with all the strength he had to the tree which sheltered +him. His first feeling, after that initial giddiness, was anger, sheer +anger, a bewildered and astonished fury. He had thought to find this poor +youth in captivity, pining through prison bars for the home and the loved +ones and the familiar life from which he had been ruthlessly torn. Yet here +he was strolling in a suburban garden with a lady--free, free as air, or so +he seemed. Ste. Marie thought of the grim and sorrowful old man in Paris +who was sinking untimely into his grave because his grandson did not return +to him; he thought of that timid soul--more shadow than woman--the boy's +mother; he thought of Helen Benham's tragic eyes, and he could have beaten +young Arthur half to death in that moment in the righteous rage that +stormed within him.</p> + +<p>But he turned his eyes from this wretched youth to the girl who walked +beside, a little in advance, and the rage died in him swiftly.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_174"></a>After all, was she not one to make any boy--or +any man--forget duty, home, friends, everything?</p> + +<p>Rather oddly his mind flashed back to the morning and to the words of +the little photographer, Bernstein. Perhaps the Jew had put it as well as +any man could:</p> + +<p>"She was a goddess, that lady, a queen of goddesses ... the young Juno +before marriage...."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie nodded his head. Yes, she was just that. The little Jew had +spoken well. It could not be more fairly put--though without doubt it could +have been expressed at much greater length and with a great deal more +eloquence. The photographer's other words came also to his mind, the more +detailed description, and again he nodded his head, for this, too, was +true.</p> + +<p>"She was all color--brown skin with a dull-red stain under the cheeks, +and a great mass of hair that was not black but very nearly black--except +in the sun, and then there were red lights in it."</p> + +<p>It occurred to Ste. Marie, whimsically, that the two young people might +have stepped out of the door of Bernstein's studio straight into this +garden, judging from their bearing each to the other.</p> + +<p>"Ah, a thing to touch the heart! Such devotion as that! Alas, that the +lady should seem so cold to it! ... Still, a goddess! What would you? A +queen among goddesses! ... One would not have them laugh and make little +jokes.... Make eyes at love-sick boys. No, indeed!"</p> + +<p>Certainly Mlle. Coira O'Hara was not making eyes at the love-sick boy +who followed at her heel this afternoon. Perhaps it would be going too far +to say that she was cold to him, but it was very plain to see that she was +bored and weary, and that she wished she might be almost anywhere <a +name="Page_175"></a>else than where she was. She turned her beautiful face +a little toward the wall where Ste. Marie lay perdu, and he could see that +her eyes had the same dark fire, the same tragic look of appeal that he had +seen in them before--once in the Champs-Elysées and again in his +dreams.</p> + +<p>Abruptly he became aware that while he gazed, like a man in a trance, +the two young people walked on their way and were on the point of passing +beyond reach of eye or ear. He made a sudden involuntary movement as if he +would call them back, and for the first time his faithful hiding-place, +strained beyond silent endurance, betrayed him with a loud rustle of shaken +branches. Ste. Marie shrank back, his heart in his throat. It was too late +to retreat now down the tree. The damage was already done. He saw the two +young people halt and turn to look, and after a moment he saw the boy come +slowly forward, staring. He heard him say:</p> + +<p>"What's up in that tree? There's something in the tree." And he heard +the girl answer: "It's only birds fighting. Don't bother!" But young Arthur +Benham came on, staring up curiously until he was almost under the high +wall.</p> + +<p>Then Ste. Marie's strange madness, or the hand of Fate, or whatever +power it was which governed him on that day, thrust him on to the ultimate +pitch of recklessness. He bent forward from his insecure perch over the +wall until his head and shoulders were in plain sight, and he called down +to the lad below in a loud whisper:</p> + +<p>"Benham! Benham!"</p> + +<p>The boy gave a sharp cry of alarm and began to back away. And after a +moment Ste. Marie heard the cry echoed from Coira O'Hara. He heard her +say:</p> + +<p><a name="Page_176"></a>"Be careful! Be careful, Arthur! Come away! Oh, +come away quickly!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie raised his own voice to a sort of cry. He said:</p> + +<p>"Wait! I tell you to wait, Benham! I must have a word with you. I come +from your family--from Helen!"</p> + +<p>To his amazement the lad turned about and began to run toward where the +girl stood waiting; and so, without a moment's hesitation, Ste. Marie threw +himself across the top of the wall, hung for an instant by his hands, and +dropped upon the soft turf. Scarcely waiting to recover his balance, he +stumbled forward, shouting:</p> + +<p>"Wait! I tell you, wait! Are you mad? Wait, I say! Listen to me!"</p> + +<p>Vaguely, in the midst of his great excitement, he had heard a whistle +sound as he dropped inside the wall. He did not know then whence the shrill +call had come, but afterward he knew that Coira O' Hara had blown it. And +now, as he ran forward toward the two who stood at a distance staring at +him, he heard other steps and he slackened his pace to look.</p> + +<p>A man came running down among the black-boled trees, a strange, squat, +gnomelike man whose gait was as uncouth as his dwarfish figure. He held +something in his two hands as he ran, and when he came near he threw this +thing with a swift movement up before him, but he did not pause in his odd, +scrambling run.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie felt a violent blow upon his left leg between hip and knee. +He thought that somebody had crept up behind him and struck him; but as he +whirled about he saw that there was no one there, and then he heard a noise +and knew that the gnomelike running man had shot him. He faced about once +more toward the two young people. <a name="Page_177"></a>He was very angry +and he wished to say so, and very much he wished to explain why he had +trespassed there, and why they had no right to shoot him as if he were some +wretched thief. But he found that in some quite absurd fashion he was as if +fixed to the ground. It was as if he had suddenly become of the most +ponderous and incredible weight, like lead--or that other metal, not gold, +which is the heaviest of all. Only the metal, seemingly, was not only heavy +but fiery hot, and his strength was incapable of holding it up any longer. +His eyes fixed themselves in a bewildered stare upon the figure of Mlle. +Coira O'Hara; he had time to observe that she had put up her two hands over +her face, then he fell down forward, his head struck something very hard, +and he knew no more.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_178"></a><h2><a name='XV'></a>XV</h2> + +<h3>A CONVERSATION AT LA LIERRE</h3> + + +<p>Captain Stewart walked nervously up and down the small inner +drawing-room at La Lierre, his restless hands fumbling together behind him, +and his eyes turning every half-minute with a sharp eagerness to the closed +door. But at last, as if he were very tired, he threw himself down in a +chair which stood near one of the windows, and all his tense body seemed to +relax in utter exhaustion. It was not a very comfortable chair that he had +sat down in, but there were no comfortable chairs in the room--nor, for +that matter, in all the house. When he had taken the place, about two +months before this time, he had taken it furnished, but that does not mean +very much in France. No French country-houses--or town-houses, either--are +in the least comfortable, by Anglo-Saxon standards, and that is at least +one excellent reason why Frenchmen spend just as little time in them as +they possibly can. Half the cafés in Paris would promptly put up +their shutters if Parisian homes could all at once turn themselves into +something like English or American ones. As for La Lierre, it was even more +dreary and bare and tomblike than other country-houses, because it was, +after all, a sort of ruin, and had not been lived in for fifteen years, +save by an ancient caretaker and his nearly as ancient wife. And that was, +perhaps, <a name="Page_179"></a>why it could be taken on a short lease at +such a very low price.</p> + +<p>The room in which Captain Stewart sat was behind the large drawing-room, +which was always kept closed now, and it looked out by one window to the +west, and by two windows to the north, over a corner of the kitchen garden +and a vista of trees beyond. It was a high-ceiled room with walls bare +except for two large mirrors in the Empire fashion, which stared at each +other across the way with dull and flaking eyes. Under each of these stood +a heavy gilt and ebony console with a top of chocolate-colored marble, and +in the centre of the room there was a table of a like fashion to the +consoles. Further than this there was nothing save three chairs, upon one +of which lay Captain Stewart's dust-coat and motoring cap and goggles.</p> + +<p>A shaft of golden light from the low sun slanted into the place through +the western window from which the Venetians had been pulled back, and fell +across the face of the man who lay still and lax in his chair, eyes closed +and chin dropped a little so that his mouth hung weakly open. He looked +very ill, as, indeed, any one might look after such an attack as he had +suffered on the night previous. That one long moment of deathly fear before +he had fallen down in a fit had nearly killed him. All through this +following day it had continued to recur until he thought he should go mad. +And there was worse still. How much did Olga Nilssen know? And how much had +she told? She had astonished and frightened him when she had said that she +knew about the house on the road to Clamart, for he thought he had hidden +his visits to La Lierre well. He wondered rather drearily how she had +discovered them, and he wondered how much she knew more than she had <a +name="Page_180"></a>admitted. He had a half-suspicion of something like the +truth, that Mlle. Nilssen knew only of Coira O'Hara's presence here, and +drew a rather natural inference. If that was all, there was no danger from +her--no more, that is, than had already borne its fruit, for Stewart knew +well enough that Ste. Marie must have learned of the place from her. In any +case Olga Nilssen had left Paris--he had discovered that fact during the +day--and so for the present she might be eliminated as a source of +peril.</p> + +<p>The man in the chair gave a little groan and rolled his head wearily to +and fro against the uncomfortable chair-back, for now he came to the real +and immediate danger, and he was so very tired and ill, and his head ached +so sickeningly that it was almost beyond him to bring himself face to face +with it.</p> + +<p>There was the man who lay helpless upon a bed up-stairs! And there were +the man's friends, who were not at all helpless or bedridden or in +captivity!</p> + +<p>A wave of almost intolerable pain swept through Stewart's aching head, +and he gave another groan which was almost like a child's sob. But at just +that moment the door which led into the central hall opened, and the +Irishman O'Hara came into the room. Captain Stewart sprang to his feet to +meet him, and he caught the other man by the arm in his eagerness.</p> + +<p>"How is he?" he cried out. "How is he? How badly was he hurt?"</p> + +<p>"The patient?" said O'Hara. "Let go my arm! Hang it, man, you're +pinching me! Oh, he'll do well enough. He'll be fit to hobble about in a +week or ten days. The bullet went clean through his leg and out again +without cutting an artery. It was a sort of miracle--and a damned <a +name="Page_181"></a>lucky miracle for all hands, too! If we'd had a +splintered bone or a severed artery to deal with I should have had to call +in a doctor. Then the fellow would have talked, and there'd have been the +devil to pay. As it is, I shall be able to manage well enough with my own +small skill. I've dressed worse wounds than that in my time. By Jove, it +was a miracle, though!" A sudden little gust of rage swept him. He cried +out: "That confounded fool of a gardener, that one-eyed Michel, ought to be +beaten to death. Why couldn't he have slipped up behind this fellow and +knocked him on the head, instead of shooting him from ten paces away? The +benighted idiot! He came near upsetting the whole boat!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Captain Stewart, with a sharp, hard breath, "he should have +shot straighter or not at all."</p> + +<p>The Irishman stared at him with his bright blue eyes, and after a moment +he gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"Jove, you're a bloodthirsty beggar, Stewart!" said he. "That would have +been a rum go, if you like! Killing the fellow! All his friends down on us +like hawks, and the police and all that! You can't go about killing people +in the outskirts of Paris, you know--at least not people with friends. And +this chap looks like a gentleman, more or less, so I take it he has +friends. As a matter of fact, his face is rather familiar. I think I've +seen him before, somewhere. You looked at him just now through the crack of +the door; do you know who he is? Coira tells me he called out to Arthur by +name, but Arthur says he never saw him before and doesn't know him at +all."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart shivered. It had not been a pleasant moment for him, +that moment when he had looked through the crack of the door and recognized +Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_182"></a>"Yes," he said, half under his breath--"yes, I +know who he is. A friend of the family."</p> + +<p>The Irishman's lips puckered to a low whistle. He said:</p> + +<p>"Spying, then, as I thought. He has run us to earth."</p> + +<p>And the other nodded. O'Hara took a turn across the room and back.</p> + +<p>"In that case," he said, presently--"in that case, then, we must keep +him prisoner here so long as we remain. That's certain." He spun round +sharply with an exclamation. "Look here!" he cried, in a lower tone, "how +about this fellow's friends? It isn't likely he's doing his dirty work +alone. How about his friends, when he doesn't turn up to-night? If they +know he was coming here to spy on us; if they know where the place is; if +they know, in short, what he seems to have known, we're done for. We'll +have to run, get out, disappear. Hang it, man, d'you understand? We're not +safe here for an hour."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart's hands shook a little as he gripped them together +behind him, and a dew of perspiration stood out suddenly upon his forehead +and cheek-bones, but his voice, when he spoke, was well under control.</p> + +<p>"It's an odd thing," said he--"another miracle, if you like--but I +believe we are safe--reasonably safe. I--have reason to think that this +fellow learned about La Lierre only last evening from some one who left +Paris to-day to be gone a long time. And I also have reason to believe that +the fellow has not seen the one friend who is in his confidence, since he +obtained his information. By chance I met the friend, the other man, in the +street this afternoon. I asked after this fellow whom we have here, and the +friend said he hadn't seen him for twenty-four hours--was going to see him +to-night."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_183"></a>"By the Lord!" cried the Irishman, with a great +laugh of relief. "What luck! What monumental luck! If all that's true, +we're safe. Why, man, we're as safe as a fox in his hole. The lad's friends +won't have the ghost of an idea of where he's gone to.... Wait, though! +Stop a bit! He won't have left written word behind him, eh? He won't have +done that--for safety?"</p> + +<p>"I think not," said Captain Stewart, but he breathed hard, for he knew +well enough that there lay the gravest danger. "I think not," he said +again.</p> + +<p>He made a rather surprisingly accurate guess at the truth--that Ste. +Marie had started out upon impulse, without intending more than a general +reconnaissance, and therefore without leaving any word behind him. Still, +the shadow of danger uplifted itself before the man and he was afraid. A +sudden gust of weak anger shook him like a wind.</p> + +<p>"In Heaven's name," he cried, shrilly, "why didn't that one-eyed fool +kill the fellow while he was about it? There's danger for us every moment +while he is alive here. Why didn't that shambling idiot kill him?"</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart's outflung hand jumped and trembled and his face was +twisted into a sort of grinning snarl. He looked like an angry and wicked +cat, the other man thought.</p> + +<p>"If I weren't an over-civilized fool," he said, viciously, "I'd go +up-stairs and kill him now with my hands while he can't help himself. We're +all too scrupulous by half."</p> + +<p>The Irishman stared at him and presently broke into amazed laughter.</p> + +<p>"Scrupulous!" said he. "Well, yes, I'm too scrupulous to murder a man in +his bed, if you like. I'm not squeamish, but--Good Lord!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_184"></a>"Do you realize," demanded Captain Stewart, "what +risks we run while that fellow is alive--knowing what he knows?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I realize that," said O'Hara. "But I don't see why <i>you</i> +should have heart failure over it."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart's pale lips drew back again in their catlike +fashion.</p> + +<p>"Never mind about me," he said. "But I can't help thinking you're +peculiarly indifferent in the face of danger."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not!" said the Irishman, quickly. "No, I'm not. Don't you run +away with that idea! I merely said," he went oh--"I merely said that I'd +stop short of murder. I don't set any foolish value on life--my own or any +other. I've had to take life more than once, but it was in fair fight or in +self-defence, and I don't regret it. It was your coldblooded joke about +going up-stairs and killing this chap in his bed that put me on edge. +Naturally I know you didn't mean it. Don't you go thinking that I'm +lukewarm or that I'm indifferent to danger. I know there's danger from this +lad up-stairs, and I mean to be on guard against it. He stays here under +strict guard until--what we're after is accomplished--until young Arthur +comes of age. If there's danger," said he, "why, we know where it lies, and +we can guard against it. That kind of danger is not very formidable. The +dangerous dangers are the ones that you don't know about--the hidden +ones."</p> + +<p>He came forward a little, and his lean face was as hard and as impassive +as ever, and the bright blue eyes shone from it steady and unwinking. +Stewart looked up to him with a sort of peevish resentment at the man's +confidence and cool poise. It was an odd reversal of their ordinary +relations. For the hour the duller villain, the man who was <a +name="Page_185"></a>wont to take orders and to refrain from overmuch +thought or question, seemed to have become master. Sheer physical +exhaustion and the constant maddening pain had had their will of Captain +Stewart. A sudden shiver wrung him so that his dry fingers rattled against +the wood of the chair-arms.</p> + +<p>"All the same," he cried, "I'm afraid. I've been confident enough until +now. Now I'm afraid. I wish the fellow had been killed."</p> + +<p>"Kill him, then!" laughed the Irishman. "I won't give you up to the +police."</p> + +<p>He crossed the room to the door, but halted short of it and turned about +again, and he looked back very curiously at the man who sat crouched in his +chair by the window. It had occurred to him several times that Stewart was +very unlike himself. The man was quite evidently tired and ill, and that +might account for some of the nervousness, but this fierce malignity was +something a little beyond O'Hara's comprehension. It seemed to him that the +elder man had the air of one frightened beyond the point the circumstances +warranted.</p> + +<p>"Are you going back to town," he asked, "or do you mean to stay the +night?"</p> + +<p>"I shall stay the night," Stewart said. "I'm too tired to bear the +ride." He glanced up and caught the other's eyes fixed upon him. "Well!" he +cried, angrily. "What is it? What are you looking at me like that for? What +do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I want nothing," said the Irishman, a little sharply. "And I wasn't +aware that I'd been looking at you in any unusual way. You're precious +jumpy to-day, if you want to know.... Look here!" He came back a step, +frowning. <a name="Page_186"></a>"Look here!" he repeated. "I don't quite +make you out. Are you keeping back anything? Because if you are, for +Heaven's sake have it out here and now! We're all in this game together, +and we can't afford to be anything but frank with one another. We can't +afford to make reservations. It's altogether too dangerous for everybody. +You're too much frightened. There's no apparent reason for being so +frightened as that."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart drew a long breath between closed teeth, and afterward +he looked up at the younger man coldly.</p> + +<p>"We need not discuss my personal feelings, I think," said he. "They have +no--no bearing on the point at issue. As you say, we are all in this thing +together, and you need not fear that I shall fail to do my part, as I have +done it in the past.... That's all, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>as</i> you like! As you like!" said the Irishman, in the tone of +one rebuffed. He turned again and left the room, closing the door behind +him. Outside on the stairs it occurred to him that he had forgotten to ask +the other man what this fellow's name was--the fellow who lay wounded +up-stairs. No, he had asked once, but in the interest of the conversation +the question had been lost. He determined to inquire again that evening at +dinner.</p> + +<p>But Captain Stewart, left thus alone, sank deeper in the uncomfortable +chair, and his head once more stirred and sought vainly for ease against +the chair's high back. The pain swept him in regular throbbing waves that +were like the waves of the sea--waves which surge and crash and tear upon a +beach. But between the throbs of physical pain there was something else +that was always present while the waves came and went. Pain and exhaustion, +if <a name="Page_187"></a>they are sufficiently extreme, can well nigh +paralyze mind as well as body, and for some time Captain Stewart wondered +what this thing might be which lurked at the bottom of him still under the +surges of agony. Then at last he had the strength to look at it, and it was +fear, cold and still and silent. He was afraid to the very depths of his +soul.</p> + +<p>True, as O'Hara had said, there did not seem to be any very desperate +peril to face, but Stewart was afraid with the gambler's unreasoning, +half-superstitious fear, and that is the worst fear of all. He realized +that he had been afraid of Ste. Marie from the beginning, and that, of +course, was why he had tried to draw him into partnership with himself in +his own official and wholly mythical search for Arthur Benham. He could +have had the other man under his eye then. He could have kept him busy for +months running down false scents. As it was, Ste. Marie's uncanny instinct +about the Irishman O'Hara had led him true--that and what he doubtless +learned from Olga Nilssen.</p> + +<p>If Stewart had been in a condition and mood to philosophize, he would +doubtless have reflected that seven-tenths of the desperate causes, both +good and bad, which fail in this world, fail because they are wrecked by +some woman's love or jealousy--or both. But it is unlikely that he was able +just at this time to make such a reflection, though certainly he wondered +how much Olga Nilssen had known, and how much Ste. Marie had had to put +together out of her knowledge and any previous suspicions which he may have +had.</p> + +<p>The man would have been amazed if he could have known what a mountain of +information and evidence had piled itself up over his head all in twelve +hours. He would have been amazed and, if possible, even more frightened <a +name="Page_188"></a>than he was, but he was without question sufficiently +frightened, for here was Ste. Marie in the very house, he had seen Arthur +Benham, and quite obviously he knew all there was to know, or at least +enough to ruin Arthur Benham's uncle beyond all recovery or hope of +recovery--irretrievably.</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart tried to think what it would mean to him--failure in +this desperate scheme--but he had not the strength or the courage. He +shrank from the picture as one shrinks from something horrible in a bad +dream. There could be no question of failure. He had to succeed at any +cost, however desperate or fantastic. Once more the spasm of childish, +futile rage swept over him and shook him like a wind.</p> + +<p>"Why couldn't the fellow have been killed by that one-eyed fool?" he +cried, sobbing. "Why couldn't he have been killed? He's the only one who +knows--the only thing in the way. Why couldn't he have keen killed?"</p> + +<p>Quite suddenly Captain Stewart ceased to sob and shiver, and sat still +in his chair, gripping the arms with white and tense fingers. His eyes +began to widen, and they became fixed in a long, strange stare. He drew a +deep breath.</p> + +<p>"I wonder!" he said, aloud. "I wonder, now."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_189"></a><h2><a name='XVI'></a>XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE BLACK CAT</h3> + + +<p>That providential stone or tree-root, or whatever it may have been, +proved a genuine blessing in disguise to Ste. Marie. It gave him a +splitting headache for a few hours, but it saved him a good deal of +discomfort the while his bullet wound was being more or less probed and +very skilfully cleansed and dressed by O'Hara. For he did not regain +consciousness until this surgical work was almost at its end, and then he +wanted to fight the Irishman for tying the bandages too tight.</p> + +<p>But when O'Hara had gone away and left him alone he lay still--or as +still as the smarting, burning pain in his leg and the ache in his head +would let him--and stared at the wall beyond his bed, and bit by bit the +events of the past hour came back to him, and he knew where he was. He +cursed himself very bitterly, as he well might do, for a bungling idiot. +The whole thing had been in his hands, he said, with perfect truth--Arthur +Benham's whereabouts proved Stewart's responsibility or, at the very least, +complicity and the sordid motive therefor. Remained--had Ste. Marie been a +sane being instead of an impulsive fool--remained but to face Stewart down +in the presence of witnesses, threaten him with exposure, and so, with +perfect ease, bring back the lost boy in triumph to his family.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_190"></a>It should all have been so simple, so easy, so +effortless! Yet now it was ruined by a moment's rash folly, and Heaven +alone knew what would come of it. He remembered that he had left behind him +no indication whatever of where he meant to spend the afternoon. Hartley +would come hurrying across town that evening to the rue d'Assas, and would +find no one there to receive him. He would wait and wait, and at last go +home. He would come again on the next morning, and then he would begin to +be alarmed and would start a second search--but with what to reckon by? +Nobody knew about the house on the road to Clamart but Mlle. Olga Nilssen, +and she was far away.</p> + +<p>He thought of Captain Stewart, and he wondered if that gentleman was by +any chance here in the house, or if he was still in bed in the rue du +Faubourg St. Honoré, recovering from his epileptic fit.</p> + +<p>After that he fell once more to cursing himself and his incredible +stupidity, and he could have wept for sheer bitterness of chagrin.</p> + +<p>He was still engaged in this unpleasant occupation when the door of the +room opened and the Irishman O'Hara entered, having finished his interview +with Captain Stewart below. He came up beside the bed and looked down not +unkindly upon the man who lay there, but Ste. Marie scowled back at him, +for he was in a good deal of pain and a vile humor.</p> + +<p>"How's the leg--<i>and</i> the head?" asked the amateur surgeon. To do +him justice, he was very skilful, indeed, through much experience.</p> + +<p>"They hurt," said Ste. Marie, shortly. "My head aches like the devil, +and my leg burns."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_191"></a>O'Hara made a sound which was rather like a gruff +laugh, and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and they'll go on doing it, too," said he. "At least the leg will. +Your head will be all right again in a day or so. Do you want anything to +eat? It's near dinner-time. I suppose we can't let you starve--though you +deserve it."</p> + +<p>"Thanks; I want nothing," said Ste. Marie. "Pray don't trouble about +me."</p> + +<p>The other man nodded again indifferently and turned to go out of the +room, but in the doorway he halted and looked back.</p> + +<p>"As we're to have the pleasure of your company for some time to come," +said he, "you might suggest a name to call you by. Of course I don't expect +you to tell your own name--though I can learn that easily enough."</p> + +<p>"Easily enough, to be sure," said the man on the bed. "Ask Stewart. He +knows only too well."</p> + +<p>The Irishman scowled. And after a moment he said:</p> + +<p>"I don't know any Stewart."</p> + +<p>But at that Ste. Marie gave a laugh, and a tinge of red came over the +Irishman's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"And so, to save Captain Stewart the trouble," continued the wounded +man, "I'll tell you my name with pleasure. I don't know why I shouldn't. +It's Ste. Marie."</p> + +<p>"What?" cried O'Hara, hoarsely. "What? Say that again!"</p> + +<p>He came forward a swift step or two into the room, and he stared at the +man on the bed as if he were staring at a ghost.</p> + +<p>"Ste. Marie?" he cried, in a whisper. "It's impossible! <a +name="Page_192"></a>What are you," he demanded, "to Gilles, Comte de Ste. +Marie de Mont-Perdu? What are you to him?"</p> + +<p>"He was my father," said the younger man; "but he is dead. He has been +dead for ten years."</p> + +<p>He raised his head, with a little grimace of pain, to look curiously +after the Irishman, who had all at once turned away across the room and +stood still beside a window with bent head.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he questioned. "What about my father? Why did you ask that?"</p> + +<p>O'Hara did not answer at once, and he did not stir from his place by the +window, but after a while he said:</p> + +<p>"I knew him.... That's all."</p> + +<p>And after another space he came back beside the bed, and once more +looked down upon the young man who lay there. His face was veiled, +inscrutable. It betrayed nothing.</p> + +<p>"You have a look of your father," said he. "That was what puzzled me a +little. I was just saying to--I was just thinking that there was something +familiar about you.... Ah, well, we've all come down in the world since +then. The Ste. Marie blood, though. Who'd have thought it?"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head a little sorrowfully, but Ste. Marie stared up at +him in frowning incomprehension. The pain had dulled him somewhat. And +presently O'Hara again moved toward the door. On the way he said:</p> + +<p>"I'll bring or send you something to eat--not too much. And later on +I'll give you a sleeping-powder. With that head of yours you may have +trouble in getting to sleep. Understand, I'm doing this for your father's +son, and not because you've any right yourself to consideration."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie raised himself with difficulty on one elbow.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_193"></a>"Wait!" said he. "Wait a moment!" and the other +halted just inside the door. "You seem to have known my father," said Ste. +Marie, "and to have respected him. For my father's sake, will you listen to +me for five minutes?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't," said the Irishman, sharply. "So you may as well hold your +tongue. Nothing you can say to me or to any one in this house will have the +slightest effect. We know what you came spying here for. We know all about +it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Ste. Marie, with a little sigh, and he fell back upon the +pillows. "Yes, I suppose you do. I was rather a fool to speak. You wouldn't +all be doing what you're doing if words could affect you. I was a fool to +speak."</p> + +<p>The Irishman stared at him for another moment, and went out of the room, +closing the door behind him.</p> + +<p>So he was left once more alone to his pain and his bitter +self-reproaches and his wild and futile plans for escape. But O'Hara +returned in an hour or thereabout with food for him--a cup of broth and a +slice of bread; and when Ste. Marie had eaten these the Irishman looked +once more to his wounded leg, and gave him a sleeping-powder dissolved in +water.</p> + +<p>He lay restless and wide-eyed for an hour, and then drifted away through +intermediate mists into a sleep full of horrible dreams, but it was at +least relief from bodily suffering, and when he awoke in the morning his +headache was almost gone.</p> + +<p>He awoke to sunshine and fresh, sweet odors and the twittering of birds. +By good chance O'Hara had been the last to enter the room on the evening +before, and so no one had come to close the shutters or draw the blinds. +The windows were open wide, and the morning breeze, very soft <a +name="Page_194"></a>and aromatic, blew in and out and filled the place with +sweetness. The room was a corner room, with windows that looked south and +east, and the early sun slanted in and lay in golden squares across the +floor.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie opened his eyes with none of the dazed bewilderment that he +might have expected. The events of the preceding day came back to him +instantly and without shock. He put up an experimental hand, and found that +his head was still very sore where he had struck it in falling, but the +ache was almost gone. He tried to stir his leg, and a protesting pain shot +through it. It burned dully, even when it was quiet, but the pain was not +at all severe. He realized that he was to get off rather well, considering +what might have happened, and he was so grateful for this that he almost +forgot to be angry with himself over his monumental folly.</p> + +<p>A small bird chased by another wheeled in through the southern window +and back again into free air. Finally, the two settled down upon the +parapet of the little shallow balcony which was there to have their +disagreement out, and they talked it over with a great deal of noise and +many threatening gestures and a complete loss of temper on both sides. Ste. +Marie, from his bed, cheered them on, but there came a commotion in the ivy +which draped the wall below, and the two birds fled in ignominious haste, +and just in the nick of time, for when the cause of the commotion shot into +view it was a large black cat, of great bodily activity and an ardent +single-heartedness of aim.</p> + +<p>The black cat gazed for a moment resentfully after its vanished prey, +and then composed its sleek body upon the iron rail, tail and paws tucked +neatly under. Ste. Marie chirruped, and the cat turned yellow eyes upon him +in mild <a name="Page_195"></a>astonishment, as one who should say, "Who +the deuce are you, and what the deuce are you doing here?" He chirruped +again, and the cat, after an ostentatious yawn and stretch, came to +him--beating up to windward, as it were, and making the bed in three tacks. +When O'Hara entered the room some time later he found his patient in a very +cheerful frame of mind, and the black cat sitting on his chest purring like +a dynamo and kneading like an industrious baker.</p> + +<p>"Ho," said the Irishman, "you seem to have found a friend!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I need one friend here," argued Ste. Marie. "I'm in the enemy's +stronghold. You needn't be alarmed; the cat can't tell me anything, and it +can't help me to escape. It can only sit on me and purr. That's harmless +enough."</p> + +<p>O'Hara began one of his gruff laughs, but he seemed to remember himself +in the middle of it and assumed an intimidating scowl instead.</p> + +<p>"How's the leg?" he demanded, shortly. "Let me see it." He took off the +bandages and cleansed and sprayed the wound with some antiseptic liquid +that he had brought in a bottle. "There's a little fever," said he, "but +that can't be avoided. You're going on very well--a good deal better than +you'd any right to expect." He had to inflict not a little pain in his +examination and redressing of the wound. He knew that, and once or twice he +glanced up at Ste. Marie's face with a sort of reluctant admiration for the +man who could bear so much without any sign whatever. In the end he put +together his things and nodded with professional satisfaction. "You'll do +well enough now for the rest of the day," he said. "I'll send up old Michel +to valet you. He's the gardener who shot you yesterday, and he may take <a +name="Page_196"></a>it into his head to finish the job this morning. If he +does I sha'n't try to stop him."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said Ste. Marie. "Thanks very much for your trouble. An +excellent surgeon was lost in you."</p> + +<p>O'Hara left the room, and presently the old caretaker, one-eyed, +gnomelike, shambling like a bear, sidled in and proceeded to set things to +rights. He looked, Ste. Marie said to himself, like something in an old +German drawing, or in those imitations of old drawings that one sometimes +sees nowadays in <i>Fliegende Blätter</i>. He tried to make the +strange creature talk, but Michel went about his task with an air +half-frightened, half-stolid, and refused to speak more than an occasional +"oui" or a "bien, Monsieur," in answer to orders. Ste. Marie asked if he +might have some coffee and bread, and the old Michel nodded and slipped +from the room as silently as he had entered it.</p> + +<p>Thereafter Ste. Marie trifled with the cat and got one hand well +scratched for his trouble, but in five minutes there came a knocking at the +door. He laughed a little. "Michel grows ceremonious when it's a question +of food," he said. "Entrez, mon vieux!"</p> + +<p>The door opened, and Ste. Marie caught his breath.</p> + +<p>"Michel is busy," said Coira O'Hara, "so I have brought your +coffee."</p> + +<p>She came into the sunlit room holding the steaming bowl of café +au lait before her in her two hands. Over it her eyes went out to the man +who lay in his bed, a long and steady and very grave look. "A goddess that +lady, a queen among goddesses--" Thus the little Jew of the Boulevard de la +Madeleine. Ste. Marie gazed back at her, and his heart was sick within him +to think of the contemptible rôle Fate had laid upon this girl to +play: the candle to the <a name="Page_197"></a>moth, the bait to the eager, +unskilled fish, the lure to charm a foolish boy.</p> + +<p>The girl's splendid beauty seemed to fill all that bright room with, as +it were, a richer, subtler light. There could be no doubt of her potency. +Older and wiser heads than young Arthur Benham's might well forget the +world for her. Ste. Marie watched, and the heartsickness within him was +like a physical pain, keen and bitter. He thought of that first and only +previous meeting--the single minute in the Champs-Elysées, when her +eyes had held him, had seemed to beseech him out of some deep agony. He +thought of how they had haunted him afterward both by day and by +night--calling eyes--and he gave a little groan of sheer bitterness, for he +realized that all this while she was laying her snares about the feet of an +inexperienced boy, decoying him to his ruin. There was a name for such +women, an ugly name. They were called adventuresses.</p> + +<p>The girl set the bowl which she carried down upon a table not far from +the bed. "You will need a tray or something," said she. "I suppose you can +sit up against your pillows? I'll bring a tray and you can hold it on your +knees and eat from it." She spoke in a tone of very deliberate indifference +and detachment. There seemed even to be an edge of scorn in it, but nothing +could make that deep and golden voice harsh or unlovely. As the girl's +extraordinary beauty had filled all the room with its light, so the sound +of her voice seemed to fill it with a sumptuous and hushed resonance like a +temple bell muffled in velvet. "I must bring something to eat, too," she +said. "Would you prefer croissants or brioches or plain bread-and-butter? +You might as well have what you like."</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" said Ste. Marie. "It doesn't matter. <a +name="Page_198"></a>Anything. You are most kind. You are Hebe, +Mademoiselle, server of feasts." The girl turned her head for a moment and +looked at him with some surprise.</p> + +<p>"If I am not mistaken," she said, "Hebe served to gods." Then she went +out of the room, and Ste. Marie broke into a sudden delighted laugh behind +her. She would seem to be a young woman with a tongue in her head. She had +seized the rash opening without an instant's hesitation.</p> + +<p>The black cat, which had been cruising, after the inquisitive fashion of +its kind, in far corners of the room, strolled back and looked up to the +table where the bowl of coffee steamed and waited.</p> + +<p>"Get out!" cried Ste. Marie. "Va t'en, sale petit animal! Go and eat +birds! That's <i>my</i> coffee. Va! Sauve toi! Hé, voleur que tu +es!" He sought for something by way of missile, but there was nothing +within reach.</p> + +<p>The black cat turned its calm and yellow eyes toward him, looked back to +the aromatic feast, and leaped expertly to the top of the table. Ste. Marie +shouted and made horrible threats. He waved an impotent pillow, not daring +to hurl it for fear of smashing the table's entire contents, but the black +cat did not even glance toward him. It smelled the coffee, sneezed over it +because it was hot, and finally proceeded to lap very daintily, pausing +often to take breath or to shake its head, for cats disapprove of hot +dishes, though they will partake of them at a pinch.</p> + +<p>There came a step outside the door, and the thief leaped down with some +haste, yet not quite in time to escape observation. Mlle. O'Hara came in, +breathing terrible threats.</p> + +<p>"Has that wretched animal touched your coffee?" she cried. "I hope not." +But Ste. Marie laughed weakly from his bed, and the guilty beast stood in +mid-floor, <a name="Page_199"></a>brown drops beading its black chin and +hanging upon its whiskers.</p> + +<p>"I did what I could, Mademoiselle," said Ste. Marie, "but there was +nothing to throw. I am sorry to be the cause of so much trouble."</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," said she. "I will bring some more coffee, only it will +take ten minutes, because I shall have to make some fresh." She made as if +she would smile a little in answer to him, but her face turned grave once +more and she went out of the room with averted eyes.</p> + +<p>Thereafter Ste. Marie occupied himself with watching idly the movements +of the black cat, and, as he watched, something icy cold began to grow +within him, a sensation more terrible than he had ever known before. He +found himself shivering as if that summer day had all at once turned to +January, and he found that his face was wet with a chill perspiration.</p> + +<p>When the girl at length returned she found him lying still, his face to +the wall. The black cat was in her path as she crossed the room, so that +she had to thrust it out of the way with her foot, and she called it names +for moving with such lethargy.</p> + +<p>"Here is the coffee at last," she said. "I made it fresh. And I have +brought some brioches. Will you sit up and have the tray on your +knees?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Ste. Marie. "I do not wish anything."</p> + +<p>"You do not--" she repeated after him. "But I have made the coffee +especially for you," she protested. "I thought you wanted it. I don't +understand."</p> + +<p>With a sudden movement the man turned toward her a white and drawn +face.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_200"></a>"Mademoiselle," he cried, "it would have been +more merciful to let your gardener shoot again yesterday. Much more +merciful, Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>She stared at him under her straight, black brows.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she demanded. "More merciful? What do you mean by +that?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie stretched out a pointing finger, and the girl followed it. +She gave, after a tense instant, a single, sharp scream. And upon that:</p> + +<p>"No, no! It's not true! It's not possible!"</p> + +<p>Moving stiffly, she set down the bowl she carried, and the hot liquid +splashed up round her wrists. For a moment she hung there, drooping, +holding herself up by the strength of her hands upon the table. It was as +if she had been seized with faintness. Then she sprang to where the cat +crouched beside a chair. She dropped upon her knees and tried to raise it +in her arms, but the beast bit and scratched at her feebly, and crept away +to a little distance, where it lay struggling and very unpleasant to +see.</p> + +<p>"Poison!" she said, in a choked, gasping whisper. "Poison!" She looked +once toward the man upon the bed, and she was white and shivering. "It's +not true!" she cried again. "I--won't believe it! It's because the cat--was +not used to coffee. Because it was hot. I won't believe it! I won't believe +it!" She began to sob, holding her hands over her white face.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie watched her with puzzled eyes. If this was acting, it was +very good acting. A little glimmer of hope began to burn in him--hope that +in this last shameful thing, at least, the girl had had no part.</p> + +<p>"It's impossible," she insisted, piteously. "I tell you it's impossible. +I brought the coffee myself from the <a name="Page_201"></a>kitchen. I took +it from the pot there--the same pot we had all had ours from. It was never +out of my sight--or, that is--I mean--"</p> + +<p>She halted there, and Ste. Marie saw her eyes turn slowly toward the +door, and he saw a crimson flush come up over her cheeks and die away, +leaving her white again. He drew a little breath of relief and gladness, +for he was sure of her now. She had had no part in it.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing, Mademoiselle," said he, cheerfully. "Think no more of +it. It is nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing?" she cried, in a loud voice. "Do you call poison nothing?" She +began to shiver again very violently. "You would have drunk it!" she said, +staring at him in a white agony. "But for a miracle you would have drunk +it--and died!"</p> + +<p>Abruptly she came beside the bed and threw herself upon her knees there. +In her excitement and horror she seemed to have forgotten what they two +were to each other. She caught him by the shoulders with her two hands, and +the girl's violent trembling shook them both.</p> + +<p>"Will you believe," she cried, "that I had nothing to do with this? Will +you believe me? You must believe me!"</p> + +<p>There was no acting in that moment. She was wrung with a frank anguish, +an utter horror, and between her words there were hard and terrible +sobs.</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Mademoiselle," said the man, gently. "I believe you. +Pray think no more about it."</p> + +<p>He smiled up into the girl's beautiful face, though within him he was +still cold and a-shiver, as even the bravest man might well be at such an +escape, and after a moment she turned away again. With unsteady hands she +put the new-made bowl of coffee and the brioches and other things <a +name="Page_202"></a>together upon the tray and started to carry it across +the room to the bed, but half-way she turned back again and set the tray +down. She looked about and found an empty glass, and she poured a little of +the coffee into it. Ste. Marie, who was watching her, gave a sudden +cry.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Mademoiselle, I beg you! You must not!"</p> + +<p>But the girl shook her head at him gravely over the glass.</p> + +<p>"There is no danger," she said, "but I must be sure."</p> + +<p>She drank what was in the glass, and afterward went across to one of the +windows and stood there with her back to the room for a little time.</p> + +<p>In the end she returned and once more brought the breakfast-tray to the +bed. Ste. Marie raised himself to a sitting posture and took the thing upon +his knees, but his hands were shaking.</p> + +<p>"If I were not as helpless as a dead man, Mademoiselle," said he, "you +should not have done that. If I could have stopped you, you should not have +done it, Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>A wave of color spread up under the brown skin of the girl's face, but +she did not speak. She stood by for a moment to see if he was supplied with +everything he needed, and when Ste. Marie expressed his gratitude for her +pains she only bowed her head. Then presently she turned away and left the +room.</p> + +<p>Outside the door she met some one who was approaching. Ste. Marie heard +her break into rapid and excited speech, and he heard O'Hara's voice in +answer. The voice expressed astonishment and indignation and a sort of +gruff horror, but the man who listened could hear only the tones, not the +words that were spoken.</p> + +<p>The Irishman came quickly into the room. He glanced <a +name="Page_203"></a>once toward the bed where Ste. Marie sat eating his +breakfast with apparent unconcern--there may have been a little bravado in +this--and then bent over the thing which lay moving feebly beside a chair. +When he rose again his face was hard and tense and his blue eyes glittered +in a fashion that boded trouble for somebody.</p> + +<p>"This looks very bad for us," he said, gruffly. "I should--I should like +to have you believe that neither my daughter nor I had any part in it. When +I fight I fight openly, I don't use poison. Not even with spies."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," said Ste. Marie, taking an ostentatious sip of +coffee. "That's understood. I know well enough who tried to poison me. If +you'll just keep your friend Stewart out of the kitchen I sha'n't worry +about my food."</p> + +<p>The Irishman's cheeks reddened with a quick flush and he dropped his +eyes. But in an instant he raised them again and looked full into the eyes +of the man who sat in bed.</p> + +<p>"You seem," said he, "to be laboring under a curious misapprehension. +There is no Stewart here, and I don't know any man of that name."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you?" he said. "That's my mistake then. Well, if you don't +know him, you ought to. You have interests in common."</p> + +<p>O'Hara favored his patient with a long and frowning stare. But at the +end he turned without a word and went out of the room.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_204"></a><h2><a name='XVII'></a>XVII</h2> + +<h3>THOSE WHO WERE LEFT BEHIND</h3> + + +<p>That meeting with Richard Hartley of which Captain Stewart, in the small +drawing-room at La Lierre, spoke to the Irishman O'Hara, took place at +Stewart's own door in the rue du Faubourg St. Honoré, and it must +have been at just about the time when Ste. Marie, concealed among the +branches of his cedar, looked over the wall and saw Arthur Benham walking +with Mlle. Coira O'Hara. Hartley had lunched at Durand's with his friends, +whose name--though it does not at all matter here--was Reeves-Davis, and +after lunch the four of them, Major and Lady Reeves-Davis, Reeves-Davis' +sister, Mrs. Carsten, and Hartley, spent an hour at a certain +picture-dealer's near the Madeleine. After that Lady Reeves-Davis wanted to +go in search of an antiquary's shop which was somewhere in the rue du +Faubourg, and she did not know just where. They went in from the rue +Royale, and amused themselves by looking at the attractive windows on the +way.</p> + +<p>During one of their frequent halts, while the two ladies were +passionately absorbed in a display of hats, and Reeves-Davis was making +derisive comments from the rear, Hartley, who was too much bored to pay +attention, saw a figure which seemed to him familiar emerge from an +adjacent doorway and start to cross the pavement to a large touring-car, +with <a name="Page_205"></a>the top up, which stood at the curb. The man +wore a dust-coat and a cap, and he moved as if he were in a hurry, but as +he went he cast a quick look about him and his eye fell upon Richard +Hartley. Hartley nodded, and he thought the elder man gave a violent start; +but then he looked very white and ill and might have started at anything. +For an instant Captain Stewart made as if he would go on his way without +taking notice, but he seemed to change his mind and turned back. He held +out his hand with a rather wan and nervous smile, saying:</p> + +<p>"Ah, Hartley! It is you, then! I wasn't sure." He glanced over the +other's shoulder and said, "Is that our friend Ste. Marie with you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Richard Hartley, "some English friends of mine. I haven't +seen Ste. Marie to-day. I'm to meet him this evening. You've seen him since +I have, as a matter of fact. He came to your party last night, didn't he? +Sorry I couldn't come. They must have tired you out, I should think. You +look ill."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other man, absently. "Yes, I had an attack of--an old +malady last night. I am rather stale to-day. You say you haven't seen Ste. +Marie? No, to be sure. If you see him later on you might say that I mean to +drop in on him to-morrow to make my apologies. He'll understand. +Good-day."</p> + +<p>So he turned away to the motor which was waiting for him, and Hartley +went back to his friends, wondering a little what it was that Stewart had +to apologize for.</p> + +<p>As for Captain Stewart, he must have gone at once out to La Lierre. What +he found there has already been set forth.</p> + +<p>It was about ten that evening when Hartley, who had <a +name="Page_206"></a>left his people, after dinner was over, at the Marigny, +reached the rue d'Assas. The street door was already closed for the night, +and so he had to ring for the cordon. When the door clicked open and he had +closed it behind him he called out his name before crossing the court to +Ste. Marie's stair; but as he went on his way the voice of the concierge +reached him from the little loge.</p> + +<p>"M. Ste. Marie n'est pas là,"</p> + +<p>Now, the Parisian concierge, as every one knows who has lived under his +iron sway, is a being set apart from the rest of mankind. He has, in +general, no human attributes, and certainly no human sympathy. His hand is +against all the world, and the hand of all the world is against him. Still, +here and there among this peculiar race are to be found a very few beings +who are of softer substance--men and women instead of spies and harpies. +The concierge who had charge of the house wherein Ste. Marie dwelt was an +old woman, undeniably severe upon occasion, but for the most part a kindly +and even jovial soul. She must have become a concierge through some +unfortunate mistake.</p> + +<p>She snapped open her little square window and stuck out into the moonlit +court a dishevelled gray head.</p> + +<p>"Il n'est pas là." she said again, beaming upon Richard Hartley, +whom she liked, and, when he protested that he had a definite and important +appointment with her lodger, went on to explain that Ste. Marie had gone +out, doubtless to lunch, before one o'clock and had never returned.</p> + +<p>"He may have left word for me up-stairs," Hartley said; "I'll go up and +wait, if I may." So the woman got him her extra key, and he went up, let +himself into the flat, and made lights there.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_207"></a>Naturally he found no word, but his own note of +that morning lay spread out upon a table where Ste. Marie had left it, and +so he knew that his friend was in possession of the two facts he had +learned about Stewart. He made himself comfortable with a book and some +cigarettes, and settled down to wait.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie out at La Lierre, with a bullet-hole in his leg, was deep in +a drugged sleep just then, but Hartley waited for him, looking up now and +then from his book with a scowl of impatience, until the little clock on +the mantel said that it was one o'clock. Then he went home in a very bad +temper, after writing another note and leaving it on the table, to say that +he would return early in the morning.</p> + +<p>But in the morning he began to be alarmed. He questioned the concierge +very closely as to Ste. Marie's movements on the day previous, but she +could tell him little, save to mention the brief visit of a man with an +accent of Toulouse or Marseilles, and there seemed to be no one else to +whom he could go. He spent the entire morning in the flat, and returned +there after a hasty lunch. But at mid-afternoon he took a fiacre at the +corner of the Gardens and drove to the rue du Faubourg St. +Honoré.</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart was at home. He was in a dressing-gown, and still looked +fagged and unwell. He certainly betrayed some surprise at sight of his +visitor, but he made Hartley welcome at once and insisted upon having +cigars and things to drink brought out for him. On the whole he presented +an astonishingly normal exterior, for within him he must have been cold +with fear, and in his ears a question must have rung and shouted and rung +again unceasingly--"What does this fellow know? What does he know?"</p> + +<p>Hartley's very presence there had a perilous look.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_208"></a>The younger man shook his head at the servant who +asked him what he wished to drink.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, you're very good," he said to Captain Stewart, and that +gentleman eyed him silently. "I can't stay but a moment. I just dropped in +to ask if you'd any idea what can have become of Ste. Marie."</p> + +<p>"Ste. Marie?" said Captain Stewart. "What do you mean--'become of him'?" +He moistened his lips to speak, but he said the words without a tremor.</p> + +<p>"Well, what I meant was," said Hartley, "that you'd seen him last. He +was here Thursday evening. Did he say anything to you about going anywhere +in particular the next day--yesterday? He left his rooms about noon and +hasn't turned up since."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart drew a short breath and sat down, abruptly, in a near-by +chair, for all at once his knees had begun to tremble under him. He was +conscious of a great and blissful wave of relief and well-being, and he +wanted to laugh. He wanted so much to laugh that it became a torture to +keep his face in repose.</p> + +<p>So Ste. Marie had left no word behind him, and the danger was past!</p> + +<p>With a great effort he looked up from where he sat to Richard Hartley, +who stood anxious and frowning before him.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me for sitting down," he said, "and sit down yourself, I beg. +I'm still very shaky from my attack of illness. Ste. Marie--Ste. Marie has +disappeared? How very extraordinary! It's like poor Arthur. Still--a single +day! He might be anywhere for a single day, might he not? For all that, +though, it's very odd. Why, no. No, I don't think he said anything about +going away. At least I remember <a name="Page_209"></a>nothing about it." +The relief and triumph within him burst out in a sudden little chuckle of +malicious fun. "I can think of only one thing," said he, "that might be of +use to you. Ste. Marie seemed to take a very great fancy to one of the +ladies here the other evening. And, I must confess, the lady seemed to +return it. It had all the look of a desperate flirtation--a most desperate +flirtation. They spent the evening in a corner together. You don't +suppose," he said, still chuckling gently, "that Ste. Marie is taking a +little holiday, do you? You don't suppose that the lady could account for +him?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Richard Hartley, "I don't. And if you knew Ste. Marie a +little better you wouldn't suppose it, either." But after a pause he said: +"Could you give me the--lady's name, by any chance? Of course, I don't want +to leave any stone unturned."</p> + +<p>And once more the other man emitted his pleased little chuckle that was +so like a cat's mew.</p> + +<p>"I can give you her name," said he. "The name is Mlle.---- Bertrand. +Elise Bertrand. But I regret to say I haven't the address by me. She came +with some friends. I will try and get it and send it you. Will that be all +right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, thanks!" said Richard Hartley. "You're very good. And now I must +be going on. I'm rather in a hurry."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart protested against this great haste, and pressed the +younger man to sit down and tell him more about his friend's disappearance, +but Hartley excused himself, repeating that he was in a great hurry, and +went off.</p> + +<p>When he had gone Captain Stewart lay back in his chair and laughed until +he was weak and ached from it, the <a name="Page_210"></a>furious, helpless +laughter which comes after the sudden release from a terrible strain. He +was not, as a rule, a demonstrative man, but he became aware that he would +like to dance and sing, and probably he would have done both if it had not +been for the servant in the next room.</p> + +<p>So there was no danger to be feared, and his terrors of the night +past--he shivered a little to think of them--had been, after all, useless +terrors! As for the prisoner out at La Lierre, nothing was to be feared +from him so long as a careful watch was kept. Later on he might have to be +disposed of, since both bullet and poison had failed--he scowled over that, +remembering a bad quarter of an hour with O'Hara early this morning--but +that matter could wait. Some way would present itself. He thought of the +wholly gratuitous lie he had told Hartley, a thing born of a moment's +malice, and he laughed again. It struck him that it would be very humorous +if Hartley should come to suspect his friend of turning aside from his +great endeavors to enter upon an affair with a lady. He dimly remembered +that Ste. Marie's name had, from time to time, been a good deal involved in +romantic histories, and he said to himself that his lie had been very well +chosen, indeed, and might be expected to cause Richard Hartley much anguish +of spirit.</p> + +<p>After that he lighted a very large cigarette, half as big as a cigar, +and he lay back in his low, comfortable chair and began to think of the +outcome of all this plotting and planning. As is very apt to be the case +when a great danger has been escaped, he was in a mood of extreme +hopefulness and confidence. Vaguely he felt as if the recent happenings had +set him ahead a pace toward his goal, though of course they had done +nothing of the kind. The <a name="Page_211"></a>danger that would exist so +long as Ste. Marie, who knew everything, was alive, seemed in some +miraculous fashion to have dwindled to insignificance; in this rebound from +fear and despair difficulties were swept away and the path was clear. The +man's mind leaped to his goal, and a little shiver of prospective joy ran +over him. Once that goal gained he could defy the world. Let eyes look +askance, let tongues wag, he would be safe then--safe for all the rest of +his life, and rich, rich, rich!</p> + +<p>For he was playing against a feeble old man's life. Day by day he +watched the low flame sink lower as the flame of an exhausted lamp sinks +and flickers. It was slow, for the old man had still a little strength +left, but the will to live--which was the oil in the lamp--was almost gone, +and the waiting could not be long now. One day, quite suddenly, the flame +would sink down to almost nothing, as at last it does in the spent lamp. It +would flicker up and down rapidly for a few moments, and all at once there +would be no flame there. Old David would be dead, and a servant would be +sent across the river in haste to the rue du Faubourg St. Honoré. +Stewart lay back in his chair and tried to imagine that it was true, that +it had already happened, as happen it must before long, and once more the +little shiver, which was like a shiver of voluptuous delight, ran up and +down his limbs, and his breath began to come fast and hard.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But Richard Hartley drove at once back to the rue d'Assas. He was not +very much disappointed in having learned nothing from Stewart, though he +was thoroughly angry at that gentleman's hint about Ste. Marie and the +unknown lady. He had gone to the rue du Faubourg <a +name="Page_212"></a>because, as he had said, he wished to leave no stone +unturned, and, after all, he had thought it quite possible that Stewart +could give him some information which would be of value. Hartley firmly +believed the elder man to be a rascal, but of course he knew nothing +definite save the two facts which he had accidentally learned from Helen +Benham, and it had occurred to him that Captain Stewart might have sent +Ste. Marie off upon another wild-goose chase such as the expedition to +Dinard had been. He would have been sure that the elder man had had +something to do with Ste. Marie's disappearance if the latter had not been +seen since Stewart's party, but instead of that Ste. Marie had come home, +slept, gone out the next morning, returned again, received a visitor, and +gone out to lunch. It was all very puzzling and mysterious.</p> + +<p>His mind went back to the brief interview with Stewart and dwelt upon +it. Little things which had at the time made no impression upon him began +to recur and to take on significance. He remembered the elder man's odd and +strained manner at the beginning, his sudden and causeless change to ease +and to something that was almost like a triumphant excitement, and then his +absurd story about Ste. Marie's flirtation with a lady. Hartley thought of +these things; he thought also of the fact that Ste. Marie had disappeared +immediately after hearing grave accusations against Stewart. Could he have +lost his head, rushed across the city at once to confront the middle-aged +villain, and then--disappeared from human ken? It would have been very like +him to do something rashly impulsive upon reading that note.</p> + +<p>Hartley broke into a sudden laugh of sheer amusement when he realized to +what a wild and improbable flight his <a name="Page_213"></a>fancy was +soaring. He could not quite rid himself of a feeling that Stewart was, in +some mysterious fashion, responsible for his friend's vanishing, but he was +unlike Ste. Marie: he did not trust his feelings, either good or bad, +unless they were backed by excellent evidence, and he had to admit that +there was not a single scrap of evidence in this instance against Miss +Benham's uncle.</p> + +<p>The girl's name recalled him to another duty. He must tell her about +Ste. Marie. He was by this time half-way up the Boulevard St. Germain, but +he gave a new order, and the fiacre turned back to the rue de +l'Université. The footman at the door said that Mademoiselle was not +in the drawing-room, as it was only four o'clock, but that he thought she +was in the house. So Hartley sent up his name and went in to wait.</p> + +<p>Miss Benham came down looking a little pale and anxious.</p> + +<p>"I've been with grandfather," she explained. "He had some sort of +sinking-spell last night and we were very much frightened. He's much +better, but--well, he couldn't have many such spells and live. I'm afraid +he grows a good deal weaker day by day now. He sees hardly any one outside +the family, except Baron de Vries." She sat down with a little sigh of +fatigue and smiled up at her visitor. "I'm glad you've come," said she. +"You'll cheer me up, and I rather need it. What are you looking so solemn +about, though? You won't cheer me up if you look like that."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," said Hartley, "I came at this impossible hour to bring +you some bad news. I'm sorry. Perhaps," he modified, "bad news is putting +it with too much seriousness. Strange news is better. To be brief, Ste. +Marie has disappeared--vanished into thin air. I thought you ought to +know."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_214"></a>"Ste. Marie!" cried the girl. "How? What do you +mean--vanished? When did he vanish?"</p> + +<p>She gave a sudden exclamation of relief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he has come upon some clew or other and has rushed off to follow +it. That's all. How dare you frighten me so?"</p> + +<p>"He went without luggage," said the man, shaking his head, "and he left +no word of any kind behind him. He went out to lunch yesterday about noon, +and, as I said, simply vanished, leaving no trace whatever behind him. I've +just been to see your uncle, thinking that he might know something, but he +doesn't."</p> + +<p>The girl looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"My uncle?" she said. "Why my uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Hartley, "you see, Ste. Marie went to a little party at +your uncle's flat on the night before he disappeared, and I thought your +uncle might have heard him say something that would throw light on his +movements the next day."</p> + +<p>Hartley remembered the unfortunate incident of the galloping pigs, and +hurried on:</p> + +<p>"He went to the party more for the purpose of having a talk with your +uncle than for any other reason, I think. I was to have gone myself, but +gave it up at the eleventh hour for the Cains' dinner at Armenonville. +Well, the next morning after Captain Stewart's party he went out early. I +called at his rooms to see him about something important that I thought he +ought to know. I missed him, and so left a note for him which he got on his +return and read. I found it open on his table later on. At noon he went out +again, and that's all. Frankly, I'm worried about him."</p> + +<p>Miss Benham watched the man with thoughtful eyes, and when he had +finished she asked:</p> + +<p><a name="Page_215"></a>"Could you tell me what was in this note that you +left for Ste. Marie?"</p> + +<p>Hartley was by nature a very open and frank young man, and in +consequence an unusually bad liar. He hesitated and looked away, and he +began to turn red.</p> + +<p>"Well--no," he said, after a moment--"no, I'm afraid I can't. It was +something you wouldn't understand--wouldn't know about."</p> + +<p>And the girl said, "Oh!" and remained for a little while silent. But at +the end she looked up and met his eyes, and the man saw that she was very +grave. She said:</p> + +<p>"Richard, there is something that you and I have been avoiding and +pretending not to see. It has gone too far now, and we've got to face it +with perfect frankness. I know what was in your note to Ste. Marie. It was +what you found out the other evening about--my uncle--the matter of the +will and the other matter. He knew about the will, but he told you and Ste. +Marie that he didn't. He said to you, also, that I had told him about my +engagement and Ste. Marie's determination to search for Arthur, and that +was--a lie. I didn't tell him, and grandfather didn't tell him. He listened +in the door yonder and heard it himself. I have a good reason for knowing +that. And then," she said, "he tried very hard to persuade you and Ste. +Marie to take up your search under his direction, and he partly succeeded. +He sent Ste. Marie upon a foolish expedition to Dinard, and he gave him and +gave you other clews just as foolish as that one. Richard, do you believe +that my uncle has hidden poor Arthur away somewhere or--worse than that? Do +you? Tell me the truth!"</p> + +<p>"There is not," said Hartley, "one particle of real evidence <a +name="Page_216"></a>against him that I'm aware of. There's plenty of +motive, if you like, but motive is not evidence."</p> + +<p>"I asked you a question," the girl said. "Do you believe my uncle has +been responsible for Arthur's disappearance?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Richard Hartley, "I'm afraid I do."</p> + +<p>"Then," she said, "he has been responsible for Ste. Marie's +disappearance also. Ste. Marie became dangerous to him, and so vanished. +What can we do, Richard? What can we do?"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_217"></a><h2><a name='XVIII'></a>XVIII</h2> + +<h3>A CONVERSATION OVERHEARD</h3> + + +<p>In the upper chamber at La Lierre the days dragged very slowly by, and +the man who lay in bed there counted interminable hours and prayed for the +coming of night with its merciful oblivion of sleep. His inaction was made +bitterer by the fact that the days were days of green and gold, of +breeze-stirred tree-tops without his windows, of vagrant sweet airs that +stole in upon his solitude, bringing him all the warm fragrance of summer +and of green things growing.</p> + +<p>He suffered little pain. There was, for the first three or four days, a +dull and feverish ache in his wounded leg, but presently even that passed, +and the leg hurt him only when he moved it. He thought sometimes that he +would be grateful for a bit of physical anguish to make the hours pass more +quickly.</p> + +<p>The other inmates of the house held aloof from him. Once a day O'Hara +came in to see to the wound, but he maintained a well-nigh complete silence +over his work, and answered questions only with a brief yes or no. +Sometimes he did not answer them at all. The old Michel came twice daily, +but this strange being had quite plainly been frightened into dumbness, and +there was nothing to be got out of him. He shambled hastily about the +place, his one scared <a name="Page_218"></a>eye upon the man in bed, and +as soon as possible fled away, closing the door behind him. Sometimes +Michel brought in the meals, sometimes his wife, a creature so like him +that the two might well have passed for twin survivors of some unknown +race; sometimes--thrice altogether in that first week--Coira O'Hara brought +the tray, and she was as silent as the others.</p> + +<p>So Ste. Marie was left alone to get through the interminable days as +best he might, and ever afterward the week remained in his memory as a sort +of nightmare. Lying idle in his bed, he evolved many surprising and +fantastic schemes for escape, for getting word to the outside world of his +presence here, and one by one he gave them up in disgust as their +impossibility forced itself upon him. Plans and schemes were useless while +he lay bedridden, unfamiliar even with the house wherein he dwelt, with the +garden and park that surrounded it.</p> + +<p>As for aid from any of the inmates of the place, that was to be laughed +at. They were engaged together in a scheme so desperate that failure must +mean utter ruin to them all. He sometimes wondered if the two servants +could be bribed. Avarice unmistakable gleamed from their little, +glittering, ratlike eyes, but he was sure that they would sell out for no +small sum, and in so far as he could remember there had been in his +pockets, when he came here, not more than five or six louis. Doubtless the +old Michel had managed to abstract those in his daily offices about the +room, for Ste. Marie knew that the clothes hung in a closet across from his +bed. He had seen them there once when the closet-door was open.</p> + +<p>Any help that might come to him must come from outside--and what help +was to be expected there? Over and <a name="Page_219"></a>over again he +reminded himself of how little Richard Hartley knew. He might suspect +Stewart of complicity in this new disappearance, but how was he to find out +anything definite? How was any one to do so?</p> + +<p>It was at such times as this, when brain and nerves were strained and +worn almost to breaking-point, that Ste. Marie had occasion to be grateful +for the Southern blood that was in him, the strong tinge of fatalism which +is common alike to Latin and to Oriental. It rescued him more than once +from something like nervous breakdown, calmed him suddenly, lifted his +burdens from outwearied shoulders, and left him in peace to wait until some +action should be possible. Then, in such hours, he would fall to thinking +of the girl for whose sake, in whose cause, he lay bedridden, beset with +dangers. As long before, she came to him in a sort of waking vision--a +being but half earthly, enthroned high above him, calm-browed, very pure, +with passionless eyes that gazed into far distance and were unaware of the +base things below. What would she think of him, who had sworn to be true +knight to her, if she could know how he had bungled and failed? He was glad +that she did not know, that if he had blundered into peril the knowledge of +it could not reach her to hurt her pride.</p> + +<p>And sometimes, also, with a great sadness and pity, he thought of poor +Coira O'Hara and of the pathetic wreck her life had fallen into. The girl +was so patently fit for better things! Her splendid beauty was not a cheap +beauty. She was no coarse-blown, gorgeous flower, imperfect at telltale +points. It was good blood that had modelled her dark perfection, good blood +that had shaped her long and slim and tapering hands.</p> + +<p>"A queen among goddesses!" The words remained with <a +name="Page_220"></a>him, and he knew that they were true. She might have +held up her head among the greatest, this adventurer's girl; but what +chance had she had? What merest ghost of a chance?</p> + +<p>He watched her on the rare occasions when she came into the room. He +watched the poise of her head, her walk, the movements she made, and he +said to himself that there was no woman of his acquaintance whose grace was +more perfect--certainly none whose grace was so native.</p> + +<p>Once he complained to her of the desperate idleness of his days, and +asked her to lend him a book of some kind, a review, even a daily +newspaper, though it be a week old.</p> + +<p>"I should read the very advertisements with joy," he said.</p> + +<p>She went out of the room and returned presently with an armful of books, +which she laid upon the bed without comment.</p> + +<p>"In my prayers, Mademoiselle," cried Ste. Marie, "you shall be foremost +forever!" He glanced at the row of titles and looked up in sheer +astonishment. "May I ask whose books these are?" he said.</p> + +<p>"They are mine," said the girl. "I caught up the ones that lay first at +hand. If you don't care for any of them, I will choose others."</p> + +<p>The books were: <i>Diana of the Crossways, Richard Feverel,</i> Henri +Lavedan's <i>Le Duel</i>, Maeterlinck's <i>Pelleas et Mélisande, Don +Quixote de la Mancha</i>, in Spanish, a volume of Virgil's <i>Eclogues</i>, +and the <i>Life of the Chevalier Bayard</i>, by the Loyal Servitor. Ste. +Marie stared at her.</p> + +<p>"Do you read Spanish," he demanded, "and Latin, as well as French and +English?"</p> + +<p>"My mother was Spanish," said she. "And as for Latin, <a +name="Page_221"></a>I began to read it with my father when I was a child. +Shall I leave the books here?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie took up the <i>Bayard</i> and held it between his hands.</p> + +<p>"It is worn from much reading, Mademoiselle," he said.</p> + +<p>"It is the best of all," said she. "The very best of all. I didn't know +I had brought you that."</p> + +<p>She made a step toward him as if she would take the book away, and over +it their eyes met and were held. In that moment it may have come to them +both who she was, who so loved the knight without fear and without +reproach--the daughter of art Irish adventurer of ill repute--for their +faces began suddenly to flush with red, and after an instant the girl +turned away.</p> + +<p>"It is of no consequence," said she. "You may keep the book if you care +to."</p> + +<p>And Ste. Marie said, very gently: "Thank you, Mademoiselle. I will keep +it for a little while."</p> + +<p>So she went out of the room and left him alone.</p> + +<p>This was at noon on the sixth day, and, after he had swallowed hastily +the lunch which had been set before him, Ste. Marie fell upon the books +like a child upon a new box of sweets. Like the child again, it was +difficult for him to choose among them. He opened one and then another, +gloating over them all, but in the end he chose the <i>Bayard</i>, and for +hours lost himself among the high deeds of the Preux Chevalier and his +faithful friends--among whom, by the way, there was a Ste. Marie who died +nobly for France. It was late afternoon when at last he laid the book down +with a sigh and settled himself more comfortably among the pillows.</p> + +<p>The sun was not in the room at that hour, but from where <a +name="Page_222"></a>he lay he could see it on the tree-tops, gold upon +green. Outside his south window the leaves of a chestnut which stood there +quivered and rustled gently under a soft breeze. Delectable odors floated +in to Ste. Marie's nostrils, and he thought how very pleasant it would be +if he were lying on the turf under the trees instead of bedridden in this +upper chamber, which he had come to hate with a bitter hatred.</p> + +<p>He began to wonder if it would be possible to drag himself across the +floor to that south window, and so to lie down for a while with his head in +the tiny balcony beyond, his eyes turned to the blue sky. Astir with the +new thought, he sat up in bed and carefully swung his feet out till they +hung to the floor. The wound in the left leg smarted and burned, but not +too severely, and with slow pains Ste. Marie stood up. He almost cried out +when he discovered that it could be done quite easily. He essayed to walk, +and he was a little weak, but by no means helpless. He found that it gave +him pain to raise his left leg in the ordinary action of walking or to bend +that knee, but he could get about well enough by dragging the injured +member beside him, for when it was straight it supported him without +protest.</p> + +<p>He took his pillows across to the window and disposed them there, for it +was a French window opening to the floor, and the level of the little +balcony outside was but a few inches above the level of the room. Then the +desire seized him to make a tour of his prison walls. He went first to the +closet where he had seen his clothes hanging, and they were still there. He +felt in the pockets and withdrew his little English pigskin +sovereign-purse. It had not been tampered with, and he gave an exclamation +of relief over that, for he might later on have use for money. There were +eight louis in it, each in its little separate compartment, <a +name="Page_223"></a>and in another pocket he found a fifty-franc note and +some silver. He went to the two east windows and looked out. The trees +stood thick together on that side of the house, but between two of them he +could see the park wall fifty yards away. He glanced down, and the side of +the house was covered thick with the ivy which had given the place its +name, but there was no water-pipe near, nor any other thing which seemed to +offer foot or hand hold, unless, perhaps, the ivy might prove strong enough +to bear a man's weight. Ste. Marie made a mental note to look into that +when he was a little stronger, and turned back to the south window where he +had disposed his pillows.</p> + +<p>The unaccustomed activity was making his wound smart and prickle, and he +lay down at once with head and shoulders in the open air, and out of the +warm and golden sunshine and the emerald shade the breath of summer came to +him and wrapped him round with sweetness and pillowed him upon its fragrant +breast.</p> + +<p>He became aware after a long time of voices below, and turned upon his +elbows to look. The ivy had clambered upon and partly covered the iron +grille of the little balcony, and he could observe without being seen. +Young Arthur Benham and Coira O'Hara had come out of the door of the house, +and they stood upon the raised and paved terrace which ran the width of the +façade, and seemed to hesitate as to the direction they should take. +Ste. Marie heard the girl say:</p> + +<p>"It's cooler here in the shade of the house," and after a moment the two +came along the shady terrace whose outer margin was set at intervals with +stained and discolored marble nymphs upon pedestals, and between the <a +name="Page_224"></a>nymphs with moss-grown stone benches. They halted +before a bench upon which, earlier in the day, a rug had been spread out to +dry in the sun and had been forgotten, and after a moment's further +hesitation they sat down upon it. Their faces were turned toward the house, +and every word that they spoke mounted in that still air clear and distinct +to the ears of the man above.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie wriggled back into the room and sat up to consider. The +thought of deliberately listening to a conversation not meant for him sent +a hot flush to his cheeks. He told himself that it could not be done, and +that there was an end to the matter. Whatever might hang upon it, it could +not be asked of him that he should stoop to dishonor. But at that the heavy +and grave responsibility, which really did hang upon him and upon his +actions, came before his mind's eye and loomed there mountainous. The fate +of this foolish boy who was set round with thieves and adventurers--even +though his eyes were open and he knew where he stood--that came to Ste. +Marie and confronted him; and the picture of a bitter old man who was dying +of grief came to him; and a mother's face; and <i>hers</i>. There could be +no dishonor in the face of all this, only a duty very clear and plain. He +crept back to his place, his arms folded beneath him as he lay, his eyes at +the thin screen of ivy which cloaked the balcony grille.</p> + +<p>Young Arthur Benham appeared to be giving tongue to a rather sharp +attack of homesickness. It may be that long confinement within the walls of +La Lierre was beginning to try him somewhat.</p> + +<p>"Mind you," he declared, as Ste. Marie's ears came once more within +range--"mind you, I'm not saying that Paris hasn't got its points. It has. +Oh yes! And so has London, <a name="Page_225"></a>and so has Ostend, and so +has Monte Carlo. Verree much so! I like Paris. I like the theatres and the +vaudeville shows in the Champs-Elysées, and I like Longchamps. I +like the boys who hang around Henry's Bar. They're good sports all right, +all right! But, by golly, I want to go home! Put me off at the corner of +Forty-second Street and Broadway, and I'll ask no more. Set me down at 7 +P.M., right there on the corner outside the Knickerbocker, for that's where +I would live and die." There came into the lad's somewhat strident voice a +softness that was almost pathetic. "You don't know Broadway, Coira, do you? +Nix! of course not. Little girl, it's the one street of all this large +world. It's the equator that runs north and south instead of east and west. +It's a long, bright, gay, live wire!--that's what Broadway is. And I give +you my word of honor, like a little man, that it--is--not--slow. No-o, +indeed! When I was there last it was being called the 'Gay White Way.' It +is not called the 'Gay White Way' now. It has had forty other new, good +names since then, and I don't know what they are, but I do know that it is +forever gay, and that the electric signs are still blazing all along the +street, and the street-cars are still killing people in the good old +fashion, and the news-boys are still dodging under the automobiles to sell +you a <i>Woild</i> or a <i>Choinal</i> or, if it's after twelve at night, a +<i>Morning Telegraph</i>. Coira, my girl, standing on that corner after +dark you can see the electric signs of fifteen theatres, not one of them +more than five minutes' walk away; and just round the corner there are +more. I want to go home! I want to take one large, unparalleled leap from +here and come down at the corner I told you about. D'you know what I'd do? +We'll say it's 7 P.M. and beginning to get dark. I'd dive into the +Knickerbocker--that's the hotel <a name="Page_226"></a>that the bright and +happy people go to for dinner or supper--and I'd engage a table up on the +terrace. Then I'd telephone to a little friend of mine whose name is +Doe--John Doe--and in about ten minutes he'd have left the crowd he was +standing in line with and he'd come galloping up, that glad to see me you'd +cry to watch him. We'd go up on the terrace, where the potted palms grow, +for our dinner, and the tables all around us would be full of people that +would know Johnnie Doe and me, and they'd all make us drink drinks and tell +us how glad they were to see us aboard again. And after dinner," said young +Arthur Benham, with wide and smiling eyes--"after dinner we'd go to see one +of the roof-garden shows. Let me tell you they've got the Marigny or the +Ambassadeurs or the Jardin de Paris beaten to a pulp--to--a--pulp! And +after the show we'd slip round to the stage-door--you bet we would!--and +capture the two most beautiful ladies in the world and take 'em off to +supper."</p> + +<p>He wrinkled his young brow in great perplexity. "Now I wonder," said he, +anxiously--"I wonder where we'd go for supper. You see," he apologized, +"it's two years since I left the Real Street, and, gee! what a lot can +happen on Broadway in two years! There's probably half a dozen new +supper-places that I don't know anything about, and one of them's the place +where the crowd goes. Well, anyhow, we'd go to that place, and there'd be a +band playing, and the electric fans would go round and round, and Johnnie +Doe and I and the two most beautiful ladies would put it all over the other +pikers there."</p> + +<p>Young Benham gave a little sigh of pleasure and excitement. "That's what +I'd like to do to-night," said he, "and that's what I'll do, you can bet +your sh--boots, when <a name="Page_227"></a>all this silly mess is over and +I'm a free man. I'll hike back to good old Broadway, and if ever you see +any one trying to pry me loose from it again you can laugh yourself to +death, because he'll never, never succeed.</p> + +<p>"That's where I'll go," he said, nodding, "when this waiting is +over--straight back to Liberty Land and the bright lights. The rest of the +family can stay here till they die, if they want to--and I suppose they +do--<i>I'm</i> going home as soon as I've got my money. Old Charlie'll +manage all that for me. He'll get a lawyer to look after it, and I won't +have to see anybody in the family at all.</p> + +<p>"Nine more weeks shut in by stone walls!" said the boy, staring about +him with a sort of bitterness. "Nine weeks more!"</p> + +<p>"Is it so hard as that?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>There was no foolish coquetry in her tone. She spoke as if the words +involved no personal question at all, but there was a little smile at her +lips, and Arthur Benham turned toward her quickly and caught at her +hands.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" he cried. "I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that. +You're worth nine years' waiting. You're the best--d'you hear?--the best +there is. There's nobody anywhere that can touch you. Only--well, this +place is getting on my nerves. It's got me worn to a frazzle. I feel like a +criminal doing time."</p> + +<p>"You came very near having to do time somewhere else," said the girl. +"If this M. Ste. Marie hadn't blundered we should have had them all round +our ears, and you'd have had to run for it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the boy said, nodding gravely. "Yes, that was great luck."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_228"></a>He raised his head and looked up along the +windows above him.</p> + +<p>"Which is his room?" he asked, and Mlle. O'Hara said:</p> + +<p>"The one just overhead, but he's in bed far back from the window. He +couldn't possibly hear us talking."</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment in frowning hesitation, and in the end said:</p> + +<p>"Tell me about him, this Ste. Marie! Do you know anything about +him?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Arthur Benham, "I don't--not personally, that is. Of course +I've heard of him. Lots of people have spoken of him to me. And the odd +part of it is that they all had a good word to say. Everybody seemed to +like him. I got the idea that he was the best ever. I wanted to know him. I +never thought he'd take on a piece of dirty work like this."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said the girl, in a low voice. "Nor I."</p> + +<p>The boy looked up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you've heard of him, too, then?" said he.</p> + +<p>And she said, still in her low voice, "I--saw him once."</p> + +<p>"Well," declared young Benham, "it's beyond me. I give it up. You never +can tell about people, can you? I guess they'll all go wrong when there's +enough in it to make it worth while. That's what old Charlie always says. +He says most people are straight enough when there's nothing in it, but +make the pot big enough and they'll all go crooked."</p> + +<p>The young man's face turned suddenly hard and old and bitter.</p> + +<p>"Gee! I ought to know that well enough, oughtn't I?" he said. "I guess +nobody knows that better than I do after what happened to me.... Come along +and take a walk in the garden, Maud! I'm sick of sitting still."</p> + +<p class="figure"> <a name="jason006"><img +width="80%" alt="Illustration: TELL ME ABOUT HIM, THIS STE. MARIE! DO YOU +KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM?" src="images/jason006.png" /></a><br /> TELL ME ABOUT +HIM, THIS STE. MARIE! DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM?</p> + +<p><a name="Page_229"></a>Mlle. Coira O'Hara looked up with a start, as if +she had not been listening, but she rose when the boy held out his hand to +her, and the two went down from the terrace and moved off toward the +west.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie watched them until they had disappeared among the trees, and +then turned on his back, staring up into the softly stirring canopy of +green above him and the little rifts of bright blue sky. He did not +understand at all. Something mysterious had crept in where all had seemed +so plain to the eye. Certain words that young Arthur Benham had spoken +repeated themselves in his mind, and he could not at once make them out. +Assuredly there was something mysterious here.</p> + +<p>In the first place, what did the boy mean by "dirty work"? To be sure, +spying, in its usual sense, is not held to be one of the noblest of +occupations, but--in such a cause as this! It was absurd, ridiculous, to +call it "dirty work." And what did he mean by the words which he had used +afterward? Ste. Marie did not quite follow the idiom about the "big enough +pot," but he assumed that it referred to money. Did the young fool think he +was being paid for his efforts? That was ridiculous, too.</p> + +<p>The boy's face came before him as it had looked with that sudden hard +and bitter expression. What did he mean by saying that no one knew the +crookedness of humanity under money temptation better than he knew it after +something that had happened to him? In a sense his words were doubtless +very true. Captain Stewart--and he must have been "old Charlie"; Ste. Marie +remembered that the name was Charles--O'Hara, and O'Hara's daughter stood +excellent examples of that bit of cynicism, but obviously the boy had not +spoken in that sense--certainly <a name="Page_230"></a>not before Mlle. +O'Hara! He meant something else, then. But what--what?</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie rose with some difficulty to his feet and carried the pillows +back to the bed whence he had taken them. He sat down upon the edge of the +bed, staring in great perplexity across the room at the open window, but +all at once he uttered an exclamation and smote his hands together.</p> + +<p>"That boy doesn't know!" he cried. "They're tricking him, these +others!"</p> + +<p>The lad's face came once more before him, and it was a foolish and +stubborn face, perhaps, but it was neither vicious nor mean. It was the +face of an honest, headstrong boy who would be incapable of the cold +cruelty to which all circumstances seemed to point.</p> + +<p>"They're tricking him somehow!" cried Ste. Marie again. "They're lying +to him and making him think--"</p> + +<p>What was it they were making him think, these three conspirators? What +possible thing could they make him think other than the plain truth? Ste. +Marie shook a weary head and lay down among his pillows. He wished that he +had "old Charlie" in a corner of that room with his fingers round "old +Charlie's" wicked throat. He would soon get at the truth then; or O'Hara, +either, that grim and saturnine chevalier d'industrie, though O'Hara would +be a bad handful to manage; or--Ste. Marie's head dropped back with a +little groan when the face of young Arthur's enchantress came between him +and the opposite wall of the room and her great and tragic eyes looked into +his.</p> + +<p>It seemed incredible that that queen among goddesses should be what she +was!</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_231"></a><h2><a name='XIX'></a>XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE INVALID TAKES THE AIR</h3> + + +<p>When O'Hara, the next morning, went through the formality of looking in +upon his patient, and after a taciturn nod was about to go away again, Ste. +Marie called him back. He said, "Would you mind waiting a moment?" and the +Irishman halted inside the door. "I made an experiment yesterday," said +Ste. Marie, "and I find that, after a poor fashion, I can walk--that is to +say, I can drag myself about a little without any great pain if I don't +bend the left leg."</p> + +<p>O'Hara returned to the bed and made a silent examination of the bullet +wound, which, it was plain to see, was doing very well indeed. "You'll be +all right in a few days," said he, "but you'll be lame for a week +yet--maybe two. As a matter of fact, I've known men to march half a day +with a hole in the leg worse than yours, though it probably was not quite +pleasant."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I couldn't march very far," said Ste. Marie, "but I can +hobble a bit. The point is, I'm going mad from confinement in this room. Do +you think I might be allowed to stagger about the garden for an hour, or +sit there under one of the trees? I don't like to ask favors, but, so far +as I can see, it could do no harm. I couldn't possibly escape, you see. I +couldn't climb a fifteen-foot wall even <a name="Page_232"></a>if I had two +good legs; as it is, with a leg and a half, I couldn't climb anything."</p> + +<p>The Irishman looked at him sharply, and was silent for a time, as if +considering. But at last he said: "Of course there is no reason whatever +for granting you any favors here. You're on the footing of a spy--a +captured spy--and you're very lucky not to have got what you deserved +instead of a trumpery flesh wound." The man's face twisted into a heavy +scowl. "Unfortunately," said he, "an accident has put me--put us in as +unpleasant a position toward you as you had put yourself toward us. We seem +to stand in the position of having tried to poison you, and--well, we owe +you something for that. Still, I'd meant to keep you locked up in this room +so long as it was necessary to have you at La Lierre." He scowled once more +in an intimidating fashion at Ste. Marie, and it was evident that he found +himself embarrassed. "And," he said, awkwardly, "I suppose I owe something +to your father's son.... Look here! If you're to be allowed in the garden, +you must understand that it's at fixed hours and not alone. Somebody will +always be with you, and old Michel will be on hand to shoot you down if you +try to run for it or if you try to communicate with Arthur Benham. Is that +understood?"</p> + +<p>"Quite," said Ste. Marie, gayly. "Quite understood and agreed to. And +many thanks for your courtesy. I sha'n't forget it. We differ rather widely +on some rather important subjects, you and I, but I must confess that +you're very generous, and I thank you. The old Michel has my full +permission to shoot at me if he sees me trying to fly over a fifteen-foot +wall."</p> + +<p>"He'll shoot without asking your permission," said the Irishman, grimly, +"if you try that on, but I don't think <a name="Page_233"></a>you'll be apt +to try it for the present--not with a crippled leg." He pulled out his +watch and looked at it. "Nine o'clock," said he. "If you care to begin +to-day you can go out at eleven for an hour. I'll see that old Michel is +ready at that time."</p> + +<p>"Eleven will suit me perfectly," said Ste. Marie. "You're very good. +Thanks once more!" The Irishman did not seem to hear. He replaced the watch +in his pocket and turned away in silence. But before he left the room he +stood a moment beside one of the windows, staring out into the morning +sunshine, and the other man could see that his face had once more settled +into the still and melancholic gloom which was characteristic of it. Ste. +Marie watched, and for the first time the man began to interest him as a +human being. He had thought of O'Hara before merely as a rather shady +adventurer of a not very rare type, but he looked at the adventurer's face +now and he saw that it was the face of a man of unspeakable sorrows. When +O'Hara looked at one, one saw only a pair of singularly keen and hard blue +eyes set under a bony brow. When those eyes were turned away, the man's +attention relaxed, the face became a battle-ground furrowed and scarred +with wrecked pride and with bitterness and with shame and with agony. Most +soldiers of fortune have faces like that, for the world has used them very +ill, and they have lost one precious thing after another until all are +gone, and they have tasted everything that there is in life, and the flavor +which remains is a very bitter flavor--dry, like ashes.</p> + +<p>It came to Ste. Marie, as he lay watching this man, that the story of +the man's life, if he could be made to tell it, would doubtless be one of +the most interesting stories in the world, as must be the tale of the +adventurous career of any <a name="Page_234"></a>one who has slipped down +the ladder of respectability, rung by rung, into that shadowy no-man's-land +where the furtive birds of prey foregather and hatch their plots. It was +plain enough that O'Hara had, as the phrase goes, seen better days. Without +question he was a villain, but, after all, a generous villain. He had been +very decent about making amends for that poisoning affair. A cheaper rascal +would have behaved otherwise. Ste. Marie suddenly remembered what a friend +of his had once said of this mysterious Irishman. The two had been sitting +on the terrace of a café, and as O'Hara passed by Ste. Marie's +friend pointed after him and said: "There goes some of the best blood that +ever came out of Ireland. See what it has fallen to!"</p> + +<p>Seemingly it had fallen pretty low. He would have liked very much to +know about the downward stages, but he knew that he would never hear +anything of them from the man himself, for O'Hara was clad, as it were, in +an armor of taciturnity. He was incredibly silent. He wore mail that +nothing could pierce.</p> + +<p>The Irishman turned abruptly away and left the room, and Ste. Marie, +with all the gay excitement of a little girl preparing for her first +nursery party, began to get himself ready to go out. The old Michel had +already been there to help him bathe and shave, so that he had only to +dress himself and attend to his one conspicuous vanity--the painstaking +arrangement of his hair, which he wore, according to the fashion of the +day, parted a little at one side and brushed almost straight back, so that +it looked rather like a close-fitting and incredibly glossy skullcap. +Richard Hartley, who was inclined to joke at his friend's grave interest in +the matter, said that it reminded him of patent-leather.</p> + +<p>When he was dressed--and he found that putting on <a +name="Page_235"></a>his left boot was no mean feat--Ste. Marie sat down in +a chair by the window and lighted a cigarette. He had half an hour to wait, +and so he picked up the volume of <i>Bayard</i>, which Coira O'Hara had not +yet taken away from him, and began to read in it at random. He became so +absorbed that the old Michel, come to summon him, took him by surprise. But +it was a pleasant surprise and very welcome. He followed the old man out of +the room with a heart that beat fast with eagerness.</p> + +<p>The descent of the stairs offered difficulties, for the wounded leg +protested sharply against being bent more than a very little at the knee. +But by the aid of Michel's shoulder he made the passage in safety and so +came to the lower story. At the foot of the stairs some one opened a door +almost in their faces, but closed it again with great haste, and Ste. Marie +gave a chuckle of laughter, for, though it was almost dark there, he +thought he had recognized Captain Stewart.</p> + +<p>"So old Charlie's with us to-day, is he?" he said, aloud, and Michel +queried:</p> + +<p>"Comment, Monsieur?" because Ste. Marie had spoken in English.</p> + +<p>They came out upon the terrace before the house, and the fresh, sweet +air bore against their faces, and little flecks of live gold danced and +shivered about their feet upon the moss-stained tiles. The gardener stepped +back for an instant into the doorway, and reappeared bearing across his +arms the short carbine with which Ste. Marie had already made acquaintance. +The victim looked at this weapon with a laugh, and the old Michel's +gnomelike countenance distorted itself suddenly and a weird cackle came +from it.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_236"></a>"It is my old friend?" demanded Ste. Marie, and +the gardener cackled once more, stroking the barrel of the weapon as if it +were a faithful dog.</p> + +<p>"The same, Monsieur," said he. "But she apologizes for not doing +better."</p> + +<p>"Beg her for me," said the young man, "to cheer up. She may get another +chance."</p> + +<p>Old Michel's face froze into an expression of anxious and rather +frightened solicitude, but he waved his arm for the prisoner to precede +him, and Ste. Marie began to limp down across the littered and unkempt +sweep of turf. Behind him, at the distance of a dozen paces, he heard the +shambling footfalls of his guard, but he had expected that, and it could +not rob him of his swelling and exultant joy at treading once more upon +green grass and looking up into blue sky. He was like a man newly released +from a dungeon rather than from a sunny and by no means uncomfortable upper +chamber. He would have liked to dance and sing, to run at full speed like a +child until he was breathless and red in the face. Instead of that he had +to drag himself with slow pains and some discomfort, but his spirit ran +ahead, dancing and singing, and he thought that it even halted now and then +to roll on the grass.</p> + +<p>As he had observed a week before, from the top of the wall, a double row +of larches led straight down away from the front of the house, making a +wide and long vista interrupted half-way to its end by a rond point, in the +centre of which were a pool and a fountain. The double row of trees was +sadly broken now, and the trees were untrimmed and uncared for. One of them +had fallen, probably in a wind-storm, and lay dead across the way. Ste. +Marie turned aside toward the west and found himself presently <a +name="Page_237"></a>among chestnuts, planted in close rows, whose tops grew +in so thick a canopy above that but little sunshine came through, and there +was no turf under foot, only black earth, hard-trodden, mossy here and +there.</p> + +<p>From beyond, in the direction he had chanced to take, and a little +toward the west, a soft morning breeze bore to him the scent of roses so +constant and so sweet, despite its delicacy, that to breathe it was like an +intoxication. He felt it begin to take hold upon and to sway his senses +like an exquisite, an insidious wine.</p> + +<p>"The flower-gardens, Michel?" he asked, over his shoulder. "They are +before us?"</p> + +<p>"Ahead and to the left, Monsieur," said the old man, and he took up once +more his slow and difficult progress.</p> + +<p>But again, before he had gone many steps, he was halted. There began to +reach his ears a rich but slender strain of sound, a golden thread of +melody. At first he thought that it was a 'cello or the lower notes of a +violin, but presently he became aware that it was a woman singing in a +half-voice without thought of what she sang--as women croon to a child, or +over their work, or when they are idle and their thoughts are far +wandering.</p> + +<p>The mistake was not as absurd as it may seem, for it is a fact that the +voice which is called a contralto, if it is a good and clear and fairly +resonant voice, sounds at a distance very much indeed like a 'cello or the +lower register of a violin. And that is especially true when the voice is +hushed to a half-articulate murmur. Indeed, this is but one of the many +strange peculiarities of that most beautiful of all human organs. The +contralto can rarely express the lighter things, and it is quite impossible +for it to express merriment or gayety, but it can thrill the heart as can +no <a name="Page_238"></a>other sound emitted by a human throat, and it can +shake the soul to its very innermost hidden deeps. It is the soft, yellow +gold of singing--the wine of sound; it is mystery; it is shadowy, unknown, +beautiful places; it is enchantment. Ste. Marie stood still and listened. +The sound of low singing came from the right. Without realizing that he had +moved, he began to make his way in that direction, and the old Michel, +carbine upon arm, followed behind him. He had no doubt of the singer. He +knew well who it was, for the girl's speaking voice had thrilled him long +before this. He came to the eastern margin of the grove of chestnuts and +found that he was beside the open rond point, where the pool lay within its +stone circumference, unclean and choked with lily-pads, and the fountain--a +naked lady holding aloft a shell--stood above. The rond point was not in +reality round; it was an oval with its greater axis at right angles to the +long, straight avenue of larches. At the two ends of the oval there were +stone benches with backs, and behind these, tall shrubs grew close and +overhung, so that even at noonday the spots were shaded.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_239"></a><h2><a name='XX'></a>XX</h2> + +<h3>THE STONE BENCH AT THE ROND POINT</h3> + + +<p>Mlle. Coira O'Hara sat alone upon the stone bench at the hither end of +the rond point. With a leisurely hand she put fine stitches into a +mysterious garment of white, with lace on it, and over her not too arduous +toil she sang, à demi voix, a little German song all about the +tender passions.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie halted his dragging steps a little way off, but the girl +heard him and turned to look. After that she rose hurriedly and stood as if +poised for flight, but Ste. Marie took his hat in his hands and came +forward.</p> + +<p>"If you go away, Mademoiselle," said he, "if you let me drive you from +your place, I shall limp across to that pool and fall in and drown myself, +or I shall try to climb the wall yonder and Michel will have to shoot +me."</p> + +<p>He came forward another step.</p> + +<p>"If it is impossible," he said, "that you and I should stay here +together for a few little moments and talk about what a beautiful day it +is--if that is impossible, why then I must apologize for intruding upon you +and go on my way, inexorably pursued by the would-be murderer who now +stands six paces to the rear. Is it impossible, Mademoiselle?" said Ste. +Marie.</p> + +<p>The girl's face was flushed with that deep and splendid <a +name="Page_240"></a>understain. She looked down upon the white garment in +her hand and away across the broad rond point, and in the end she looked up +very gravely into the face of the man who stood leaning upon his stick +before her.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said, in her deep voice, "what my father would wish. +I did not know that you were coming into the garden this morning, or--"</p> + +<p>"Or else," said Ste. Marie, with a little touch of bitterness in his +tone--"or else you would not have been here. You would have remained in the +house."</p> + +<p>He made a bow.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, Mademoiselle," said he, "and for the remainder of the days +that I may be at La Lierre, I shall stay in my room. You need have no fear +of me."</p> + +<p>All the man's life he had been spoiled. The girl's bearing hurt him +absurdly, and a little of the hurt may have betrayed itself in his face as +he turned away, for she came toward him with a swift movement, saying:</p> + +<p>"No, no! Wait!--I have hurt you," she said, with a sort of wondering +distress. "You have let me hurt you.... And yet surely you must see,... you +must realize on what terms.... Do you forget that you are not among your +friends... outside?... This is so very different!"</p> + +<p>"I had forgotten," said he. "Incredible as it sounds, I had for a moment +forgotten. Will you grant me your pardon for that? And yet," he persisted, +after a moment's pause--"yet, Mademoiselle, consider a little! It is likely +that--circumstances have so fallen that it seems I shall be here within +your walls for a time, perhaps a long time. I am able to walk a little now. +Day by day I shall be stronger, better able to get about. Is there not some +way--are there hot some terms under which we could meet without +embarrassment? <a name="Page_241"></a>Must we forever glare at each other +and pass by warily, just because we--well, hold different views +about--something?"</p> + +<p>It was not a premeditated speech at all. It had never until this moment +occurred to him to suggest any such arrangement with any member of the +household at La Lierre. At another time he would doubtless have considered +it undignified, if not downright unwise, to hold intercourse of any +friendly sort with this band of contemptible adventurers. The sudden +impulse may have been born of his long week of almost intolerable +loneliness, or it may have come of the warm exhilaration of this first +breath of sweet, outdoor air, or perhaps it needed neither of these things, +for the girl was very beautiful--enchantment breathed from her, and, though +he knew what she was, in what despicable plot she was engaged, he was too +much Ste. Marie to be quite indifferent to her. Though he looked upon her +sorrowfully and with pain and vicarious shame, he could not have denied the +spell she wielded. After all, he was Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>Once more the girl looked up very gravely under her brows, and her eyes +met the man's eyes. "I don't know," she said. "Truly, I don't know. I think +I should have to ask my father about it.--I wish," she said, "that we might +do that. I should like it. I should like to be able to talk to some +one--about the things I like--and care for. I used to talk with my father +about things; but not lately. There is no one now." Her eyes searched him. +"Would it be possible, I wonder," said she. "Could we two put everything +else aside--forget altogether who we are and why we are here. Is that +possible?"</p> + +<p>"We could only try, Mademoiselle," said Ste. Marie. <a +name="Page_242"></a>"If we found it a failure we could give it up." He +broke into a little laugh. "And besides," he said, "I can't help thinking +that two people ought to be with me all the time I am in the garden +here--for safety's sake. I might catch the old Michel napping one day, you +know, throttle him, take his rifle away, and escape. If there were two, I +couldn't do it."</p> + +<p>For an instant she met his laugh with an answering smile, and the smile +came upon her sombre beauty like a moment of golden light upon darkness. +But afterward she was grave again and thoughtful. "Is it not rather +foolish," she asked, "to warn us--to warn me of possibilities like that? +You might quite easily do what you have said. You are putting us on our +guard against you."</p> + +<p>"I meant to, Mademoiselle," said Ste. Marie. "I meant to. Consider my +reasons. Consider what I was pleading for!" And he gave a little laugh when +the color began again to rise in the girl's cheeks.</p> + +<p>She turned away from him, shaking her head, and he thought that he had +said too much and that she was offended, but after a moment the girl looked +up, and when she met his eyes she laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"I cannot forever be scowling and snarling at you," said she. "It is +quite too absurd. Will you sit down for a little while? I don't know +whether or not my father would approve, but we have met here by accident, +and there can be no harm, surely, in our exchanging a few civil words. If +you try to bring up forbidden topics I can simply go away; and, besides, +Michel stands ready to murder you if it should become necessary. I think +his failure of a week ago is very heavy on his conscience."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie sat down in one corner of the long stone bench, <a +name="Page_243"></a>and he was very glad to do it, for his leg was +beginning to cause him some discomfort. It felt hot and as if there were a +very tight band round it above the knee. The relief must have been apparent +in his face, for Mlle. O'Hara looked at him in silence for a moment, and +she gave a little, troubled, anxious frown. Men can be quite indifferent to +suffering in each other if the suffering is not extreme, and women can be, +too, but men are quite miserable in the presence of a woman who is in pain, +and women, before a suffering man, while they are not miserable, are always +full of a desire to do something that will help. And that might be a small, +additional proof--if any more proof were necessary--that they are much the +more practical of the two sexes.</p> + +<p>The girl's sharp glance seemed to assure her that Ste. Marie was +comfortable, now that he was sitting down, for the frown went from her +brows, and she began to arrange the mysterious white garment in her lap in +preparation to go on with her work.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie watched her for a while in a contented silence. The leaves +overhead stirred under a puff of air, and a single yellow beam of sunlight +came down and shivered upon the girl's dark head and played about the +bundle of white over which her hands were busy. She moved aside to avoid +it, but it followed her, and when she moved back it followed again and +danced in her lap as if it were a live thing with a malicious sense of +humor. It might have been Tinker Bell out of <i>Peter Pan</i>, only it did +not jingle. Mlle. O'Hara uttered an exclamation of annoyance, and Ste. +Marie laughed at her, but in a moment the leaves overhead were still again, +and the sunbeam, with a sense of humor, was gone to torment some one +else.</p> + +<p>Still neither of the two spoke, and Ste. Marie continued <a +name="Page_244"></a>to watch the girl bent above her sewing. He Was +thinking of what she had said to him when he asked her if she read +Spanish--that her mother had been Spanish. That would account, then, for +her dark eyes. It would account for the darkness of her skin, too, but not +for its extraordinary clearness and delicacy, for Spanish women are apt to +have dull skins of an opaque texture. This was, he said to himself, an +Irish skin with a darker stain, and he was quite sure that he had never +before seen anything at all like it.</p> + +<p>Apart from coloring, she was all Irish, of the type which has become +famous the world over, and which in the opinion of men who have seen women +in all countries, and have studied them, is the most beautiful type that +exists in our time.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie was dark himself, and in the ordinary nature of things he +should have preferred a fair type in women. In theory, for that matter, he +did prefer it, but it was impossible for him to sit near Coira O'Hara and +watch her bent head and busy, hovering hands, and remain unstirred by her +splendid beauty. He found himself wondering why one kind of loveliness more +than another should exert a potent and mysterious spell by virtue of mere +proximity, and when the woman who bore it was entirely passive. If this +girl had been looking at him the matter would have been easy to understand, +for an eye-glance is often downright hypnotic; but she was looking at the +work in her hands, and, so far as could be judged, she had altogether +forgotten his presence; yet the mysterious spell, the potent enchantment, +breathed from her like a vapor, and he could not be insensible to it. It +was like sorcery.</p> + +<p>The girl looked up so suddenly that Ste. Marie jumped. She said:</p> + +<p><a name="Page_245"></a>"You are not a very talkative person. Are you +always as silent as this?"</p> + +<p>"No," said he, "I am not. I offer my humblest apologies. It seems as if +I were not properly grateful for being allowed to sit here with you, but, +to tell the truth, I was buried in thought."</p> + +<p>They had begun to talk in French, but midway of Ste. Marie's speech the +girl glanced toward the old Michel, who stood a short distance away, and so +he changed to English.</p> + +<p>"In that case," she said, regarding her work with her head on one side +like a bird--"in that case you might at least tell me what your thoughts +were. They might be interesting."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie gave a little embarrassed laugh.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said he, "but I'm afraid they were too personal. I'm afraid +if I told you you'd get up and go away and be frigidly polite to me when +next we passed each other in the garden here. But there's no harm," he +said, "in telling you one thing that occurred to me. It occurred to me +that, as far as a young girl can be said to resemble an elderly woman, you +bear a most remarkable resemblance to a very dear old friend of mine who +lives near Dublin--Lady Margaret Craith. She's a widow, and almost all of +her family are dead, I believe--I didn't know any of them--and she lives +there in a huge old house with a park, quite alone with her army of +servants. I go to see her whenever I'm in Ireland, because she is one of +the sweetest souls I have ever known."</p> + +<p>He became aware suddenly that Mlle. O'Hara's head was bent very low over +her sewing and that her face, or as much of it as he could see, was +crimson.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_246"></a>"Oh, I--I beg your pardon!" cried Ste. Marie. +"I've done something dreadful. I don't know what it is, but I'm very, very +sorry. Please forgive me if you can!"</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," she said, in a low voice, and after a moment she looked +up for the swiftest possible glance and down again. "That is my--aunt," she +said. "Only--please let us talk about something else! Of course you +couldn't possibly have known."</p> + +<p>"No," said Ste. Marie, gravely. "No, of course. You are very good to +forgive me."</p> + +<p>He was silent a little while, for what the girl had told him surprised +him very much indeed, and touched him, too. He remembered again the remark +of his friend when O'Hara had passed them on the boulevard:</p> + +<p>"There goes some of the best blood that ever came out of Ireland. See +what it has fallen to!"</p> + +<p>"It is a curious fact," said he, "that you and I are very close +compatriots in the matter of blood--if 'compatriots' is the word. You are +Irish and Spanish. My mother was Irish and my people were Béarnais, +which is about as much Spanish as French; and, indeed, there was a great +deal of blood from across the mountains in them, for they often married +Spanish wives."</p> + +<p>He pulled the <i>Bayard</i> out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>"The Ste. Marie in here married a Spanish lady, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>The girl looked up to him once more.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "Yes, I remember. He was a brave man, Monsieur. He had +a great soul. And he died nobly."</p> + +<p>"Well, as for that," he said, flushing a little, "the Ste. Maries have +all died rather well."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_247"></a>He gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"Though I must admit," said he, "that the last of them came precious +near falling below the family standard a week ago. I should think that +probably none of my respected forefathers was killed in climbing over a +garden-wall. Autres temps, autres moeurs."</p> + +<p>He burst out laughing again at what seemed to him rather comic, but +Mlle. O'Hara did not smile. She looked very gravely into his eyes, and +there seemed to be something like sorrow in her look. Ste. Marie wondered +at it, but after a moment it occurred to him that he was very near +forbidden ground, and that doubtless the girl was trying to give him a +silent warning of it. He began to turn over the leaves of the book in his +hand.</p> + +<p>"You have marked a great many pages here," said he.</p> + +<p>And she said: "It is my best of all books. I read in it very often. I am +so thankful for it that there are no words to say how thankful I am--how +glad I am that I have such a world as that to--take refuge in sometimes +when this world is a little too unbearable. It does for me now what the +fairy stories did when I was little. And to think that it's true, true! To +think that once there truly were men like that--sans peur et sans reproche! +It makes life worth while to think that those men lived even if it was long +ago."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie bent his head over the little book, for he could not look at +Mlle. O'Hara just then. It seemed to him well-nigh the most pathetic speech +that he had ever heard. His heart bled for her. Out of what mean shadows +had the girl to turn her weary eyes upward to this sunlight of ancient +heroism!</p> + +<p>"And yet, Mademoiselle," said he, gently, "I think there are such men +alive to-day, if only one will look for them. <a +name="Page_248"></a>Remember, they were not common even in Bayard's time. +Oh yes, I think there are preux chevaliers nowadays, only perhaps they +don't go about things in quite the same fashion. Other times, other +manners," he said again.</p> + +<p>"Do you know any such men?" she demanded, facing him with shadowy +eyes.</p> + +<p>And he said: "Yes, I know men who are in all ways as honorable and as +high-hearted as Bayard was. In his place they would have acted as he did, +but nowadays one has to practise heroism much less conspicuously--in the +little things that few people see and that no one applauds or writes books +about. It is much harder to do brave little acts than brave big ones."</p> + +<p>"Yes." she agreed, slowly. "Oh yes, of course."</p> + +<p>But there was no spirit in her tone, rather a sort of apathy. Once more +the leaves overhead swayed in the breeze, opened a tiny rift, and the +little trembling ray of sunshine shot down to her where she sat. She +stretched out one hand cup-wise, and the sunbeam, after a circling +gyration, darted into it and lay there like a small golden bird panting, as +it were, from fright.</p> + +<p>"If I were a painter," said Ste. Marie, "I should be in torture and +anguish of soul until I had painted you sitting there on a stone bench and +holding a sunbeam in your hand. I don't know what I should call the +picture, but I think it would be something figurative--symbolic. Can you +think of a name?"</p> + +<p>Coira O'Hara looked up at him with a slight smile, but her eyes were +gloomy and full of dark shadows. "It might be called any one of a great +number of things, I should think," said she. "Happiness--belief--illusion. +See! The sunbeam is gone."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_249"></a><h2><a name='XXI'></a>XXI</h2> + +<h3>A MIST DIMS THE SHINING STAR</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie remained in his room all the rest of that day, and he did not +see Mlle. O'Hara again, for Michel brought him his lunch and the old +Justine his dinner. For the greater part of the time he sat in bed reading, +but rose now and then and moved about the room. His wound seemed to have +suffered no great inconvenience from the morning's outing. If he stood or +walked too long it burned somewhat, and he had the sensation of a tight +band round the leg; but this passed after he had lain down for a little +while, or even sat in a chair with the leg straight out before him; so he +knew that he was not to be crippled very much longer, and his thoughts +began to turn more and more keenly upon the matter of escape.</p> + +<p>He realized, of course, that now, since he was once more able to walk, +he would be guarded with unremitting care every moment of the day, and +quite possibly every moment of the night as well, though the simple bolting +of his door on the outside would seem to answer the purpose save when he +was out-of-doors. Once he went to the two east windows and hung out of +them, testing as well as he could with his hands the strength and tenacity +of the ivy which covered that side of the house. He thought it seemed +strong enough to give hand and foot hold without being torn <a +name="Page_250"></a>loose, but he was afraid it would make an atrocious +amount of noise if he should try to climb down it, and, besides, he would +need two very active legs for that.</p> + +<p>At another time a fresh idea struck him, and he put it at once into +action. There might be just a chance, when out one day with Michel, of +getting near enough to the wall which ran along the Clamart road to throw +something over it when the old man was not looking. In one of his pockets +he had a card-case with a little pencil fitted into a loop at the edge, and +in the case it was his custom to carry postage-stamps. He investigated and +found pencil and stamps. Of course he had nothing but cards to write upon, +and they were useless. He looked about the room and went through an empty +chest of drawers in vain, but at last, on some shelves in the closet where +his clothes had hung, he found several large sheets of coarse white paper. +The shelves were covered with it loosely for the sake of cleanliness. He +abstracted one of these sheets, and cut it into squares of the ordinary +note-paper size, and he sat down and wrote a brief letter to Richard +Hartley, stating where he was, that Arthur Benham was there, the O'Haras, +and, he thought, Captain Stewart. He did not write the names out, but put +instead the initial letters of each name, knowing that Hartley would +understand. He gave careful directions as to how the place was to be +reached, and he asked Hartley to come as soon as possible by night to that +wall where he himself had made his entrance, to climb up by the cedar-tree, +and to drop his answer into the thick leaves of the lilac bushes +immediately beneath--an answer naming a day and hour, preferably by night, +when he could return with three or four to help him, surprise the household +at La Lierre, and carry off young Benham.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_251"></a>Ste. Marie wrote this letter four times, and each +of the four copies he enclosed in an awkwardly fashioned envelope, made +with infinite pains so that its flaps folded in together, for he had no +gum. He addressed and stamped the four envelopes, and put them all in his +pocket to await the first opportunity.</p> + +<p>Afterward he lay down for a while, and as, one after another, the books +he had in the room failed to interest him, his thoughts began to turn back +to Mlle. Coira O'Hara and his hour with her upon the old stone bench in the +garden. He realized all at once that he had been putting off this +reflection as one puts off a reckoning that one a little dreads to face, +and rather vaguely he realized why.</p> + +<p>The spell that the girl wielded--quite without being conscious of it; he +granted her that grace--was too potent. It was dangerous, and he knew it. +Even imaginative and very unpractical people can be in some things +surprisingly matter-of-fact, and Ste. Marie was matter-of-fact about this. +The girl had made a mysterious and unprecedented appeal to him at his very +first sight of her, long before, and ever since that time she had +continued, intermittently at least, to haunt his dreams. Now he was in the +very house with her. It was quite possible that he might see her and speak +with her every day, and he knew there was peril in that.</p> + +<p>He closed his eyes and she came to him, dark and beautiful, magnetically +vital, spreading enchantment about her like a fragrance. She sat beside him +on the moss-stained bench in the garden, holding out her hand cup-wise, and +a sunbeam lay in the hand like a little, golden, fluttering bird. His +thoughts ran back to that first morning when he had narrowly escaped death +by poison. He remembered <a name="Page_252"></a>the girl's agony of fear +and horror. He felt her hands once more upon his shoulders, and he was +aware that his breath was coming faster and that his heart beat quickly. He +got to his feet and went across to one of the windows, and he stood there +for a long time frowning out into the summer day. If ever in his life, he +said to himself with some deliberation, he was to need a cool and clear +head, faculties unclouded and unimpaired by emotion, it was now in these +next few days. Much more than his own well-being depended upon him now. The +fates of a whole family, and quite possibly the lives of some of them, were +in his hands. He must not fail, and he must not, in any least way, +falter.</p> + +<p>For enemies he had a band of desperate adventurers, and the very boy +himself, the centre and reason for the whole plot, had been, in some +incomprehensible way, so played upon that he, too, was against him.</p> + +<p>The man standing by the window forced himself quite deliberately to look +the plain facts in the face. He compelled himself to envisage this +beautiful girl with her tragic eyes for just what his reason knew her to +be--an adventuress, a decoy, a lure to a callow, impressionable, foolish +lad, the tool of that arch-villain Stewart and of the lesser villain her +father. It was like standing by and watching something lovely and pitiful +vilely befouled. It turned his heart sick within him, but he held himself +to the task. He brought to aid him the vision of his lady, in whose cause +he was pursuing this adventure. For strength and determination he reached +eye and hand to her where she sat enthroned, calm-browed, serene.</p> + +<p>For the first time since the beginning of all things his lady failed +him, and Ste. Marie turned cold with fear.</p> + +<p>Where was that splendid frenzy that had been wont to <a +name="Page_253"></a>sweep him all in an instant into upper air--set his +feet upon the stars? Where was it? The man gave a sudden, voiceless cry of +horror. The wings that had such countless times upborne him fluttered +weakly near the earth and could not mount. His lady was there; through +infinite space he was aware of her, but she was cold and aloof, and her +eyes gazed very serenely beyond at something he could not see.</p> + +<p>He knew well enough that the fault lay somewhere within himself. She was +as she had ever been, but he lacked the strength to rise to her. Why? Why? +He searched himself with a desperate earnestness, but he could find no +answer to his questioning. In himself, as in her, there had come no change. +She was still to him all that she ever had been--the star of his destiny, +the pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day, to guide him on his path. +Where, then, the fine, pure fervor that should, at thought of her, whirl +him on high and make a god of him?</p> + +<p>He stood wrapped in bewilderment and despair, for he could find no +answer.</p> + +<p>In plain words, in commonplace black-and-white, the man's anguish has an +over-fanciful, a well-nigh absurd look, but to Ste. Marie the thing was +very real and terrible, as real and as terrible as, to a half-starved monk +in his lonely cell, the sudden failure of the customary exaltation of +spirit after a night's long prayer.</p> + +<p>He went, after a time, back to the bed, and lay down there with one +upflung arm across his eyes to shut out the light. He was filled with a +profound dejection and a sense of hopelessness. Through all the long week +of his imprisonment he had been cheerful, at times even gay. However evil +his case might have looked, his elastic spirits had <a +name="Page_254"></a>mounted above all difficulties and cares, confident in +the face of apparent defeat. Now at last he lay still, bruised, as it were, +and battered and weary. The flame of courage burned very low in him. From +sheer exhaustion he fell after a time into a troubled sleep, but even there +the enemy followed him and would not let him rest. He seemed to himself to +be in a place of shadows and fears. He strained his eyes to make out above +him the bright, clear star of guidance, for so long as that shone he was +safe; but something had come between--cloud or mist--and his star shone +dimly in fitful glimpses.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>On the next morning he went out once more with the old Michel into the +garden. He went with a stronger heart, for the morning had renewed his +courage, as bright, fresh mornings do. From the anguish of the day before +he held himself carefully aloof. He kept his mind away from all thought of +it, and gave his attention to the things about him. It would return, +doubtless, in the slow, idle hours; he would have to face it again and yet +again; he would have to contend with it; but for the present he put it out +of his thoughts, for there were things to do.</p> + +<p>It was no more than human of him--and certainly it was very +characteristic of Ste. Marie--that he should be half glad and half +disappointed at not finding Coira O'Hara in her place at the rond point. It +left him free to do what he wished to do--make a careful reconnaissance of +the whole garden enclosure--but it left him empty of something he had, +without conscious thought, looked forward to.</p> + +<p>His wounded leg was stronger and more flexible than on the day before; +it burned and prickled less, and could be bent a little at the knee with +small distress; so he led the <a name="Page_255"></a>old Michel at a good +pace down the length of the enclosure, past the rose-gardens, a tangle of +unkempt sweetness, and so to the opposite wall. He found the gates there, +very formidable-looking, made of vertical iron bars connected by +cross-pieces and an ornamental scroll. They were fastened together by a +heavy chain and a padlock. The lock was covered with rust, as were the +gates themselves, and Ste. Marie observed that the lane outside upon which +they gave was overgrown with turf and moss, and even with seedling shrubs; +so he felt sure that this entrance was never used. The lane, he noted, +swept away to the right toward Issy and not toward the Clamart road. He +heard, as he stood there, the whir of a tram from far away at the left, a +tram bound to or from Clamart, and the sound brought to his mind what he +wished to do. He turned about and began to make his way round the +rose-gardens, which were partly enclosed by a low brick wall some two or +three feet high. Beyond them the trees and shrubbery were not set out in +orderly rows as they were near the house, but grew at will without +hindrance or care. It was like a bit of the Meudon wood.</p> + +<p>He found the going more difficult here for his bad leg, but he pressed +on, and in a little while saw before him that wall which skirted the +Clamart road. He felt in his pocket for the four sealed and stamped +letters, but just then the old Michel spoke behind him:</p> + +<p>"Pardon, Monsieur! Ce n'est pas permis."</p> + +<p>"What is not permitted?" demanded Ste. Marie, wheeling about.</p> + +<p>"To approach that wall, Monsieur," said the old man, with an incredibly +gnomelike and apologetic grin.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie gave an exclamation of disgust. "Is it believed <a +name="Page_256"></a>that I could leap over it?" he asked. "A matter of five +metres? Merci, non! I am not so agile. You flatter me."</p> + +<p>The old Michel spread out his two gnarled hands.</p> + +<p>"Pas de ma faute. I have orders, Monsieur. It will be my painful duty to +shoot if Monsieur approaches that wall." He turned his strange head on one +side and regarded Ste. Marie with his sharp and beadlike eye. The smile of +apology still distorted his face, and he looked exactly like the +Punchinello in a street show.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie slowly withdrew from his pocket two louis d'or and held them +before him in the palm of his hand. He looked down upon them, and Michel +looked, too, with a gaze so intense that his solitary eye seemed to project +a very little from his withered face. He was like a hypnotized old +bird.</p> + +<p>"Mon vieux," said Ste. Marie. "I am a man of honor."</p> + +<p>"Sûrement! Sûrement, Monsieur!" said the old Michel, politely, but his +hypnotized gaze did not stir so much as a hair's-breadth. "Ça va +sans le dire."</p> + +<p>"A man of honor," repeated Ste. Marie. "When I give my word I keep it. +Voilà! I keep it. And," said he, "I have here forty francs. Two +louis. A large sum. It is yours, my brave Michel, for the mere trouble of +turning your back just thirty seconds."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," whispered the old man, "it is impossible. He would kill +me--by torture."</p> + +<p>"He will never know," said Ste. Marie, "for I do not mean to try to +escape. I give you my word of honor that I shall not try to escape. +Besides, I could not climb over that wall, as you see. Two louis, Michel! +Forty francs!"</p> + +<p>The old man's hands twisted and trembled round the <a +name="Page_257"></a>barrel of the carbine, and he swallowed once with some +difficulty. He seemed to hesitate, but in the end he shook his head. It was +as if he shook it in grief over the grave of his first-born. "It is +impossible," he said again. "Impossible." He tore the beadlike eye away +from those two beautiful, glowing golden things, and Ste. Marie saw that +there was nothing to be done with him just now. He slipped the money back +into his pocket with a little sigh and turned away toward the +rose-gardens.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," said he. "Another time, perhaps. Another time. And there are +more louis still, mon vieux. Perhaps three or four. Who knows?"</p> + +<p>Michel emitted a groan of extreme anguish, and they moved on.</p> + +<p>But a few moments later Ste. Marie gave a sudden low exclamation, and +then a soundless laugh, for he caught sight of a very familiar figure +seated in apparent dejection upon a fallen tree-trunk and staring across +the tangled splendor of the roses.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_258"></a><h2><a name='XXII'></a>XXII</h2> + +<h3>A SETTLEMENT REFUSED</h3> + + +<p>Captain Stewart had good reason to look depressed on that fresh and +beautiful morning when Ste. Marie happened upon him beside the +rose-gardens. Matters had not gone well with him of late. He was ill and he +was frightened, and he was much nearer than is agreeable to a complete +nervous breakdown.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him that perils beset him upon every side, perils both seen +and unseen. He felt like a man who is hunted in the dark, hard pressed +until his strength is gone, and he can flee no farther. He imagined himself +to be that man shivering in the gloom in a strange place, hiding eyes and +ears lest he see or hear something from which he cannot escape. He imagined +the morning light to come, very slow and cold and gray, and in it he saw +round about him a silent ring of enemies, the men who had pursued him and +run him down. He saw them standing there in the pale dawn, motionless, +waiting for the day, and he knew that at last the chase was over and he +near done for.</p> + +<p>Crouching alone in the garden, with the scent of roses in his nostrils, +he wondered with a great and bitter amazement at that madman--himself of +only a few months ago--who had sat down deliberately, in his proper senses, +to play at cards with Fate, the great winner of all games. He <a +name="Page_259"></a>wondered if, after all, he had been in his proper +senses, for the deed now loomed before him gigantic and hideous in its +criminal folly. His mind went drearily back to the beginning of it all, to +the tremendous debts which had hounded him day and night, to his fear to +speak of them with his father, who had never had the least mercy upon +gamblers. He remembered as if it were yesterday the afternoon upon which he +learned of young Arthur's quarrel with his grandfather, old David's senile +anger, and the boy's tempestuous exit from the house, vowing never to +return. He remembered his talk with old David later on about the will, in +which he learned that he was now to have Arthur's share under certain +conditions. He remembered how that very evening, three days after his +disappearance, the lad had come secretly to the rue du Faubourg St. +Honoré begging his uncle to take him in for a few days, and how, in +a single instant that was like a lightning flash, the Great Idea had come +to him.</p> + +<p>What gigantic and appalling madness it had all been! And yet for a time +how easy of execution! For a time. Now.... He gave another quick shiver, +for his mind came back to what beset him and compassed him round +about--perils seen and hidden.</p> + +<p>The peril seen was ever before his eyes. Against the light of day it +loomed a gigantic and portentous shadow, and it threatened him--the figure +of Ste. Marie <i>who knew</i>. His reason told him that if due care were +used this danger need not be too formidable, and, indeed, in his heart he +rather despised Ste. Marie as an individual; but the man's nerve was +broken, and in these days fear swept wavelike over reason and had its way +with him. Fear looked up to this looming, portentous shadow and saw there +<a name="Page_260"></a>youth and health and strength, courage and +hopefulness, and, best of all armors, a righteous cause. How was an ill and +tired and wicked old man to fight against these? It became an obsession, +the figure of this youth; it darkened the sun at noonday, and at night it +stood beside Captain Stewart's bed in the darkness and watched him and +waited, and the very air he breathed came chill and dark from its silent +presence there.</p> + +<p>But there were perils unseen as well as seen. He felt invisible threads +drawing round him, weaving closer and closer, and he dared not even try how +strong they were lest they prove to be cables of steel. He was almost +certain that his niece knew something or at the least suspected. As has +already been pointed out, the two saw very little of each other, but on the +occasions of their last few meetings it had seemed to him that the girl +watched him with a strange stare, and tried always to be in her +grandfather's chamber when he called to make his inquiries. Once, stirred +by a moment's bravado, he asked her if M. Ste. Marie had returned from his +mysterious absence, and the girl said:</p> + +<p>"No. He has not come back yet, but I expect him soon now--with news of +Arthur. We shall all be very glad to see him, grandfather and Richard +Hartley and I."</p> + +<p>It was not a very consequential speech, and, to tell the truth, it was +what in the girl's own country would be termed pure "bluff," but to Captain +Stewart it rang harsh and loud with evil significance, and he went out of +that room cold at heart. What plans were they perfecting among them? What +invisible nets for his feet?</p> + +<p>And there was another thing still. Within the past two or three days he +had become convinced that his movements <a name="Page_261"></a>were being +watched--and that would be Richard Hartley at work, he said to himself. +Faces vaguely familiar began to confront him in the street, in restaurants +and cafés. Once he thought his rooms had been ransacked during his +absence at La Lierre, though his servant stoutly maintained that they had +never been left unoccupied save for a half-hour's marketing. Finally, on +the day before this morning by the rose-gardens, he was sure that as he +came out from the city in his car he was followed at a long distance by +another motor. He saw it behind him after he had left the city gate, the +Porte de Versailles, and he saw it again after he had left the main route +at Issy and entered the little rue Barbés which led to La Lierre. Of +course, he promptly did the only possible thing under the circumstances. He +dashed on past the long stretch of wall, swung into the main avenue beyond, +and continued through Clamart to the Meudon wood, as if he were going to +St. Cloud. In the labyrinth of roads and lanes there he came to a halt, and +after a half-hour's wait ran slowly back to La Lierre.</p> + +<p>There was no further sign of the other car, the pursuer, if so it had +been, but he passed two or three men on bicycles and others walking, and +what one of these might not be a spy paid to track him down?</p> + +<p>It had frightened him badly, that hour of suspense and flight, and he +determined to remain at La Lierre for at least a few days, and wrote to his +servant in the rue du Faubourg to forward his letters there under the false +name by which he had hired the place.</p> + +<p>He was thinking very wearily of all these things as he sat on the fallen +tree-trunk in the garden and stared unseeing across tangled ranks of roses. +And after a while his thoughts, as they were wont to do, returned to Ste. +Marie--that <a name="Page_262"></a>looming shadow which darkened the +sunlight, that incubus of fear which clung to him night and day. He was so +absorbed that he did not hear sounds which might otherwise have roused him. +He heard nothing, saw nothing, save that which his fevered mind projected, +until a voice spoke his name.</p> + +<p>He looked over his shoulder thinking that O'Hara had sought him out. He +turned a little on the tree-trunk to see more easily, and the image of his +dread stood there a living and very literal shadow against the +daylight.</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart's overstrained nerves were in no state to bear a sudden +shock. He gave a voiceless, whispering cry and he began to tremble very +violently, so that his teeth chattered. All at once he got to his feet and +began to stumble away backward, but a projecting limb of the fallen tree +caught him and held him fast. It must be that the man was in a sort of +frenzy. He must have seen through a red mist just then, for when he found +that he could not escape his hand went swiftly to his coat-pocket, and in +his white and contorted face there was murder plain and unmistakable.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie was too lame to spring aside or to dash upon the man across +intervening obstacles and defend himself. He stood still in his place and +waited. And it was characteristic of him that at that moment he felt no +fear, only a fine sense of exhilaration. Open danger had no terrors for +him. It was secret peril that unnerved him, as in the matter of the poison +a week before.</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart's hand fell away empty, and Ste. Marie laughed.</p> + +<p>"Left it at the house?" said he. "You seem to have no luck, Stewart. +First the cat drinks the poison, and then <a name="Page_263"></a>you leave +your pistol at home. Dear, dear, I'm afraid you're careless."</p> + +<p class="figure"> <a name="jason007"><img +width="80%" alt="Illustration: HIS HAND WENT SWIFTLY TO HIS COAT-POCKET" +src="images/jason007.png" /></a><br /> HIS HAND WENT SWIFTLY TO HIS +COAT-POCKET</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart stared at the younger man under his brows. His face was +gray and he was still shivering, but the sudden agony of fear, which had +been, after all, only a jangle of nerves, was gone away. He looked upon +Ste. Marie's gay and untroubled face with a dull wonder, and he began to +feel a grudging admiration for the man who could face death without even +turning pale. He pulled out his watch and looked at it.</p> + +<p>"I did not know," he said, "that this was your hour out-of-doors."</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, he had quite forgotten that the arrangement +existed. When he had first heard of it he had protested vigorously, but had +been overborne by O'Hara with the plea that they owed their prisoner +something for having come near to poisoning him, and Stewart did not care +to have any further attention called to that matter; it had already put a +severe strain upon the relations at La Lierre.</p> + +<p>"Well," observed Ste. Marie, "I told you you were careless. That proves +it. Come! Can't we sit down for a little chat? I haven't seen you since I +was your guest at the other address--the town address. It seems to have +become a habit of mine--doesn't it?--being your guest." He laughed +cheerfully, but Captain Stewart continued to regard him without +smiling.</p> + +<p>"If you imagine," said the elder man, "that this place belongs to me you +are mistaken. I came here to-day to make a visit."</p> + +<p>But Ste. Marie sat down at one end of the tree-trunk and shook his +head.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_264"></a>"Oh, come, come!" said he. "Why keep up the +pretence? You must know that I know all about the whole affair. Why, bless +you, I know it all--even to the provisions of the will. Did you think I +stumbled in here by accident? Well, I didn't, though I don't mind admitting +to you that I remained by accident."</p> + +<p>He glanced over his shoulder toward the one-eyed Michel, who stood +near-by, regarding the two with some alarm.</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart looked up sharply at the mention of the will, and he +wetted his dry lips with his tongue. But after a moment's hesitation he sat +down upon the tree-trunk, and he seemed to shrink a little together, when +his limbs and shoulders had relaxed, so that he looked small and feeble, +like a very tired old man. He remained silent for a few moments, but at +last he spoke without raising his eyes. He said:</p> + +<p>"And now that you--imagine yourself to know so very much, what do you +expect to do about it?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that would be telling!" he cried. "You see, in one way I have the +advantage, though outwardly all the advantage seems to be with your side--I +know all about your game. I may call it a game? Yes? But you don't know +mine. You don't know what I--what we may do at any moment. That's where we +have the better of you."</p> + +<p>"It would seem to me," said Captain Stewart, wearily, "that since you +are a prisoner here and very unlikely to escape, we know with great +accuracy what you will do--and what you will not."</p> + +<p>"Yes," admitted Ste. Marie, "it would seem so. It certainly would seem +so. But you never can tell, can you?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_265"></a>And at that the elder man frowned and looked +away. Thereafter another brief silence fell between the two, but at its end +Ste. Marie spoke in a new tone, a very serious tone. He said:</p> + +<p>"Stewart, listen a moment!"</p> + +<p>And the other turned a sharp gaze upon him.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't forget," said Ste. Marie, speaking slowly as if to choose +his words with care--"you mustn't forget that I am not alone in this +matter. You mustn't forget that there's Richard Hartley--and that there are +others, too. I'm a prisoner, yes. I'm helpless here for the +present--perhaps, perhaps--but they are not, <i>and they know, Stewart. +They know</i>."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart's face remained gray and still, but his hands twisted +and shook upon his knees until he hid them.</p> + +<p>"I know well enough what you're waiting for," continued Ste. Marie. +"You're waiting--you've got to wait--for Arthur Benham to come of age, or, +better yet, for your father to die." He paused and shook his head. "It's no +good. You can't hold out as long as that--not by half. We shall have won +the game long before. Listen to me! Do you know what would occur if your +father should take a serious turn for the worse to-night--or at any time? +Do you? Well, I'll tell you. A piece of information would be given him that +would make another change in that will just as quickly as a pen could write +the words. That's what would happen."</p> + +<p>"That is a lie!" said Captain Stewart, in a dry whisper. "A lie!"</p> + +<p>And Ste. Marie contented himself with a slight smile by way of answer. +He was by no means sure that what he had said was true, but he argued that +since Hartley suspected, <a name="Page_266"></a>or perhaps by this time +knew so much, he would certainly not allow old David to die without doing +what he could do in an effort to save young Arthur's fortune from a rascal. +In any event, true or false, the words had had the desired effect. Captain +Stewart was plainly frightened by them.</p> + +<p>"May I make a suggestion?" asked the younger man.</p> + +<p>The other did not answer him, and he made it.</p> + +<p>"Give it up!" said he. "You're riding for a tremendous fall, you know. +We shall smash you completely in the end. It'll mean worse than ruin--much +worse. Give it up, now, before you're too late. Help me to send for Hartley +and we'll take the boy back to his home. Some story can be managed that +will leave you out of the thing altogether, and those who know will hold +their tongues. It's your last chance, Stewart. I advise you to take +it."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart turned his gray face slowly and looked at the other man +with a sort of dull and apathetic wonder.</p> + +<p>"Are you mad?" he asked, in a voice which was altogether without feeling +of any kind. "Are you quite mad?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," said Ste. Marie, "I am quite sane, and I'm offering +you a chance to save yourself before it's too late. Don't misunderstand +me!" he continued. "I am not urging this out of any sympathy for you. I +urge it because it will bring about what I wish a little more quickly, also +because it will save your family from the disgrace of your smash-up. That's +why I'm making my suggestion."</p> + +<p>Captain Stewart was silent for a little while, but after that he got +heavily to his feet. "I think you must be quite mad," said he, as before, +in a voice altogether devoid of expression. "I cannot talk with madmen." He +beckoned to the old Michel, who stood near-by, leaning upon his <a +name="Page_267"></a>carbine, and when the gardener had approached he said, +"Take this--prisoner back to his room!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie rose with a little sigh. He said: "I'm sorry, but you'll +admit I have done my best for you. I've warned you. I sha'n't do it again. +We shall smash you now, without mercy."</p> + +<p>"Take him away!" cried Captain Stewart, in a sudden loud voice, and the +old Michel touched his charge upon the shoulder. So Ste. Marie went without +further words. From a little distance he looked back, and the other man +still stood by the fallen tree-trunk, bent a little, his arms hanging lax +beside him, and his face, Ste. Marie thought, fancifully, was like the face +of a man damned.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_268"></a><h2><a name='XXIII'></a>XXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST ARROW</h3> + + +<p>The one birdlike eye of the old Michel regarded Ste. Marie with a glance +of mingled cunning and humor. It might have been said to twinkle.</p> + +<p>"To the east, Monsieur?" inquired the old Michel.</p> + +<p>"Precisely!" said Ste. Marie. "To the east, mon vieux." It was the +morning of the fourth day after that talk with Captain Stewart beside the +rose-gardens.</p> + +<p>The two bore to the eastward, down among the trees, and presently came +to the spot where a certain trespasser had once leaped down from the top of +the high wall and had been shot for his pains. The old Michel halted and +leaned upon the barrel of his carbine. With an air of complete detachment, +an air vague and aloof as of one in a revery, he gazed away over the +tree-tops of the ragged park; but Ste. Marie went in under the row of lilac +shrubs which stood close against the wall, and a passer-by might have +thought the man looking for figs on thistles, for lilacs in late July. He +had gone there with eagerness, with flushed cheeks and bright eyes; he +emerged after some moments, moving slowly, with downcast head.</p> + +<p>"There are no lilac blooms now, Monsieur," observed the old Michel, and +his prisoner said, in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"No, mon vieux. No. There are none." He sighed <a +name="Page_269"></a>and drew a long breath. So the two stood for some time +silent, Ste. Marie a little pale, his eyes fixed upon the ground, his hands +chafing together behind him, the gardener with his one bright eye upon his +charge. But in the end Ste. Marie sighed again and began to move away, +followed by the gardener. They went across the broad park, past the double +row of larches, through that space where the chestnut-trees stood in +straight, close rows, and so came to the west wall which skirted the road +to Clamart. Ste. Marie felt in his pocket and withdrew the last of the four +letters--the last there could be, for he had no more stamps. The others he +had thrown over the wall, one each morning, beginning with the day after he +had made the first attempt to bribe old Michel. As he had expected, +twenty-four hours of avaricious reflection had proved too much for that +gnomelike being.</p> + +<p>One each day he had thrown over the wall, weighted with a pebble tucked +loosely under the flap of the improvised envelope, in such a manner that it +would drop but when the letter struck the ground beyond. And each following +day he had gone with high hopes to the appointed place under the cedar-tree +to pick figs of thistles, lilac blooms in late July. But there had been +nothing there.</p> + +<p>"Turn your back, Michel!" said Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>And the old man said, from a little distance: "It is turned, Monsieur. I +see nothing. Monsieur throws little stories at the birds to amuse himself. +It does not concern me."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie slipped a pebble under the flap of the envelope and threw his +letter over the wall. It went like a soaring bird, whirling horizontally, +and it must have fallen far out in the middle of the road near the tramway. +For the third time that morning the prisoner drew a sigh. He <a +name="Page_270"></a>said, "You may turn round now, my friend," and the old +Michel faced him. "We have shot our last arrow," said he. "If this also +fails, I think--well, I think the bon Dieu will have to help us +then.--Michel," he inquired, "do you know how to pray?"</p> + +<p>"Sacred thousand swine, no!" cried the ancient gnome, in something +between astonishment and horror. "No, Monsieur. 'Pas mon métier, +ça!" He shook his head rapidly from side to side like one of those +toys in a shop-window whose heads oscillate upon a pivot. But all at once a +gleam of inspiration sparkled in his lone eye. "There is the old Justine!" +he suggested. "Toujours sur les genoux, cette imbécile +là."</p> + +<p>"In that case," said Ste. Marie, "you might ask the lady to say one +little extra prayer for--the pebble I threw at the birds just now. Hein?" +He withdrew from his pocket the last two louis d'or, and Michel took them +in a trembling hand. There remained but the note of fifty francs and some +silver.</p> + +<p>"The prayer shall be said, Monsieur," declared the gardener. "It shall +be said. She shall pray all night or I will kill her."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Ste. Marie. "You are kindness itself. A gentle +soul."</p> + +<p>They turned away to retrace their steps, and Michel rubbed the side of +his head with a reflective air.</p> + +<p>"The old one is a madman," said he. (The "old one" meant Captain +Stewart.) "A madman. Each day he is madder, and this morning he struck +me--here on the head, because I was too slow. Eh! a little more of that, +and--who knows? Just a little more, a small little! Am I a dog, to be +beaten? Hein? Je ne le crois pas. Hé!" <a name="Page_271"></a>He +called Captain Stewart two unprintable names, and after a moment's thought +he called him an animal, which is not so much of an anti-climax as it may +seem, because to call anybody an animal in French is a serious matter.</p> + +<p>The gardener was working himself up into something of a quiet passion, +and Ste. Marie said:</p> + +<p>"Softly, my friend! Softly!" It occurred to him that the man's +resentment might be of use later on, and he said: "You speak the truth. The +old one is an animal, and he is also a great rascal."</p> + +<p>But Michel betrayed the makings of a philosopher. He said, with profound +conviction: "Monsieur, all men are great rascals. It is I who say it."</p> + +<p>And at that Ste. Marie had to laugh.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He had not consciously directed his feet, but without direction they led +him round the corner of the rose-gardens and toward the rond point. He knew +well whom he would find there. She had not failed him during the past three +days. Each morning he had found her in her place, and for his allotted +hour--which more than once stretched itself out to nearly two hours, if he +had but known--they had sat together on the stone bench, or, tiring of +that, had walked under the trees beyond.</p> + +<p>Long afterward Ste. Marie looked back upon these hours with, among other +emotions, a great wonder--at himself and at her. It seemed to him then one +of the strangest relationships--intimacies, for it might well be so +called--that ever existed between a man and a woman, and he was amazed at +the ease, the unconsciousness, with which it had come about.</p> + +<p>But during this time he did not allow himself to wonder <a +name="Page_272"></a>or to examine, scarcely even to think. The hours were +golden hours, unrelated, he told himself, to anything else in his life or +in his interests. They were like pleasant dreams, very sweet while they +endured, but to be put away and forgotten upon the waking. Only in that +long afterward he knew that they had not been put away, that they had been +with him always, that the morning hour had remained in his thoughts all the +rest of the long day, and that he had waked upon the morrow with a keen and +exquisite sense of something sweet to come.</p> + +<p>It was a strange fool's paradise that the man dwelt in, and in some +small, vague measure he must, even at the time, have known it, for it is +certain that he deliberately held himself away from thought--realization; +that he deliberately shut his eyes, held his ears lest he should hear or +see.</p> + +<p>That he was not faithless to his duty has been shown. He did his utmost +there, but he was for the time helpless save for efforts to communicate +with Richard Hartley, and those efforts could consume no more than ten +minutes out of the weary day.</p> + +<p>So he drifted, wilfully blind to bearings, wilfully deaf to Sound of +warning or peril, and he found a companionship sweeter and fuller and more +perfect than he had ever before known in all his life, though that is not +to say very much, because sympathetic companionships between men and women +are very rare indeed, and Ste. Marie had never experienced anything which +could fairly be called by that name. He had had, as has been related, many +flirtations, and not a few so-called love-affairs, but neither of these two +sorts of intimacies are of necessity true intimacies at all; men often feel +varying degrees of love for women without <a name="Page_273"></a>the least +true understanding or sympathy or real companionship.</p> + +<p>He was wondering, as he bore round the corner of the rose-gardens on +this day, in just what mood he would find her. It seemed to him that in +their brief acquaintance he had seen her in almost all the moods there are, +from bitter gloom to the irrepressible gayety of a little child. He had +told her once that she was like an organ, and she had laughed at him for +being pretentious and high-flown, though she could upon occasion be quite +high-flown enough herself for all ordinary purposes.</p> + +<p>He reached the cleared margin of the rond point, and a little cold fear +stirred in him when he did not hear her singing under her breath, as she +was wont to do when alone, but he went forward and she was there in her +place upon the stone bench. She had been reading, but the book lay +forgotten beside her and she sat idle, her head laid back against the thick +stems of shrubbery which grew behind, her hands in her lap. It was a warm, +still morning, with the promise of a hot afternoon, and the girl was +dressed in something very thin and transparent and cool-looking, open in a +little square at the throat and with sleeves which came only to her elbows. +The material was pale and dull yellow, with very vaguely defined green +leaves in it, and against it the girl's dark and clear skin glowed rich and +warm and living, as pearls glow and seem to throb against the dead tints of +the fabric upon which they are laid.</p> + +<p>She did not move when he came before her, but looked up to him gravely +without stirring her head.</p> + +<p>"I didn't hear you come," said she. "You don't drag your left leg any +more. You walk almost as well as if you had never been wounded."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_274"></a>"I'm almost all right again," he answered. "I +suppose I couldn't run or jump, but I certainly can walk very much like a +human being. May I sit down?"</p> + +<p>Mlle. O'Hara put out one hand and drew the book closer to make a place +for him on the stone bench, and he settled himself comfortably there, +turned a little so that he was facing toward her.</p> + +<p>It was indicative of the state of intimacy into which the two had grown +that they did not make polite conversation with each other, but indeed were +silent for some little time after Ste. Marie had seated himself. It was he +who spoke first. He said:</p> + +<p>"You look vaguely classical to-day. I have been trying to guess why, and +I cannot. Perhaps it's because your--what does one say: frock, dress, +gown?--because it is cut out square at the throat."</p> + +<p>"If you mean by classical, Greek," said she, "it wouldn't be square at +the neck at all; it would be pointed--V-shaped. And it would be very +different in other ways, too. You are not an observing person, after +all."</p> + +<p>"For all that," insisted Ste. Marie, "you look classical. You look like +some lady one reads about in Greek poems--Helen or Iphigenia or Medea or +somebody."</p> + +<p>"Helen had yellow hair, hadn't she?" objected Mlle. O'Hara. "I should +think I probably look more like Medea--Medea in Colchis before Jason--"</p> + +<p>She seemed suddenly to realize that she had hit upon an unfortunate +example, for she stopped in the middle of her sentence and a wave of color +swept up over her throat and face.</p> + +<p>For a moment Ste. Marie did not understand, then he gave a low +exclamation, for Medea certainly had been an <a name="Page_275"></a>unhappy +name. He remembered something that Richard Hartley had said about that lady +a long time before. He made another mistake, for to lessen the moment's +embarrassment he gave speech to the first thought which entered his mind. +He said:</p> + +<p>"Some one once remarked that you look like the young Juno--before +marriage. I expect it's true, too."</p> + +<p>She turned upon him swiftly.</p> + +<p>"Who said that?" she demanded. "Who has ever talked to you about +me?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he said. "I seem to be singularly stupid this +morning. A mild lunacy. You must forgive me, if you can. To tell you what +you ask would be to enter upon forbidden ground, and I mustn't do +that."</p> + +<p>"Still, I should like to know," said the girl, watching him with sombre +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said he, "it was a little Jewish photographer in the +Boulevard de la Madeleine."</p> + +<p>And she said, "Oh!" in a rather disappointed tone and looked away.</p> + +<p>"We seem to be making conversation chiefly about my personal +appearance," she said, presently. "There must be other topics if one should +try hard to find them. Tell me stories. You told me stories yesterday; tell +me more. You seem to be in a classical mood. You shall be Odysseus, and I +will be Nausicaa, the interesting laundress. Tell me about wanderings and +things. Have you any more islands for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Ste. Marie, nodding at her slowly. "Yes, Nausicaa, I have +more islands for you. The seas are full of islands. What kind do you +want?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_276"></a>"A warm one," said the girl. "Even on a hot day +like this I choose a warm one, because I hate the cold."</p> + +<p>She settled herself more comfortably, with a little sigh of content that +was exactly like a child's happy sigh when stories are going to be told +before the fire.</p> + +<p>"I know an island," said Ste. Marie, "that I think you would like +because it is warm and beautiful and very far away from troubles of all +kinds. As well as I could make out, when I went there, nobody on the island +had ever even heard of trouble. Oh yes, you'd like it. The people there are +brown, and they're as beautiful as their own island. They wear hibiscus +flowers stuck in their hair, and they very seldom do any work."</p> + +<p>"I want to go there!" cried Mlle. Coira O'Hara. "I want to go there now, +this afternoon, at once! Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's in the South Pacific," said he, "not so very far from Samoa and +Fiji and other groups that you will have heard about, and its name is +Vavau. It's one of the Tongans. It's a high, volcanic island, not a flat, +coral one like the southern Tongans. I came to it, one evening, sailing +north from Nukualofa and Haapai, and it looked to me like a single big +mountain jutting up out of the sea, black-green against the sunset. It was +very impressive. But it isn't a single mountain, it's a lot of high, broken +hills covered with a tangle of vegetation and set round a narrow bay, a +sort of fjord, three or four miles long, and at the inner end of this are +the village and the stores of the few white traders. I'm afraid," said Ste. +Marie, shaking his head--"I'm afraid I can't tell you about it, after all. +I can't seem to find the words. You can't put into language--at least, I +can't--those slow, hot, island days that are never too hot because <a +name="Page_277"></a>the trades blow fresh and strong, or the island nights +that are more like black velvet with pearls sewed on it than anything else. +You can't describe the smell of orange groves and the look of palm-trees +against the sky. You can't tell about the sweet, simple, natural +hospitality of the natives. They're like little, unsuspicious children. In +short," said he, "I shall have to give it up, after all, just because it's +too big for me. I can only say that it's beautiful and unspeakably remote +from the world, and that I think I should like to go back to Vavau and stay +a long time, and let the rest of the world go hang."</p> + +<p>Mlle. O'Hara stared across the park of La Lierre with wide and shadowy +eyes, and her lips trembled a little.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I want to go there!" she cried again. "I want to go there--and +rest--and forget everything!" She turned upon him with a sudden bitter +resentment. "Why do you tell me things like that?" she cried. "Oh yes, I +know. I asked you, but--can't you see? To hide one's self away in a place +like that!" she said. "To let the sun warm you and the trade-winds blow +away--all that had ever tortured you! Just to rest and be at peace!" She +turned her eyes to him once more. "You needn't be afraid that you have +failed to make me see your island! I see it. I feel it. It doesn't need +many words. I can shut my eyes and I am there. But it was a little cruel. +Oh, I know, I asked for it. It's like the garden of the Hesperides, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"Very like it," said Ste. Marie, "because there are oranges--groves of +them. (And they were the golden apples, I take it.) Also, it is very far +away from the world, and the people live in complete and careless ignorance +of how the world goes on. Emperors and kings die, wars come and <a +name="Page_278"></a>go, but they hear only a little faint echo of it all, +long afterward, and even that doesn't interest them."</p> + +<p>"I know," she said. "I understand. Didn't you know I'd understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, nodding. "I suppose I did. We--feel things rather alike, +I suppose. We don't have to say them all out."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said, in a low voice, "if I'm glad or sorry." She stared +under her brows at the man beside her. "For it is very probable that when +we have left La Lierre you and I will never meet again. I wonder if +I'm--"</p> + +<p>For some obscure reason she broke off there and turned her eyes away, +and she remained without speaking for a long time. Her mind, as she sat +there, seemed to go back to that southern island, and to its peace and +loveliness, for Ste. Marie, who watched her, saw a little smile come to her +lips, and he saw her eyes half close and grow soft and tender as if what +they saw were very sweet to her. He watched many different expressions come +upon the girl's face and go again, but at last he seemed to see the old +bitterness return there and struggle with something wistful and eager.</p> + +<p>"I envy you your wide wanderings," she said, presently. "Oh, I envy you +more than I can find any words for. Your will is the wind's will. You go +where your fancy leads you, and you're free--free. We have wandered, you +know," said she, "my father and I. I can't remember when we ever had a home +to live in. But that is--that is different--a different kind of +wandering."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Ste. Marie. "Yes, perhaps." And within himself he said, with +sorrow and pity, "Different, indeed!"</p> + +<p>As if at some sudden thought the girl looked up at him <a +name="Page_279"></a>quickly. "Did that sound regretful?" she asked. "Did +what I say sound--disloyal to my father? I didn't mean it to. I don't want +you to think that I regret it. I don't. It has meant being with my father. +Wherever he has gone I have gone with him, and if anything ever has +been--unpleasant, I was willing, oh, I was glad, glad to put up with it for +his sake and because I could be with him. If I have made his life a little +happier by sharing it, I am glad of everything. I don't regret."</p> + +<p>"And yet," said Ste. Marie, gently, "it must have been hard sometimes." +He pictured to himself that roving existence lived among such people as +O'Hara must have known, and it sent a hot wave of anger and distress over +him from head to foot.</p> + +<p>But the girl said: "I had my father. The rest of it didn't matter in the +face of that." After a little silence she said, "M. Ste. Marie!"</p> + +<p>And the man said, "What is it, Mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>"You spoke the other day," she said, hesitating over her words, "about +my aunt, Lady Margaret Craith. I suppose I ought not to ask you more about +her, for my father quarrelled with his people very long ago and he broke +with them altogether. But--surely, it can do no harm--just for a +moment--just a very little! Could you tell me a little about her, M. Ste. +Marie--what she is like and--and how she lives--and things like that?"</p> + +<p>So Ste. Marie told her all that he could of the old Irishwoman who lived +alone in her great house, and ruled with a slack Irish hand, a sweet Irish +heart, over tenants and dependants. And when he had come to an end the girl +drew a little sigh and said:</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I am so glad to hear of her. I--wish <a +name="Page_280"></a>everything were different, so that--I think I should +love her very much if I might."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," said Ste. Marie, "will you promise me something?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him with her sombre eyes, and after a little she said: "I +am afraid you must tell me first what it is. I cannot promise blindly."</p> + +<p>He said: "I want you to promise me that if anything ever should +happen--any difficulty--trouble--anything to put you in the position of +needing care or help or sympathy--"</p> + +<p>But she broke in upon him with a swift alarm, crying: "What do you mean? +You're trying to hint at something that I don't know. What difficulty or +trouble could happen to me? Please tell me just what you mean."</p> + +<p>"I'm not hinting at any mystery," said Ste. Marie. "I don't know of +anything that is going to happen to you, but--will you forgive me for +saying it?--your father is, I take it, often exposed to--danger of various +sorts. I'm afraid I can't quite express myself, only, if any trouble should +come to you, Mademoiselle, will you promise me to go to Lady Margaret, your +aunt, and tell her who you are and let her care for you?"</p> + +<p>"There was an absolute break," she said. "Complete."</p> + +<p>But the man shook his head, saying:</p> + +<p>"Lady Margaret won't think of that. She'll think only of you--that she +can mother you, perhaps save you grief--and of herself, that in her old age +she has a daughter. It would make a lonely old woman very happy, +Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>The girl bent her head away from him, and Ste. Marie saw, for the first +time since he had known her, tears in her eyes. After a long time she +said:</p> + +<p>"I promise, then. But," she said, "it is very unlikely <a +name="Page_281"></a>that it should ever come about--for more than one +reason. Very unlikely."</p> + +<p>"Still, Mademoiselle," said he, "I am glad you have promised. This is an +uncertain world. One never can tell what will come with the +to-morrows."</p> + +<p>"I can," the girl said, with a little tired smile that Ste. Marie did +not understand. "I can tell. I can see all the to-morrows--a long, long row +of them. I know just what they're going to be like--to the very end."</p> + +<p>But the man rose to his feet and looked down upon her as she sat before +him. And he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," he said. "Pardon me, but you are mistaken. No one +can see to-morrow--or the end of anything. The end may surprise you very +much."</p> + +<p>"I wish it would!" cried Mlle. O'Hara. "Oh, I wish it would!"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_282"></a><h2><a name='XXIV'></a>XXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE JOINT IN THE ARMOR</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie put down a book as O'Hara came into the room and rose to meet +his visitor.</p> + +<p>"I'm compelled," said the Irishman, "to put you on your honor to-day if +you are to go out as usual. Michel has been sent on an errand, and I am +busy with letters. I shall have to put you on your honor not to make any +effort to escape. Is that agreed to? I shall trust you altogether. You +could manage to scramble over the wall somehow, I suppose, and get clean +away, but I think you won't try it if you give your word."</p> + +<p>"I give my word gladly," said Ste. Marie. "And thanks very much. You've +been uncommonly kind to me here. I--regret more than I can say that +we--that we find ourselves on opposite sides, as it were. I wish we were +fighting for the same cause."</p> + +<p>The Irishman looked at the younger man sharply for an instant, and he +made as if he would speak, but seemed to think better of it. In the end he +said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite so. Quite so. Of course you understand that any +consideration I have used toward you has been by way of making amends +for--for an unfortunate occurrence."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie laughed.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_283"></a>"The poison," said he. "Yes, I know. And of +course I know who was at the bottom of that. By the way, I met Stewart in +the garden the other day. Did he tell you? He was rather nervous and tried +to shoot me, but he had left his revolver at the house--at least it wasn't +in his pocket when he reached for it."</p> + +<p>O'Hara's hard face twitched suddenly, as if in anger, and he gave an +exclamation under his breath, so the younger man inferred that "old +Charlie" had not spoken of their encounter. And after that the Irishman +once more turned a sharp, frowning glance upon his prisoner as if he were +puzzled about something. But, as before, he stopped short of speech and at +last turned away.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment!" said the younger man. He asked: "Is it fair to inquire +how long I may expect to be confined here? I don't want to presume upon +your good-nature too far, but if you could tell me I should be glad to +know."</p> + +<p>The Irishman hesitated a moment and then said:--</p> + +<p>"I don't know why I shouldn't answer that. It can't help you, so far as +I can see, to do anything that would hinder us. You'll stay until Arthur +Benham comes of age, which will be in about two months from now."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other. "Thanks. I thought so. Until young Arthur comes +of age and receives his patrimony--or until old David Stewart dies. Of +course that might happen at any hour."</p> + +<p>The Irishman said: "I don't quite see what--Ah, yes, to be sure! Yes, I +see. Well, I should count upon eight weeks if I were you. In eight weeks +the boy will be independent of them all, and we shall go to England for the +wedding."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_284"></a>"The wedding?" cried Ste. Marie. "What +wedding?--Ah!"</p> + +<p>"Arthur Benham and my daughter are to be married," said O'Hara, "so soon +as he reaches his majority. I thought you knew that."</p> + +<p>In a very vague fashion he realized that he had expected it. And still +the definite words came to him with a shock which was like a physical blow, +and he turned his back with a man's natural instinct to hide his feeling. +Certainly that was the logical conclusion to be drawn from known premises. +That was to be the O'Haras' reward for their labor. To Stewart the great +fortune, to the O'Haras a good marriage for the girl and an assured future. +That was reward enough surely for a few weeks of angling and decoying and +luring and lying. That was what she had meant, on the day before, by saying +that she could see all the to-morrows. He realized that he must have been +expecting something like this, but the thought turned him sick, +nevertheless. He could not forget the girl as he had come to know her +during the past week. He could not face with any calmness the thought of +her as the adventuress who had lured poor Arthur Benham on to destruction. +It was an impossible thought. He could have laughed at it in scornful +anger, and yet--What else was she?</p> + +<p>He began to realize that his action in turning his back upon the other +man in the middle of a conversation must look very odd, and he faced round +again trying to drive from his expression the pain and distress which he +knew must be there, plain to see. But he need not have troubled himself, +for the other man was standing before the next window and looking out into +the morning sunlight, and his <a name="Page_285"></a>hard, bony face had so +altered that Ste. Marie stared at him with open amazement. He thought +O'Hara must be ill.</p> + +<p>"I want to see her married!" cried the Irishman, suddenly, and it was a +new voice, a voice Ste. Marie did not know. It shook a little with an +emotion that sat uncouthly upon this grim, stern man.</p> + +<p>"I want to see her married and safe!" he said. "I want her to be rid of +this damnable, roving, cheap existence. I want her to be rid of me and my +rotten friends and my rotten life."</p> + +<p>He chafed his hands together before him, and his tired eyes fixed +themselves upon something that he seemed to see out of the window and +glared at it fiercely.</p> + +<p>"I should like," said he, "to die on the day after her wedding, and so +be out of her way forever. I don't want her to have any shadows cast over +her from the past. I don't want her to open closet doors and find skeletons +there. I want her to be free--free to live the sort of life she was born to +and has a right to."</p> + +<p>He turned sharply upon the younger man.</p> + +<p>"You've seen her!" he cried. "You've talked to her; you know her! Think +of that girl dragged about Europe with me ever since she was a little +child! Think of the people she's had to know, the things she's had to see! +Do you wonder that I want to have her free of it all, married and safe and +comfortable and in peace? Do you? I tell you it has driven me as nearly mad +as a man can be. But I couldn't go mad, because I had to take care of her. +I couldn't even die, because she'd have been left alone without any one to +look out for her. She wouldn't leave me. I could have settled her somewhere +in some quiet place where <a name="Page_286"></a>she'd have been quit at +least of shady, rotten people, but she wouldn't have it. She's stuck to me +always, through good times and bad. She's kept my heart up when I'd have +been ready to cut my throat if I'd been alone. She's been the--bravest and +faithfulest--Well, I--And look at her! Look at her now! Think of what she's +had to see and know--the people she's had to live with--and look at her! +Has any of it stuck to her? Has it cheapened her in any littlest way? No, +by God! She has come through it all like a--like a Sister of Charity +through a city slum--like an angel through the dark."</p> + +<p>The Irishman broke off speaking, for his voice was beyond control, but +after a moment he went on again, more calmly:</p> + +<p>"This boy, this young Benham, is a fool, but he's not a mean fool. +She'll make a man of him. And, married to him, she'll have the comforts +that she ought to have and the care and--freedom. She'll have a chance to +live the life that she has a right to, among the sort of people she has a +right to know. I'm not afraid for her. She'll do her part and more. She'll +hold up her head among duchesses, that girl. I'm not afraid for her."</p> + +<p>He said this last sentence over several times, standing before the +window and staring out at the sun upon the tree-tops.</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid for her.... I'm not afraid for her."</p> + +<p>He seemed to have forgotten that the younger man was in the room, for he +did not look toward him again or pay him any attention for a long while. He +only gazed out of the window into the fresh morning sunlight, and his face +worked and quivered and his lean hands chafed restlessly together before +him. But at last he seemed to realize <a name="Page_287"></a>where he was, +for he turned with a sudden start and stared at Ste. Marie, frowning as if +the younger man were some one he had never seen before. He said:</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, yes. You were wanting to go out into the garden. Yes, quite +so. I--I was thinking of something else. I seem to be absent-minded of +late. Don't let me keep you here."</p> + +<p>He seemed a little embarrassed and ill at ease, and Ste. Marie said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, thanks. There's no hurry. However, I'll go, I think. It's after +eleven. I understand that I'm on my honor not to climb over the wall or +burrow under it or batter it down. That's understood. I--"</p> + +<p>He felt that he ought to say something in acknowledgment of O'Hara's +long speech about his daughter, but he could think of nothing to say, and, +besides, the Irishman seemed not to expect any comment upon his strange +outburst. So, in the end, Ste. Marie nodded and went out of the room +without further ceremony.</p> + +<p>He had been astonished almost beyond words at that sudden and +unlooked-for breakdown of the other man's impregnable reserve, and dimly he +realized that it must have come out of some very extraordinary nervous +strain, but he himself had been in no state to give the Irishman's words +the attention and thought that he would have given them at another time. +His mind, his whole field of mental vision, had been full of one great +fact--<i>the girl was to be married to young Arthur Benham</i>. The thing +loomed gigantic before him, and in some strange way terrifying. He could +neither see nor think beyond it. O'Hara's burst of confidence had reached +his ears very faintly, as if from a great distance--poignant but only +half-comprehended <a name="Page_288"></a>words to be reflected upon later +in their own time.</p> + +<p>He stumbled down the ill-lighted stair with fixed, wide, unseeing eyes, +and he said one sentence over and over aloud, as the Irishman standing +beside the window had said another.</p> + +<p>"She is going to be married. She is going to be married."</p> + +<p>It would seem that he must have forgotten his previous half-suspicion of +the fact. It would seem to have remained, as at the first hearing, a great +and appalling shock, thunderous out of a blue sky.</p> + +<p>Below, in the open, his feet led him mechanically straight down under +the trees, through the tangle of shrubbery beyond, and so to the wall under +the cedar. Arrived there, he awoke all at once to his task, and with a sort +of frowning anger shook off the dream which enveloped him. His eyes +sharpened and grew keen and eager. He said:</p> + +<p>"The last arrow! God send it reached home!" and so went in under the +lilac shrubs.</p> + +<p>He was there longer than usual; unhampered now, he may have made a +larger search, but when at last he emerged Ste. Marie's hands were over his +face and his feet dragged slowly like an old man's feet.</p> + +<p>Without knowing that he had stirred he found himself some distance away, +standing still beside a chestnut-tree. A great wave of depression and fear +and hopelessness swept him, and he shivered under it. He had an instant's +wild panic, and mad, desperate thoughts surged upon him. He saw utter +failure confronting him. He saw himself as helpless as a little child, his +feeble efforts already spent for naught, and, like a little child, he was +afraid. He would have rushed at that grim encircling wall and fought his <a +name="Page_289"></a>way up and over it, but even as the impulse raced to +his feet the momentary madness left him and he turned away. He could not do +a dishonorable thing even for all he held dearest.</p> + +<p>He walked on in the direction which lay before him, but he took no heed +of where he went, and Mlle. Coira O'Hara spoke to him twice before he heard +or saw her.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_290"></a><h2><a name='XXV'></a>XXV</h2> + +<h3>MEDEA GOES OVER TO THE ENEMY</h3> + + +<p>They were near the east end of the rond point, in a space where +fir-trees stood and the ground underfoot was covered with dry needles.</p> + +<p>"I was just on my way to--our bench beyond the fountain," said she.</p> + +<p>And Ste. Marie nodded, looking upon her sombrely. It seemed to him that +he looked with new eyes, and after a little time, when he did not speak, +but only gazed in that strange manner, the girl said:</p> + +<p>"What is it? Something has happened. Please tell me what it is."</p> + +<p>Something like the pale foreshadow of fear came over her beautiful face +and shrouded her golden voice as if it had been a veil.</p> + +<p>"Your father," said Ste. Marie, heavily, "has just been telling me--that +you are to marry young Arthur Benham. He has been telling me."</p> + +<p>She drew a quick breath, looking at him, but after a moment she +said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is true. You knew it before, though, didn't you? Do you mean +that you didn't know it before? I don't quite understand. You must have +known that. What, in Heaven's name, <i>did</i> you think?" she cried, as if +with a sort of anger at his dulness.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_291"></a>The man rubbed one hand wearily across his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I--don't quite know," said he. "Yes, I suppose I had thought of it. I +don't know. It came to me with such a--shock! Yes. Oh, I don't know. I +expect I didn't think at all. I--just didn't think."</p> + +<p>Abruptly his eyes sharpened upon her, and he moved a step forward.</p> + +<p>"Tell me the truth!" he said. "Do you love this boy?"</p> + +<p>The girl's cheeks burned with a swift crimson and she set her lips +together. She was on the verge of extreme anger just then, but after a +little the flush died down again and the dark fire went out of her eyes. +She made an odd gesture with her two hands. It seemed to express fatigue as +much as anything--a great weariness.</p> + +<p>"I like him," she said. "I like him--enough, I suppose. He is good--and +kind--and gentle. He will be good to me. And I shall try very, very hard, +to make him happy."</p> + +<p>Quite suddenly and without warning the fire of her anger burned up +again. She flamed defiance in the man's face.</p> + +<p>"How dare you question me?" she cried. "What right have you to ask me +questions about such a thing? You--what you are!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie bent his head.</p> + +<p>"No right, Mademoiselle," said he, in a low voice. "I have no right to +ask you anything--not even forgiveness. I think I am a little mad to-day. +It--this news came to me suddenly. Yes, I think I am a little mad."</p> + +<p>The girl stared at him and he looked back with sombre eyes. Once more he +was stabbed with intolerable pain to think what she was. Yet in an +inexplicable fashion it pleased him that she should carry out her trickery +to the <a name="Page_292"></a>end with a high head. It was a little less +base, done proudly. He could not have borne it otherwise.</p> + +<p>"Who are you," the girl cried, in a bitter resentment, "that you should +understand? What do you know of the sort of life I have led--we have led +together, my father and I? Oh, I don't mean that I'm ashamed of it! We have +nothing to feel shame for, but you simply do not know what such a life +is."</p> + +<p>Though he writhed with pain, the man nodded over her. He was so glad +that she could carry it through proudly, with a high hand, an erect +head.</p> + +<p>She spread out her arms before him, a splendid and tragic figure.</p> + +<p>"What chance have I ever had?" she demanded. "No, I am not blaming him. +I am not blaming my father. I chose to follow him. I chose it. But what +chance have I had? Think of the people I have lived among. Would you have +me marry one of them--one of those men? I'd rather die. And yet I cannot go +on--forever. I am twenty now. What if my father--You yourself said +yesterday--Oh, I am afraid! I tell you I have lain awake at night a hundred +times and shivered with cold, terrible fear of what would become of me +if--if anything should happen--to my father. And so," she said, "when I met +Arthur Benham last winter, and he--began to--he said--when he begged me to +marry him.... Ah, can't you see? It meant safety--safety--safety! And I +liked him. I like him now--very, very much. He is a sweet boy. I--shall be +happy with him--in a peaceful fashion. And my father--Oh, I'll be honest +with you," said she. "It was my father who decided me. He was--he is--so +pathetically pleased with it. He so wants me to be safe. It's all he lives +for now. <a name="Page_293"></a>I--couldn't fight against them both, Arthur +and my father, so I gave in. And then when Arthur had to be hidden we came +here with him--to wait."</p> + +<p>She became aware that the man was staring at her with something strange +and terrible in his gaze, and she broke off in wonder. The air of that warm +summer morning turned all at once keen and sharp about them--charged with +moment.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle!" cried Ste. Marie. "Mademoiselle, are you telling me the +truth?"</p> + +<p>For some obscure reason she was not angry. Again she spread out her +hands in that gesture of weariness. She said, "Oh, why should I lie to +you?" And the man began to tremble exceedingly. He stretched out an +unsteady hand.</p> + +<p>"You--knew Arthur Benham last winter?" he said. "Long before his--before +he left his home? Before that?"</p> + +<p>"He asked me to marry him last winter," said the girl. "For a long, long +time I--wouldn't. But he never let me alone. He followed me everywhere. And +my father--"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie clapped his two hands over his face, and a groan came to her +through the straining fingers. He cried, in an agony: "Mademoiselle! +Mademoiselle!"</p> + +<p>He fell upon his knees at her feet, his head bent in what seemed to be +an intolerable anguish, his hands over his hidden face. The girl heard +hard-wrung, stumbling, incoherent words wrenched each with an effort out of +extreme pain.</p> + +<p>"Fool! Fool!" the man cried, groaning. "Oh, fool that I have been! Worm, +animal! Oh, fool not to see--not to know! Madman, imbecile, thing without a +name!"</p> + +<p>She stood white-faced, smitten with great fear over this abasement. Not +the least and faintest glimmer reached her of what it meant. She stretched +down a hand of protest, <a name="Page_294"></a>and it touched the man's +head. As if the touch were a stroke of magic, he sprang upright before +her.</p> + +<p>"Now at last, Mademoiselle," said he, "we two must speak plainly +together. Now at last I think I see clear, but I must know beyond doubt or +question. Oh, Mademoiselle, now I think I know you for what you are, and it +seems to me that nothing in this world is of consequence beside that. I +have been blind, blind, blind!... Tell me one thing. Why did Arthur Benham +leave his home two months ago?"</p> + +<p>"He had to leave it," she said, wondering. She did not understand yet, +but she was aware that her heart was beating in loud and fast throbs, and +she knew that some great mystery was to be made plain before her. Her face +was very white. "He had to leave it," she said again. "<i>You</i> know as +well as I. Why do you ask me that? He quarrelled with his grandfather. They +had often quarrelled before--over money--always over money. His grandfather +is a miser, almost a madman. He tried to make Arthur sign a paper releasing +his inheritance--the fortune he is to inherit from his father--and when +Arthur wouldn't he drove him away. Arthur went to his uncle--Captain +Stewart--and Captain Stewart helped him to hide. He didn't dare go back +because they're all against him, all his family. They'd make him give +in."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie gave a loud exclamation of amazement. The thing was +incredible--childish. It was beyond the maddest possibilities. But even as +he said the words to himself a face came before him--Captain Stewart's +smiling and benignant face--and he understood everything. As clearly as if +he had been present, he saw the angry, bewildered boy, fresh from David +Stewart's berating, mystified over some commonplace legal matter requiring +a signature. He saw <a name="Page_295"></a>him appeal for sympathy and +counsel to "old Charlie," and he heard "old Charlie's" reply. It was easy +enough to understand now. It must have been easy enough to bring about. +What absurdities could not such a man as Captain Stewart instil into the +already prejudiced mind of that foolish lad?</p> + +<p>His thoughts turned from Arthur Benham to the girl before him, and that +part of the mystery was clear also. She would believe whatever she was told +in the absence of any reason to doubt. What did she know of old David +Stewart or of the Benham family? It seemed to Ste. Marie all at once +incredible that he could ever have believed ill of her--ever have doubted +her honesty. It seemed to him so incredible that he could have laughed +aloud in bitterness and self-disdain. But as he looked at the girl's white +face and her shadowy, wondering eyes, all laughter, all bitterness, all +cruel misunderstandings were swallowed up in the golden light of his joy at +knowing her, in the end, for what she was.</p> + +<p>"Coira! Coira!" he cried, and neither of the two knew that he called her +for the first time by her name. "Oh, child," said he, "how they have lied +to you and tricked you! I might have known, I might have seen it, but I was +a blind fool. I thought--intolerable things. I might have known. They have +lied to you most damnably, Coira."</p> + +<p>She stared at him in a breathless silence without movement of any sort. +Only her face seemed to have turned a little whiter and her great eyes +darker, so that they looked almost black and enormous in that still +face.</p> + +<p>He told her, briefly, the truth: how young Arthur had had frequent +quarrels with his grandfather over his waste of money, how after one of +them, not at all unlike the others, <a name="Page_296"></a>he had +disappeared, and how Captain Stewart, in desperate need, had set afoot his +plot to get the lad's greater inheritance for himself. He described for her +old David Stewart and the man's bitter grief, and he told her about the +will, about how he had begun to suspect Captain Stewart, and of how he had +traced the lost boy to La Lierre. He told her all that he knew of the whole +matter, and he knew almost all there was to know, and he did not spare +himself even his misconception of the part she had played, though he +softened that as best he could.</p> + +<p>Midway of his story Mlle. O'Hara bent her head and covered her face with +her hands. She did not cry out or protest or speak at all. She made no more +than that one movement, and after it she stood quite still, but the sight +of her, bowed and shamed, stripped of pride, as it had been of garments, +was more than the man could bear.</p> + +<p>He cried her name, "Coira!" And when she did not look up, he called once +more upon her. He said: "Coira, I cannot bear to see you stand so. Look at +me. Ah, child, look at me! Can you realize," he cried--"can you even begin +to think what a great joy it is to me to know at last that you have had no +part in all this? Can't you see what it means to me? I can think of nothing +else. Coira, look up!"</p> + +<p>She raised her white face, and there were no tears upon it, but a still +anguish too great to be told. It would seem never to have occurred to her +to doubt the truth of his words. She said: "It is I who might have known. +Knowing what you have told me now, it seems impossible that I could have +believed. And Captain Stewart--I always hated him--loathed him--distrusted +him. And yet," she cried, wringing her hands, "how could I know? How could +I know?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_297"></a>The girl's face writhed suddenly with her grief, +and she stared up at Ste. Marie with terror in her eyes. She whispered: "My +father! Oh, Ste. Marie, my father! It is not possible. I will not +believe--he cannot have done this, knowing. My father, Ste. Marie!"</p> + +<p>The man turned his eyes away, and she gave a sobbing cry.</p> + +<p>"Has he," she said, slowly, "done even this for me? Has he given--his +honor, also--when everything else was--gone? Has he given me his honor, +too? Oh," she said, "why could I not have died when I was a little child? +Why could I not have done that? To think that I should have lived to--bring +my father to this! I wish I had died. Ste. Marie," she said, pleading with +him. "Ste. Marie, do you think--my father--knew?"</p> + +<p>"Let me think," said he. "Let me think! Is it possible that Stewart has +lied to you all--to one as to another? Let me think!" His mind ran back +over the matter, and he began to remember instances which had seemed to him +odd, but to which he had attached no importance. He remembered O'Hara's +puzzled and uncomprehending face when he, Ste. Marie, had spoken of +Stewart's villany. He remembered the man's indignation over the affair of +the poison, and his fairness in trying to make amends. He remembered other +things, and his face grew lighter and he drew a great breath of relief. He +said: "Coira, I do not believe he knew. Stewart has lied equally to you +all--tricked each one of you." And at that the girl gave a cry of gladness +and began to weep.</p> + +<p>As long as men and women continue to stand upon opposite sides of a +great gulf--and that will be as long as they exist together in this +world--just so long will men continue <a name="Page_298"></a>to be unhappy +and ill at ease in the face of women's tears, even though they know vaguely +that tears may mean just anything at all, and by no means always grief.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie stood first upon one foot and then upon the other. He looked +anxiously about him for succor. He said, "There! there!" or words to that +effect, and once he touched the shoulder of the girl who stood weeping +before him, and he was very miserable indeed.</p> + +<p>But quite suddenly, in the midst of his discomfort, she looked up to +him, and she was smiling and flushed, so that Ste. Marie stared at her in +utter amazement.</p> + +<p>"So now at last," said she, "I have back my Bayard. And I think the +rest--doesn't matter very much."</p> + +<p>"Bayard?" said he, wondering. "I don't understand," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then," said she, "you must just go without understanding. For I shall +never, never explain." The bright flush went from her face and she turned +grave once more. "What is to be done?" she asked. "What must we do now, +Ste. Marie--I mean about Arthur Benham? I suppose he must be told."</p> + +<p>"Either he must be told," said the man, "or he must be taken back to his +home by force." He told her about the four letters which in four days he +had thrown over the wall into the Clamart road. "It was on the chance," he +said, "that some one would pick one of them up and post it, thinking it had +been dropped there by accident. What has become of them I don't know. I +know only that they never reached Hartley."</p> + +<p>The girl nodded thoughtfully. "Yes," said she, "that was the best thing +you could have done. It ought to have succeeded. Of course--" She paused a +moment and then <a name="Page_299"></a>nodded again. "Of course," said she, +"I can manage to get a letter in the post now. We'll send it to-day if you +like. But I was wondering--would it be better or not to tell Arthur the +truth? It all depends upon how he may take it--whether or not he will +believe you. He's very stubborn, and he's frightened about this break with +his family, and he is quite sure that he has been badly treated. Will he +believe you? Of course, if he does believe he could escape from here quite +easily at any time, and there'd be no necessity for a rescue. What do you +think?"</p> + +<p>"I think he ought to be told," said Ste. Marie. "If we try to carry him +away by force there'll be a fight, of course, and--who knows what might +happen? That we must leave for a last resort--a last desperate resort. +First we must tell the boy." Abruptly he gave a cry of dismay, and the girl +looked up to him, staring. "But--but <i>you</i>, Coira!" said he, +stammering. "But <i>you</i>! I hadn't realized--I hadn't thought--it never +occurred to me what this means to you." The full enormity of the thing came +upon him slowly. He was asking this girl to help him in robbing her of her +lover.</p> + +<p>She shook her head with a little wry smile. "Do you think," said she, +"that knowing what I know now I would go on with that until he has made his +peace with his family? Before, it was different. I thought him alone and +ill-treated and hunted down. I could help him then, comfort him. Now I +should be--all you ever thought me if I did not send him to his +grandfather." She smiled again a little mirthlessly. "If his love for me is +worth anything," she said, "he will come back--but openly this time, not in +hiding. Then I shall know that he is--what I would have him be. +Otherwise--"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_300"></a>Ste. Marie looked away.</p> + +<p>"But you must remember, Coira," said he, "that the lad is very young and +that his family--they may try--it may be hard for him. They may say that he +is too young to know--Ah, child, I should have thought of this!"</p> + +<p>"Ste. Marie," said the girl, and after a moment he turned to face her. +"What shall you say to Arthur's family, Ste. Marie," she demanded, very +soberly, "when they ask you if I--if Arthur should be allowed to--come back +to me?"</p> + +<p>A wave of color flooded the man's face and his eyes shone. He cried:</p> + +<p>"I shall tell them, Coira, that if that wretched, half-baked lad should +search this wide world round, from Paris on to Paris again, and if he +should spend a lifetime searching, he would never find the beauty and the +sweetness and the tenderness and the true faith that he left behind at La +Lierre--nor the hundredth part of them. I should say that you are so much +above him that he ought to creep to you on his knees from the rue de +l'Université to this garden, thanking God that you were here at the +journey's end, and kissing the ground that he dragged himself over for +sheer joy and gratitude. I should tell them--Oh, I have no words! I could +tell them so pitifully little of you! I think I should only say, 'Go to her +and see!' I think I should just say that."</p> + +<p>The girl turned her head away with a little sob. But afterward she faced +him once more, and she looked up to him with sweet, half-shut eyes for a +long time. At last she said:</p> + +<p>"For love of whom, Ste. Marie, did you undertake this quest--this search +for Arthur Benham? It was not in idleness <a name="Page_301"></a>or by way +of a whim. It was for love. For love of whom?"</p> + +<p>For some strange and inexplicable reason the words struck him like a +blow and he stared whitely.</p> + +<p>"I came," he said, at last, and his voice was oddly flat, "for his +sister's sake. For love of her."</p> + +<p>Coira O'Hara dropped her eyes. But presently she looked up again with a +smile. She said, "God make you happy, my friend."</p> + +<p>And she turned and moved away from him up among the trees. At a little +distance she turned, saying:</p> + +<p>"Wait where you are. I will fetch Arthur or send him to you. He must be +told at once."</p> + +<p>Then she went on and was lost to sight.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie followed a few steps after her and halted. His face was +turned by chance toward the east wall, and suddenly he gave a great cry and +smothered it with his hands over his mouth. His knees bent under him, and +he was weak and trembling. Then he began to run. He ran with awkward steps, +for his leg was not yet entirely recovered, but he ran fast, and his heart +beat within him until he thought it must burst.</p> + +<p>He was making for that spot which was overhung by the half-dead +cedar-tree.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_302"></a><h2><a name='XXVI'></a>XXVI</h2> + +<h3>BUT THE FLEECE ELECTS TO REMAIN</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie came under the wall breathless and shaking. What he had seen +there from a distance was no longer visible, but he pressed in close among +the lilac shrubs and called out in an unsteady voice. He said: "Who is +there? Who is it?" And after a moment he called again.</p> + +<p>A hand appeared at the top of the high wall. The drooping screen of +foliage was thrust aside, and he saw Richard Hartley's face looking down. +Ste. Marie held himself by the strong stems of the lilacs, for once more +his knees had weakened under him.</p> + +<p>"There's no one in sight," Hartley said. "I can see for a long way. No +one can see us or hear us." And he said: "I got your letter this +morning--an hour ago. When shall we come to get you out--you and the boy? +To-night?"</p> + +<p>"To-night at two," said Ste. Marie. He spoke in a loud whisper. "I'm to +talk with Arthur here in a few minutes. We must be quick. He may come at +any time. I shall try to persuade him to go home willingly, but if he +refuses we must take him by force. Bring a couple of good men with you +to-night, and see that they're armed. Come in a motor and leave it just +outside the wall by that small <a name="Page_303"></a>door that you passed. +Have you any money in your pockets? I may want to bribe the gardener."</p> + +<p>Hartley searched in his pockets, and while he did so the man beneath +asked:</p> + +<p>"Is old David Stewart alive?"</p> + +<p>"Just about," Hartley said. "He's very low, and he suffers a great deal, +but he's quite conscious all the time. If we can fetch the boy to him it +may give him a turn for the better. Where is Captain Stewart? I had spies +on his trail for some time, but he has disappeared within the past three or +four days. Once I followed him in his motor-car out past here, but I lost +him beyond Clamart."</p> + +<p>"He's here, I think," said Ste. Marie. "I saw him a few days ago."</p> + +<p>The man on the wall had found two notes of a hundred francs each, and he +dropped them down to Ste. Marie's hands. Also he gave him a small revolver +which he had in his pocket, one of the little automatic weapons such as +Olga Nilssen had brought to the rue du Faubourg St. Honoré. +Afterward he glanced up and said:</p> + +<p>"Two people are coming out of the house. I shall have to go. At two +to-night, then--and at this spot. We shall be on time."</p> + +<p>He drew back out of sight, and the other man heard the cedar-tree shake +slightly as he went down it to the ground. Then Ste. Marie turned and +walked quickly back to the place where Mlle. O'Hara had left him. His heart +was leaping with joy and exultation, for now at last he thought that the +end was in sight--the end he had so long labored and hoped for. He knew +that his face must be flushed and his eyes bright, and he made a strong +effort to crush down these tokens of his triumph--to make his bearing seem +<a name="Page_304"></a>natural and easy. He might have spared himself the +pains.</p> + +<p>Young Arthur Benham and Coira O'Hara came together down under the trees +from the house. They walked swiftly, and the boy was a step in advance, his +face white with excitement and anger. He began to speak while he was still +some distance away. He cried out, in his strident young voice:</p> + +<p>"What the devil is all this silly nonsense about old Charlie and lies +and misunderstandings and--and all that guff?" he demanded. "What the devil +is it? D'you think I'm a fool? D'you think I'm a kid? Well, I'm not!"</p> + +<p>He came close to Ste. Marie, staring at him with an angry scowl, but his +scowl twitched and wavered and his hands shook a little beside him and his +breath came irregularly. He was frightened.</p> + +<p>"There is no nonsense," said Ste. Marie. "There is no nonsense in all +this whole sorry business. But there has been a great deal of +misunderstanding and a great many lies and not a little cruelty. It's time +you knew the truth at last." He turned his eyes to where Coira O'Hara stood +near-by. "How much have you told him?" he asked.</p> + +<p>And the girl said: "I told him everything, or almost. But I had to say +it very quickly, and--he wouldn't believe me. I think you'd best tell him +again."</p> + +<p>The boy gave a short, contemptuous laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't want to hear it," said he.</p> + +<p>He was looking toward the girl. He said:</p> + +<p>"This fellow may be able to hypnotize you, all right, but not Willie. +Little Willie's wise to guys like him."</p> + +<p>And swinging about to Ste. Marie, he cried:</p> + +<p><a name="Page_305"></a>"Forget it! For-get it! I don't want to listen to +your little song to-day. Ah, you make me sick! You'd try to make me turn on +old Charlie, would you? Why, old Charlie's the only real friend I've got in +the world. Old Charlie has always stood up for me against the whole bunch +of them. Forget it, George! I'm wise to your graft."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie frowned, for his temper was never of the most patient, and +the youth's sneering tone annoyed him. Truth to tell, the tone was about +all he understood, for the strange words were incomprehensible.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Benham," he said, sharply, "you and I have never met, I +believe, but we have a good many friends in common, and I think we know +something about each other. Have you ever heard anything about me which +would give you the right to suspect me of any dishonesty of any sort? Have +you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, slush!" said the boy. "Anybody'll be dishonest if it's worth his +while."</p> + +<p>"That happens to be untrue," Ste. Marie remarked, "and as you grow older +you will know it. Leaving my honesty out of the question if you like, I +have the honor to tell you that I am, perhaps not quite formally, engaged +to your sister, and it is on her account, for her sake, that I am here. You +will hardly presume, I take it, to question your sister's motive in wanting +you to return home? Incidentally, your grandfather is so overcome by grief +over your absence that he is expected to die at any time. Come," said he, +"I have said enough to convince you that you must listen to me. Believe +what you please, but listen to me for five minutes. After that I have small +doubt of what you will do."</p> + +<p>The boy looked nervously from Ste. Marie to Mlle. <a +name="Page_306"></a>O'Hara and back again. He thrust his unsteady hands +into his pockets, but withdrew them after a moment and clasped them +together behind him.</p> + +<p>"I tell you," he burst out, at last--"I tell you, it's no good your +trying to knock old Charlie to me. I won't stand for it. Old Charlie's my +best friend, and I'd believe him before I'd believe anybody in the world. +You've got a knife out for old Charlie, that's what's the matter with +you."</p> + +<p>"And your sister?" suggested Ste. Marie. "Your mother? You'd hardly know +your mother if you could see her to-day. It has pretty nearly killed +her."</p> + +<p>"Ah, they're all--they're all against me!" the lad cried. "They've +always stood together against me. Helen, too!"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't think they were against you if you could just see them +once now," said Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>And Arthur Benham gave a sort of shamefaced sob, saying:</p> + +<p>"Ah, cut it out! Cut it out! Go on, then, and talk, if you want to, +<i>I</i> don't care. I don't have to listen. Talk, if you're pining for +it."</p> + +<p>And Ste. Marie, as briefly as he could, told him the truth of the whole +affair from the beginning, as he had told it to Coira O'Hara. Only he laid +special stress upon Charles Stewart's present expectations from the new +will, and he assured the boy that no document his grandfather might have +asked him to sign could have given away his rights in his father's fortune, +since he was a minor and had no legal right to sign away anything at all +even if he wished to.</p> + +<p>"If you will look back as calmly and carefully as you can," he said, +"you will find that you didn't begin to suspect <a name="Page_307"></a>your +grandfather of anything wrong until you had talked with Captain Stewart. It +was your uncle's explanation of the thing that made you do that. Well, +remember what he had at stake--I suppose it is a matter of several millions +of francs. And he needs them. His affairs are in a bad way."</p> + +<p>He told also about the pretended search which Captain Stewart had so +long maintained, and of how he had tried to mislead the other searchers +whose motives were honest.</p> + +<p>"It has been a gigantic gamble, my friend," he said, at the last. "A +gigantic and desperate gamble to get the money that should be yours. You +can end it by the mere trouble of climbing over that wall yonder and taking +the Clamart tram back to Paris. As easily as that you can end it--and, if I +am not mistaken, you can at the same time save an old man's life--prolong +it at the very least." He took a step forward. "I beg you to go!" he said, +very earnestly. "You know the whole truth now. You must see what danger you +have been and are in. You must know that I am telling you the truth. I beg +you to go back to Paris."</p> + +<p>And from where she stood, a little aside, Coira O'Hara said: "I beg you, +too, Arthur. Go back to them."</p> + +<p>The boy dropped down upon a tree-stump which was near and covered his +face with his hands. The two who watched him could see that he was +trembling violently. Over him their eyes met and they questioned each other +with a mute and anxious gravity:</p> + +<p>"What will he do?" For everything was in Arthur Benham's weak hands +now.</p> + +<p>For a little time, which seemed hours to all who were there, the lad sat +still, hiding his face, but suddenly he <a name="Page_308"></a>sprang to +his feet, and once more stood staring into Ste. Marie's quiet eyes. "How do +I know you're telling the truth?" he cried, and his voice ran up high and +shrill and wavered and broke. "How do I know that? You'd tell just as +smooth a story if--if you were lying--if you'd been sent here to get me +back to--to what old Charlie said they wanted me for."</p> + +<p>"You have only to go back to them and make sure," said Ste. Marie. "They +can't harm you or take anything from you. If they persuaded you to sign +anything--which they will not do--it would be valueless to them, because +you're a minor. You know that as well as I do. Go and make sure. Or wait! +Wait!" He gave a little sharp laugh of excitement. "Is Captain Stewart in +the house?" he demanded. "Call him out here. That's better still. Bring +your uncle here to face me without telling him what it's for, without +giving him time to make up a story. Then we shall see. Send for him."</p> + +<p>"He's not here," said the boy "He went away an hour ago. I don't know +whether he'll be back to-night or not." Young Arthur stared at the elder +man, breathing hard. "Good God!" he said, in a whisper, "if--old Charlie is +rotten, who in this world isn't? I--don't know what to believe." Abruptly +he turned with a sort of snarl upon Coira O'Hara. "Have you been in this +game, too?" he cried out. "I suppose you and your precious father and old +Charlie cooked it up together. What? You've been having a fine, low-comedy +time laughing yourselves to death at me, haven't you? Oh, Lord, what a +gang!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie caught the boy by the shoulder and spun him round. "That will +do!" he said, sternly. "You have been a fool; don't make it worse by being +a coward and a cad. <a name="Page_309"></a>Mlle. O'Hara knew no more of the +truth than you knew. Your uncle lied to you all." But the girl came and +touched his arm.</p> + +<p>She said: "Don't be hard with him. He is bewildered and nervous, and he +doesn't know what he is saying. Think how sudden it has been for him. Don't +be hard with him, M. Ste. Marie."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie dropped his hand, and the lad backed a few steps away. His +face was crimson. After a moment he said: "I'm sorry, Coira. I didn't mean +that. I didn't mean it. I beg your pardon. I'm about half dippy, I guess. +I--don't know what to believe or what to think or what to do." He remained +staring at her a little while in silence, and presently his eyes sharpened. +He cried out: "If I should go back there--mind you, I say 'if'--d'you know +what they'd do? Well, I'll tell you. They'd begin to talk at me one at a +time. They'd get me in a corner and cry over me, and say I was young and +didn't know my mind, and that I owed them something for all that's +happened, and not to bring their gray hairs in sorrow to the grave--and the +long and short of it would be that they'd make me give you up." He wheeled +upon Ste. Marie. "That's what they'd do!" he said, and his voice began to +rise again shrilly. "They're three to one, and they know they can talk me +into anything. <i>You</i> know it, too!" He shook his head. "I won't go +back!" he cried, wildly. "That's what will happen if I do. I don't want +granddad's money. He can give it to old Charlie or to a gendarme if he +wants to. I'm going to have enough of my own. I won't go back, and that's +all there is of it. You may be telling the truth or you may not, but I +won't go."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie started to speak, but the girl checked him. <a +name="Page_310"></a>She moved closer to where Arthur Benham stood, and she +said: "If your love for me, Arthur, is worth having, it is worth fighting +for. If it is so weak that your family can persuade you out of it, then--I +don't want it at all, for it would never last. Arthur, you must go back to +them. I want you to go."</p> + +<p>"I won't!" the boy cried. "I won't go! I tell you they could talk me out +of anything. You don't know 'em. I do. I can't stand against them. I won't +go, and that settles it. Besides, I'm not so sure that this fellow's +telling the truth. I've known old Charlie a lot longer than I have +him."</p> + +<p>Coira O'Hara turned a despairing face over her shoulder toward Ste. +Marie. "Leave me alone with him," she begged. "Perhaps I can win him over. +Leave us alone for a little while."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie hesitated, and in the end went away and left the two +together. He went farther down the park to the rond point, and crossed it +to the familiar stone bench at the west side. He sat down there to wait. He +was anxious and alarmed over this new obstacle, for he had the wit to see +that it was a very important one. It was quite conceivable that the boy, +but half-convinced, half-yielding before, would balk altogether when he +realized, as evidently he did realize, what returning home might mean to +him--the loss of the girl he hoped to marry.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie was sufficiently wise in worldly matters to know that the +boy's fear was not unfounded. He could imagine the family in the rue de +l'Université taking exactly the view young Arthur said they would +take toward an alliance with the daughter of a notorious Irish adventurer. +Ste. Marie's cheeks burned hotly with anger when the words said themselves +in his brain, but he knew that there could be no <a +name="Page_311"></a>doubt of the Benhams' and even of old David Stewart's +view of the affair. They would oppose the marriage with all their +strength.</p> + +<p>He tried to imagine what weight such considerations would have with him +if it were he who was to marry Coira O'Hara, and he laughed aloud with +scorn of them and with great pride in her. But the lad yonder was very +young--too young; his family would be right to that extent. Would he be +able to stand against them?</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie shook his head with a sigh and gave over unprofitable +wonderings, for he was still within the walls of La Lierre, and so was +Arthur Benham. And the walls were high and strong. He fell to thinking of +the attempt at rescue which was to be made that night, and he began to form +plans and think of necessary preparations. To be sure, Coira might persuade +the boy to escape during the day, and then the night attack would be +unnecessary, but in case of her failure it must be prepared for. He rose to +his feet and began to walk back and forth under the rows of chestnut-trees, +where the earth was firm and black and mossy and there was no growth of +shrubbery. He thought of that hasty interview with Richard Hartley and he +laughed a little. It had been rather like an exchange of telegrams--reduced +to the bare bones of necessary question and answer. There had been no time +for conversation.</p> + +<p>His eyes caught a far-off glimpse of woman's garments, and he saw that +Coira O'Hara and Arthur Benham were walking toward the house. So he went a +little way after them, and waited at a point where he could see any one +returning. He had not long to wait, for it seemed that the girl went only +as far as the door with her fiancé and then turned back.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_312"></a>Ste. Marie met her with raised eyebrows, and she +shook her head. "I don't know," said she. "He is very stubborn. He is +frightened and bewildered. As he said awhile ago, he doesn't know what to +think or what to believe. You mustn't blame him. Remember how he trusted +his uncle! He's going to think it over, and I shall see him again this +afternoon. Perhaps, when he has had time to reflect--I don't know. I truly +don't know."</p> + +<p>"He won't go to your father and make a scene?" said Ste. Marie, and the +girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I made him promise not to. Oh, Bayard," she cried--and in his +abstraction he did not notice the name she gave him--"I am afraid myself! I +am horribly afraid about my father."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he did not know," said the man. "Stewart lied to him."</p> + +<p>But Coira O'Hara shook her head, saying: "I didn't mean that. I'm afraid +of what will happen when he finds out how he has been--how we have been +played upon, tricked, deceived--what a light we have been placed in. You +don't know, you can't even imagine, how he has set his heart on--what he +wished to occur. I am afraid he will do something terrible when he knows. I +am afraid he will kill Captain Stewart."</p> + +<p>"Which," observed Ste. Marie, "would be an excellent solution of the +problem. But of course we mustn't let it happen. What can be done?"</p> + +<p>"We mustn't let him know the truth," said the girl, "until Arthur is +gone and until Captain Stewart is gone, too. He is terrible when he's +angry. We must keep the truth from him until he can do no harm. It will be +bad enough even then, for I think it will break his heart."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_313"></a>Ste. Marie remembered that there was something +she did not know, and he told her about his interview with Richard Hartley +and about their arrangement for the rescue--if it should be necessary--on +that very night.</p> + +<p>She nodded her head over it, but for a long time after he had finished +she did not speak. Then she said: "I am glad, I suppose. Yes, since it has +to be done, I suppose I am glad that it is to come at once." She looked up +at Ste. Marie with shadowy, inscrutable eyes. "And so, Monsieur," said she, +"it is at an end--all this." She made a little gesture which seemed to +sweep the park and gardens. "So we go out of each other's lives as abruptly +as we entered them. Well--" She had continued to look at him, but she saw +the man's face turn white, and she saw something come into his eyes which +was like intolerable pain; then she looked away.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie said her name twice, under his breath, in a sort of soundless +cry, but he said no more, and after a moment she went on:</p> + +<p>"Even so, I am glad that at last we know each other--for what we are.... +I should have been sorry to go on thinking you ... what I thought +before.... And I could not have borne it, I'm afraid, to have you think ... +what you thought of me ... when I came to know.... I'm glad we understand +at last."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie tried to speak, but no words would come to him. He was like a +man defeated and crushed, not one on the high-road to victory. But it may +have been that the look of him was more eloquent than anything he could +have said. And it may have been that the girl saw and understood.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_314"></a>So the two remained there for a little while +longer in silence, but at last Coira O'Hara said:</p> + +<p>"I must go back to the house now. There is nothing more to be done, I +suppose--nothing left now but to wait for night to come. I shall see Arthur +this afternoon and make one last appeal to him. If that fails you must +carry him off. Do you know where he sleeps? It is the room corresponding to +yours on the other side of the house--just across that wide landing at the +top of the stairs. I will manage that the front door below shall be left +unlocked. The rest you and your friends must do. If I can make any +impression upon Arthur I'll slip a note under your door this afternoon or +this evening. Perhaps, even if he decides to go, it would be best for him +to wait until night and go with the rest of you. In any case, I'll let you +know."</p> + +<p>She spoke rapidly, as if she were in great haste to be gone, and with +averted eyes. And at the end she turned away without any word of farewell, +but Ste. Marie started after her. He cried:</p> + +<p>"Coira! Coira!" And when she stopped, he said: "Coira, I can't let you +go like this! Are we to--simply to go our different ways like this, as if +we'd never met at all?"</p> + +<p>"What else?" said the girl.</p> + +<p>And there was no answer to that. Their separate ways were determined for +them--marked plain to see.</p> + +<p>"But afterward!" he cried. "Afterward--after we have got the boy back to +his home! What then?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she said, "he will return to me." She spoke without any show +of feeling. "Perhaps he will return. If not--well, I don't know. I expect +my father and I will just go on as we've always gone. We're used to it, you +know."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_315"></a>After that she nodded to him and once more turned +away. Her face may have been a very little pale, but, as before, it +betrayed no feeling of any sort. So she went up under the trees to the +house, and Ste. Marie watched her with strained and burning eyes.</p> + +<p>When, half an hour later, he followed, he came unexpectedly upon the old +Michel, who had entered the park through the little wooden door in the +wall, and was on his way round to the kitchen with sundry parcels of +supplies. He spoke a civil "Bon jour, Monsieur," and Ste. Marie stopped +him. They were out of sight from the windows. Ste. Marie withdrew from his +pocket one of the hundred-franc notes, and the single, beadlike eye of the +ancient gnome fixed upon it and seemed to shiver with a fascinated +delight.</p> + +<p>"A hundred francs!" said Ste. Marie, unnecessarily, and the old man +licked his withered lips. The tempter said: "My good Michel, would you care +to receive this trifling sum--a hundred francs?"</p> + +<p>The gnome made a choked, croaking sound in his throat.</p> + +<p>"It is yours," said Ste. Marie, "for a small service--for doing nothing +at all."</p> + +<p>The beadlike eye rose to his and sharpened intelligently.</p> + +<p>"I desire only," said he, "that you should sleep well to-night, very +well--without waking."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said the old man, "I do not sleep at all. I watch. I watch +Monsieur's windows. Monsieur O'Hara watches until midnight, and I watch +from then until day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know that," said the other. "I've seen you more than once in the +moonlight, but to-night, mon vieux, slumber will overcome you. Exhaustion +will have its way and you will sleep. You will sleep like the dead."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_316"></a>"I dare not!" cried the gardener. "Monsieur, I +dare not! The old one would kill me. You do not know him. He would cut me +into pieces and burn the pieces. Monsieur, it is impossible."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie withdrew the other hundred-franc note and held the two +together in his hand. Once more the gnome made his strange, croaking sound +and the withered face twisted with anguish.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur! Monsieur!" he groaned.</p> + +<p>"I have an idea," said the tempter. "A little earth rubbed upon one side +of the head--perhaps a trifling scratch to show a few drops of blood. You +have been assaulted, beaten down, despite a heroic resistance, and left for +dead. An hour afterward you stagger into the house a frightful object. +Hein?"</p> + +<p>The withered face of the old man expanded slowly into a senile grin.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said he, with admiration in his tone, "it is magnificent. It +shall be done. I sleep like the good dead--under the trees, not too near +the lilacs, eh? Bien, Monsieur, it is done!"</p> + +<p>Into his trembling claw he took the notes; he made an odd bow and +shambled away about his business.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie laughed and went on into the house. He counted, and there +were fourteen hours to wait. Fourteen hours, and at the end of them--what? +His blood began to warm to the night's work.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_317"></a><h2><a name='XXVII'></a>XXVII</h2> + +<h3>THE NIGHT'S WORK</h3> + + +<p>The fourteen long hours dragged themselves by. They seemed interminable, +but somehow they passed and the appointed time drew near. Ste. Marie spent +the greater part of the afternoon reading, but twice he lay down upon the +bed and tried to sleep, and once he actually dozed off for a brief space. +The old Michel brought his meals. He had thought it possible that Coira +might manage to bring the dinner-tray, as she had already done on several +occasions, and so make an opportunity for informing him as to young +Arthur's state of mind. But she did not come, and no word came from her. So +evening drew on and the dusk gathered and deepened to darkness.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie walked his floor and prayed for the hours to pass. He had +candles and matches, and there was even a lamp in the room, so that he +could have read if he chose, but he knew that the words would have been +meaningless to him, that he was incapable of abstracting his thought from +the night's stern work. He began to be anxious over not having heard from +Mlle. O'Hara. She had said that she would talk with Arthur Benham during +the afternoon, and then slip a note under Ste. Marie's door. Yet no word +had come from her, and to the man pacing his floor in the darkness the fact +took on proportions tremendous and fantastic. <a +name="Page_318"></a>Something had happened. The boy had broken his promise, +burst out upon O'Hara, or more probably upon his uncle, and the house was +by the ears. Coira was watched--even locked in her room. Stewart had fled. +A score of such terrible possibilities rushed through Ste. Marie's brain +and tortured him. He was in a state of nervous tension that was almost +unendurable, and the little noises of the night outside, a wind-stirred +rustle of leaves, a bird's flutter among the branches, the sound of a +cracking twig, made him start violently and catch his breath.</p> + +<p>Then at his utmost need came reassurance and something like ease of +mind. He heard a sound of voices at the front of the house, and sprang to +his balconied window to listen. Captain Stewart and O'Hara were walking +upon the brick-paved terrace and chatting calmly over their cigars. The man +above, prone upon the floor, his head pressed against the ivy-masked grille +of the balcony, listened, and though he could hear their words only at +intervals when they passed beneath him he knew that they spoke of trivial +matters in voices free of strain or concern.</p> + +<p>He drew back with a breath of relief, and at that moment a sound across +the room arrested him, a soft scraping sound such as a mouse might make. He +went where it was, and a little square of paper gleamed white through the +darkness just within the door. Ste. Marie caught it up and took it to the +far side of the room away from the window. He struck a match, opened the +folded paper, and a single line of writing was there:</p> + +<p>"He will go with you. Wait by the door in the wall."</p> + +<p>The man nearly cried out with joy.</p> + +<p>He struck another match and looked at his watch. <a +name="Page_319"></a>It was a quarter to ten. Four hours left out of the +fourteen.</p> + +<p>Once more he lay down upon the bed and closed his eyes. He knew that he +could not sleep, but he was tired from long tramping up and down the room +and from the strain of over-tried nerves. From hour to hour he looked at +his watch by match-light, but he did not leave the bed until half-past one. +Then he rose and took a long breath, and the time was at hand.</p> + +<p>He stood a little while gazing out into the night. An old moon was high +overhead in a cloudless sky, and that would make the night's work both +easier and more difficult, but on the whole he was glad of it. He looked to +the east, toward that wall where was the little wooden door, and the way +was under cover of trees and shrubbery for the whole distance save a little +space beside the house. He listened, and the night was very still--no sound +from the house below him, no sound anywhere save the barking of a dog from +far away, and after an instant the whistle of a distant train.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie turned back into the room and pulled the sheets from his bed. +He rolled them, corner-wise, into a sort of rope, and knotted them together +securely. Then he went to one of the east windows. There was no balcony +there, but, as in all French upper windows, a wood and iron bar fixed, into +the stone casing at both ends, with a little grille below it. It crossed +the window space a third of the distance from bottom to top. He bent one +end of the improvised rope to this, made it fast, and let the other end +hang out. The east side of the house was in shadow, and the rolled sheet, a +vague white line, disappeared into the darkness below, but Ste. Marie knew +that it must reach nearly to the ground. He had made use of it because he +<a name="Page_320"></a>was afraid there would be too much noise if he tried +to climb down the ivy. The room directly underneath was the drawing-room, +and he knew that it was closed and shuttered and unoccupied both by day and +by night. The only danger, he decided, was from the sleeping-room behind +his own, with its windows opening close by; but, though he did not know it, +he was safe there also, for the room was Coira O'Hara's.</p> + +<p>He felt in his pocket for the pistol, and it was ready to hand. Then he +buttoned his coat round him and swung himself out of the window. He held +his body away from the wall with one knee and went down hand under hand. It +was so quietly done that it did not even rouse the birds in the near-by +trees. Before he realized that he had come to the lower windows his feet +touched the earth and he was free.</p> + +<p>He stood for a moment where he was, and then slipped rapidly across the +open, moonlit space into the inky gloom of the trees. He made a half-circle +round before the house and looked up at it. It lay gray and black and still +in the night. Where the moonlight was upon it, it was gray; where there was +shadow, black as black velvet, and the windows were like open, dead eyes. +He looked toward Arthur Benham's room, and there was no light, but he knew +that the boy was awake and waiting there, shivering probably in the dark. +He wondered where Coira O'Hara was, and he pictured her lying in her bed +fronting the gloom with sleepless, open eyes, looking into those to-morrows +which she had said she saw so well. He wondered bitterly what the +to-morrows were to bring her, but he caught himself up with a stern +determination and put her out of his mind. He did not dare think of her in +that hour.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_321"></a>He turned and began to make his way silently +under the trees toward the appointed meeting-place. Once he thought of the +old Michel and wondered where that gnarled and withered watch-dog had +betaken himself. Somewhere, within or without the house, he was asleep or +pretending to sleep, and Ste. Marie knew that he could be trusted. The +man's cupidity and his hatred of Captain Stewart together would make him +faithful, or faithless, as one chose to look upon it.</p> + +<p>He came to that place where a row of lilac shrubs stood against the wall +and a half-dead cedar stretched gnarled branches above. He was a little +before his time, and he settled himself to listen and wait, his sharp ears +keenly on the alert, his eyes turned toward the dark and quiet house.</p> + +<p>The little noises of the night broke upon him with exaggerated clamor. A +crackling twig was a thunderous crash, a bird's sleepy stir was the sound +of pursuit and disaster. A hundred times he heard the cautious approach of +Richard Hartley's motor-car without the wall, and he fell into a panic of +fear lest that machine prove unruly, break down, puncture a tire, or burst +into a series of ear-splitting explosions. But at last--it seemed to him +that he had waited untold hours and that the dawn must be nigh--there came +an unmistakable rustling from overhead and the sound of a hard-drawn +breath. The top of the wall, just at that point, was in moonlight, and a +man's head appeared over it, then an arm and then a leg. Hartley called +down to him in a whisper, and Ste. Marie, from the gloom beneath, whispered +a reply. He said:</p> + +<p>"The boy has promised to come with us. We sha'n't have to fight for +it."</p> + +<p>Richard Hartley said, "Thank God!" He spoke to <a +name="Page_322"></a>some one outside, and then turning about let himself +down to arm's-length and dropped to the ground. "Thank God!" he said again. +"The two men who were to have come with me didn't show up. I waited as long +as I dared, and then came on with only the chauffeur. He's waiting outside +by the car ready to crank up when I give the word. The car's just a few +yards away, headed out for the road. How are we to get back over the +wall?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie explained that Arthur Benham was to come out to join them at +the wooden door, and doubtless would bring a key. If not, the three of them +could scale fifteen feet easily enough in the way soldiers and firemen are +trained to do it. He told his friend all that was necessary for the time, +and they went together along the wall to the more open space beside the +little door.</p> + +<p>They waited there in silence for five minutes, and once Hartley, with +his back toward the house, struck a match under his sheltering coat, looked +to see what time it was, and found it was three minutes past two.</p> + +<p>"He ought to be here," the man growled. "I don't like waiting. Good +Lord, you don't think he's funked it, do you? Eh?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie did not answer, but he was breathing very fast and he could +not keep his hands still.</p> + +<p>The dog which he had heard from his window began barking again very far +away in the night, and kept it up incessantly. Perhaps he was barking at +the moon.</p> + +<p>"I'm going a little way toward the house," said Ste. Marie, at last. "We +can't see the terrace from here."</p> + +<p>But before he had started they heard the sound of hurrying feet, and +Richard Hartley began to curse under his breath. He said:</p> + +<p><a name="Page_323"></a>"Does the young idiot want to rouse the whole +place? Why can't he come quietly?"</p> + +<p class="figure"> <a name="jason008"><img +width="80%" alt="Illustration: THE GIRL FUMBLED DESPERATELY WITH THE CLUMSY +KEY" src="images/jason008.png" /></a><br /> THE GIRL FUMBLED DESPERATELY WITH THE +CLUMSY KEY</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie began to run forward, slipping the pistol out of his pocket +and holding it ready in his hand, for his quick ears told him that there +was more than one pair of feet coming through the night. He went to where +he could command the approach from the house and halted there, but all at +once he gave a low cry and started forward again, for he saw that Arthur +Benham and Coira O'Hara were running together, and that they were in +desperate haste. He called out to them, and the girl cried:</p> + +<p>"Go to the door in the wall! The door in the wall! Oh, be quick!"</p> + +<p>He fell into step beside her, and as they ran he said,</p> + +<p>"You're going with him? You're coming with us?"</p> + +<p>The girl answered him, "No, no!" and she sprang to the little, low door +and began to fit the iron key into the lock.</p> + +<p>The three men stood about her, and young Arthur Benham drew his breath +in great, shivering gasps that were like sobs.</p> + +<p>"They heard us!" he cried, in a whisper. "They're after us. They heard +us on the stairs. I--stumbled and fell. For God's sake, Coira, be +quick!"</p> + +<p>The girl fumbled desperately with the clumsy key, and dropped upon her +knees to see the better. Once she said, in a whisper: "I can't turn it. It +won't turn." And at that Richard Hartley pushed her out of the way and lent +his greater strength to the task.</p> + +<p>A sudden, loud cry came from the house, a hoarse, screeching cry in a +voice which might have been either man's or woman's, but was as mad and as +desperate and <a name="Page_324"></a>as horrible in that still night as the +screech of a tortured animal--or of a maniac. It came again and again, and +it was nearer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hurry, hurry!" said the girl. "Can't you be quick? They're +coming."</p> + +<p>And as she spoke the little group about the wall heard the engine of the +motor-car outside start up with a staccato roar and knew that the faithful +chauffeur was ready for them.</p> + +<p>"I'm getting it, I think," said Richard Hartley, between his teeth. "I'm +getting it. Turn, you beast! Turn!"</p> + +<p>There was a sound of hurrying feet, and Ste. Marie spun about. He +cried:</p> + +<p>"Don't wait for me! Jump into the car and go! Don't wait anywhere! Come +back after you've left Benham at home!"</p> + +<p>He began to run forward toward those running feet, and he did not know +that the girl followed after him. A short distance away there was a little +open space of moonlight, and in its midst, at full career, he met the +Irishman O'Hara, a gaunt and grotesque figure in his sleeping-suit, +barefooted, with empty hands. Beyond him still, some one else ran, +stumbling, and sobbed and uttered mad cries.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie dropped his pistol to the ground and sprang upon the +Irishman. He caught him about the body and arms, and the two swayed and +staggered under the tremendous impact. At just that moment, from behind, +came the crash of the opened door and triumphant shouts. Ste. Marie gave a +little gasp of triumph, too, and clung the harder to the man with whom he +fought. He drove his head into the Irishman's shoulder, and set his muscles +with a grip which was like iron. He knew that it could not endure long, for +the Irishman was stronger than he, <a name="Page_325"></a>but the grip of a +nervous man who is keyed up to a high tension is incredibly powerful for a +little while. Trained strength is nothing beside it.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Ste. Marie in this desperate moment--it cannot have been +more than a minute or two at the most--that a strange and uncanny miracle +befell him. It was as if he became two. Soul and body, spirit and straining +flesh, seemed to him to separate, to stand apart, each from the other. +There was a thing of iron flesh and thews which had locked itself about an +enemy and clung there madly with but one purpose, one single thought--to +grip and grip, and never loosen until flesh should be torn from bones. But +apart the spirit looked on with a complete detachment. It looked beyond--he +must have raised his head to glance over O'Hara's shoulder--saw a mad +figure staggering forward in the moonlight, and knew the figure for Captain +Stewart. It saw an upraised arm and was not afraid, for the work was almost +done now. It listened and was glad, hearing the motor-car, without the +walls, leap forward into the night and its puffing grow fainter and fainter +with distance. It knew that the thing of strained sinews received a +crashing blow upon backflung head, and that the iron muscles were slipping +away from their grip, but it was still glad, for the work was done.</p> + +<p>Only at the last, before red and whirling lights had obscured the view, +before consciousness was dissolved in unconsciousness, came horror and +agony, for the eyes saw Captain Stewart back away and raise the thing he +had struck with, a large revolver, saw Coira O'Hara, a swift and flashing +figure in the moonlight, throw herself upon him before he could fire, heard +together a woman's scream and the roar of the pistol's explosion, and then +knew no more.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_326"></a><h2><a name='XXVIII'></a>XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>MEDEA'S LITTLE HOUR</h3> + + +<p>When Coira O'Hara came to herself from the moment's swoon into which she +had fallen, she rose to her knees and stared wildly about her. She seemed +to be alone in the place, and her first thought was to wonder how long she +had lain there. Captain Stewart had disappeared. She remembered her +struggle with him to prevent him from firing at Ste. Marie, and she +remembered her desperate agony when she realized that she could not hold +him much longer. She remembered the accidental discharge of the revolver +into the air; she remembered being thrown violently to the ground--and that +was all.</p> + +<p>Where was her father, and where was Ste. Marie? The first question +answered itself, for as she turned her eyes toward the west she saw +O'Hara's tall, ungainly figure disappearing in the direction of the house. +She called his name twice, but it may be that the man did not hear, for he +went on without pausing and was lost to sight.</p> + +<p>The girl became aware of something which lay on the ground near her, +half in and half out of the patch of silver moonlight. For some moments she +stared at it uncomprehending. Then she gave a sharp scream and struggled to +her feet. She ran to the thing which lay there motionless and fell upon her +knees beside it. It was Ste. Marie, <a name="Page_327"></a>his face +upturned to the sky, one side of his head black and damp. Stewart had not +shot him, but that crashing blow with the clubbed revolver had struck him +full and fair, and he was very still.</p> + +<p>For an instant the girl's strength went out of her, and she dropped lax +across the body, her face upon Ste. Marie's breast. But after that she tore +open coat and waistcoat and felt for a heart-beat. It seemed to her that +she found life, and she began to believe that the man had only been +stunned.</p> + +<p>Once more she rose to her feet and looked about her. There was no one to +lend her aid. She bent over the unconscious man and slipped her arms about +him. Though Ste. Marie was tall, he was slightly built, by no means heavy, +and the girl was very strong. She found that she could carry him a little +way, dragging his feet after her. When she could go no farther she laid him +down and crouched over him, waiting until her strength should return. And +this she did for a score of times; but each time the distance she went was +shorter and her breathing came with deeper gasps and the trembling in her +limbs grew more terrible. At the last she moved in a sort of fever, an evil +dream of tortured body and reeling brain. But she had got Ste. Marie up +through the park to the terrace and into the house, and with a last +desperate effort she had laid him upon a couch in a certain little room +which opened from the lower hall. Then she fell down before him and lay +still for a long time.</p> + +<p>When she came to herself again the man was stirring feebly and muttering +to himself under his breath. With slow and painful steps she got across the +room and pulled the bell-cord. She remained there ringing until the old <a +name="Page_328"></a>Justine, blinking and half-dressed, appeared with a +candle in the doorway. Coira told the woman to make lights, and then to +bring water and a certain little bottle of aromatic salts which was in her +room up-stairs. The old Justine exclaimed and cried out, but the girl flew +at her in a white fury, and she tottered away as fast as old legs could +move once she had set alight the row of candles on the mantelshelf. Then +Coira O'Hara went back to the man who lay outstretched on the low couch, +and knelt beside him, looking into his face. The man stirred, and moved his +head slowly. Half-articulate words came from his lips, and she made out +that he was saying her name in a dull monotone--only her name, over and +over again. She gave a little cry of grief and gladness, and hid her face +against him as she had done once before, out in the night.</p> + +<p>The old woman returned with a jug of water, towels, and the bottle of +aromatic salts. The two of them washed that stain from Ste. Marie's head, +and found that he had received a severe bruise and that the flesh had been +cut before and above the ear.</p> + +<p>"Thank God," the girl said, "it is only a flesh wound! If it were a +fracture he would be breathing in that horrible, loud way they always do. +He's breathing naturally. He has only been stunned. You may go now," she +said. "Only bring a glass and some drinking-water--cold."</p> + +<p>So the old woman went away to do her errand, returned, and went away +again, and the two were left together. Coira held the salts-bottle to Ste. +Marie's nostrils, and he gasped and sneezed and tried to turn his head away +from it, but it brought him to his senses--and doubtless to a good deal of +pain. Once when he could not escape the thing he <a +name="Page_329"></a>broke into a fit of weak cursing, and the girl laughed +over him tenderly and let him be.</p> + +<p>Very slowly Ste. Marie opened his eyes, and in the soft half-light the +girl's face was bent above him, dark and sweet and beautiful--near, so near +that her breath was warm upon his lips. He said her name again in an +incredulous whisper:</p> + +<p>"Coira! Coira!"</p> + +<p>And she said, "I am here."</p> + +<p>But the man was in a strange border-land of half-consciousness and his +ears were deaf. He said, gazing up at her:</p> + +<p>"Is it--another dream?"</p> + +<p>And he tried to raise one hand from where it lay beside him, but the +hand wavered and fell aslant across his body. It had not the strength yet +to obey him. He said, still in his weak whisper:</p> + +<p>"Oh, beautiful--and sweet--and true!"</p> + +<p>The girl gave a little sob and hid her face.</p> + +<p>"A goddess!" he whispered. "'A queen among goddesses!' That's--what the +little Jew said. 'A queen among goddesses. The young Juno before--'" He +stirred restlessly where he lay, and he complained: "My head hurts! What's +the matter with my head? It hurts!"</p> + +<p>She dipped one of the towels in the basin of cold water and held it to +the man's brow. The chill of it must have been grateful, for his eyes +closed and he breathed a little satisfied "Ah!"</p> + +<p>"It mustn't hurt to-night," said he. "To-night at two--by the little +door in the garden wall. And he's coming with us. The young fool is coming +with us.... So she and I go out of each other's lives.... Coira!" he cried, +with a <a name="Page_330"></a>sudden sharpness. "Coira, I won't have it! Am +I going to lose you ... like this? Am I going to lose you, after all ... +now that we know?"</p> + +<p>He put up his hand once more, a weak and uncertain hand. It touched the +girl's warm cheek and a sudden violent shiver wrung the man on the couch. +His eyes sharpened and stared with something like fear.</p> + +<p>"<i>Real!</i>" he cried, whispering. "Real? ... Not a dream?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very real, my Bayard!" said she. A thought came to her, and she +drew away from the couch and sat back upon her heels, looking at the man +with grave and sombre eyes. In that moment she fought within herself a +battle of right and wrong. "He doesn't remember," she said. "He doesn't +know. He is like a little child. He knows nothing but that we two--are here +together. Nothing else. Nothing!"</p> + +<p>His state was plain to see. He dwelt still in that vague border-land +between worlds. He had brought with him no memories, and no memories +followed him save those her face had wakened. Within the girl a great and +tender passion of love fought for possession of this little hour.</p> + +<p>"It will be all I shall ever have!" she cried, piteously. "And it cannot +harm him. He won't remember it when he comes to his senses. He'll sleep +again and--forget. He'll go back to <i>her</i> and never know. And I shall +never even see him again. Why can't I have my little sweet hour?"</p> + +<p>Once more the man cried her name, and she knelt forward and bent above +him. "Oh, at last, Coira!" said he. "After so long! ... And I thought it +was another dream!"</p> + +<p>"Do you dream of me, Bayard?" she asked.</p> + +<p>And he said: "From the very first. From that evening <a +name="Page_331"></a>in the Champs-Elysées. Your eyes, they've +haunted me from the very first. There was a dream of you," he said, "that I +had so often--but I cannot quite remember, because my head hurts. What is +the matter with my head? I was--going somewhere. It was so very important +that I should go, but I have forgotten where it was and why I had to go +there. I remember only that you called to me--called me back--and I saw +your eyes--and I couldn't go. You needed me."</p> + +<p>"Ah, sorely, Bayard! Sorely!" cried the girl above him.</p> + +<p>"And now," said he, whispering.</p> + +<p>"Now?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Coira, I love you," said the man on the couch.</p> + +<p>And Coira O'Hara gave a single dry sob.</p> + +<p>She said: "Oh, my dear love! Now I wish that I might die after hearing +you say that. My life, Bayard, is full now. It's full of joy and +gratefulness and everything that is sweet. I wish I might die before other +things come to spoil it."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie--or that part of him which lay at La Lierre--laughed with a +fine scorn, albeit very weakly. "Why not live instead?" said he. "And what +can come to spoil our life for us? <i>Our life!</i>" he said again, in a +whisper. A flash of remembrance seemed to come to him, for he smiled and +said, "Coira, we'll go to Vavau."</p> + +<p>"Anywhere!" said she. "Anywhere!"</p> + +<p>"So that we go together."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, gently, "so that we two go together." She tried with a +desperate fierceness to make herself like the man before her, to put away, +by sheer power of will, all memory, the knowledge of everything save what +was in this little room, but it was the vainest of all vain efforts. She +saw herself for a thief and a cheat--stealing, for love's sake, <a +name="Page_332"></a>the mere body of the man she loved while mind and soul +were absent. In her agony she almost cried out aloud as the words said +themselves within her. And she denied them. She said: "His mind may be +absent, but his soul is here. He loves me. It is I, not that other. Can I +not have my poor little hour of pretence? A little hour out of all a +lifetime! Shall I have nothing at all?"</p> + +<p>But the voice which had accused her said, "If he knew, would he say he +loves you?" And she hid her face, for she knew that he would not--even if +it were true.</p> + +<p>"Coira!" whispered the man on the couch, and she raised her head. In the +half darkness he could not have seen how she was suffering. Her face was +only a warm blur to him, vague and sweet and beautiful, with tender eyes. +He said: "I think--I'm falling asleep. My head is so very, very queer! What +is the matter with my head? Coira, do you think I might be kissed before I +go to sleep?"</p> + +<p>She gave a little cry of intolerable anguish. It seemed to her that she +was being tortured beyond all reason or endurance. She felt suddenly very +weak, and she was afraid that she was going to faint away. She laid her +face down upon the couch where Ste. Marie's head lay. Her cheek was against +his and her hair across his eyes.</p> + +<p>The man gave a contented sigh and fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Later, she rose stiffly and wearily to her feet. She stood for a little +while looking down upon him. It was as if she looked upon the dead body of +a lover. She seemed to say a still and white and tearless farewell to him. +Her little hour was done, and it had been, instead of joy, bitterness +unspeakable: ashes in the mouth. Then she went out of the room and closed +the door.</p> + +<p>In the hall outside she stood a moment considering, and <a +name="Page_333"></a>finally mounted the stairs and went to her father's +door. She knocked and thought she heard a slight stirring inside, but there +was no answer. She knocked twice again and called out her father's name, +saying that she wished to speak to him, but still he made no reply, and +after waiting a little longer she turned away. She went down-stairs again +and out upon the terrace. The terrace and the lawn before it were still +checkered with silver and deep black, but the moon was an hour lower in the +west. A little cool breeze had sprung up, and it was sweet and grateful to +her. She sat down upon one of the stone benches and leaned her head back +against the trunk of a tree which stood beside it and she remained there +for a long time, still and relaxed, in a sort of bodily and mental +languor--an exhaustion of flesh and spirit.</p> + +<p>There came shambling footsteps upon the turf, and the old Michel +advanced into the moonlight from the gloom of the trees, emitting +mechanical and not very realistic groans. He had been hard put to it to +find any one before whom he could pour out his tale of heroism and +suffering. Coira O'Hara looked upon him coldly, and the gnome groaned with +renewed and somewhat frightened energy.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you?" she asked. "Why are you about at this +hour?"</p> + +<p>The old Michel told his piteous tale with tears and passion, protesting +that he had succumbed only before the combined attack of twenty armed men, +and exhibiting his wounds. But the girl gave a brief and mirthless +laugh.</p> + +<p>"You were bribed to tell that, I suppose," said she. "By M. Ste. Marie? +Yes, probably. Well, tell it to my father to-morrow! You'd better go to bed +now."</p> + +<p>The old man stared at her with open mouth for a breathless <a +name="Page_334"></a>moment, and then shambled hastily away, looking over +his shoulder at intervals until he was out of sight.</p> + +<p>But after that the girl still remained in her place from sheer weariness +and lack of impulse to move. She fell to wondering about Captain Stewart +and what had become of him, but she did not greatly care. She had a feeling +that her world had come to its end, and she was quite indifferent about +those who still peopled its ashes--or about all of them save her +father.</p> + +<p>She heard the distant sound of a motor-car, and at that sat up quickly, +for it might be Ste. Marie's friend, Mr. Hartley, returning from Paris. The +sound came nearer and ceased, but she waited for ten minutes before rapid +steps approached from the east wall and Hartley was before her.</p> + +<p>He cried at once: "Where's Ste. Marie? Where is he? He hasn't tried to +walk into the city?"</p> + +<p>"He is asleep in the house," said the girl. "He was struck on the head +and stunned. I got him into the house, and he is asleep now. Of course," +she said, "we could wake him, but it would probably be better to let him +sleep as long as he will if it is possible. It will save him a great deal +of pain, I think. He'll have a frightful headache if he's wakened now. +Could you come for him or send for him to-morrow--toward noon?"</p> + +<p>"Why--yes, I suppose so," said Richard Hartley. "Yes, of course, if you +think that's better. Could I just see him for a moment?" He stared at the +girl a bit suspiciously, and Coira looked back at him with a little tired +smile, for she read his thought.</p> + +<p>"You want to make sure," said she. "Of course! Yes, come in. He's +sleeping very soundly." She led the man <a name="Page_335"></a>into that +dim room where Ste. Marie lay, and Hartley's quick eye noted the basin of +water and the stained towels and the little bottle of aromatic salts. He +bent over his friend to see the bruise at the side of the head, and +listened to the sleeper's breathing. Then the two went out again to the +moonlit terrace.</p> + +<p>"You must forgive me," said he, when they had come there. "You must +forgive me for seeming suspicious, but--all this wretched business--and he +is my closest friend--I've come to suspect everybody. I was unjust, for you +helped us to get away. I beg your pardon!"</p> + +<p>The girl smiled at him again, her little, white, tired smile, and she +said: "There is nothing I would not do to make amends--now that I know--the +truth."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hartley, "I understand. Arthur Benham told me how Stewart +lied to you all. Was it he who struck Ste. Marie?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "And then tried to shoot him; but he didn't succeed in that. +I wonder where he is--Captain Stewart?"</p> + +<p>"I have him out in the car," Hartley said. "Oh, he shall pay, you may be +sure!--if he doesn't die and cheat us, that is. I nearly ran the car over +him a few minutes ago. If it hadn't been for the moonlight I would have +done for him. He was lying on his face in that lane that leads to the Issy +road. I don't know what is the matter with him. He's only half conscious +and he's quite helpless. He looks as if he'd had a stroke of apoplexy or +something. I must hurry him back to Paris, I suppose, and get him under a +doctor's care. I wonder what's wrong with him?"</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head, for she did not know of Stewart's epileptic +seizures. She thought it quite possible <a name="Page_336"></a>that he had +suffered a stroke of apoplexy as Hartley suggested, for she remembered the +half-mad state he had been in.</p> + +<p>Richard Hartley stood for a time in thought. "I must get Stewart back to +Paris at once," he said, finally. "I must get him under care and in a safe +place from which he can't escape. It will want some managing. If I can get +away I'll come out here again in the morning, but if not I'll send the car +out with orders to wait here until Ste. Marie is ready to return to the +city. Are you sure he's all right--that he isn't badly hurt?"</p> + +<p>"I think he will be all right," she said, "save for the pain. He was +only stunned."</p> + +<p>And Hartley nodded. "He seems to be breathing quite naturally," said he. +"That's arranged, then. The car will be here in waiting, and I shall come +with it if I can. Tell him when he wakes." He put out his hand to her, and +the girl gave him hers very listlessly but smiling. She wished he would go +and leave her alone.</p> + +<p>Then in a moment more he did go, and she heard his quick steps down +through the trees, and heard, a little later, the engine of the motor-car +start up with a sudden loud volley of explosions. And so she was left to +her solitary watch. She noticed, as she turned to go indoors, that the +blackness of the night was just beginning to gray toward dawn.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_337"></a><h2><a name='XXIX'></a>XXIX</h2> + +<h3>THE SCALES OF INJUSTICE</h3> + + +<p>Ste. Marie slept soundly until mid-morning--that it to say, about ten +o'clock--and then awoke with a dull pain in his head and a sensation of +extreme giddiness which became something like vertigo when he attempted to +rise. However, with the aid of the old Michel he got somehow up-stairs to +his room and made a rather sketchy toilet.</p> + +<p>Coira came to him there, and while he lay still across the bed told him +about the happenings of the night after he had received his injury. She +told him also that the motor was waiting for him outside the wall, and that +Richard Hartley had sent a message by the chauffeur to say that he was very +busy in Paris making arrangements about Stewart, who had come out of his +strange state of half-insensibility only to rave in a delirium.</p> + +<p>"So," she said, "you can go now whenever you are ready. Arthur is with +his family, Captain Stewart is under guard, and your work is done. You +ought to be glad--even though you are suffering pain."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked up at her. "Do I seem glad, Coira?" said he.</p> + +<p>And she said: "You will be glad to-morrow--and always, I hope and pray. +Always! Always!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_338"></a>The man held one hand over his aching eyes.</p> + +<p>"I have," he said, "queer half-memories. I wish I could remember +distinctly."</p> + +<p>He looked up at her again.</p> + +<p>"I dropped down by the gate in the wall. When I awoke I was in a room in +the house. How did that happen?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, turning her face away, "we got you up to the house +almost at once."</p> + +<p>But Ste. Marie frowned thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"'We'? Who do you mean by 'we'?"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I," the girl said. "It was not difficult."</p> + +<p>"Coira," cried the man, "do you mean that you carried me bodily all that +long distance? <i>You</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Carried or dragged," she said. "As much one as the other. It was not +very difficult. I'm strong for a woman."</p> + +<p>"Oh, child! child!" he cried. And he said: "I remember more. It was you +who held Stewart and kept him from shooting me. I heard the shot and I +heard you scream. The last thought I had was that you had been killed in +saving me. That's what I went out into the blank thinking."</p> + +<p>He covered his eyes again as if the memory were intolerable. But after +awhile he said:</p> + +<p>"You saved my life, you know."</p> + +<p>And the girl answered him:</p> + +<p>"I had nearly taken it once before. It was I who called Michel that day +you came over the wall, the day you were shot. I nearly murdered you once. +I owed you something. Perhaps we're even now."</p> + +<p>She saw that he did not at all remember that hour in the little +room--her hour of bitterness--and she was glad. <a name="Page_339"></a>She +had felt sure that it would be so. For the present she did not greatly +suffer, she had come to a state beyond active suffering--a chill state of +dulled sensibilities.</p> + +<p>The old Justine knocked at the door to ask if Monsieur was going into +the city soon or if she should give the chauffeur his déjeuner and +tell him to wait.</p> + +<p>"Are you fit to go?" Coira asked.</p> + +<p>And he said, "I suppose as fit as I shall be."</p> + +<p>He got to his feet, and the things about him swam dangerously, but he +could walk by using great care. The girl stood white and still, and she +avoided his eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is not good-bye," said he. "I shall see you soon again--and I hope, +often--often, Coira."</p> + +<p>The words had a flat and foolish sound, but he could find no others. It +was not easy to speak.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must not ask to see your father?" said he.</p> + +<p>And she told him that her father had locked himself in his own room and +would see no one--would not even open his door to take in food.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie went to the stairs leaning upon the shoulder of the stout old +Justine, but before he had gone Coira checked him for an instant. She +said:</p> + +<p>"Tell Arthur, if he speaks to you about me, that what I said in the note +I gave him last night I meant quite seriously. I gave him a note to read +after he reached home. Tell him for me that it was final. Will you do +that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," said Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>He looked at her with some wonder, because her words had been very +emphatic.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I will tell him. Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"All but good-bye," said she. "Good-bye, Bayard!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_340"></a>She stood at the head of the stairs while he went +down them. And she came after him to the landing, half-way, where the +stairs turned in the opposite direction for their lower flight. When he +went out of the front door he looked back, and she was standing there above +him, a straight, still figure, dark against the light of the windows behind +her.</p> + +<p>He went straight to the rue d'Assas. He found that while he sat still in +the comfortable tonneau of the motor his head was fairly normal, and the +world did not swing and whirl about in that sickening fashion. But when the +car lurched or bumped over an obstruction it made him giddy, and he would +have fallen had he been standing.</p> + +<p>The familiar streets of the Montparnasse and Luxembourg quarters had for +his eyes all the charm and delight of home things to the returned +traveller. He felt as if he had been away for months, and he caught himself +looking for changes, and it made him laugh. He was much relieved when he +found that his concierge was not on watch, and that he could slip +unobserved up the stairs and into his rooms. The rooms were fresh and +clean, for they had been aired and tended daily.</p> + +<p>Arrived there, he wrote a little note to a friend of his who was a +doctor and lived in the rue Notre Dame des Champs, asking this man to call +as soon as it might be convenient. He sent the note by the chauffeur and +then lay down, dressed as he was, to wait, for he could not stand or move +about without a painful dizziness. The doctor came within a half-hour, +examined Ste. Marie's bruised head, and bound it up. He gave him a dose of +something with a vile taste which he said would take away the worst of the +pain in a few hours, and he also gave him a sleeping-potion, and made him +go to bed.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_341"></a>"You'll be fairly fit by evening," he said. "But +don't stir until then. I'll leave word below that you're not to be +disturbed."</p> + +<p>So it happened that when Richard Hartley came dashing up an hour or two +later he was not allowed to see his friend, and Ste. Marie slept a +dreamless sleep until dark.</p> + +<p>He awoke then, refreshed but ravenous with hunger, and found that there +was only a dull ache in his battered head. The dizziness and the vertigo +were almost completely gone. He made lights and dressed with care. He felt +like a little girl making ready for a party, it was so long--or seemed so +long;--since he had put on evening clothes. Then he went out, leaving at +the loge of the concierge a note for Hartley, to say where he might be +found. He went to Lavenue's and dined in solitary pomp, for it was after +nine o'clock. Again it seemed to him that it was months since he had done +the like--sat down to a real table for a real dinner. At ten he got into a +fiacre and drove to the rue de l'Université.</p> + +<p>The man who admitted him said that Mademoiselle was alone in the +drawing-room, and he went there at once. He was dully conscious that +something was very wrong, but he had suffered too much within the past few +hours to be analytical, and he did not know what it was that was wrong. He +should have entered that room with a swift and eager step, with shining +eyes, with a high-beating heart. He went into it slowly, wrapped in a +mantle of strange apathy.</p> + +<p>Helen Benham came forward to meet him, and took both his hands in hers. +Ste. Marie was amazed to see that she seemed not to have altered at all--in +spite of this enormous lapse of time, in spite of all that had happened in +it. And yet, unaltered, she seemed to him a stranger, <a +name="Page_342"></a>a charming and gracious stranger with an icily +beautiful face. He wondered at her and at himself, and he was a little +alarmed because he thought that he must be ill. That blow upon the head +must, after all, have done something terrible to him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Ste. Marie!" she said, in her well-remembered voice--and again he +wondered that the voice should be so high-pitched and so without color or +feeling. "How glad I am," she said, "that you are safely out of it all! How +you have suffered for us, Ste. Marie! You look white and ill. Sit down, +please! Don't stand!"</p> + +<p>She drew him to a comfortable chair, and he sat down in it obediently. +He could not think of anything to say, though he was not, as a rule, +tongue-tied; but the girl did not seem to expect any answer, for she went +on at once with a rather odd air of haste:</p> + +<p>"Arthur is here with us, safe and sound. Richard Hartley brought him +back from that dreadful place, and he has talked everything over with my +grandfather, and it's all right. They both understand now, and there'll be +no more trouble. We have had to be careful, very careful, and we have had +to--well, to rearrange the facts a little so as to leave--my uncle--to +leave Captain Stewart's name out of it. It would not do to shock my +grandfather by telling him the truth. Perhaps later; I don't know. That +will have to be thought of. For the present we have left my uncle out of +it, and put the blame entirely upon this other man. I forget his name."</p> + +<p>"The blame cannot rest there," said Ste. Marie, sharply. "It is not +deserved, and I shall not allow it to be left so. Captain Stewart lied to +O'Hara throughout. You cannot leave the blame with an innocent man."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_343"></a>"Still," she said, "such a man!"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie looked at her, frowning, and the girl turned her eyes away. +She may have had the grace to be a little ashamed.</p> + +<p>"Think of the difficulty we were in!" she urged. "Captain Stewart is my +grandfather's own son. We cannot tell him now, in his weak state, that his +own son is--what he is."</p> + +<p>There was reason if not justice in that, and Ste. Marie was forced to +admit it. He said:</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, for the present, then. That can be arranged later. The main +point is that I've found your brother for you. I've brought him back."</p> + +<p>Miss Benham looked up at him and away again, and she drew a quick +breath. He saw her hands move restlessly in her lap, and he was aware that +for some odd reason she was very ill at ease. At last she said:</p> + +<p>"Ah, but--but have you, dear Ste. Marie? Have you?"</p> + +<p>After a brief silence she stole another swift glance at the man, and he +was staring in open and frank bewilderment. She rushed into rapid +speech.</p> + +<p>"Ah," she cried, "don't misunderstand me! Don't think that I'm brutal or +ungrateful for all you've--you've suffered in trying to help us! Don't +think that! I can--we can never be grateful enough--never! But stop and +think! Yes, I know this all sounds hideous, but it's so terribly important. +I shouldn't dream of saying a word of it if it weren't so important, if so +much didn't depend upon it. But stop and think! Was it, dear Ste. Marie, +was it, after all, you? Was it you who brought Arthur to us?"</p> + +<p>The man fairly blinked at her, owl-like. He was beyond speech.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_344"></a>"Wasn't it Richard?" she hurried on. "Wasn't it +Richard Hartley? Ah, if I could only say it without seeming so contemptibly +heartless! If only I needn't say it at all! But it must be said because of +what depends upon it. Think! Go back to the beginning! Wasn't it Richard +who first began to suspect my uncle? Didn't he tell you or write to you +what he had discovered, and so set you upon the right track? And after you +had--well, just fallen into their hands, with no hope of ever escaping +yourself--to say nothing of bringing Arthur back--wasn't it Richard who +came to your rescue and brought it all to victory? Oh, Ste. Marie, I must +be just to him as well as to you! Don't you see that? However grateful I +may be to you for what you have done--suffered--I cannot, in justice, give +you what I was to have given you, since it is, after all, Richard who has +saved my brother. I cannot, can I? Surely you must see it. And you must see +how it hurts me to have to say it. I had hoped that--you would +understand--without my speaking."</p> + +<p>Still the man sat in his trance of astonishment, speechless. For the +first time in his life he was brought face to face with the amazing, the +appalling injustice of which a woman is capable when her heart is +concerned. This girl wished to believe that to Richard Hartley belonged the +credit of rescuing her brother, and lo! she believed it. A score of juries +might have decided against her, a hundred proofs controverted her decision, +but she would have been deaf and blind. It is only women who accomplish +miracles of reasoning like that.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie took a long breath and he started to speak, but in the end +shook his head and remained silent. Through the whirl and din of falling +skies he was yet able to see the <a name="Page_345"></a>utter futility of +words. He could have adduced a hundred arguments to prove her absurdity. He +could have shown her that before he ever read Hartley's note he had decided +upon Stewart's guilt--and for much better reasons than Hartley had. He +could have pointed out to her that it was he, not Hartley, who discovered +young Benham's whereabouts, that it was he who summoned Hartley there, and +that, as a matter of fact, Hartley need not have come at all, since the boy +had been persuaded to go home in any case.</p> + +<p>He thought of all these things and more, and in a moment of sheer anger +at her injustice he was on the point of stating them, but he shook his head +and remained silent. After all, of what use was speech? He knew that it +could make no impression upon her, and he knew why. For some reason, in +some way, she had turned during his absence to Richard Hartley, and there +was nothing more to be said. There was no treachery on Hartley's part. He +knew that, and it never even occurred to him to blame his friend. Hartley +was as faithful as any one who ever lived. It seemed to be nobody's fault. +It had just happened.</p> + +<p>He looked at the girl before him with a new expression, an expression of +sheer curiosity. It seemed to him well-nigh incredible that any human being +could be so unjust and so blind. Yet he knew her to be, in other matters, +one of the fairest of all women, just and tender and thoughtful and true. +He knew that she prided herself upon her cool impartiality of judgment. He +shook his head with a little sigh and ceased to wonder any more. It was +beyond him. He became aware that he ought to say something, and he +said:</p> + +<p>"Yes. Yes, I--see. I see what you mean. Yes, <a +name="Page_346"></a>Hartley did all you say. I hadn't meant to rob Hartley +of the credit he deserves. I suppose you're right."</p> + +<p>He was possessed of a sudden longing to get away out of that room, and +he rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind," he said, "I think I'd better go. This is--well, +it's a bit of a facer, you see. I want to think it over. Perhaps +to-morrow--you don't mind?"</p> + +<p>He saw a swift relief flash into Miss Benham's eyes, but she murmured a +few words of protest that had a rather perfunctory sound. Ste. Marie shook +his head.</p> + +<p>"Thanks! I won't stay," said he. "Not just now. I--think I'd better +go."</p> + +<p>He had a confused realization of platitudinous adieus, of a silly +formality of speech, and he found himself in the hall. Once he glanced back +and Miss Benham was standing where he had left her, looking after him with +a calm and unimpassioned face. He thought that she looked rather like a +very beautiful statue.</p> + +<p>The butler came to him to say that Mr. Stewart would be glad if he would +look in before leaving the house, and so he went up-stairs and knocked at +old David's door. He moved like a man in a dream, and the things about him +seemed to be curiously unreal and rather far away, as they seem sometimes +in a fever.</p> + +<p>He was admitted at once, and he found the old man sitting up in bed, +clad in one of his incredibly gorgeous mandarin's jackets--plum-colored +satin this time, with peonies--overflowing with spirits and good-humor. His +grandson sat in a chair near at hand. The old man gave a shout of +welcome:</p> + +<p>"Ah, here's Jason at last, back from Colchis! Welcome <a +name="Page_347"></a>home to--whatever the name of the place was! Welcome +home!"</p> + +<p>He shook Ste. Marie's hand with hospitable violence, and Ste. Marie was +astonished to see upon what a new lease of life and strength the old man +seemed to have entered. There was no ingratitude or misconception here, +certainly. Old David quite overwhelmed his visitor with thanks and with +expressions of affection.</p> + +<p>"You've saved my life among other things!" he said, in his gruff roar. +"I was ready to go, but, by the Lord, I'm going to stay awhile longer now! +This world's a better place than I thought--a much better place." He shook +a heavily waggish head. "If I didn't know," said he, "what your reward is +to be for what you've done, I should be in despair over it all, because +there is nothing else in the world that would be anything like adequate. +You've been making sure of the reward down-stairs, I dare say? Eh, what? +Yes?"</p> + +<p>"You mean--?" asked the younger man.</p> + +<p>And old David said: "I mean Helen, of course. What else?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie was not quite himself. At another time he might have got out +of the room with an evasive answer, but he spoke without thinking. He +said:</p> + +<p>"Oh--yes! I suppose--I suppose I ought to tell you that Miss +Benham--well, she has changed her mind. That is to say--"</p> + +<p>"What!" shouted old David Stewart, in his great voice. "What is +that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it seems," said Ste. Marie--"it seems that I only blundered. It +seems that Hartley rescued your grandson, not I. And I suppose he did, you +know. When you come to think of it, I suppose he did."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_348"></a>David Stewart's great white beard seemed to +bristle like the ruff of an angry dog, and his eyes flashed fiercely under +their shaggy brows. "Do you mean to tell me that after all you've done +and--and gone through, Helen has thrown you over? Do you mean to tell me +that?"</p> + +<p>"Well," argued Ste. Marie, uncomfortably--"well, you see, she seems to +be right. I did bungle it, didn't I? It was Hartley who came and pulled us +out of the hole."</p> + +<p>"Hartley be damned!" cried the old man, in a towering rage. And he began +to pour out the most extraordinary flood of furious invective upon his +granddaughter and upon Richard Hartley, whom he quite unjustly termed a +snake-in-the-grass, and finally upon all women, past, contemporary, or +still to be born.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie, in fear for old David's health, tried to calm him, and the +faithful valet came running from the room beyond with prayers and +protestations, but nothing would check that astonishing flow of fury until +it had run its full course. Then the man fell back upon his pillows, +crimson, panting, and exhausted, but the fierce eyes glittered still, and +they boded no good for Miss Helen Benham.</p> + +<p>"You're well rid of her!" said the old gentleman, when at last he was +once more able to speak. "You're well rid of her! I congratulate you! I am +ashamed and humiliated, and a great burden of obligation is shifted to +me--though I assume it with pleasure--but I congratulate you. You might +have found out too late what sort of a woman she is."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie began to protest and to explain and to say that Miss Benham +had been quite right in what she said, but the old gentleman only waved an +impatient arm to him, and presently, when he saw the valet making signs +across the bed, and saw that his host was really in a state of complete <a +name="Page_349"></a>exhaustion after the outburst, he made his adieus and +got away.</p> + +<p>Young Arthur Benham, who had been sitting almost silent during the +interview, followed him out of the room and closed the door behind them. +For the first time Ste. Marie noted that the boy's face was white and +strained. He pulled a crumpled square of folded paper from his pocket and +shook it at the other man. "Do you know what this is?" he cried. "Do you +know what's in this?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie shook his head, but a sudden recollection came to him.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said he, "that must be the note Mlle. O'Hara spoke of! She asked +me to tell you that she meant it--whatever it may be--quite seriously; that +it was final. She didn't explain. She just said that--that you were to take +it as final."</p> + +<p>The lad gave a sudden very bitter sob. "She has thrown me over!" he +said. "She says I'm not to come back to her."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie gave a wordless cry, and he began to tremble.</p> + +<p>"You can read it if you want to," the boy said. "Perhaps you can explain +it. I can't. Do you want to read it?"</p> + +<p>The elder man stood staring at him whitely, and the boy repeated his +words.</p> + +<p>He said, "You can read it if you want to," and at last Ste. Marie took +the paper between stiff hands, and held it to the light.</p> + +<p>Coira O'Hara said, briefly, that too much was against their marriage. +She mentioned his age, the certain hostility of his family, their different +tastes, a number of other things. But in the end she said she had begun to +realize that she did not love him as she ought to do if they <a +name="Page_350"></a>were to marry. And so, the note said, finally, she gave +him up to his family, she released him altogether, and she begged him not +to come back to her, or to urge her to change her mind. Also she made the +trite but very sensible observation that he would be glad of his freedom +before the year was out.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie's unsteady fingers opened and the crumpled paper slipped +through them to the floor. Over it the man and the boy looked at each other +in silence. Young Arthur Benham's face was white, and it was strained and +contorted with its first grief. But first griefs do not last very long. +Coira O'Hara had told the truth--before the year was out the lad would be +glad of his freedom. But the man's face was white also, white and still, +and his eyes held a strange expression which the boy could not understand +and at which he wondered. The man was trembling a little from head to foot. +The boy wondered about that, too, but abruptly he cried out: "What's up? +Where are you going?" for Ste. Marie had turned all at once and was running +down the stairs as fast as he could run.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<a name="Page_351"></a><h2><a name='XXX'></a>XXX</h2> + +<h3>JASON SAILS BACK TO COLCHIS.--JOURNEY'S END</h3> + + +<p>In the hall below, Ste. Marie came violently into contact with and +nearly overturned Richard Hartley, who was just giving his hat and stick to +the man who had admitted him. Hartley seized upon him with an exclamation +of pleasure, and wheeled him round to face the light. He said:</p> + +<p>"I've been pursuing you all day. You're almost as difficult of access +here in Paris as you were at La Lierre. How's the head?"</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie put up an experimental hand. He had forgotten his injury. +"Oh, that's all right," said he. "At least, I think so. Anderson fixed me +up this afternoon. But I haven't time to talk to you. I'm in a hurry. +To-morrow we'll have a long chin. Oh, how about Stewart?"</p> + +<p>He lowered his voice, and Hartley answered him in the same tone.</p> + +<p>"The man is in a delirium. Heaven knows how it'll end. He may die and he +may pull through. I hope he pulls through--except for the sake of the +family--because then we can make him pay for what he's done. I don't want +him to go scot free by dying."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said Ste. Marie, fiercely. "Nor I. I want him to pay, too--long +and slowly and hard; and if he lives <a name="Page_352"></a>I shall see +that he does it, family or no family. Now I must be off."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie's face was shining and uplifted. The other man looked at it +with a little envious sigh.</p> + +<p>"I see everything is all right," said he, "and I congratulate you. You +deserve it if ever any one did."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie stared for an instant, uncomprehending. Then he saw.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, gently, "everything is all right."</p> + +<p>It was plain that the Englishman did not know of Miss Benham's decision. +He was incapable of deceit. Ste. Marie threw an arm over his friend's +shoulder and went with him a little way toward the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Go in there," he said. "You'll find some one glad to see you, I think. +And remember that I said everything is all right."</p> + +<p>He came back after he had turned away, and met Hartley's puzzled frown +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"If you've that motor here, may I use it?" he asked. "I want to go +somewhere in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Of course," the other man said. "Of course. I'll go home in a cab."</p> + +<p>So they parted, and Ste. Marie went out to the waiting car.</p> + +<p>On the left bank the streets are nearly empty of traffic at night, and +one can make excellent time over them. Ste. Marie reached the Porte de +Versailles, at the city's limits, in twenty minutes and dashed through Issy +five minutes later. In less than half an hour from the time he had left the +rue de l'Université he was under the walls of La Lierre. He looked +at his watch, and it was not quite half-past eleven.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_353"></a>He tried the little door in the wall, and it was +unlocked, so he passed in and closed the door behind him. Inside he found +that he was running, and he gave a little laugh, but of eagerness and +excitement, not of mirth. There were dim lights in one or two of the upper +windows, but none below, and there was no one about. He pulled at the +door-bell, and after a few impatient moments pulled again and still again. +Then he noticed that the heavy door was ajar, and, since no one answered +his ringing, he pushed the door open and went in.</p> + +<p>The lower hall was quite dark, but a very faint light came down from +above through the well of the staircase. He heard dragging feet in the +upper hall, and then upon one of the upper flights, for the stairs, broad +below, divided at a half-way landing and continued upward in an opposite +direction in two narrower flights. A voice, very faint and weary, +called:</p> + +<p>"Who is there? Who is ringing, please?"</p> + +<p>And Coira O'Hara, holding a candle in her hand, came upon the +stair-landing and stood gazing down into the darkness. She wore a sort of +dressing-gown, a heavy white garment which hung in straight, long folds to +her feet and fell away from the arm that held the candle on high. The +yellow beams of light struck down across her head and face, and even at the +distance the man could see how white she was and hollow-eyed and worn--a +pale wraith of the splendid beauty that had walked in the garden at La +Lierre.</p> + +<p>"Who is there, please?" she asked again. "I can't see. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"It is I, Coira!" said Ste. Marie.</p> + +<p>And she gave a sharp cry. The arm which was holding <a +name="Page_354"></a>the candle overhead shook and fell beside her as if the +strength had gone out of it. The candle dropped to the floor, spluttered +there for an instant and went out, but there was still a little light from +the hall above.</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie sprang up the stairs to where the girl stood, and caught her +in his arms, for she was on the verge of faintness. Her head fell back away +from him, and he saw her eyes through half-closed lids, her white teeth +through parted lips. She was trembling--but, for that matter, so was he at +the touch of her, the heavy and sweet burden in his arms. She tried to +speak, and he heard a whisper:</p> + +<p>"Why? Why? Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is my place, Coira!" said he. "Because I cannot live away +from you. Because we belong together."</p> + +<p>The girl struggled weakly and pushed against him. Once more he heard +whispering words and made out that she tried to say:</p> + +<p>"Go back to her! Go back to her! You belong there!"</p> + +<p>But at that he laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"I thought so, too," said he, "but she thinks otherwise. She'll have +none of me, Coira. It's Richard Hartley now. Coira, can you love a jilted +man? I've been jilted--thrown over--dismissed."</p> + +<p>Her head came up in a flash and she stared at him, suddenly rigid and +tense in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Is that true?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my love!" said he.</p> + +<p>And she began to weep, with long, comfortable sobs, her face hidden in +the hollow of his shoulder. On one other occasion she had wept before him, +and he had been horribly embarrassed, but he bore this present tempest +without, as it were, winking. He gloried in it. He tried to say so. <a +name="Page_355"></a>He tried to whisper to her, his lips pressed close to +the ear that was nearest them, but he found that he had no speech. Words +would not come to his tongue; it trembled and faltered and was still for +sheer inadequacy.</p> + +<p>Rather oddly, in that his thoughts were chaos, swallowed up in the surge +of feeling, a memory struck through to him of that other exaltation which +had swept him to the stars. He looked upon it and was amazed because now he +saw it, in clear light, for the thing it had been. He saw it for a fantasy, +a self-evoked wraith of the imagination, a dizzy flight of the spirit +through spirit space. He saw that it had not been love at all, and he +realized how little a part Helen Benham had ever really played in it. A +cold and still-eyed figure for him to wrap the veil of his imagination +round, that was what she had been. There were times when the sweep of his +upward flight had stirred her a little, wakened in her some vague response, +but for the most part she had stood aside and looked on, wondering.</p> + +<p>The mist was rent away from that rainbow-painted cobweb, and at last the +man saw and understood. He gave an exclamation of wonder, and the girl who +loved him raised her head once more, and the two looked each into the +other's eyes for a long time. They fell into hushed and broken speech.</p> + +<p>"I have loved you so long, so long," she said, "and so hopelessly! I +never thought--I never believed. To think that in the end you have come to +me! I cannot believe it!"</p> + +<p>"Wait and see!" cried the man. "Wait and see!"</p> + +<p>She shivered a little. "If it is not true I should like to die before I +find out. I should like to die now, Bayard, with your arms holding me up +and your eyes close, close."</p> + +<p>Ste. Marie's arms tightened round her with a sudden <a +name="Page_356"></a>fierceness. He hurt her, and she smiled up at him. +Their two hearts beat one against the other, and they beat very fast.</p> + +<p>"Don't you understand," he cried, "that life's only just +beginning--day's just dawning, Coira? We've been lost in the dark. Day's +coming now. This is only the sunrise."</p> + +<p>"I can believe it at last," she said, "because you hold me close and you +hurt me a little, and I'm glad to be hurt. And I can feel your heart +beating. Ah, never let me go, Bayard! I should be lost in the dark again if +you let me go." A sudden thought came to her, and she bent back her head to +see the better. "Did you speak with Arthur?"</p> + +<p>And he said: "Yes. He asked me to read your note, so I read it. That +poor lad! I came straight to you then--straight and fast."</p> + +<p>"You knew why I did it?" she said, and Ste. Marie said:</p> + +<p>"Now I know."</p> + +<p>"I could not have married him," said she. "I could not. I never thought +I should see you again, but I loved you and I could not have married him. +Ah, impossible! And he'll be glad later on. You know that. It will save him +any more trouble with his family, and besides--he's so very young. Already, +I think, he was beginning to chafe a little. I thought so more than once. +Oh, I'm trying to justify myself!" she cried. "I'm trying to find reasons; +but you know the true reason. You know it."</p> + +<p>"I thank God for it," he said.</p> + +<p>So they stood clinging together in that dim place, and broken, +whispering speech passed between them or long silences when speech was +done. But at last they went down the stairs and out upon the open terrace, +where the moonlight lay.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_357"></a>"It Was in the open, sweet air," the girl said, +"that we came to know each other. Let us walk in it now. The house smothers +me." She looked up when they had passed the west corner of the +façade and drew a little sigh. "I am worried about my father," said +she. "He will not answer me when I call to him, and he has eaten nothing +all day long. Bayard, I think his heart is broken. Ah, but to-morrow we +shall mend it again! In the morning I shall make him let me in, and I shall +tell him--what I have to tell."</p> + +<p>They turned down under the trees, where the moonlight made silver +splashes about their feet, and the sweet night air bore soft against their +faces. Coira went a half-step in advance, her head laid back upon the +shoulder of the man she loved, and his arm held her up from falling.</p> + +<p>So at last we leave them, walking there in the tender moonlight, with +the breath of roses about them and their eyes turned to the coming day. It +is still night and there is yet one cloud of sorrow to shadow them +somewhat, for up-stairs in his locked room a man lies dead across the +floor, with an empty pistol beside him--heart-broken, as the girl had +feared. But where a great love is, shadows cannot last very long, not even +such shadows as this. The morning must dawn--and joy cometh of a +morning.</p> + +<p>So we leave them walking together in the moonlight, their faces turned +toward the coming day.</p> + +<p>THE END</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13261 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/13261-h/images/jason001.png b/13261-h/images/jason001.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..164125e --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/images/jason001.png diff --git a/13261-h/images/jason002.png b/13261-h/images/jason002.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cabffe5 --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/images/jason002.png diff --git a/13261-h/images/jason003.png b/13261-h/images/jason003.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d81e911 --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/images/jason003.png diff --git a/13261-h/images/jason004.png b/13261-h/images/jason004.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41c5503 --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/images/jason004.png diff --git a/13261-h/images/jason005.png b/13261-h/images/jason005.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ed9555 --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/images/jason005.png diff --git a/13261-h/images/jason006.png b/13261-h/images/jason006.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a77dd0 --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/images/jason006.png diff --git a/13261-h/images/jason007.png b/13261-h/images/jason007.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c1507e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/images/jason007.png diff --git a/13261-h/images/jason008.png b/13261-h/images/jason008.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..20cf953 --- /dev/null +++ b/13261-h/images/jason008.png |
