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diff --git a/16101.txt b/16101.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..423b536 --- /dev/null +++ b/16101.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11886 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Diane of the Green Van, by Leona Dalrymple + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Diane of the Green Van + + +Author: Leona Dalrymple + + + +Release Date: June 21, 2005 [eBook #16101] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIANE OF THE GREEN VAN*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original lovely illustrations. + See 16101-h.htm or 16101-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/0/16101/16101-h/16101-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/0/16101/16101-h.zip) + + + + + +DIANE OF THE GREEN VAN + +by + +LEONA DALRYMPLE + +Illustrations by Reginald Birch + +Chicago +The Reilly & Britton Co. +Third printing + +1914 + + + + + + + + "_In Arcadie, the Land of Hearte's Desire, + Lette us linger whiles with Luveres fond; + A sparklynge Comedie they playe--with Fire-- + Unwyttynge Fate stands waytynge with hir Wande._" + + + + +Diane of the Green Van was awarded the $10,000.00 prize in a novel +contest in which over five hundred manuscripts were submitted. + + + +[Frontispiece: "Excellency, as a gentleman who is not a coward, it +behooves you to explain!"] + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I Of a Great White Bird Upon a Lake + II An Indoor Tempest + III A Whim + IV The Voice of the Open Country + V The Phantom that Rose from the Bottle + VI Baron Tregar + VII Themar + VIII After Sunset + IX In a Storm-Haunted Wood + X On the Ridge Road + XI In the Camp of the Gypsy Lady + XII A Bullet in Arcadia + XIII A Woodland Guest + XIV By the Backwater Pool + XV Jokai of Vienna + XVI The Young Man of the Sea + XVII In Which the Baron Pays + XVIII Nomads + XIX A Nomadic Minstrel + XX The Romance of Minstrelsy + XXI At the Gray of Dawn + XXII Sylvan Suitors + XXIII Letters + XXIV The Lonely Camper + XXV A December Snowstorm + XXVI An Accounting + XXVII The Song of the Pine-Wood Sparrow + XXVIII The Nomad of the Fire-Wheel + XXIX The Black Palmer + XXX The Unmasking + XXXI The Reckoning + XXXII Forest Friends + XXXIII By the Winding Creek + XXXIV The Moon Above the Marsh + XXXV The Wind of the Okeechobee + XXXVI Under the Live Oaks + XXXVII In the Glades + XXXVIII In Philip's Wigwam + XXXIX Under the Wild March Moon + XL The Victory + XLI In Mic-co's Lodge + XLII The Rain Upon the Wigwam + XLIII The Rival Campers + XLIV The Tale of a Candlestick + XLV The Gypsy Blood + XLVI In the Forest + XLVII "The Marshes of Glynn" + XLVIII On the Lake Shore + XLIX Mr. Dorrigan + L The Other Candlestick + LI In the Adirondacks + LII Extracts from the Letters of Norman Westfall + LIII By Mic-co's Pool + LIV On the Westfall Lake + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + "Excellency, as a gentleman who is not a coward it behooves you to + explain." . . . _Frontispiece_ + + Diane swung lightly up the forest path + + White girl and Indian maid then clasped hands + + "No, I may not take your hand." + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +OF A GREAT WHITE BIRD UPON A LAKE + +Spring was stealing lightly over the Connecticut hills, a shy, tender +thing of delicate green winging its way with witch-rod over the wooded +ridges and the sylvan paths of Diane Westfall's farm. And with the +spring had come a great hammering by the sheepfold and the stables +where a smiling horde of metropolitan workmen, sheltered by night in +the rambling old farmhouse, built an ingenious house upon wheels and +flirted with the house-maids. + +Radiantly the spring swept from delicate shyness into a bolder glow of +leaf and flower. Dogwood snowed along the ridges, Solomon's seal +flowered thickly in the bogs, and following the path to the lake one +morning with Rex, a favorite St. Bernard, at her heels, Diane felt with +a thrill that the summer itself had come in the night with a +wind-flutter of wild flower and the fluting of nesting birds. + +The woodland was deliciously green and cool and alive with the piping +of robins. Over the lake which glimmered faintly through the trees +ahead came the whir and hum of a giant bird which skimmed the lake with +snowy wing and came to rest like a truant gull. Of the habits of this +extraordinary bird Rex, barking, frankly disapproved, but finding his +mistress's attention held unduly by a chirping, bright-winged caucus of +birds of inferior size and interest, he barked and galloped off ahead. + +When presently Diane emerged from the lake path and halted on the +shore, he was greatly excited. + +There was an aeroplane upon the water and in the aeroplane a tall young +man with considerable length of sinewy limb, lazily rolling a +cigarette. Diane unconsciously approved the clear bronze of his lean, +burned face and his eyes, blue, steady, calm as the waters of the lake +he rode. + +The aviator met her astonished glance with one of laughing deference +even as she marveled at his genial air of staunch philosophy. + +"I beg your pardon," stammered Diane, "but--but are you by any chance +waiting--to be rescued?" + +"Why--I--I believe I am!" exclaimed the young man readily, apparently +greatly pleased at her common sense. "At your convenience, of course!" + +"Are you--er--sinking or merely there?" + +"Merely here!" nodded the young man with a charming smile of +reassurance. "This contraption is a--er--I--I think Dick calls it an +hydro-aeroplane. It has pontoons and things growing all over it for +duck stunts and if the water wasn't so infernally still, I'd be +floating and smoking and likely in time I'd make shore. That's a +delightful pastime for you now," he added with a lazy smile of the +utmost good humor, "to float and smoke on a summer day and grab at the +shore." + +"I was under the impression," commented Diane critically, "that in an +hydro-aeroplane one could rise from the water like a bird. I've read +so recently." + +"One can," smiled the shipwrecked philosopher readily, "provided his +motor isn't deaf and dumb and insanely indifferent to suggestion. When +it grows shy and silent, one swims eventually and drips home, unless a +dog barks and a rescuer emerges from the trees equipped with sympathy +and common sense. I've a mechanician back there," he added sociably. +"He--he's in a tree, I think. I--er--mislaid him in a very dangerous +air current." + +"Are you aware," inquired the girl, biting her lip, "that you're +trespassing?" + +"Lord, no!" exclaimed the aviator. "You don't mean it. Have you by +any chance a reputable rope anywhere about you?" + +"No," said Diane maliciously, "I haven't. As a rule, I do go about +equipped with ropes and hooks and things to--rescue trespassing +hydroaviators, but--" she regarded him thoughtfully. "Do you like to +float about and smoke?" + +The sun-browned skin of the young aviator reddened a trifle, but his +eyes laughed. + +"I'm an incurable optimist," he lightly countered, "or I wouldn't have +tried to fly over a private lake in a borrowed aeroplane." + +"I believe," said Diane disapprovingly, "that you were cutting giddy +circles over the water and dipping and skimming, weren't you?" + +"I did cut a monkeyshine or two," admitted the young man. "I was +having a devil of a time until you--until the--er--catastrophe +occurred." + +"And Miss Westfall, the owner," murmured Diane with sympathy, "is +addicted to firearms. Hadn't you heard? She _hunts_! The Westfalls +are all very erratic and quick-tempered. Didn't you know she was at +the farm?" + +The young man looked exceedingly uncomfortable. + +"Great guns, no!" he exclaimed. "I presumed she was safe in New +York. . . . And this is her lake and her water and her waves, when +there are any, and no matter how I engineer it, I've got to poach some +of her property. Some of it," he added conversationally, "is in my +shoe. Lord, I am in a pickle! Are you a guest of hers?" + +"Yes," said Diane calmly. + +"I'm staying over yonder on the hill there with Dick Sherrill," offered +the young man cordially. "They are opening their place with a party of +men, some crack amateur aviators--and myself. Do you know the +Sherrills?" + +"Perhaps I do," said Diane discouragingly. "Why didn't you float about +and smoke on Mr. Sherrill's lake?" she added curiously. "It's ever so +much bigger than this." + +"Circumstances," began the young man with dignity, and lighted another +cigarette. "My mechanician," he added volubly, after an uncomfortable +interval of silence, "is an exceedingly bold young man. He'll fly over +anything, even a cow. Isn't really mine either; he's borrowed, too. +Dick keeps a few extra mechanicians on hand, like extra cigars. It's +Dick's fault I'm out alone. He lent my mechanician to another chap and +nobody else would come with me." + +"I thought," flashed Diane pointedly, "I thought your mechanician was +somewhere in a tree." + +The aviator coughed and reddened uncomfortably. + +"Doubtless he is," he said lamely. "He--he most always is. Do you +know, he spends a large part of his spare time in trees--and +swamps--and once, I believe, he was discovered in a chimney. I--I'd +like to tell you more about him," he went on affably. "Once--" + +"Thank you," said Diane politely, "but you've really entertained me +more now than one could expect from a gentleman in your distressing +plight. Come, Rex." She turned back again at the hemlocks which +flanked the forest path. "I'll ask Miss Westfall to send some men," +she added and halted. + +For Diane had surprised a look of such keen regret in the young +aviator's face that they both colored hotly. + +"Beastly luck!" stammered the young man lamely. "I _am_ disappointed. +I--I don't seem to have another match." + +"Your cigarette is burning splendidly," hinted Diane coolly, "and +you've a match in your hand." + +For a tense, magnetic instant the keen blue eyes flashed a curious +message of pleading and apology, then the aviator fell to whistling +softly, struck the match and finding no immediate function for it, +dropped it in the water. + +"I don't in the least mind floating about," he stammered, his eyes +sparkling with silent laughter, "and possibly I'll make shore directly; +but Lord love us! don't send the sharp-shooteress--please! Better +abandon me to my fate." + +Slim and straight as the silver birches by the water, Diane hurried +away up the lake-path. + +"The young man," she flashed with a stamp of her foot, "is a very great +fool." + +"Johnny," she said a little later to a little, bewhiskered man with +cheeks like hard red winter apples, "there's a sociable, happy-go-lucky +young man perched on an aeroplane in the middle of our lake. Better +take a rope and rescue him. I don't think he knows enough about +aeroplanes to be flying so promiscuously about the country." + +Johnny Jutes collected a band of enthusiasts and departed. + +"Nobody there, Miss Diane," reported young Allan Carmody upon +returning; "leastwise nobody that couldn't take care of himself. Only +a chap buzzin' almighty swift over the trees. Swooped down like a hawk +when he saw us an' waved his hand, laughin' fit to kill himself, an' +dropped Johnny a fiver an' gee! Miss Diane, but he could drive some! +Swift and cool-headed as a bird. He's whizzin' off like mad toward the +Sherrill place, with his motor a-hummin' an' a-purrin' like a cat. +Leanish, sunburnt chap with eyes that 'pear to be laughin' a lot." + +Diane's eyes flashed resentfully and as she walked away to the house +her expression was distinctly thoughtful. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AN INDOOR TEMPEST + +"If you're broke," said Starrett, leering, "why don't you marry your +cousin?" + +Carl Granberry stared insolently across the table. + +"Pass the buck," he reminded coolly. "And pour yourself some more +whiskey. You're only a gentleman when you're drunk, Starrett. You're +sober now." + +Payson and Wherry laughed. Starrett, not yet in the wine-flush of his +heavy courtesy, passed the buck with a frown of annoyance. + +A log blazed in the library fireplace, staining with warm, rich shadows +the square-paneled ceiling of oak and the huge war-beaten slab of +table-wood about which the men were gathered, both feudal relics +brought to the New York home of Carl Granberry's uncle from a ruined +castle in Spain. + +"If you've gone through all your money," resumed Starrett offensively, +"I'd marry Diane." + +"_Miss_ Westfall!" purred Carl correctively. "You've forgotten, +Starrett, my cousin's name is Westfall, _Miss_ Westfall." + +"Diane!" persisted Starrett. + +With one of his incomprehensible whims, Carl swept the cards into a +disorderly heap and shrugged. + +"I'm through," he said curtly. "Wherry, take the pot. You need it." + +"Damned irregular!" snapped Starrett sourly. + +"So?" said Carl, and stared the recalcitrant into sullen silence. +Rising, he crossed to the fire, his dark, impudent eyes lingering +reflectively upon Starrett's moody face. + +"Starrett," he mused, "I wonder what I ever saw in you anyway. You're +infernally shallow and alcoholic and your notions of poker are as +distorted as your morals. I'm not sure but I think you'd cheat." He +shrugged wearily. "Get out," he said collectively. "I'm tired." + +Starrett rose, sneering. There had been a subtle change to-night in +his customary attitude of parasitic good-fellowship. + +"I'm tired, too!" he exclaimed viciously. "Tired of your infernal +whims and insults. You're as full of inconsistencies as a lunatic. +When you ought to be insulted, you laugh, and when a fellow least +expects it, you blaze and rave and stare him out of countenance. And +I'm tired of drifting in here nights at your beck and call, to be sent +home like a kid when your mood changes. Mighty amusing for us! If +you're not vivisecting our lives and characters for us in that +impudent, philosophical way you have, you're preaching a sermon that +you couldn't--and wouldn't--follow yourself. And then you end by +messing everybody's cards in a heap and sending us home with the last +pot in Dick Wherry's pocket whether it belongs there or not. I tell +you, I'm tired of it." + +Carl laughed, a singularly musical laugh with a note of mockery in it. + +"Who," he demanded elaborately, "who ever heard of a treasonous +barnacle before? A barnacle, Starrett, adheres and adheres, parasite +to the end as long as there's liquid, even as you adhered while the +ship was keeled in gold. Nevertheless, you're right. I'm all of what +you say and more that you haven't brains enough to fathom. And some +that you can't fathom is to my credit--and some of it isn't. As, for +instance, my inexplicable poker _penchant_ for you." + +To Starrett, hot of temper and impulse, his graceful mockery was +maddening. Cursing under his breath, he seized a glass and flung it +furiously at his host, who laughed and moved aside with the litheness +of a panther. The glass crashed into fragments upon the wall of the +marble fireplace. Payson and Wherry hurriedly pushed back their +chairs. Then, suddenly conscious of a rustle in the doorway, they all +turned. + +Wide dark eyes flashing with contempt, Diane Westfall stood motionless +upon the threshold. The aesthete in Carl thrilled irresistibly to her +vivid beauty, intensified to-night by the angry flame in her cheeks and +the curling scarlet of her lips. There were no semi-tones in Diane's +dark beauty, Carl reflected. It was a thing of sable and scarlet, and +the gold-brown satin of her gypsy skin was warm with the tints of an +autumn forest. Carelessly at his ease, Carl noted how the bold eyes of +the painted Spanish grandee above the mantel, the mild eyes of the +saint in the Tintoretto panel across the room and the flashing eyes of +Diane seemed oddly to converge to a common center which was Starrett, +white and ill at ease. And of these the eyes of Diane were loveliest. + +With the swift grace which to Carl's eyes always bore in it something +of the primitive, Diane swept away, and the staring tableau dissolved +into a trio of discomfited men of whom Carl seemed But an indifferent +onlooker. + +"Well," fumed Starrett irritably, "why in thunder don't you say +something?" + +"Permit me," drawled Carl impudently, with a lazy flicker of his +lashes, "to apologize for my cousin's untimely intrusion. I really +fancied she was safe at the farm. Unfortunately, the house belongs to +her. Besides, your crystal gymnastics, Starrett, were as unscheduled +as her arrival. As it is, you've nobly demonstrated an unalterable +scientific fact. The collision of marble and glass is unvaryingly +eventful." + +Bellowing indignantly, Starrett charged into the hallway, followed by +Payson. Presently the outer door slammed violently behind them. +Wherry lingered. + +Carl glanced curiously at his flushed and boyish face. + +"Well?" he queried lightly. + +Wherry colored. + +"Carl," he stammered, "you've been talking a lot about parasites +to-night and I'd like you to know that--money hasn't made a jot of +difference to me." He met Carl's laughing glance with dogged +directness and for a second something flamed boyishly in his face from +which Carl, frowning, turned away. + +"Why don't you break away from this sort of thing, Dick?" he demanded +irritably. "Starrett and myself and all the rest of it. You're +sapping the splendid fires of your youth and inherent decency in unholy +furnaces. Yes, I know Starrett drags you about with him and you +daren't offend him because he's your chief, but you're clever and you +can get another job. In ten years, as you're going now, you'll be an +alcoholic ash-heap of jaded passions. What's more, you have infernal +luck at cards and you haven't money enough to keep on losing so +heavily. Half of the poker sermons Starrett's been growling about were +preached for you." + +Now there were mad, irreverent moments when Carl Granberry delivered +his poker sermons with the eloquent mannerisms of the pulpit, save, as +Payson held, they were infinitely more logical and eloquent, but +to-night, husking his logic of these externals, he fell flatly to +preaching an unadorned philosophy of continence acutely at variance +with his own habits. + +Wherry stared wonderingly at the tall, lithe figure by the fire. + +"Carl," he said at last, "tell me, are you honestly in earnest when you +rag the fellows so about work and decency and all that sort of thing?" + +Carl yawned and lighted a cigar. + +"I believe," said he, "in the eternal efficacy of good. I believe in +the telepathic potency of moral force. I believe in physical +conservation for the eugenic good of the race and mental dominance over +matter. But I'm infernally lazy myself, and it's easy to preach. It's +even easier to create a counter-philosophy of condonance and +individualism, and I'm alternately an ethical egoist, a Fabian +socialist and a cynic. Moreover, I'm a creature of whims and +inconsistencies and there are black nights in my temperament when John +Barleycorn lightens the gloom; and there are other nights when he +treacherously deepens it--but I'm peculiarly balanced and subject to +irresistible fits of moral atrophy. All of which has nothing at all to +do with the soundness of my impersonal philosophy. Wherefore," with a +flash of his easy impudence, "when I preach, I mean it--for the other +fellow." + +Wherry glanced at the handsome face of his erratic friend with frank +allegiance in his eyes. + +Carl flung his cigar into the fire, poured himself some whiskey and +pushed the decanter across the table. + +"Have a drink," he said whimsically. + +Dick obeyed. It was an inconsistent supplement to the sermon but +characteristic. + +"Carl," he said, flushing under the ironical battery of the other's +eyes, "I don't think I understand you--" + +Carl laughed. + +"Nobody does," he said. "I don't myself." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A WHIM + +The fire in the marble fireplace died down, leaping in fitful shadow +over the iron-bound doors riveted in nail-heads. They too were relics +from the Spanish castle which Norman Westfall had stripped of its +ancient appurtenances to fashion an appropriate setting for the +beautiful young Spanish wife whose death at the birth of Diane had +goaded him to suicide. That Norman Westfall had regarded the vital +spark within him as an indifferent thing to be snuffed out at the will +of the clay it dominated, was consistent with the Westfall intolerance +of custom and convention. + +By the fire Carl smoked and stared at the dying embers. For all his +insolent habit of dominance and mockery he was keenly sensitive and +to-night the significant defection of Starrett and Payson after months +of sycophantic friendship, had made him quiver inwardly like a hurt +child. Only Wherry had stayed with him when his career of reckless +expenditure had arrived at its inevitable goal of ruin. + +There remained, financially, what? Barely four thousand a year in +securities so iron-bound by his mother's will that he could not touch +them. + +Black resentment flamed hotly up in his heart at the memory of the +Westfall custom of willing the bulk of the great estate to the oldest +son. It had left his mother with a patrimony which Carl, inheriting, +had chosen contemptuously to regard as a dwarfish thing of gold +sufficient only for the heedless purchase of one flaming, brilliant +hour of life. That husbanded it might purchase a lifetime of gray +hours tinged intermittently with rose or crimson, Carl had dismissed +with a cynical laugh, quoting Omar Khayyam. + +Starrett had sneeringly suggested that, to remedy his fallen +fortunes--he might marry Diane! Carl laughed softly but recalling +suddenly how Diane had looked as she stood in the doorway, the flame of +her honest anger setting off her primitive grace, he frowned +thoughtfully at the fire, swayed by one of the mad, reckless whims +which frequently rocketed through his brain to heedless consummation. +Wherefore he presently dispatched a servant to Diane with a note +scribbled carelessly upon the face of the ace of diamonds. + +"May I see you?" it ran. "I am still in the library. If you like, +I'll come up." + +She came to the library, frankly surprised. Carl rarely saw fit to +apologize or seek advice. + +With his ready gallantry, habitually colored by a subtle sex-mockery, +Carl rose, drew a chair for her and leaned against the mantel, smiling. + +"I'm sorry," said he civilly, "I'm sorry Starrett so far forgot +himself." + +"So am I," said Diane. "Bacchanalian tableaus are not at all to my +liking." + +"Nor mine," admitted Carl. "As an aesthete I must own that Starrett is +too fat for a really graceful villain. I fancied you were indefinitely +domiciled at the farm. Aunt Agatha has been fussing--" + +"I was," nodded Diane. "A whim of mine brought me home." + +Carl dropped easily into a chair and glanced at his cousin's profile. +The delicate oval of her face was firelit; her night-black hair one +with the deeper shadows of the room. There was mystery in the lovely +dusk of Diane's eyes--and discontent--and something mute and wistful +crying for expression. + +"I've a proposition to make," said Carl lightly. "It's partly +commercial, partly belated justice, partly eugenic and partly personal." + +"Your money is quite gone, is it not?" asked Diane, raising finely +arched expressive eyebrows. + +"It is," admitted Carl ruefully. "My career as a bibulous meteor is +over. Last night, after an exquisite shower of golden fire, I came +tumbling to earth in the fashion of meteors, a disillusioned stone. In +other words--stone broke. May I smoke?" + +"Assuredly." + +Carl lighted a cigarette. + +"And the proposition which is at the same time commercial, eugenic +and--er--personal?" reminded Diane curiously. Carl ignored the +delicate note of sarcasm. + +"It is merely," he said with a flash of impudence, "that you will marry +me." + +Diane's eyes widened. + +"How frankly commercial!" she murmured. + +"Isn't it?" said Carl. "And an excellent opportunity for belated +justice as well. My mother, save for our infernal Salic law of +inheritance, was entitled to half the Westfall estate." + +Diane stared curiously at the fire-rimmed hem of her satin skirt. +There was something of Carl's lazy impudence in the arch of her +eyebrows. + +"There yet remains the eugenic inducement and, I believe, a personal +one!" she hinted. + +"Thank heaven," exclaimed Carl devoutly, "that we're both logicians. +The eugenic consideration is that by birth and brains and breeding I am +your logical mate." + +Diane's eyes flashed with swift contempt. + +"Birth!" she repeated. + +The black demon of ungovernable temper leaped brutally from Carl's +eyes. Leaning forward he caught the girl's hands in a vicious grip +that hurt her cruelly though for all her swift color she did not flinch. + +"Listen, Diane," he said, his face very white; "if there is one thing +in this rotten world of custom and convention and immoral morality +which I honestly respect, it is the memory of my mother. Therefore you +will please abstain from contemptuous reference to her by look or word." + +Diane met the clear, compelling rebuke of his fine eyes with unwavering +directness. + +"My mother," said Carl steadily, "was a fine, big, splendid woman, +unconventional like all the Westfalls, and a century ahead of her time. +Moreover, she had a code of morality quite her own. If Aunt Agatha's +shocked sensibilities had not eliminated her from your life so early, +contact with her broad understanding of things would have tempered your +sex insularity." He glanced pityingly at Diane. "You've fire and +vision, Diane," he said bluntly, "but you're intolerant. It's a +Westfall trait." He laughed softly. "How scornfully you used to laugh +and jeer at boys, because you were swifter of foot and keener of vision +than any of them, because you could leap and run and swim like a wild +thing! Intolerance again, Diane, even as a youngster!" + +He rose restlessly, smiling down at her with a lazy expression of +deference in his eyes. + +"Wonderful, beautiful lady of fire and ebony!" he said gently, with a +bewildering change of mood which brought the vivid color to Diane's +dark cheek. "There's the wild, sweet wine of the forest in your very +blood! And it's always calling!" + +"Yes," nodded Diane wistfully, "it's always calling. How did you know?" + +"By the wizardry of eye and intuition!" he laughed lightly. "And the +personal consideration," he added pleasantly; "we've come at last to +that." + +A tide of color swept brightly over Diane's face. + +"Surely, Carl," she exclaimed with a swift, level glance, "you don't +mean that you care?" + +"No," said Carl honestly, "I don't. I mean just this. Will you permit +me to care? To-night as you stood there in the doorway I knew for the +first time that, if I chose, I could love you very greatly." + +"Love isn't like that," flashed Diane. "It comes unbidden." + +"To different natures come different dawnings of the immortal white +fire!" shrugged Carl. "My love will be largely a matter of will. I'm +armored heavily." + +"For a golden key!" scoffed Diane, rising. + +"Ah, well," said Carl impudently, "it was well worth a try! I'm sure I +could love with all the fiery appurtenances of the Devil himself if I +shed the armor." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE VOICE OF THE OPEN COUNTRY + +"Aunt Agatha!" Diane rapped lightly at her aunt's bedroom door. "Are +you asleep?" + +"No, no indeed!" puffed Aunt Agatha forlornly. "Certainly not. When +in the world did you come back from the farm, child? I've worried so! +And like you, too, to come back as unexpectedly as you went." She +opened the door wider for her niece to enter. "But as for sleep, +Diane, I hope I'm not as callous as that. I shan't sleep a wink +to-night, I'm sure of it." + +Aunt Agatha dabbed ineffectually at her round, aggrieved eyes. + +"Carl's a terrible responsibility for me, Diane," she went on, "though +to be sure there have been wild nights when I've put cotton in my ears +and locked the door and if I'd only remembered to do that I wouldn't +have heard the glass crash--one of the Florentine set, too, I haven't +the ghost of a doubt. I feel those things, Diane. Mamma, too, had a +gift of feeling things she didn't know for sure--mamma did!--and the +servants talk--of course they do!--who wouldn't? I must say, though, +Carl's always kind to me; I will say that for him but--" + +The excellent lady whose mental convolutions permitted her to speculate +wildly in words with the least possible investment of ideas, rambled by +serpentine paths of complaint to a conversational _cul-de-sac_ and +trailed off in a tragic sniff. + +Diane resolutely smothered her impatience. + +"I--I only ran down overnight. Aunt Agatha," she said, "to--to tell +you something--" + +"You can't mean it!" puffed Aunt Agatha helplessly. "What in the world +are you going back to the farm for? Dear me, Diane, you're growing +notional--and farms are very damp in spring." + +Diane walked away to the window and stood staring thoughtfully out at +the metropolitan glitter of lights beyond. + +"Oh, Aunt Agatha!" she exclaimed restlessly, "you can't imagine how +very tired I grow of it all--of lights and cities and restaurants and +everything artificial! Surely these city days and nights of silly +frivolity are only the froth of life! Have you ever longed to sleep in +the woods," she added abruptly, "with stars twinkling overhead and the +moonlight showering softly through the trees?" + +"I'm very sure I never have!" said Aunt Agatha with considerable +decision. "And it's not at all likely I ever shall. There are bugs +and things," she added vaguely, "and snakes that wriggle about." + +"I've always wanted to lie and dream by a camp fire," mused Diane, +unconscious of a certain startled flutter of Aunt Agatha's dressing +gown, "to hear the wind rising in the forest and the lap of the lake +against the shore." She wheeled abruptly, her eyes bright with +excitement. "And I'm going to try it." + +"To sleep by a lake in springtime!" gasped Aunt Agatha in great +distress. "Diane, I beg of you, _don't_ do it! I once knew a man who +slept out somewhere--such a nice man, too!--and something bit him--a +heron, I think, or a herring. No! It couldn't have been either. +Isn't it funny how I do forget! Strangest thing! But to sleep by a +lake in springtime, think of that!" + +"Oh, no, no, no, Aunt Agatha!" laughed Diane. "I didn't mean quite +that. I'm merely going back to the Glade farm to-morrow to--" she +glanced with furtive uncertainty at her aunt and halted. "Aunt Agatha, +I've been planning a gypsy cart! There! It's out at last and I +dreaded the telling! When the summer comes, I'm going to travel about +in my wonderful house on wheels and live in the free, wild, open +country!" + +"I can't believe it!" said Aunt Agatha, staring. "I can't--I won't +believe it!" + +"Don't be a goose!" begged the girl happily. "All winter the voice of +the open country has been calling--calling! There's quicksilver in my +veins. See, Aunt Agatha, see the spring moon--the 'Planting Moon' an +Indian girl I used to know in college called it! How gloriously it +must be shining over silent woods and lakes, flashing silver on the +pines and the ripples by the shore. And the sea, the great, wide, +beautiful, mysterious sea droning under a million stars!" + +"Think of that!" breathed Aunt Agatha incredulously. "A million stars! +I can't believe it. But dear me, Diane, there are seas and stars and +moons and things right here in New York." + +With a swift flash of tenderness Diane slipped her arm about Aunt +Agatha's perturbed shoulders. + +"You're not going to mind at all!" she wheedled gently. "I'm sure of +it. I'd have to go anyway. It's in my blood like the hint of summer +in the air to-night." + +Aunt Agatha merely stared. The Westfalls were congenital enigmas. + +"A gypsy cart!" she gurgled presently, rising phoenix-like at last from +a dumb-struck supineness. "A gypsy cart! Well! A wheelbarrow +wouldn't have surprised me more, Diane, a wheelbarrow with a motor!" + +"Don't you remember Mrs. Jarley's wagon?" reminded Diane. "It had +windows and curtains--" + +"Surely," broke in Aunt Agatha with strained dignity, "you're not going +in for waxworks like Mrs. Jarley!" + +"Dear, no!" laughed Diane, with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. +"There are so many wild flowers and birds and legends to study I +shouldn't have time!" + +"Great heavens," murmured Aunt Agatha faintly, "my ears have gone queer +like mother's." + +"And maybe I'll not be back for a year," offered Diane calmly. "I can +work south through the winter--" + +Aunt Agatha fell tragically back in her chair and gasped. + +"Didn't we take a whole year to motor over Europe?" demanded Diane +impetuously. "And that was nothing like so fascinating as my gypsy +house on wheels." + +"If I could only have looked ahead!" breathed Aunt Agatha, shuddering. +"If only I could have foreseen what notions you and Carl were fated to +take in your heads, I'd have refused your grandfather's legacy. I +would indeed. Here I no more than get Carl safely home from hunting +Esquimaux or whatever it was up there by the North Pole--walravens, +wasn't it, Diane?--well, walrus then!--than you decide to become a +gypsy and sleep by a lake in springtime under a planting moon and stay +outdoors all winter, collecting birds, when I fancied you were safely +launched in society until you were married." + +"But Aunt Agatha," flashed the girl, "I'm not at all anxious to marry." + +Aunt Agatha burst into a calamitous shower of tears. + +"Aunt Agatha," said Diane kindly, "why not remember that you're no +longer burdened with the terrible responsibility of bringing Carl and +me up? We're both mature, responsible beings." + +Aunt Agatha dabbed defiantly at her eyes. + +"Well," she said flatly, "I shan't worry, I just shan't. I'm past +that. There was a time, but at my time of life I just can't afford it. +You can do as you please. You can go shoot alligators if you want to, +Diane, I shan't interpose another objection. But the trials that I've +endured in my life through the Westfalls, nobody knows. I was a +cheerful, happy person until I knew the Westfalls. And your father was +notional too. I was a Gregg, Diane, until I married your uncle--he +wasn't really your uncle, but a sort of cousin--and the Greggs, thank +heavens! are mild and quiet and never wander about. Dear me, if a +Gregg should take to sleeping by a lake in spring-time under a planting +moon, I would be surprised, I would indeed! There was only one in our +whole family who ever galloped about to any extent--Uncle Peter +Gregg--and you really couldn't blame him. Bulls were perpetually +running into him, and once he fell overboard and a whale chased him to +shore. Isn't it funny? Strangest thing! But there, Diane, I wonder +your poor dear grandfather doesn't turn straight over in his grave--I +do indeed. Many and many a time your poor father tried him sorely--and +Carl's mother too." Aunt Agatha sniffed meekly. + +"Will you go alone?" she ventured, wiping her eyes. + +"Bless your heart, Aunt Agatha, no!" laughed Diane radiantly. "I'm +going to take old Johnny Jutes with me!" + +Diane kissed her aunt lightly on the forehead. + +"Well," said Aunt Agatha in melancholy resignation, "if you must turn +gypsy, my dear, and wander about the country, Johnny Jutes is the best +one to go along. He's old and faithful and used to your whims and +surely after thirty years of service, he won't break into tantrums." + +Silver-sweet through the quiet house came the careless ripple of a +flute, showering light and sensuous music. There was a dare-devil lilt +and sway to the flippant strains and Aunt Agatha covered her face with +her hands. + +"Oh, Diane," she whispered, shuddering, "when he plays like that he +drinks and drinks and drinks until morning." + +"Poor Aunt Agatha!" said the girl pityingly. "What troublesome folk we +Westfalls are! And I no less than Carl." + +"No, no, my dear!" murmured Aunt Agatha. "It's only when Carl plays +like that--that I grow afraid." + +Aunt Agatha went to bed to listen tremblingly while the dare-devil +dance of the flute tripped ghostlike through the corridors. And +falling asleep with the laughing demon of wind and melody cascading +wildly through the mad scene from Lucia, she dreamt that Carl had +captured an Esquimau with his flute and weaving a suit of basket armor +for him, had dispatched him by aeroplane to lead Diane's gypsy cart +into the Everglades of Florida, the home-state of Norman Westfall until +his ill-fated marriage. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE PHANTOM THAT ROSE FROM THE BOTTLE + +The demon of the flute laughed and fell silent. The house grew very +quiet. A fresh log built its ragged shell of color within the library +and Carl drank again and again, watching the play of firelight upon the +amber liquor in his glass. It pleased him idly to build up a +philosophy of whiskey, an impudent, fearless reverie of fact and fancy. + +"So," he finished carelessly, "every bottle is a crystal temple to the +great god Bacchus and who may know what phantom lurks within, ready to +rise and grow from the fumes of its fragrant incense into a nebulous +wraith of gigantic proportions. Many a bottle such as this has made +history and destroyed it. A sparkling essence of tears and jest, of +romance and passion and war and grotesquerie, of treachery and irony +and blood and death, whose temper no man may know until he tests it +through the alchemy of his brain and soul!" + +To Starrett it gave a heavy courtesy; to Payson a mad buffoonery; to +Wherry pathos; to Carl himself--ah!--there was the rub! To Carl its +message was as capricious as the wind--a moon-mad chameleon changing +its color with the fickle light. And in the bottle to-night lay a +fierce, unreasoning resentment against Diane. + +"Fool!" said Carl. "One mad, eloquent lie of love and she would have +softened. Women are all like that. Tell me," Carl stared whimsically +into his glass as if it were a magic crystal of revelation, "why is it +that when I am scrupulously honest no one understands? . . . Why that +mad stir of love-hunger to-night as Diane stood in the doorway? Why +the swift black flash of hatred now? Are love and hatred then akin?" + +The clock struck three. Carl's brain, flaming, keen, master of the +bottle save for its subtle inspiration of wounded pride and resentment, +brooded morosely over Diane, over the defection of his parasitic +companions, over the final leap into the abyss of parsimony and Diane's +flash of contempt at the mention of his mother. Half of Diane's money +was rightly his--his mother's portion. And he could love vehemently, +cleanly, if he willed, with the delicate white fire which few men were +fine enough to know. . . . In the soft hollow of Diane's hand had lain +the destiny of a man who had the will to go unerringly the way he +chose. . . . Love and hunger--they were the great trenchant appetites +of the human race: one for its creation, the other for its +perpetuation. . . . To every man came first the call of passion; then +the love-hunger for a perfect mate. The latter had come to him +to-night as Diane stood in the doorway, a slender, vibrant flame of +life keyed exquisitely for the finer, subtler things and hating +everything else. + +Still he drank, but the fires of hell were rising now in his eyes. +There was treachery in the bottle. . . . Diane, he chose to fancy, had +refused him justice, salvation, respect to the memory of his +mother! . . . So be it! . . . His to wrench from the mocking, +gold-hungry world whatever he could and however he would. . . . Only +his mother had understood. . . . And Diane had mocked her memory. +Still there had been thrilling moments of tenderness for him in Diane's +life. . . . But Diane was like that--a flash of fire and then +bewildering sweetness. There was the spot Starrett's glass had struck; +there the ancient carven chair in which Diane had mocked his mother; +there was red--blood-red in the dying log--and gold. Blood and +gold--they were indissolubly linked one with the other and the demon of +the bottle had danced wild dances with each of them. A mad trio! +After all, there was only one beside his mother who had ever understood +him--Philip Poynter, his roommate at Yale. And Philip's lazy voice +somehow floated from the fire to-night. + +"Carl," he had said, "you've bigger individual problems to solve than +any man I know. You could head a blood revolution in South America +that would outrage the world; or devise a hellish philosophy of +hedonism that by its very ingenuity would seduce a continent into +barking after false gods. You've an inexplicable chemistry of +ungovernable passions and wild whims and you may go through hell first +but when the final test comes--you'll ring true. Mark that, old man, +you'll ring true. I tell you I _know_! There's sanity and will and +grit to balance the rest." + +Well, Philip Poynter was a staunch optimist with oppressive ideals, a +splendid, free-handed fellow with brains and will and infernal +persistence. + +Four o'clock and the log dying! The city outside was a dark, clinking +world of milkmen and doubtful stragglers, Carl finished the whiskey in +his glass and rose. His brain was very drunk--that he knew--for every +life current in his body swept dizzily to his forehead, focusing there +into whirling inferno, but his legs he could always trust. He stepped +to the table and lurched heavily. Mocking, treacherous demon of the +bottle! His legs had failed him. Fiercely he flung out his arm to +regain his balance. It struck a candelabrum, a giant relic of ancient +wood as tall as himself. It toppled and fell with its candled branches +in the fire. Where the log broke a flame shot forth, lapping the dark +wood with avid tongue. With a crackle the age-old wood began to burn. + +Carl watched it with a slight smile. It pleased him to watch it burn. +That would hurt Diane, for everything in this beautiful old Spanish +room linked her subtly to her mother. Yes, it would hurt her cruelly. +Beyond, at the other end of the table, stood a mate to the burning +candlestick, doubtless a silent sentry at many a drinking bout of old +when roistering knights gathered about the scarred slab of table-wood +beneath his fingers. A pity though! Artistically the carven thing was +splendid. + +Cursing himself for a notional fool, Carl jerked the candlestick from +the fire and beat out the flames. The heavy top snapped off in his +hands. The falling wood disclosed a hollow receptacle below the +branches . . . a charred paper. Well, there was always some insane +whim of Norman Westfall's coming to light somewhere and this doubtless +was one of them. + +The paper was very old and yellow, the handwriting unmistakably +foreign. French, was it not? The firelight was too fitful to tell. +Carl switched on the light in the cluster of old iron lanterns above +the table and frowned heavily at the paper. No, it was the precise, +formal English of a foreigner, with here and there a ludicrous error +among the stilted phrases. And as Carl read, a gust of wild, +incredulous laughter echoed suddenly through the quiet room. Again he +read, cursing the dizzy fever of his head. Houdania! Houdania! Where +was Houdania? Surely the name was familiar. With a superhuman effort +of will he clenched his hands and jaws and sat motionless, seeking the +difficult boon of concentration. Out of the maelstrom of his mind +haltingly it came, and with it memory in panoramic flashes. + +Once more he heard the clatter of cavalry galloping up a winding +mountain road to a gabled city whose roofs and turrets glinted ruddily +in the westering sun. There had been royalty abroad with a brilliant +escort, handsome, dark-skinned men with a lingering trace of Arab about +the eyes, who galloped rapidly by him up the winding road to the little +kingdom in the mountains. Houdania!--yes that was it--of course. +Houdania! A Lilliputian monarchy of ardent patriots. There had been a +flaming sunset behind the turrets of a castle and he had climbed +up--up--up to the gabled kingdom, seeking, away from the track of the +tourist, relief from the exotic gayety of his rocketing over Europe. +And high above the elfin kingdom on a wooded ravine where a silver +rivulet leaped and sang along the mountain, a gray and lonely monastery +had offered him a cell of retreat. + +Houdania! Yes, he had found Houdania. Philip Poynter had told him of +the monastery months before. Philip liked to seek and find the +picturesque. Thus had he come into Andorra in the Pyrenees and Wisby +in the Baltic. And he--Carl--had found Houdania. But what of it? Ah, +yes, the burning candlestick--the paper--the paper! And again a gust +of laughter drowned the fitful crackle of the fire. There was gold at +his hand--great, tempting quantities of it! + +"When the test comes, you'll ring true," came the crackle of Philip's +voice from the fire. "Mark that, old man, you'll ring true. I tell +you, I know." Well, Philip Poynter was his only friend. But Philip +was off somewhere, gone out of his life this many a day in a +characteristic burst of quixotism. + +Carl laughed and shuddered, for a mad instant he held the tempting +yellow paper above the fire--and drew it back, stared at the charred +candlestick and laughed again--but there was nothing of laughter in his +eyes. They were darkly ironic and triumphant. There was blood in the +fire--and gold--and Diane had mocked his mother. With a groan Carl +flung his arms out passionately upon the table, torn by a conflict of +the strangely warring forces within him. And with his head drooping +heavily forward upon his hands he lay there until the melancholy dawn +grayed the room into shadowy distinctness, his angle of vision twisted +and maimed by the demon of the bottle. The candlestick loomed +strangely forth from the still grayness; the bottle took form; the +yellowed paper glimmered on the table. Carl stirred and a spasm of +mirthless laughter shook him. + +"So," he said, "Philip Poynter loses--and I--I write to Houdania!" + +So from the bottle rose a phantom of glittering gold and temptation to +grow in time to a wraith of gigantic proportions. In the bottle +to-night had lain tears and jest and love unending, romance and +passion, treachery and irony--blood and the shadow of Death. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BARON TREGAR + +Lilac and wistaria flowered royally. Carpenter, wheelwright and painter +departed. The trim green wagon, picked out gayly in white, windowed and +curtained and splendidly equipped for the fortunes of the road, creaked +briskly away upon its pilgrimage, behind a pair of big-boned piebald +horses from the Westfall stables, with Johnny at the reins. On the seat +beside him Diane radiantly waved adieu to her aunt, who promptly +collapsed in a chair on the porch and dabbed violently at her eyes. + +"I shall never get over it," sniffed Aunt Agatha tragically. "Carl may +say what he will, I never shall. But now that I've come up here to see +her off, I've done my duty, I have indeed. And I do hope Carl hasn't any +wild ideas for the summer--I couldn't stand it. Allan, as long as Miss +Diane is camping within reasonable distance of the farm, you'd better +take the run-about each night and find her and see if she's all +right--and brush the snakes and bugs and things out of camp. If +everything wild in the forest collected around the camp fire, like as not +she wouldn't see them until they bit her." + +The boy shifted a slim, bare leg and sniggered. + +"Miss Westfall," he said, "Miss Diane she says she's a-goin' to a spot by +the river and camp a week an'--an' if she finds anybody a-follerin' or +spyin' on her from the farm, she'll skin him alive an'--an' them black +eyes o' her'n snapped fire when she said it. An' Johnny, he's got +weepons 'nough with him to fight pirutes." + +Aunt Agatha groaned and rocking dolorously back and forth upon the porch +reviewed the calamitous possibilities of the journey. + +But the restless young nomad on the road ahead, sniffing the rare, sweet +air of early summer, had already relegated the memory of her +long-suffering aunt to the forgotten things of civilization. For the +summer world, sweet with the scent of wild flowers, was very young, with +young leaves, young grass and flowering, sun-warm hedges, and beyond the +Sherrill place on the wooded hill, the sun flamed yellow through the +hemlocks. + +"Oh, Johnny Jutes! Oh, Johnny Jutes!" sang the girl happily, with the +color of the wild rose in her sun-brown cheeks. "It's good--it's good to +be alive!" + +With a chuckle of enthusiasm Johnny cracked his whip and opined that it +was. + +Now even as the great green van rolled forth upon the country roads, +bound for an idyllic spot by the river where Diane had planned to camp a +week, two men appeared upon the wide, white-pillared Sherrill porch, +smoking and idly admiring the bluish hills and the rolling meadowlands +below bright with morning sunlight. To the east lay the silver glimmer +of a tree-fringed lake; beyond, a church spire among the trees and a +winding country road traveled by the solitary van of green and white. + +"A singular conveyance, is it not, Poynter?" inquired the older man, his +careful articulation blurred by a pronounced foreign accent. Staring +intently at the sunlit road, he added: "Is it a common mode of +travel--here in America?" + +The younger man, a lean, sinewy chap with singularly fine eyes of blue +above lean, tanned cheeks, frowned thoughtfully. + +"By no means," said he pleasantly. "Indeed it's quite new to me. Seems +to have blowy white things at the sides like window curtains, doesn't it?" + +"A nomadic young woman, I am told," shrugged the older man carelessly. +He stood watching the dusty trail of the nomad with narrowed, thoughtful +eyes, unaware that his companion's eyes had wandered somewhat expectantly +to the Westfall lake. + +"Baron Tregar!" whispered Ann Sherrill in a remote corner of the veranda +to a girl she had brought up to the farm with her late the night before. +"Has a _real_ air of distinction, hasn't he, Susanne? And such deep, +dark, _compelling_ eyes. Rather Arabic, I think, but mother says Magyar. +Dick says he's immensely interested in the war possibilities of +aeroplanes and fearfully patriotic. Touring the States, I believe. Dad +picked him up in Washington. Philip's teaching him to fly. Philip was +up once before, you know, in the spring and Dad urged him to come up +again and bring the Baron along to learn aeroplaning. Philip _Poynter_, +of course, the Baron's secretary!" in scandalized italics. "Didn't you +know, _really_? . . . _The_ Philip Poynter. . . . And I say it's +absolutely _sinful_ for a man to be so good-looking as long as the +world's monogamous." + +"Quarreled with his father or something, didn't he?" asked Susanne +vaguely. + +"Quarreled!" exclaimed Ann righteously. "Well, I should say he did. My +dear, the young man's temper simply splintered into a million pieces and +he hasn't found them yet. Flatly refused to take a _cent_ of his +father's money because he'd discovered it was made dishonestly. _Think_ +of it! And Dad says it's true. Old Poynter is a pirate, an +unscrupulous, money-mad, villainous old pirate and he did something or +other most unpleasant to Dad in Wall Street. And would you _believe_ it, +Susanne, Philip went fuming off huffily to some ridiculous little +mountain kingdom in Europe that he was awfully keen about--Houdania--and +rented himself out as a secretary to Baron Tregar. Just _imagine_! Dick +says he organized an aviation department there and won some kind of a +prize for an improved model and in the midst of it all, Susanne, Philip's +grandfather up and died, after quarreling for years and _years_ with the +whole family, and left Philip _all_ his money! _I_ think Philip's +quarrel with his father pleased him. But the very queerest part is that +Philip actually _likes_ to work and dabble in foreign politics and he +flatly refused to give up his job! Isn't it romantic? Philip was +_always_ keen for adventure. Dick says you never could put your finger +on a spot on the map and say comfortably, 'Philip Poynter's here!' for +most likely Philip Poynter was bolting furiously somewhere else!" + +Unaware of Susanne's furtive interest in his career, Philip scanned the +calm, unruffled waters of the Westfall lake and sighing turned back to +his chief. There was a tempting drone of motors back among the hangars. + +"We fly this morning?" he inquired smiling. + +"Unfortunately not," regretted the Baron, and led the way indoors to a +room which Mrs. Sherrill had hospitably insisted upon regarding as a +private den of work and consultation for the Baron and his secretary. + +"There is a mission of exceeding delicacy," began Baron Tregar slowly, +"which I feel I must inflict upon you." His deep, penetrating eyes +lingered intently upon Philip's face. "It concerns the singular +conveyance of green and white and the lady within it." + +Philip looked frankly astonished. + +"I take it then," he suggested, "that you know the nomadic lady, Baron +Tregar?" + +"No," said the Baron. + +Philip stared. + +"Your Excellency is pleased to jest," he said politely. + +"On the contrary," said the Baron, "I am at a loss for suitable words in +which to express my singular request. I am assured of your interest, +Poynter?" + +"Of my interest, assuredly!" admitted Philip. "My compliance," he added +fairly, "depends, of course, upon the nature of the mission." + +"It is absurdly simple," said the Houdanian suavely. "Merely to discover +whether or not the nomadic lady feels any exceptional interest--in +Houdania. For the information to be acquired in a careless, +disinterested manner without arousing undue interest, requires, I think, +an American of brains and breeding, a compatriot of the nomad. It has +occurred to me that you are equipped by a habit of courtesy and tact +to--arrive accidentally in the path of the caravan--" + +"I thank you!" said Philip dryly. "I prefer," he added stiffly, "to +confine my diplomatic activities to more conventional channels." + +"When I assure you," purred the Baron with his maddening precision of +speech, "that this information is of peculiar value to me and without +immediate significance to the lady herself, I am sure that you will not +feel bound to withhold your--hum--your cooeperation in so slight a +personal inconvenience, singular as it may all seem to you, I am right?" + +Philip reddened uncomfortably. + +"I am to understand that I would undertake this peculiar mission equipped +with no further information than you have offered?" + +"Exactly so," said the Baron. "I must beg of you to undertake it without +question." + +"Pray believe," flashed Philip, "that I am not inclined to question. +That fact," he added coldly, "is in itself a handicap." + +"The lady's name," explained the Baron quietly, "is Westfall--Diane +Westfall." + +"Impossible!" exclaimed Philip and savagely bit his lip. + +"Ah, then you know the lady!" said the Baron softly. + +"I regret," said Philip formally, "that I have not had the honor of +meeting Miss Westfall." But he saw vividly again a girl straight and +slender as a silver birch, with firm, wind-bright skin and dark, mocking +eyes. There were hemlocks and a dog--and Dick Sherrill had been +talkative over billiards the night before. + +"Miss Westfall," added Philip guilelessly, "is the owner of the Glade +Farm below here in the valley." + +"Ah, yes," nodded Tregar. "It is so I have heard." His glance lingered +still upon Philip's face in subtle inquiry. Bending its Circean head, +Temptation laughed lightly in Philip Poynter's eyes. The girl in the +caravan was winding away by dusty roads--out of his life perhaps. And +singular as the mission was, its aim was harmless. + +"Our lady," said the Baron smoothly, "camps by night. From an aeroplane +one may see much--a camp--a curl of smoke--a caravan. Later one may walk +and, walking, one may lose his way--to find it again with perfect ease by +means of a forest camp fire." + +Somehow on the Baron's tongue the escapade became insidious duplicity. +Philip flushed, acutely conscious of a significant stirring of his +conscience. + +"I may fly with Sherrill this afternoon," he said with marked reluctance. + +"And at sunset?" + +"I may walk," said Philip, shrugging. + +"Permit me," said the Baron gratefully as he rose, "to thank you. The +service is--ah--invaluable." + +Uncomfortably Philip accepted his release and went lightly up the stairs. + +"I am a fool," said Philip. "But surely Walt Whitman must have +understood for he said it all in verse. 'I am to wait, I do not doubt, I +am to meet you again,'" quoted Philip under his breath; "'I am to see to +it that I do not lose you!'" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THEMAR + +The door which led into the Baron's bedroom from his own was slightly +ajar. Philip, about to close it, fancied he heard the stealthy rustle +of paper beyond and swung it noiselessly back, halting in silent +interest upon the threshold. + +Themar, the Baron's Houdanian valet, was intently transcribing upon his +shirt-cuff, the contents of a paper which lay uppermost in the drawer +of a small portable desk. + +Catlike, Philip stole across the room. The man's hand was laboriously +reproducing upon the linen an intricate message in cipher. + +"Difficult, too, isn't it?" sympathized Philip smoothly at his elbow. + +With a sharp cry, Themar wheeled, his small, shifting eyes black with +hate. They wavered and fell beneath the level, icy stare of the +American. Philip's fingers slipped viselike along the other's wrists +and Philip's voice grew more acidly polite. + +"My dear Themar," he regretted, falling unconsciously into the language +of his chief, "I must spoil the symmetry of your wardrobe. The +hieroglyphical cuff, if you please." + +Themar's snarl was unintelligible. Smiling, Philip unbuttoned the +stiff band of linen and drew it slowly off. + +"A pity!" said he with gentle, sarcastic apology in his eyes. "Such +perfect work! And after all that infernal bother of stealing the key!" + +Philip lightly dropped the cuff into the pocket of his coat. + +"And the key, Themar," he reminded gently, "the key to the Baron's +desk? . . . Ah, so it's still here. Excellent! And now that the +drawer is locked again--" + +The hall door creaked. Simultaneously Themar and Philip wheeled. The +Baron stood in the doorway. + +Philip smiled and bowed. + +"Excellency," said he, "Themar in an over-zealous desire to rearrange +your private papers has acquired your private key and I have taken the +liberty of confiscating it, knowing that you prize its possession. +Permit me to return it now." + +"Thank you, Poynter!" said the Baron and glanced keenly at Themar. "It +is but now that I had missed it." + +"Excellency," burst forth Themar desperately, "I found it this morning +on the rug." + +"But," purred the Baron, "why seek a keyhole?" + +Themar's dark face was ashen. + +Philip, with a wholesome distaste for scenes, slipped away. + +"Excellency," burst forth Themar passionately as the door closed, "it +is unfair--" + +The Baron raised his hand in a gesture of warning. + +"Permit me, Themar," he said coldly as the sound of Philip's footsteps +died away, "permit me to remind you that my secretary is quite unaware +of our peculiar relations. He is laboring at present under the +necessary delusion that your arrival here was entirely the result of my +fastidious distaste for the personal services of anyone but a fellow +countryman. Presumably I had cabled home for you. I prefer," he +added, "that he continue to think so." + +Themar's eyes flashed resentfully. + +"Excellency," he said sullenly, "it is unfair that I am denied the +knowledge of detail that I need. That is why I sought to read the +cipher." + +"And yet, Themar," said the Baron softly, "I fancy Ronador has told +you--something--enough!" He shrugged, his impenetrable eyes narrowing +slowly. "But that I need you," he said evenly, "but that your +knowledge of English makes you an invaluable ally--and one not easily +replaced--I would send you back to Houdania--disgraced! As it is, we +are hedged about with peculiar difficulties and I must use--and watch +you." + +He glanced significantly at the desk drawer and thence to Themar's +dark, unscrupulous face, resentful and defiant. + +"Now as for the cryptogram which tempted you so sorely," went on the +Baron smoothly. "Its chief mission, as I have repeatedly assured you, +was to convert my journey of pleasure in America into one of +immediate--hum--service. I have spoken to you of a certain paper--" + +"There was more," said Themar sullenly. + +"Merely," smiled the Baron with engaging candor, "that you are fully +equipped with definite instructions which I am to see are fulfilled." + +"There is a girl," said Themar bluntly. + +The Baron stared. + +"What?" he rumbled sharply. + +"I--I learned of her and of the cipher in Houdania!" stammered Themar. + +"You know something more of detail than you need to know," said the +Baron dryly. "Moreover," he added icily, "you will confine your +professional attentions to the other sex. You are sure about the +paper?" + +"Yes." + +"Your trip to New York last night was--hum--uneventful?" + +"Yes." + +"You will go again to-night?" + +"It is unnecessary. Granberry is at the Westfall farm." + +"Ah!" + +"But, Excellency," reminded Themar glibly, "there is still the girl--" +Deep, compelling, Tregar's eyes burned steadily into menace. + +"Must I repeat--" + +"Excellency," stammered Themar blanching. + +"You may go!" said the Baron curtly. + +There had been no word of the scribbled cuff, Themar remembered. And +surely one may steal away one's own. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +AFTER SUNSET + +The sun had set. Back from his flight over the hills with Sherrill, +Philip had bathed and shaved, whistling thoughtfully to himself. Now +as he descended the steep Sherrill lane to the valley, ravine and +hollow were already dark with twilight. From the rustling trees +arching the lane overhead came the occasional sleepy chirp and flutter +of a bird. Off somewhere in the gathering dusk a lonely owl hooted +eerily. Still there was storm in the warm, sweet air to-night and back +yonder over the hills to the north, the sky brightened fitfully with +lightning. + +Slipping his hand carelessly into his coat pocket for a pipe, Philip +laughed. + +"My Lord!" said he lightly. "The hieroglyphical cuff! I should have +given that to the Baron. . . . Themar," added Philip, packing his +pipe, "is an infernal bounder!" + +Diane's camp lay barely two miles to the west. Homing at sunset Philip +had veered and circled over it. Now as he turned westward toward the +river, the nature of his errand chafed him sorely. + +"Nor can I see," mused Philip, puffing uncomfortably at his pipe, "why +in the devil he wants to know!" + +A soft, warm nose suddenly insinuated itself into his hand with a frank +bid for attention and Philip turned. A shaggy, soft-footed shadow was +waggling along at his heels, Dick's favorite setter. + +"Hello, old top!" exclaimed Philip cheerfully. "When did you hit the +trail?" + +Old Top barked joyously but didn't appear to remember. + +"Well," said Philip, lazily patting the dog's head, "you're welcome +anyway. I'm a diplomat to-night," he added humorously, "bound upon a +'mission of exceeding delicacy' and only a companion of your +extraordinary reticence and discretion would be welcome." + +Man and dog turned aside into a crossroad. It was very dark now, the +only spot of cheer save for the lightning behind the hills, the coal of +Philip's pipe. + +"Tell me, old man," begged Philip whimsically, "what would you do? May +we not wander casually into camp and look at my beautiful gypsy lady +without fussing unduly about this infernal mission? More and more do +we dislike it. And in the morning we may respectfully rebel. Ah, an +excellent point, Nero. To be sure our chief will be very smooth and +insistent but we ourselves, you recall, have possibilities of extreme +firmness. And the lady is Diane, though we only call her that, old +top, among ourselves. + +"Splendid decision!" exclaimed Philip presently with intense +satisfaction. "Nero, you've been an umpire. We'll rebel. +Nevertheless, we must assure ourselves that the camp of our lady is +ready for storm." + +It was. Following a forest path, Philip presently caught the flicker +of a camp fire ahead. There was a huge tarpaulin over the wagon and a +canopy above the horses. Storm-proof tents loomed dimly among the +trees. A brisk little man whose apple cheeks and grizzled whiskers +Philip instantly approved, trotted importantly about among the horses, +humming a jerky melody. Johnny was fifty and looked a hundred, but +those unwary ones who had felt the steely grip of his sinewy fingers +were apt evermore to respect him. + +Diane was piling wood upon the fire with the careless grace of a +splendid young savage. The light of the camp fire danced ruddily upon +her slim, brown arms and throat bared to the rising wind. A beautiful, +restless gypsy of fire and wind, she looked, at one with the +storm-haunted wood about her. + +There came a patter of rain upon the forest leaves. The tents were +flapping and the fire began to flare. There were curious wind crackles +all about him, and Nero had begun to sniff and whine. Somewhere--off +there among the trees--Philip fancied he caught the stealthy pad of a +footfall and the crackle of underbrush. Every instinct of his body +focusing wildly upon the thought of harm to Diane, he whirled swiftly +about, colliding as he did so with something--vague, formless, +heavy--that leaped, crouching, from the shadows and bore him to the +ground. The lightning flared savagely upon steel. Philip felt a +blinding thud upon his head, a sharp, stinging agony along his shoulder. + +Somewhere in the forest--a great way off he thought--a dog was barking +furiously. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN A STORM-HAUNTED WOOD + +"The storm is coming!" exclaimed Diane with shining eyes. "Button the +flaps by the horses, Johnny. We're in for it to-night. Hear the wind!" + +Overhead the gale tore ragged gaps among the fire-shadowed trees, +unshrouding a storm-black sky. Fearlessly--the old wild love of storm +and wind singing powerfully in her heart--the girl rose from the fire +and faced the tempest. + +Rex pressed fearfully beside her, whining. Off there somewhere in the +wind and darkness a dog had barked. It came now again, high above the +noise of the wind, a furious, frightened barking. + +"Johnny!" exclaimed Diane suddenly. "There must be something wrong +over there. Better go see. No, not that way. More to the east." And +Johnny, whose soul for thirty years had thirsted for adventure, briskly +seized an ancient pistol and charged off through the forest. + +But Aunt Agatha had talked long and tearfully to Johnny. Wherefore, +reluctant to leave his charge alone in the rain and dark, he turned +back. + +"Go!" said Diane with a flash of impatience. + +Johnny went. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the girl outlined +vividly against the fire, skirts and hair flying stormily about her in +the wind. So might the primal woman stand ere the march of +civilization had over-sexed her. + +The wind was growing fiercer now, driving the rain about in angry +gusts. Thunder cannonaded noisily overhead. + +Veering suddenly in a new direction--for in the roar of the storm the +bark of the dog seemed curiously to shift--Johnny collided violently +with a dark figure running wildly through the forest. Both men fell. +Finding his invisible assailant disposed viciously to contest +detention, Johnny fell in with his mood and buried his long, lean +fingers cruelly in the other's throat. + +The fortunes of war turned speedily. Johnny's victim squirmed +desperately to his feet and bounded away through the forest. + +Now as they ran, stumbling and finding their way as best they might in +the glitter of lightning, there came from the region of the camp the +unmistakable crack of a pistol. Two shots in rapid succession +followed--an interval of five seconds or so--and then another. The +final trio was the shot signal of the old buffalo hunters which Diane +had taught to Johnny. + +"Where are you?" barked the signal. + +Drawing his ancient pistol as he ran, Johnny, in vain, essayed the +answer. The veteran missed fire. After all, reflected Johnny +uncomfortably, one signal was merely to locate him. If another came-- + +The lightning, flaming in a vivid sheet, revealed a lonely road ahead +and on the road by the farther hedge, a man desperately cranking a +long, dark car. The lamps of the car were unlighted. + +With a yell of startled anger, the man who bore the bleeding marks of +Johnny's fingers redoubled his speed and darted crazily for the +roadway. Before he had reached it the man by the car had leaped +swiftly to the wheel and rolled away. + +From the forest came again the signal: "Where are you?" + +Johnny groaned. Frantically he tried the rebel again. It readily spat +its answer this time, an instantaneous duplicate of shots. + +"I'm here. What do you want?" + +In the lightning glare the man ahead made off wildly across the fields. + +Running, Johnny cocked his ears for the familiar assurance of one shot. + +"All right," it would mean; "I only wanted to know where you are," but +it did not come. + +Instead--two shots again in rapid succession--an interval--and then +another. + +"I am in serious trouble," barked the signal in the forest. "Come as +fast as you can." + +With a groan Johnny abandoned the chase and retraced his steps. Thus a +perverse Fate ever snipped the thread of an embryo adventure. + +A light flickered dully among the trees to the east. Johnny cupped his +hands and yodeled. The light moved. A little later as he crashed +hurriedly through the underbrush, Diane called to him. She was holding +a lantern high above something on the ground, her face quite colorless. + +"I'm glad you're here!" she said. "It's the aviator, Johnny. He's +hurt--" + +The aviator stirred. + +"He's comin' 'round," said Johnny peering down into the white face in +the aureole of lantern-light. "The rain in his face likely. . . . +Well, young fellow, what do you think of yourself, eh?" + +"Not much," said Philip blankly and stared about him. + +"Can you follow us to the camp fire yonder?" asked Diane +compassionately. + +Philip, though evidently very dizzy, thought likely he could, and he +did. That his shoulder was wet and very painful, he was well aware, +though somehow he had forgotten why. Moreover, his head throbbed +queerly. + +There came a tent and a bed and a blur of incidents. + +Mr. Poynter dazedly resigned himself to a general atmosphere of +unreality. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +ON THE RIDGE ROAD + +At the Westfall farm as the electric vanguard of the storm flashed +brightly over the valley, the telephone had tinkled. In considerable +distress of mind Aunt Agatha answered it. + +"I--I'm sure I don't know when he will be home," she said helplessly +after a while. . . . "He went barely a minute ago and very foolish +too, I said, with the storm coming. . . . At dinner he spoke some of +going to the camp--Miss Westfall's camp. . . . I--I really don't know. +. . . I wish I did but I don't." + +The lightning blazed at the window and left it black. Beyond in the +lane, a car with glaring headlights was rolling rapidly toward the +gateway. Aunt Agatha hung up with an aggrieved sniff. + +Catching the reflection of the headlights she hurried to the window. + +"Carl! Carl!" she called through the noise of wind and thunder. + +The car came to a halt with a grinding shudder of brakes. + +"Yes?" said Carl patiently. "What is it, Aunt Agatha?" + +"Dick Sherrill phoned," said his aunt plaintively. "I thought you'd +gone. He wanted you to come up and play bridge. Oh, Carl, I--I do +wish you wouldn't motor about in a thunder shower. I once knew a +man--such a nice, quiet fellow too--and very domestic in his +habits--but he would ramble about and the lightning tore his collar off +and printed a picture of a tree on his spine. Think of that!" + +Carl laughed. He was raincoated and hatless. + +"An arboreal spine!" said he, rolling on. "Lord, Aunt Agatha, that was +tough! Moral--don't be domestic!" + +"Carl!" quavered his aunt tearfully. + +Again, throbbing like a giant heart in the darkness, the car halted. +Carl tossed his hair back from his forehead with a smothered groan, but +said nothing. He was always kinder and less impatient to Aunt Agatha +in a careless way than Diane. + +"Will you take Diane an extra raincoat and rubbers?" appealed Aunt +Agatha pathetically. "Like as not the pockets of the other are full of +bugs and things." + +"Aunt Agatha," grumbled Carl kindly, "why fuss so? Diane's equipped +with nerve and grit and independence enough to look out for herself." + +Aunt Agatha sniffed and closed the window. + +"I shan't worry!" she said flatly. "I shan't do it. If Carl comes +home with a tree on his spine, it's his own concern. Why _I_ should +have to endure all this, however, I can't for the life of me see. I've +one consolation anyway. A good part of my life's over. Death will be +a welcome relief after what _I've_ gone through!" + +Shrugging as the window closed Carl drove on rapidly down the driveway. + +It pleased him to ride madly with the wind and storm. The gale, laden +with dust and grit, bit and stung and tore rudely at his coat and hair. +The great lamps of the car flashed brilliantly ahead, revealing the +wind-beaten grasses by the wayside. Somewhere back in his mind there +was a troublesome stir of conscience. It had bothered him for days. +It had driven him irresistibly to-night at dinner to speak of visiting +his cousin's camp, though he bit his lip immediately afterward in a +flash of indecision. The turbulent night had seemed of a sort to think +things over. Moonlit fields and roads were enervating. Storm whipping +a man's blood into fire and energy--biting his brain into relentless +activity!--there was a thing for you. + +Whiskey did not help. Last night it had treacherously magnified the +voice of conscience into a gibing roar. + +Money! Money! The ray of the lamps ahead, the fork of the lightning, +the flickering gaslight there at the crossroads, they were all the +color of gold and like gold--of a flame that burned. Yes, he must have +money. No matter what the voice, he must have money. + +At the crossroads he halted suddenly. To the south now lay his +cousin's camp, to the north the storm. + +Perversely Carl wheeled about and drove to the north. A conscience was +a luxury for a rich man. Let the thing he had done, sired by the demon +of the bottle and mothered by the hell-pit of his flaming passions, +breed its own results. + +It was a fitful nerve-straining task, waiting, and he had waited now +for weeks. Waiting had bred the Voice in his conscience, waiting had +bored insidious holes in his armor of flippant philosophy through which +had crept remorse and bitter self-contempt; once it had brought a +flaming resolve brutally to lay it all before his cousin and taunt her +with a crouching ghost buried for years in a candlestick. + +Then there were nights like to-night when the ghastly hell-pit was +covered, and when to tell her squarely what the future held, without +taunt or apology, stirred him on to ardent resolution. + +But alas! the last was but an intermittent witch-fire leading him +through the marsh after the elusive ghosts of finer things, to flicker +forlornly out at the end and abandon him in a pit of blackness and +mockery. + +Very well, then; he would tell Diane of the yellowed paper; he would +tell her to-night. However he played the game there was gold at the +end. + +He laughed suddenly and shrugged and swept erratically into a lighter +mood of impudence and daring. There was rain beating furiously in his +face and his hair was wet. Well, the car pounding along beneath him +had known many such nights of storm and wild adventure. It had pleased +him frequently to mock and gibe at death, with the wheel in his hand +and a song on his lips, and now wind and storm were tempting him to +ride with the devil. + +So, dashing wildly through the whirl of dirt and wind, heavy with the +odor of burnt oil, he bent to the wheel, every nerve alert and leaping. +As the great car jumped to its limit of speed, he fell to singing an +elaborate sketch of opera in an insolent, dare-devil voice of splendid +timbre, the exhaust, unmuffled, pounding forth an obligato. + +The lightning flared. It glittered wickedly upon the unlighted lamps +of a car rolling rapidly toward him. With a squirt of mud and a +scatter of flying pebbles, Carl swung far to the side of the road and +slammed on his brakes, skidding dangerously. The other car, heading +wildly to the left, went crashing headlong into a ditch from which a +man crawled, cursing viciously in a foreign tongue. + +"You damned fool!" thundered Carl in a flash of temper. "Where are +your lights?" + +The man did not reply. + +Carl, whose normal instincts were friendly, sprang solicitously from +the car. + +"I beg your pardon," said he carelessly. "Are you hurt?" + +"No," said the other curtly. + +"French," decided Carl, marking the European intonation. "Badly shaken +up, poor devil!--and not sure of his English. That accounts for his +peculiar silence. Monsieur," said he civilly in French. "I am not +prepared to deliver a homily upon wild driving, but it's well to drive +with lights when roads are dark and storm abroad." + +"I have driven so few times," said the other coldly in excellent +English, "and the storm and erratic manner of your approach were +disquieting." + +"_Touche_!" admitted Carl indifferently. "You have me there. Your +choice of a practice night, however," he added dryly, "was unique, to +say the least." + +He crossed the road, frowned curiously down at the wrecked machine and +struck a match. + +"_Voila_!" he exclaimed, staring aghast at the bent and splintered +mass, "_c'est magnifique, Monsieur_!'" + +A sheet of flame shot suddenly from the match downward and wrapped the +wreck in fire. Conscious now of the fumes of leaking gasoline, Carl +leaped back. + +"Monsieur," said he ruefully, and turned. The reflection of the +burning oil revealed Monsieur some feet away, running rapidly. Angered +by the man's unaccountable indifference, Carl leaped after him. He was +much the better runner of the two and presently swung his prisoner +about in a brutal grip and marched him savagely back to the blazing +car. Again there was an indefinable peculiarity about the manner of +the man's surrender. + +"It is conventional, Monsieur," said Carl evenly, "to betray interest +and concern in the wreck of one's property. _Voila_! I have +effectively completed what you had begun. If I am not indifferent, +surely one may with reason look for a glimmer of concern from you." + +Shrugging, the man stared sullenly at the car, a hopeless torch now +suffusing the lonely road with light. There was a certain suggestion +of racial subtlety in the careful immobility of his face, but his dark, +inscrutable eyes were blazing dangerously. + +Carl's careless air of interest altered indefinably. Inspecting his +chafing prisoner now with narrowed, speculative eyes which glinted +keenly, he fell presently to whistling softly, laughed and with +tantalizing abruptness fell silent again. Immobile and subtle now as +his silent companion, he stared curiously at the other's fastidiously +pointed beard, at the dark eyes and tightly compressed lips, and +impudently proffered his cigarettes. They were impatiently declined. + +"Monsieur is pleased," said Carl easily, "to reveal many marked +peculiarities of manner, owing to the unbalancing fact, I take it, that +his mind is relentlessly pursuing one channel. Monsieur," went on +Carl, lazily lighting his own cigarette and staring into his +companion's face with a look of level-eyed interest, "Monsieur has been +praying ardently for--opportunities, is it not so? 'I will humor this +mad fool who motors about in the rain like an operatic comet!' says +Monsieur inwardly, 'for I am, of course, a stranger to him. Then, +without arousing undue interest, I may presently escape into the storm +whence I came--er--driving atrociously.'" + +The man stared. + +"Monsieur," purred Carl audaciously, "is doubtless more interested +in--let us say--camp fires for instance, than such a vulgar blaze as +yonder car." + +"One is powerless," returned the other haughtily, "to answer riddles." + +Carl bowed with curiously graceful insolence. + +"As if one could even hope to break such splendid nerve as that!" he +murmured appreciatively. "It is an impassiveness that comes only with +training. Monsieur," he added imperturbably, "I have had the +pleasure--of seeing you before." + +"It is possible!" shrugged the other politely. + +"Under strikingly different conditions!" pursued Carl reminiscently. +There was a disappointing lack of interest in the other's face. + +"Even that is possible," assented the foreigner stiffly, "Environment +is a shifting circumstance of many colors. The honor of your +acquaintance, however, I fear is not mine." + +Carl's eyes, dark and cold as agate, compelled attention. + +"My name," said he deliberately, "is Granberry, Carl Westfall +Granberry." + +The brief interval of silence was electric. + +"It is a pity," said the other formally, "that the name is unfamiliar. +Monsieur Granberi, the storm increases. My ill-fated car, I take it, +requires no further attention." He stopped short, staring with +peculiar intentness at the road beyond. In the faint sputtering glow +of the embers by the wayside his face looked white and strained. + +A slight smile dangerously edged the American's lips. With a careless +feint of glancing over his shoulder, he tightened every muscle and +leaped ahead. The violent impact of his body bore his victim, cursing, +to the ground. + +"Ah!" said Carl wresting a revolver from the other's hand, "I thought +so! My friend, when you try a trick like that again, guard your hands +before you fall to staring. A fool might have turned--and been shot in +the back for his pains, eh? Monsieur," he murmured softly, pinioning +the other with his weight and smiling insolently, "we've a long ride +ahead of us. Privacy, I think, is essential to the perfect adjustment +of our future relations. There are one or two inexplicable features--" + +The eyes of the other met his with a level glance of desperate +hostility. + +With an undisciplined flash of temper, Carl brutally clubbed his +assailant into insensibility with the revolver butt and dragged him +heavily to the tonneau of his car, throbbing unheeded in the darkness. +Having assured himself of his guest's continued docility by the +sinister adjustment of a handkerchief, an indifferent rag or so from +the repair kit and a dirty rope, he covered the motionless figure +carelessly with a robe and sprang to the wheel, whistling softly. With +a throb, the great car leaped, humming, to the road. + +At midnight the lights of Harlem lay ahead. The ride from the hills, +three hours of storm and squirting gravel, had been made with the +persistent whir and drone of a speeding engine. But once had it rested +black and silent in a lonely road of dripping trees, while the driver +hurried into a roadside tavern and telephoned. + +Now, with a purring sigh as a bridge loomed ahead, the car slackened +and stopped. Carl slowly lighted a cigarette. At the end of the +bridge a straggler struck a match and flung it lightly in the river, +the disc of his cigar a fire-point in the shadows. + +The car rolled on again and halted. + +A stocky young man behind the fire-point emerged from the darkness and +climbed briskly into the tonneau. + +"Hello, Hunch," said Carl. + +"'Lo!" said Hunch and stared intently at the robe. + +"Take a look at him," invited Carl carelessly. "It's not often you +have an opportunity of riding with one of his brand. He's in the +_Almanach de Gotha_." + +"T'ell yuh say!" said Hunch largely, though the term had conveyed no +impression whatever to his democratic mind. + +Cautiously raising the robe Hunch Dorrigan stared with interest at the +prisoner he was inconspicuously to assist into the empty town house of +the Westfalls. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN THE CAMP OF THE GYPSY LADY + +From a garish dream of startling unpleasantness, Philip Poynter stirred +and opened his eyes. + +"Well, now," he mused uncomfortably, "this is more like it! This is +the sort of dream to have! I wonder I never had sufficient wit to +carve out one like this before. Birds and trees and wind fussing +pleasantly around a fellow's bed--and by George! those birds are making +coffee!" + +There was a cheerful sound of flapping canvas and vanishing glimpses of +a woodland shot with sun-gold, of a camp fire and a pair of dogs +romping boisterously. Moreover, though his bed was barely an inch from +the ground to which it was staked over a couple of poles, it was +exceedingly springy and comfortable. Not yet thoroughly awake, Philip +put out an exploring hand. + +"Flexible willow shoots!" said he drowsily, "and a rush mat! Oberon +had nothing on me. Hello!" A dog romped joyfully through the flapping +canvas and barked. Philip's dream boat docked with a painful thud of +memory. Wincing painfully he sat up. + +"Easy, old top!" he advised ruefully, as the dog bounded against him. +"It would seem that we're an invalid with an infernal bump on the back +of our head and a bandaged shoulder." He peered curiously through the +tent flap and whistled softly. "By George, Nero," he added under his +breath, "we're in the camp of my beautiful gypsy lady!" + +There was a bucket of water by the tent flap. Philip painfully made a +meager toilet, glanced doubtfully at the coarse cotton garment which by +one of the mystifying events of the previous night had replaced the +silk shirt he had worn from Sherrill's, and emerged from the tent. + +It was early morning. A fresh fire was crackling merrily about a pot +of coffee. Beyond through the trees a river of swollen amber laughed +in the morning sunlight under a cloudless sky. The ridge of a distant +woodland was deeply golden, the rolling meadow lands of clover beyond +the river bright with iridescent dew. But the storm had left its trail +of broken rush and grasses and the heavy boughs of the woodland dripped +forgotten rain. + +A girl presently emerged from the trees by the river and swung lightly +up the forest path, her scarlet sweater a vivid patch in the lesser +life and color all about her. + +[Illustration: Diane swung lightly up the forest path.] + +"Surely," she exclaimed, meeting Philip's glance with one of frank and +very pleasant concern, "surely you must be very weak! Why not stay in +bed and let Johnny bring your breakfast to you?" + +"Lord, no!" protested Philip, reddening. "I feel ever so much better +than I look." + +"I'm glad of that," said Diane, smiling. "You lost a lot of blood and +bumped your head dreadfully on a jagged rock. Would you mind," her +wonderful black eyes met his in a glance of frank inquiry, "would you +mind--explaining? There was so much excitement and storm last night +that we haven't the slightest notion what happened." + +"Neither have I!" exclaimed Philip ruefully. + +The girl's eyes widened. + +"How very singular!" she said. + +"It is indeed!" admitted Philip. + +"You must be an exceedingly hapless young man!" she commented with +serious disapproval. "I imagine your life must be a monotonous round +of disaster and excitement!" + +"Fortuitously," owned Philip, "it's improving!" + +Piqued by his irresistible good humor in adversity, Diane eyed him +severely. + +"Are you so in the habit of being mysteriously stabbed in the shoulder +whenever it storms," she demanded with mild sarcasm, "that you can +retain an altogether pernicious good humor?" + +Philip's eyes glinted oddly. + +"I'm a mere novice," he admitted lightly. "If my shoulder didn't throb +so infernally," he added thoughtfully, "I'd lose all faith in the +escapade--it's so weird and mysterious. A crackle--a lunge--a knife in +the dark--and behold! I am here, exceedingly grateful and hungry +despite the melodrama." + +To which Diane, raising beautifully arched and wondering eyebrows, did +not reply. Philip, furtively marking the firm brown throat above the +scarlet sweater, and the vivid gypsy color beneath the laughing dusk of +Diane's eyes, devoutly thanked his lucky star that Fate had seen fit to +curb the air of delicate hostility with which she had left him on the +Westfall lake. Well, Emerson was right, decided Philip. There is an +inevitable law of compensation. Even a knife in the dark has +compensations. + +"Johnny," said Diane presently, briskly disinterring some baked +potatoes and a baked fish from a cairn of hot stones covered with +grass, "is off examining last night's trail of melodrama. He's greatly +excited. Let me pour you some coffee. I sincerely hope you're not too +fastidious for tin cups?" + +"A tin cup," said Philip with engaging candor, "has always been a +secret ambition of mine. I once acquired one at somebody's spring +hut--er--circumstances compelled me to relinquish it. It was really a +very nice cup too and very new and shiny. Since then, until now, my +life, alas! has been tin-cupless." + +Diane carved the smoking fish in ominous silence. + +"Do you know," she said at length, "I've felt once or twice that your +anecdotes are too apt and--er--sparkling to be overburdened with truth. +Your mechanician, for instance--" + +Philip laughed and reddened. The mechanician, as a desperate means of +prolonging conversation, had served his purpose somewhat disastrously. + +"Hum!" said he lamely. + +"I shan't forget that mechanician!" said Diane decidedly. + +"This now," vowed Philip uncomfortably, "is a _real_ fish!" + +Diane laughed, a soft clear laugh that to Philip's prejudiced ears had +more of music in it than the murmur of the river or the clear, sweet +piping of the woodland birds. + +"It is," she agreed readily. "Johnny caught him in the river and I +cooked him." + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Philip, inspecting the morsel on his wooden +plate with altered interest, "you don't--you can't mean it!" + +"Why not?" inquired Diane with lifted eyebrows. + +Philip didn't know and said so, but he glanced furtively at the girl by +the fire and marveled. + +"Well," he said a little later with a sigh of utter content, "this is +Arcadia, isn't it!" + +"It's a beautiful spot!" nodded Diane happily, glancing at the scarlet +tendrils of a wild grapevine flaming vividly in the sunlight among the +trees. There was yellow star grass along the forest path, she said +absently, and yonder by the stump of a dead tree a patch of star moss +woven of myriad emerald shoots; the delicate splashes of purple here +and there in the forest carpet were wild geranium. + +"There are alders by the river," mused Diane with shining eyes, "and +marsh marigolds; over there by a swampy hollow are a million violets, +white and purple; and the ridge is thick with mountain laurel. More +coffee?" + +"Yes," said Philip. "It's delicious. I wonder," he added humbly, "if +you'd peel this potato for me. A one cylinder activity is not a +conspicuous success." + +"I should have remembered your arm," said Diane quickly. "Does it pain +much?" + +"A little," admitted Philip. "Do you know," he added guilelessly, +"this is a spot for singularly vivid dreams. Last night, for instance, +exceedingly gentle and skillful hands slit my shirt sleeve with a pair +of scissors and bathed my shoulder with something that stung +abominably, and somehow I fancied I was laid up in a hospital and +didn't have to fuss in the least, for my earthly affairs were in the +hands of a nurse who was very deft and businesslike and beautiful. I +could seem to hear her giving orders in a cool, matter-of-fact way, and +once I thought there was some slight objection to leaving her +alone--and she stamped her foot. Odd, wasn't it?" + +"Must have been the doctor," said Diane, rising and adding wood to the +fire. "Johnny went into the village for him." + +"Hum!" said Philip doubtfully. + +"He had very nice hands," went on Diane calmly. "They were very +skillful and gentle, as you say. Moreover, he was young and +exceedingly good-looking." + +"Hum!" said Philip caustically. "With all those beauty points, he must +be a dub medically. What stung so?" + +"Strong salt brine, piping hot," said the girl discouragingly. "It's a +wildwood remedy for washing wounds." + +"Didn't the dub carry any conventional antiseptics?" + +"You are talking too much!" flashed Diane with sudden color. "The +wound is slight, but you bled a lot; and the doctor made particular +reference to rest and quiet." + +"Good Lord!" said Philip in deep disgust. "There's your pretty +physician for you! 'Rest and quiet' for a knife scratch. Like as not +he'll want me to take a year off to convalesce!" + +"He left you another powder to take to-night," remarked Diane severely. +"Moreover, he said you must be very quiet to-day and he'd be in, in the +morning, to see you." + +Something jubilant laughed and sang in Philip's veins. A day in +Arcadia lay temptingly at his feet. + +"Great Scott," he protested feebly. "I can't. I really can't, you +know--" + +"You'll have to," said Diane with unsmiling composure. "The doctor +said so." + +"After all," mused Philip approvingly, "it's the young medical fellows +who have the finest perceptions. I _do_ need rest." + +Off in the checkered shadows of the forest a crow cawed derisively. + +"Did you like your shirt?" asked Diane with a distracting hint of +raillery under her long, black lashes. + +"It's substantial," admitted Philip gratefully, "and democratic." + +"You've still another," she said smiling. "Johnny bought them in the +village." + +"Johnny," said Philip gratefully, "is a trump." + +Diane filled a kettle from a pail of water by the tree and smiled. + +"There's a hammock over there by the tent," she said pleasantly. +"Johnny strung it up this morning. The trees are drying nicely and +presently I'm going to wander about the forest with a field glass and a +notebook and you can take a nap." + +Philip demurred. Finding his assistance inexorably refused, however, +he repaired to the hammock and watched the camp of his lady grow neat +and trim again. + +On the bright embers of the camp fire, the kettle hummed. + +"There now," said Philip suddenly, mindful of the hot, stinging +wound-wash, "that is the noise I heard last night just after you +stamped your foot and _before_ the doctor came." + +"Nonsense!" said Diane briskly. "Your head's full of fanciful +notions. A bump like that on the back of your head is bound to tamper +some with your common sense." And humming lightly she scalded the +coffeepot and tin cups and set them in the sun to dry. Philip's glance +followed her, a winsome gypsy, brown and happy, to the green and white +van, whence she presently appeared with a field glass and a notebook. + +"Of course," she began, halting suddenly with heightened color, "it +doesn't matter in the least--but it does facilitate conversation at +times to know the name of one's guest--no matter how accidental and +mysterious he may be." + +"Philip!" he responded gravely but with laughing eyes. "It's really +very easy to remember." Diane stamped her foot. + +"I _do_ think," she flashed indignantly, "that you are the most trying +young man I've ever met." + +"I'm trying of course--" explained Philip, "trying to tell you my name. +I greatly regret," he went on deferentially, "that there are a number +of exceptional circumstances which have resulted in the brief and +simple--Philip. For one thing, a bump which muddles a man's common +sense is very likely to muddle his memory. And so, for the life of me, +I can't seem to conjure up a desirable form of address from you to me +except Philip. And Philip," he added humbly, "isn't really such a bad +sort of name after all." + +There was the whir and flash of a bird's wing in the forest the color +of Diane's cheek. An instant later the single vivid spot of crimson in +Philip's line of vision was the back of his lady's sweater. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A BULLET IN ARCADIA + +"It's time you were in bed," said Diane. "Johnny's out staring at the +moon and that's the final chore of the evening. Besides, it's nine +o'clock." + +"I shan't go to bed," Philip protested. "Johnny spread this tarpaulin +by the fire expressly for me to recline here and think and smoke and +b'jinks! I'm going to! After buying me two shirts yesterday and +tobacco to-day--to say nothing of bringing home an unknown chicken for +invalid stew, I can't with decency offend him." + +"I can't see why he's taken such a tremendous shine to you!" complained +Diane mockingly. + +"Nor I!" agreed Philip, knocking the ashes from his pipe. + +"You've been filling his pockets with money!" accused Diane +indignantly. "It's the only explanation of the demented way he trots +around after you." + +"Disposition, beauty, singular grace and common sense all pale in the +face of the ulterior motive," Philip modestly told his pipe. "What a +moon!" he added softly. "Great guns, what a moon!" + +Beyond, through the dark of the trees, softly silvered by the moon +above the ridge, glimmered the river, winding along by peaceful forest +and meadows edged with grass and mint. There was moon-bright dew upon +the clover and high upon the ridge a tree showed dark and full against +the moon in lonely silhouette. It was an enchanted wood of moonlit +depth and noisy quiet, of shrilling crickets, the plaintive cries of +tree frogs, the drowsy crackle of the camp fire, or the lap of water by +the shore, with sometimes the lonely hoot of an owl. + +"A while back," mused Diane innocently, "there was a shooting star +above the ridge--" + +"Yes?" said Philip puffing comfortably at his pipe. + +"I meant to call your attention to it but 'Hey!' and 'Look!' were +dreadfully abrupt." + +"There is always--'Philip!'" insinuated that young man. Diane bit her +lip and relapsed into silence. + +"You didn't tell me," said Philip presently, "whether or not you found +any more flowers this morning." + +"Only heaps of wild blackberry," Diane replied briefly. "But the trees +were quite as devoid of new birds as Johnny's detective trip of clues." + +"Too bad!" sympathized Philip. "I'll go with you in the morning." + +"The bump on your head," suggested Diane pointedly, "is growing +malignant!" + +"By no means!" said Philip lazily. "With the exception of certain +memory erasures, it's steadily improving." + +"Why," demanded Diane with an unexpected and somewhat resentful flash +of reminiscence, "why did you tell me your motor was deaf and dumb and +insane when it wasn't?" + +"I didn't," said Philip honestly. "If you'll recall our conversation, +you'll find I worded that very adroitly." + +Thoroughly vexed Diane frowned at the fire. + +"Was it necessary to affect callow inexperience and such a +happy-go-lucky, imbecile philosophy?" she demanded cuttingly. + +"Hum!" admitted Philip humbly. "I'm a salamander." + +"And you said you were waiting to be rescued!" she accused indignantly. + +Philip sighed. + +"Well, in a sense I was. I saw you coming through the trees--and there +are times when one must talk." He met her level glance of reproach +with one of frank apology. "If I see a man whose face I like, I speak +to him. Surely Nature does not flash that subtle sense of magnetism +for nothing. If I am to live fully, then must I infuse into my insular +existence the electric spark of sympathetic friendship. Why impoverish +my existence by a lost opportunity? If I had not alighted that day +upon the lake and waited for you to come through the trees--" he fell +suddenly quiet, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the ground beside +him. + +"The moon is climbing," said Diane irrelevantly, "and Johnny is waiting +to bandage your shoulder." + +"Let him wait," returned Philip imperturbably. "And no matter what I +do the moon will go on climbing." He lazily pointed the stem of his +pipe at a firelit tree. "What glints so oddly there," he wondered, +"when the fire leaps?" + +"It's the bullet," replied Diane absently and bit her lip with a quick +flush of annoyance. + +"What bullet?" said Philip with instant interest. "It's odd I hadn't +noticed it before." + +"Some one shot in the forest last night while Johnny was off chasing +your assailant. Likely the second man he saw cranking the car. It +struck the tree. Johnny and I made a compact not to speak of it and I +forgot. My aunt is fussy." + +"Where were you?" demanded Philip abruptly. + +"By the tree. It--it grazed my hair--" + +Philip's face grew suddenly as changeless as the white moonlight in the +forest. + +"Accidental knives and bullets in Arcadia!" said he at length. "It +jars a bit." + +"I do hope," said Diane with definite disapproval, "that you're not +going to fuss. I didn't. I was frightened of course, for at first I +thought it had been aimed straight at me--and I was quite alone--but +startling things do happen now and then, and if you can't explain them, +you might as well forget them. I hope I may count on your silence. If +my aunt gets wind of it, she'll conjure up a trail of accidental shots +to follow me from here to Florida and every time it storms, she'll like +as not hear ghost-bullets. She's like that." + +"Florida!" ejaculated Philip--and stared. + +"To be sure!" said Diane. "Why not? Must I alter my plans for +somebody's stray bullet?" + +Philip frowned uneasily. The instinctive protest germinating +irresistibly in his mind was too vague and formless for utterance. + +"I beg your pardon," he stammered. "But I fancied you were merely +camping around among the hills for the summer." + +The girl rose and moved off toward the van looming ghostlike through +the trees. + +"Good night--_Philip_!" she called lightly, her voice instinct with +delicate irony. + +Philip stirred. His voice was very gentle. + +"Thank you!" he said simply. + +Diane hastily climbed the steps at the rear of the van and disappeared. + +"I hate men," thought Diane with burning cheeks as she seated herself +upon the cot by the window and loosened the shining mass of her +straight black hair, "who ramble flippantly through a conversation and +turn suddenly serious when one least expects it." + +By the fire, burning lower as the moon climbed higher, Philip lay very +quiet. Somehow the moonlit stillness of the forest had altered +indefinably. Its depth and shadows jarred. Fair as it was, it had +harbored things sinister and evil. And who might say--there was peace +of course in the moon-silver rug of pine among the trees, in the +gossamer cobweb there among the bushes jeweled lightly in dew, in the +faint, sweet chirp of a drowsy bird above his head--but the moon-ray +which lingered in the heart of the wild geranium would presently +cascade through the trees to light the horrible thing of lead which had +menaced the life of his lady. + +Well, one more pipe and he would go to bed. Johnny must be tired of +waiting. Philip slipped his hand into his pocket and whistled. + +"So," said he softly, "the hieroglyphic cuff is gone! It's the first +I'd missed it." + +"Like as not it dropped out of my pocket when I fell last night," he +reflected a little later. "I'd better go to bed. I'm beginning to +fuss." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A WOODLAND GUEST + +There was gray beyond the flap of Philip's tent, a velvet stillness +rife with the melody of twittering birds. Already the camp fire was +crackling. Philip rose and dressed. + +Beyond, through the ghostly trees where the river glimmered in the gray +dawn with a pearly iridescence, a girl was fishing. There were deeper +shadows in the hollows but the sky behind the wooded ridge to the east +was softly opaline. As the river grew pink, mists rose and curled +upward and presently the glaring searchlight of the sun streamed +brilliantly across the river and the forest, flinging a banner of +shadow tracery over the wakening world. + +The girl by the river caught a fish, deftly strung it on a willow shoot +beside some others and bathed her hands in the river. Turning she +smiled and waved. Philip went to meet her. + +"Let me take your fish," he offered. + +"Your arm--" began Diane, + +"Pshaw!" insisted Philip. "It's ever so much better. I can even use +my hand." + +To prove it, Philip presently armed himself with a fork and developed +considerable helpful interest in a pan of fish. Whereupon a general +atmosphere of industry settled over the camp. Rex and Nero +acrobatically locked forepaws and rolled over and over in a clownish +excess of congeniality. Johnny trotted busily about feeding the +horses. Diane made the coffee, arousing the frank and guileless +interest of Mr. Poynter. + +The fish began to sizzle violently. Considerably aggrieved by a +variety of unexpected developments in the pan, Philip harpooned the +smoking segments with indignant vim, burned his fingers, made reckless +use of the wounded arm and regretfully resigned the task to Johnny who +furtively bestowed certain hot sable portions of the rescued fish upon +the dogs, thereby arousing a snarling commotion of intense surprise. + +"That's a wonderful bed of mine," commented Philip at breakfast. "Tell +me where in the world did you get your camp equipment?" + +"I made the bed myself," said Diane happily, "of red willow shoots from +the swamp, and I carved these forks and spoons out of wood Johnny +gathered." + +"I do wish I were clever!" grumbled Philip in acute discontent. "After +breakfast I'm going to whittle out a wildwood pipe and make a birch +canoe, and likely I'll weave a rush mat and a willow bed and carve some +spoons and forks and a sundial." + +"Will you be through by noon?" asked Diane politely. + +Philip laughed. + +"As a matter of fact," he said easily, "I'm going with you to lamp +birds. I want to duck that fool doctor." + +"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Diane with decision, "for I'm +going to stay in camp and bake bread." + +The bread was baking odorously and a variety of shavings flying +ambitiously from an embryo pipe by ten o'clock. At noon the doctor had +not yet arrived. Philip dexterously served a savory fish chowder from +a pot hanging within a tripod of saplings and refused to dwell upon the +thought of his eventual departure. + +A man appeared among the trees to the east, switching absently at the +underbrush with a cane. + +Philip sniffed. + +"I thought so," he nodded. "That medical dub carries a cane on his +professional rounds! Like as not he wears a flowing tie, a monocle and +pink socks." + +The man approached and raised his hat, smiling urbanely. It was Baron +Tregar. + +Philip leaped to his feet, reddening. + +"Excellency!" he stammered. + +"Pray be seated!" exclaimed the Baron with sympathy. "Such a +disturbing experience as you have had affords one privileges." + +"Permit me," said Philip uncomfortably to Diane, "to present my chief, +Baron Tregar. Excellency, Miss Westfall, to whom I am eternally +indebted." And Philip's eyes sparkled with laughter as he uttered her +name. + +There was an old world courtliness in the Baron's bow and murmured +salutation. + +"Ah," said he with gallant regret, "Fate, Miss Westfall, has never seen +fit to temper misfortune so pleasantly for me. Poynter, you have been +exceedingly fortunate." + +Diane laughed softly. It was hers to triumph now. + +"_Mr. Poynter_," she said with relish, flashing a sidelong glance at +that discomfited young man, "Mr. Poynter has been good enough to make +the chowder. It would gratify me exceedingly, Baron Tregar, to have +you test it." + +Heartily anathematizing his chief, who was gratefully expressing his +interest in chowder, Mr. Poynter stared perversely at his cuff. + +"I wonder," he reflected uneasily, "just what he wants and how in +thunder he knew!" + +The Baron, gracefully adapting himself to woodland exigencies, supplied +the answer. + +"Dr. Wingate," he boomed, "is at the Sherrill farm. Themar officiously +fancied he could fly and had a most distressing fall yesterday from the +smaller biplane." His deep, compelling eyes lingered upon Philip's +face. "Dr. Wingate spoke some of an unlucky young man marooned in a +forest with a knife wound in his shoulder--described him--and +behold!--my missing secretary is found after considerable bewilderment +and uneasiness on my part. Wingate will stop here later." + +Philip civilly expressed regret that he had not thought to dispatch +Johnny to the Sherrill farm with a message. + +"It is nothing!" shrugged Tregar smoothly. + +"One forgets under less mitigating causes." And, having begged the +details of Philip's adventure, he listened with careful attention. + +"It is exceedingly mysterious," he rumbled, after a frowning interval +of thought. "But surely one must feel much gratitude to you, Miss +Westfall. A night in the storm without attention and we have +complications." + +Over his coffee, which he sipped clear with the appreciation of an +epicure, the Baron, in his suave, inscrutable way, grew reminiscent. +He talked well, selecting, discarding, weighing his words with the +fastidious precision of a jeweler setting precious stones. Subtly the +talk drifted to Houdania. + +There was a mad king--Rodobald--upon the throne. Doubtless the Baron's +hostess had heard? No? Ah! So must the baffling twist of a man's +brain complicate the destiny of a kingdom. And Rodobald was hale at +sixty-five and mad as the hare of March. There had been much talk of +it. Singular, was it not? + +Followed a sparkling anecdote or so of court life and shrugging +reference to the jealous principality of Galituria that lay beyond in +the valley. To Galiturians the madness of King Rodobald was an +exquisite jest. + +Philip grew restless. + +"Confound him!" he mused resentfully. "One would think I had +deliberately contrived to linger here merely to give him a graceful +opportunity to accomplish his infernal errand himself. Thank Heaven +this lets me out!" He glanced furtively at Diane. The girl's interest +was wholesomely without constraint. + +"Great guns!" decided Philip fretfully. "I doubt if she's ever heard +of his toy kingdom before and yet he's probing her interest with every +atom of skill he can command." Puzzled and annoyed he fell quiet. + +"It is somewhat inaccessible--my country," Tregar was saying smoothly. +"One climbs the shaggy mountain by a winding road. You have climbed it +perhaps--touring?" + +"Excellency, no!" regretted Diane. "I fear it is quite unknown to me." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the patriotic Baron, "that is indeed unfortunate. For +it is well worth a visit." He turned to Philip. "You are pale and +quiet, Poynter," he added kindly. "A day or so more perhaps here where +it is quiet--" + +Philip flushed hotly, + +"Excellency!" he protested feebly. + +The Baron bowed courteously to Diane. + +"If I may crave still further hospitality and indulgence," he begged +regretfully. "There is already much excitement at the Sherrill place +owing to the officious act of my man, Themar, and his accident. +Another invalid--my secretary--one flounders in a dragnet of +unfortunate circumstances. And I am sensitive in the disturbance of my +host's guests--" + +Diane's eyes as they rested upon Philip were very kind. + +"Excellency," she said warmly, "Mr. Poynter's tent lies there among the +trees. I trust he will not hesitate to use it until he is strong +again. Fortunately we are equipped for emergency." + +The Baron bowed gratefully. + +"You are a young woman of exceeding common sense!" he said with deep +respect. + +Philip was very grateful that the Baron had not misunderstood; a breath +might shatter the idyllic crystal into atoms. + +Later, when the Baron had departed, Philip flushed suddenly at the ugly +suspicion rising wraithlike in his mind. He was accustomed to the +Baron's subtleties. + +"Mr. Poynter!" called Diane. + +Mr. Poynter perversely went on whittling out the hollow of his wildwood +pipe. + +"Mr. Poynter!" + +The bowl, already sufficient for a Titan's smoke, grew a trifle larger +and somewhat irregular. Carving had conceivably injured Mr. Poynter's +hearing, for he kept on whistling. + +"Philip!" said Diane and stamped her foot. + +"Yes?" replied Philip respectfully, and instantly discarded the Titan's +pipe to listen. + +"Why are you so quiet?" flashed Diane. + +"Well, for one thing," explained Philip cheerfully, "I'm mighty busy +and for another, I'm thinking." + +"Do you withdraw into a sound-proof shell when you think?" + +"Mr. Poynter does!" regretted Philip. "_I_ do not." + +"I do hope," said the girl demurely, "that you'll be able to hear when +the doctor gets here. He's coming through the trees." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BY THE BACKWATER POOL + +The sun had set with a primrose glory of reflection upon the river and +the ridge. Over there in the west now there was a pale after-glow of +marigold. It streamed across the dark, still waters of the backwater +pool by the river and faintly edged the drowsy petals of white and +yellow lilies. Already distant outline and perspective were hazy, +there was purple in the forest, and birds were winging swiftly to the +woods. + +By the pool with a great mass of dripping lilies at his side to carry +back to camp, Philip stared frowningly at the tangled float of foliage +at his feet. Somehow that ugly flash of suspicion had persisted. Why +had the Baron wished him to stay in the camp of Diane? . . . What was +the portent of his peculiar interest anyway? + +Philip sighed. + +"Do you know, Nero," he confided suddenly, patting the dog's shaggy +head, "my life is developing certain elements of intrigue and mystery +exceedingly offensive to my spread-eagle tastes. There's a knife and a +bullet now, Johnny's two men and the auto, and a cuff and a most +mysterious link between our lady and the Baron. I'll be hanged if I +like any of it. And why in thunder did Themar crib an aeroplane and +bump his fool head?" He fell suddenly thoughtful. + +"As for you, old top," he added presently, "you ought to go home. Dick +will be fussing." + +Nero waggled ambiguously. Philip nodded. + +"Right, old man," he admitted with sudden gravity. "I can always +depend upon you to set me right. It's nothing like so essential for +you to go as it is for me. You did right to mention it. I ought to +dig out--all the more because the Baron wants me to stay--but I've been +thinking a bit this afternoon and unusual problems demand unusual +solutions. You'll grant that?" Nero politely routed an excursive bug +from his path and lay down to listen. + +"Mr. Poynter!" called a voice from the darkling trees behind him. + +Mr. Poynter smiled and fell deliberately to filling the bowl of his +wildwood pipe. Gnarled and twisted and marvelously eccentric was this +wildwood pipe and therefore an object of undoubted interest. The bowl +had somehow eluded Philip's desperate effort to keep it of reasonable +dimensions and required a Gargantuan supply of tobacco. + +"Mr. Poynter!" + +"My Lord!" murmured Philip, staring ruefully into the pipe-bowl, "the +infernal thing is bottomless! Exit another can of tobacco. I'll have +to ask Johnny to buy me a barrel." And Philip flung the empty can into +the pool whence a frog leaped with a frightened croak. + +"Philip!" + +"Mademoiselle!" said Philip pleasantly. + +Darkly lovely, Diane's eyes met his with a glance of indignant +reproach. Somehow her lips were like a scarlet wound in the gypsy +brown skin and her cheeks were hot with color. + +"A wildwood elf of scarlet and brown!" thought Philip and hospitably +flicked away a twig or so with his handkerchief that she might sit down. + +"There's water plantain over there in the bog," he said lazily, "and +swamp honeysuckle. And see," he turned out his pockets, "swamp apples. +Queer, aren't they? Johnny says they're good to eat. The honeysuckle +was full of them." + +Diane bit daintily into the peculiar juicy pulp. + +"A man of your pernicious good humor," she said greatly provoked, "is a +menace to civilization. You sap all the wholesome fire of one's most +cherished resentment." + +"I know," admitted Philip humbly. "I'll be hanged yet." + +"I can't see what in the world you find so absorbing over here," she +commented with marked disapproval. "All the while I was getting supper +I watched you. And you merely smoked and flipped pebbles in the pool +and kept supper waiting." + +"You're wrong there," said Philip. "I've been thinking, too." + +"I'd like to know just why you've been thinking so deeply!" + +"Honest Injun?" + +"Honest Injun!" + +"Well," said Philip slowly, "I've been reviewing the possible mishaps +incident to a caravan trip to Florida." + +"Mishaps!" Diane studied him in frank displeasure. "Are you a fussy +pessimist?" + +"By no means. Merely--prudent." Philip's eyes narrowed thoughtfully +and he fell silent. + +The iris shadows beyond the river deepened. A firefly or so flickered +brightly above the fields of clover. In the soft clear twilight, +fragrant with the smell of clover and water lily and rimmed now by the +rising moon, Philip found his resolution of the afternoon difficult to +utter. The pool at his feet was a motionless mirror of summer stars. +Surely there could be nothing but peace in this tranquil world of tree +and grass and murmuring river. And yet-- + +"Do take that ridiculous pipe out of your mouth and say something!" +exclaimed Diane restlessly. "You look as if you were smoking a +pumpkin! Besides, the supper's all packed up in hot stones and grass +to keep it hot. Why moon so and shoot pebbles at the frogs?" + +"Well," said Philip abruptly, "do you mind if I say that your trip +seems a most imprudent venture?" + +"By no means!" replied Diane with maddening composure. "But it's only +fair to warn you that my aunt's already said all there is to say on the +subject. The horses may drop dead," she reviewed swiftly on her slim +brown fingers, "Johnny may fall heir to an apoplectic fit and fall on a +horse thereby inducing him to run away into a swamp and sink in +quicksand. I may be kidnapped and held for ransom in the wilds of +Connecticut and the van may burn up some night when I'm asleep in it. +Then I may eat poison berries in a fit of absent-mindedness, I may fall +into a river while I'm fishing, forget how to swim, and drown, Johnny +may gather amanitas and kill us both, and something or other may bite +me. There are one or two other little things like forest fires, floods +and brigands--" + +"Help!" murmured Philip. + +"Can you add anything to that?" demanded Diane politely. + +Philip laughed. Diane, delicately sarcastic, was irresistible. + +"There is the bullet--" he reminded gravely. + +"_Please_!" begged Diane faintly. + +Philip flushed with a sense of guilt. + +"Well," he owned, "I have bothered you a lot about it, that's a fact! +But it sticks so in my mind. There's something else--" + +"Yes?" said Diane discouragingly. + +"Didn't you tell me yesterday that you'd had a feeling some one had +been spying on your camp?" + +"Yes," said Diane in serious disapproval. "I did. I get seizures of +confidential lunacy once in a while. Are you going to fuss about that?" + +"No," said Philip gently. "But the knife and the bullet and that have +made me wonder--a lot. After all," he regretted sincerely, "my notions +are very vague and formless, but I feel so strongly about them +that--urging my friendship for Carl as my sole excuse for unasked +advice to his cousin--" + +"Yes?" + +Philip laid aside his pipe with a sigh. The crisp music of his lady's +voice was not encouraging. + +"I do hope you'll forgive me," he said quietly, "but I'm going to urge +you to abandon your trip to Florida!" + +"Mr. Poynter!" flashed Diane indignantly. "The bump on your head has +had a relapse. Better let Johnny go for the doctor again." + +"I know I'm infernally presumptuous," acknowledged Philip flushing, +"but I'm terribly in earnest." + +Diane's eyes, wide, black, rebuking, scanned his troubled face askance. + +"I ought to be exceedingly angry," she said slowly, "and if it wasn't +for the bump, like as not I would be--but I'm not." + +"I'm truly grateful," said Philip with a sigh of relief. And added to +himself, "Philip, old top, you're in for it." + +"Why," exclaimed Diane, "I've never been so happy in my life as I have +been here by this beautiful river!" + +"Nor I!" said Philip truthfully. + +Diane did not hear. + +"Every wild thing calls," she went on, impetuously. "It always has. +Fish--bird--wild flower--the smell of clover--the hum of bees--I can't +pretend to tell you what they all mean to me. Even as a youngster I +frightened my aunt half to death by running away to sleep in the +forest. I'm sorry I'll ever have to go back to civilization!" + +"And yet," insisted Philip inexorably, "to me it seems that you should +go back--to-morrow!" + +"I do seem to feel a stir of temper!" said Diane reflectively. "Maybe +I'd better go back and look at supper. You can come after you're +through pelting that frog." + +"There's still another reason," said Philip humbly, "which I can't tell +you. Indeed, I ought not mention it. I can only beg you to take it on +trust and believe that it's another forcible argument against your +trip. Somehow, everything in my mind weaves into a gigantic warning. +So disturbing is the notion," added Philip unquietly, "that--" + +"Yes?" queried Diane politely. + +"That after much thought, I have decided to stay here in camp until you +abandon your nomadic scheme and break camp for home. There'll come a +time, I'm sure, when you'll think as I do to get rid of me." + +Diane rose with suspicious mildness. + +"I'm hungry," she said, "and Johnny's yodeling." + +"Well," said Philip provokingly, "I don't believe I want any supper +after all. The atmosphere's too chilly." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +JOKAI OF VIENNA + +It was insolent music, a taunt in every note. Carl laid aside his +flute and inspected his prisoner with impudent interest. + +"You _are_ the most difficult person to entertain!" he accused softly. +"Here Hunch has strained a sinuous spine performing our beautiful +native dances, the tango and the hesitation, and I've fluted up all the +wind in the room and still you glower." + +"Monsieur," broke forth the prisoner, goaded beyond endurance by the +stifling heat and the stench of Hunch's pipe, "is it not enough to +imprison me here without reason, that you must taunt and gibe--" he +choked indignantly and stared desperately at the boarded windows. + +"Let your voice out, do!" encouraged Carl. "We dispensed with the +caretaker days ago, fearing you'd feel restricted." + +The other's face was livid. + +"Monsieur!" he cried imperiously, his eyes flashing. "Take care!" + +"I know," said Carl soothingly, "that you have deep, dark, sinister +possibilities within you--dear, yes! You tried something of the sort +on the Ridge Road. That's why your august head's so badly bruised. +But why aggravate your blood pressure now when it's so infernally hot +and you've work ahead. Hunch," he added carelessly to the admiring +henchman who had once dealt away successive slices of his inheritance, +"go get a pitcher of ice water and rustle up another siphon of seltzer +and some whiskey. Likely His Nibs and I will play chess again +to-night." + +Hunch rose from a chair by the window where he had flattened his single +good eye against a knot hole, and slouched heavily to the door. + +The face of the prisoner slowly whitened. Every muscle of his body +quivered suddenly in horrible revulsion. Nights of enforced +drunkenness had left his nerves strained to the breaking point. + +"Monsieur," he panted, greatly agitated, "the whiskey--the thought of +it again to-night--is maddening." + +Carl merely raised ironical eyebrows. + +"You are not a man," choked the other, shaking. "You are a nameless +demon! Such hellish originality in the conception of evil, such +singular indignities as you have seen fit to inflict, they are the +freaks of a madman!" + +"Thank you," said Carl politely. "One likes to have one's little +ingenuities appreciated." + +"I--I am ill--and the room is stifling." + +"If I do not mind it," said Carl in aggrieved surprise, "why should +you?" + +"You are a thing of steel and infernal fire. I am but human." + +"There is a way to stop it all," reminded Carl, lazily relighting his +cigar. "Why not give me a logical reason for your presence in America?" + +"I have done so. Have I not said again and again that I am Sigimund +Jokai, of Vienna, touring in America?" + +"You have said so," agreed Carl imperturbably, "but you lie. There was +an empty chamber in your revolver, you were perilously close to my +cousin's camp. Why? Is it not better to tell me than foolishly to +waste such splendid nerve and grit as you possess?" + +The prisoner moistened his bloodless lips and shrugged. + +"Monsieur," he accused coldly, "you tinge commonplace incidents with +melodrama." + +"Days ago--er--Jokai of Vienna," went on Carl thoughtfully, "I +dispatched a formal communication to your country. Why has it been +ignored? Why did my first inkling of its effect come in the sight of +your face in suspicious territory? And why, Monsieur," purred Carl +softly, "did you seek to kill me by a trick?" + +"Monsieur, you delayed me. I am hot of temper--" + +"And kill whoever angers you? My dear Jokai, that's absurd. As for +your singular indifference to the burning car--that's easy. You'd +stolen it. But why?" + +He smiled slightly and picked up his flute. With infinite softness a +waltz danced lightly through the quiet room. To such a fanciful, eerie +piping might the ghost of a child have danced. Then without pause or +warning it swung dramatically into a stirring melody of power and +dignity. + +The wretched man by the table buried his face in his hands and groaned. + +"Ah!" said Carl softly. "So Monsieur has heard that tune before? That +in itself is illuminating." + +With a leer Hunch entered and deposited a tray upon the table. Carl +poured himself some whiskey and pushed the decanter toward his guest +with a significant glance. Jokai of Vienna poured and drank with a +shudder of nausea. + +"We've a new chessboard," said Carl. "It's most ingenious. Hunch +spent a large part of his valuable morning shopping for it. The board +and chessmen are metal and I myself have added one or two unique +improvements. Help yourself to some more whiskey--do." + +"Monsieur," faltered Jokai desperately, "I--I can not." + +"Hunch," said Carl softly. "His Nibs won't drink." + +Instantly from the wired metal points of Jokai's chair a stinging +electric current swept fiendishly through his body. Last night it had +goaded him unspeakably. To-night, with every tortured nerve leaping, +it was unbearable. Shaking, he poured again and drank--great drops of +sweat starting out upon his forehead. Where the rope bound his ankles +the flesh was aching dully. + +"Mercy!" he choked. "I--I can not bear it." + +"There is a way to stop it!" reminded Carl curtly. "The ivory chessmen +for me, Hunch. And whenever he refuses to drink--start the current." + +With the metal chessboard before him, Carl idly arranged his ivory men. +Jokai touched a metal pawn and shuddered violently. The metal board +was wired. Thenceforth every move in the game he must play with the +metal men would complete the circuit and send the biting needles +through his frame. It was delicately gauged, a nerve-racking +discomfort without definite pain, a thing to snap the dreadful tension +of a man's endurance at the end. + +"Ah! Monsieur!" cried Jokai wildly. "It is inconceivable--" + +"Play!" said Carl briefly. White and grim his guest obeyed. + +In terrible silence they played the game through to the end. + +"Let me pour you some more whiskey," insisted Carl with infernal +courtesy. "Let us understand each other. Whenever I drink, I expect +you to do the same. As for you, Hunch, you'll kindly stay sober!" + +Jokai gulped the nauseating torture to the end. He was faint and sick. +By the end of the third game, every move had become convulsive. The +insidious bite of the current was getting horribly on his nerves. +Still with desperate will he played on. Drunk and dizzy--his veins hot +and pounding, he stared in fascinated horror at the face of his +merciless opponent. Through the film of smoke it loomed vividly dark, +impudent, ironic, the mobile mouth edged satirically with a slight +smile. + +"Are you man or devil?" he whispered. + +Carl laughed. His hand, for all his drinking, was calm and steady, his +handsome eyes clear and cold and resolute. + +"Hunch," he said curtly, "if you touch that bottle again, I'll break it +over your head. You're drunk now." + +To Jokai his voice trailed off into curious nothingness. Somewhere he +knew in a room stifling hot and hazy with the fumes of vile tobacco +there was a voice, musical, detached and very far away. + +"Monsieur," it was saying, "there are still the questions." + +With shaking hand Jokai touched a metal king and screamed. The heat +and the hell-board hard upon his days and nights of enforced drinking +were too much. With a strangled sob, Jokai of Vienna pitched forward +upon the board unconscious. + +Carl swept the metal men away with a shrug. + +"Poor devil!" he said pityingly. "All this hell sooner than answer a +question or two. By to-morrow night, with another dose of the same +medicine, he'll feel differently. Likely I'll run up to Connecticut +to-night, Hunch, to see my aunt. I'll be back by noon to-morrow. Tear +off the window boards and give him some more air. You can move him to +another room in the morning." + +Hunch obeyed, and presently as the street door slammed behind his +chief, Hunch's single eye roved expectantly to the forgotten whiskey on +the table. Jokai lay in a motionless stupor by the window. It would +be morning before the hapless drinker would be quite himself again. +With brutal, powerful arms, Hunch bore his charge to an adjoining room +and consigned him disrespectfully to a bed. Then with a fresh bottle +of whiskey in his hand, he returned to the open window, leered +pleasantly at the dizzy glare of city lights beyond and henceforth +devoted himself to getting very drunk. Having gratified this bibulous +ambition to the uttermost, he fell asleep. The morning sunlight +flaming at last on his coarse, bloated face awoke him to resentful +consciousness. Glowering at the bright, warm light with his single +eye, Hunch rolled away into the shadow and went to sleep again. + +Below on the porch, with an outraged caretaker's letter in her hand +bag, Aunt Agatha turned her latchkey resolutely in the lock. + +"I just will not have it!" reflected Aunt Agatha defiantly. "I +certainly will not. And I'd have been here yesterday if Mary hadn't +insisted upon my spending the night with her. Well do I remember how +Carl installed himself here last year with a Japanese servant and +invited that good-looking Wherry boy to come and scratch the furniture. +I don't suppose Carl invited him for that purpose," added Aunt Agatha +fairly, "but he did it, anyway. I can't for the life of me see why it +is that young Mr. Wherry is perpetually making scratches where his feet +rest. And I'm sure he left his footprint on the piano and thundered +through every roll on the player, for they're all out of place, and the +Williston caretaker heard him, though like as not it was Carl for that +matter. He's a Westfall, and he'd do it if he felt like it, dear +knows! Though I must say Carl detests bangy music." + +Still rambling, Aunt Agatha, having fussed considerably over the +extraction of the key, halted in the hallway, appalled by the utter +loneliness of the darkened rooms. Beyond in the library a clock boomed +loudly through the quiet. Somewhere upstairs a dull, choking rasp +broke the soundless gloom. Aunt Agatha began to flutter nervously up +the stairway. + +"It's Carl of course!" she murmured in a panic. "I just know it is. +I've never known him to even gurgle--much less snore in his sleep. +Like as not his windows are still boarded up and he's suffocating. +Only a Westfall would think of such a thing." + +Puffing, Aunt Agatha halted at her nephew's door. That and the one +adjoining were locked. There was a den beyond. Making her way to a +door of which Hunch was ignorant. Aunt Agatha opened it and gasped. +Fully clothed, a man whose feet and hands were securely bound, lay +muttering upon the bed, his jargon incomprehensibly foreign. + +"God deliver us from all Westfalls!" wept Aunt Agatha. "Carl's +kidnapped an immigrant!" + +With unwavering determination in her round, aggrieved eyes, she swept +majestically to the bed and shook the sleeper severely. + +"My good man," she demanded, "what do you mean by lying here on a lace +spread with your feet tied and your head scarred?" + +Jokai of Vienna stirred and moaned. Aunt Agatha fumbled for her +smelling salts and administered a most heroic draft. Sputtering, Jokai +awoke from his restless stupor and stared. + +From the room adjoining came again the dull, choking rasp of Hunch's +heavy slumber. Fluttering hurriedly to the doorway, Aunt Agatha stared +in horror at the littered room and Hunch, the latter no reassuring +sight at his best, and thence with fascinated gaze at Jokai of Vienna. +With wild imploring eyes Jokai glanced at his hands and feet. +Miraculously Aunt Agatha understood. After an interval of petrified +indecision, during which she trembled violently and made inarticulate +noises in her throat, she fluttered excitedly from the room and +returned with a pair of scissors. Urged to noiseless activity by +Jokai's fear of the sleeper in the farther room, she cut the ropes +which bound him and led him stealthily to the hall below. + +"You poor thing!" whispered Aunt Agatha in hysterical sympathy. +"You're as pale as a ghost. I don't wonder--" + +But Jokai of Vienna was already bolting wildly through the street door +and down the steps. Aunt Agatha burst into aggrieved tears. + +"I don't in the least know what it's all about," she sniffed, greatly +frightened, "but what with the immigrant bolting out of the house in +his shirt sleeves without so much as a word of thanks--such a nice +distinguished fellow as he was, too, for all he smelt of liquor!--and +Carl nowhere in sight--and a fat young man, with a hairy chest exposed, +sleeping on a whiskey bottle and snoring like a prisoner file, it does +seem most mysterious--that's a fact! And my knees have folded up and I +can't budge. Mother's knees used to fold up this way, too. God bless +my soul!" wept the unfortunate lady. "I do wish I were dead." + +With a desperate effort Aunt Agatha unfolded her knees sufficiently to +bear her weight and turning, screamed wildly. Hunch Dorrigan was +stealing catlike down the stairs, his bloated vicious face leering +threateningly at her over the railing. + +"You old she-wolf!" roared that elegant young man. "Where's His Nibs?" + +Aunt Agatha moistened her dry lips and, gurgling fearfully, fainted. +When at length she became conscious again. Hunch, glowering fiercely, +was returning from a futile chase. With a resentful flash of brutality +he towered suddenly above her and began to curse. Aunt Agatha, +bristling, sat up. + +"Don't you dare speak to me like that after breathing vulgar liquor +fumes all over my niece's house and tying up that nice foreign +gentleman," she quavered weakly. "Don't you dare! I live in this +house, young man, and Carl will see to it that I'm protected. He +always has. He's very good to me." + +Hunch glowered sullenly at her, fearful, in the face of her +relationship to Carl, of committing still another unforgivable offense. + +"I once knew a stout young man with a glass eye," she gulped with +increasing courage, "and he was hanged by the neck until he was +dead--quite dead--and then they cut his body down and his relatives +took it away in a cart and on the way home it came to life--" + +Aunt Agatha halted abruptly, vaguely conscious that this somewhat +felicitous ending to the tragedy, as an object lesson to Hunch, left +much to be desired. + +"Leave the house!" she commanded with shrill magnificence, for all her +hair and dress were awry, and her round face flushed. "Leave the +house." + +Hunch shrugged and obeyed. It was nearly noon and there was no single +east-side acquaintance--no, not even Link Murphy, the terrible--whom he +feared as he feared Carl Granberry. + +Weeping, Aunt Agatha watched him go. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE YOUNG MAN OF THE SEA + +Diane was to learn that the infernal persistence of the Old Man of the +Sea of Arabian origin could find its match in youth. A week slipped +by. Philip wove an unsatisfactory mat of sedge upon a loom of cord and +stakes, whittled himself a knife and fork and spoon which he initialed +gorgeously with the dye of a boiled alder, invented a camp rake of +forked branches, made a broom of twigs, and sunk a candle in the floor +of his tent which he covered with a bottomless milk bottle. All in +all, he told Nero, he was evoluting rapidly into an excellent woodsman, +despite the peculiar appearance of the sedge mat. + +When Diane was honestly indignant, Philip was quiet and industrious, +and accomplished a great deal with his knife and bits of wood. When, +finding his cheerful good humor irresistible, she was forced to fly the +flag of truce, he was profoundly grateful. + +"When do you think you'll go?" demanded Diane pointedly one morning as +she deftly swung her line into the river. "Unless you contrive to get +stabbed again," she added doubtfully, "I really don't see what's +keeping you." + +"When I may help you break camp and escort you back to your aunt," +replied Philip pleasantly, "I'll pack up my two shirts and my wildwood +pipe and depart, exceedingly grateful for my stay in Arcadia." + +Diane bit her lip and frowned. + +"Suppose," she flashed, with angry scarlet in her cheeks, "suppose I +break camp and leave you behind!" + +"I'll go with you," shrugged Philip. "Don't you remember? I told you +so before. And I'll sit on the rear steps of the van all the way to +Florida and play a tin whistle." + +Appalled by the thought of the spectacular vagaries which this Young +Man of the Sea might develop if she took to the road, Diane said +nothing. + +"No matter how I view you," she indignantly exclaimed a little later, +"you're a problem." + +"Settle the problem," advised Philip. "It's simple enough." + +"He'll go presently," she told herself resentfully. "He'll have to." + +"How it amuses these fish to watch me murder worms!" exclaimed Philip +in deep disgust. "Look at the audience over there! I attract 'em and +you get 'em! Miss Westfall, are you a slave driver?" + +"What do you mean?" asked Diane cautiously. + +Philip's most innocent beginnings frequently led into argumentative +morasses for his opponent. + +"Does Johnny have complete freedom in your camp?" + +"Certainly!" exclaimed Diane warmly. "Johnny is old and faithful. He +may do as he pleases." + +Philip changed an angemic worm of considerable transparency for one of +more interest to his river audience and smiled. + +"Johnny," said he cheerfully, "has been good enough to invite me to +stay in camp with him indefinitely. I'm his guest, in fact, until you +go home. I imagine that as Johnny's guest I ought to enjoy immunity +from sarcastic shafts, but I may be mistaken. I've washed and drained +most of these worms. Will you lend me an inch or so of that stout +invertebrate climbing out of the can by you?" + +Thoroughly out of patience, Diane reeled in her line and returned to +camp, whence she presently heard Philip blithely whistling a +fisherman's hornpipe and urging Nero to retrieve certain sticks he had +thrown into the river. A little later he caught a sunfish and swung +into camp with such a smile of irresistible pride and good humor on his +sun-browned face, that Diane laughed in spite of herself. + +"How ridiculous it is!" she mused uncomfortably. "Here I may not +depart for fear a happy-go-lucky young man will play a tin whistle on +the steps of the van, and I will not go home. What in the world am I +to do with him? Are you an orphan?" she asked with guileful curiosity. + +"No," said Philip. + +"I'm sorry," said Diane maliciously. "For then I could take out papers +of adoption--" + +"I'll stay without them," promised Philip. And Diane added wood to the +fire with cheeks like the scarlet sunset. + +"I'm going to send for my aunt," she announced a few days later. + +"Yes?" said Philip. + +"Unconventionality of any sort shocks her dreadfully. Like as not +she'll faint dead away at the sight of you domiciled in my camp as if +you own it. She'll see that you go." + +"Better not," advised Philip. + +"Why?" + +"I'll produce credentials proving I'm a reputable victim of +circumstances. I'll suggest that in complete concurrence with her I +deem it unsafe for a young and attractive girl to tour about the +country--and that I do not feel that I can conscientiously depart. +Between the two of us you'll likely have a most uncomfortable hour or +so." + +Aunt Agatha was impressionable. It needed but a spark of concurrence +to arouse her dreadfully. Diane dismissed the project. + +"I think," she said hopefully, "that you'll most likely go to-night." + +"In any circumstances," said Philip easily, "I fear that would be +impossible. Johnny's behind with the laundry and I haven't a +collarable shirt." Whereupon he whistled for Nero and set off amiably +through the woods to gather an inaccessible flower he knew his lady +would prize. + +By nine that night Diane was asleep in the van. Philip, with whom she +had indignantly crossed swords a little earlier, lay thoughtfully by +the fire watching the snowy curtains of the van windows billowing +lazily in the warm night wind. He felt restless and perturbed and +presently sought his tent, where he lit the bottled candle to look for +the predecessor of his insatiable wildwood pipe, but halted suddenly +with a peculiar whistle. + +The silk shirt he had worn from Sherrill's lay conspicuously upon the +bed, washed and ironed and beautifully mended up the slashed sleeve and +along the shoulder. As a laundress of parts, Johnny was a jewel, but +he could not mend! + +Now oddly enough as Mr. Poynter stared at the shirt upon the bed, his +appearance was that of a young man decidedly out of sorts. Presently +with an ominous glint of temper in his fine eyes, he noiselessly +rearranged his tent, viciously donned the offending shirt, whistled for +Nero and leaving the camp of his lady as unexpectedly as he had entered +it, set out for Sherrill's. + +Even the most equable of tempers, it would seem, may now and then prove +crotchety. + +And who may say? Mr. Poynter was a young man of infinite resource. +And there were other ways. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN WHICH THE BARON PAYS + +"Excellency," said Philip politely, "I have returned." + +"Ah!" said the Baron cordially, marveling somewhat at the forbidding +glint in the young man's eyes. He was to learn presently its portent. + +Within doors, a few men chatted in the billiard room. A girl was +singing. The Baron, however, was the only occupant of the comfortable +porch-room with the green-shaded lamp, to which Philip had come, +passing Themar, who had left a tray of ice and _creme de menthe_ upon +the table. + +With his customary deliberation the Baron selected a glass, filled it +with shaved ice, which he as carefully covered with green _creme de +menthe_, and pushed the delectable result across the table to his +secretary. + +Philip accepted with a formal expression of thanks. + +"I am delighted," rumbled the Baron, sipping his iced mint with keen +appreciation, "to see that you are fully recovered." + +"And Themar?" inquired Philip coldly. + +"He was not injured so badly as I feared," admitted Tregar slowly. +"His accident," commented Philip quietly, "was to say the least +coincidental--and convenient." + +"Just what do you mean?" + +"Just why," begged Philip icily, "did you wish me to intrude further +upon the hospitality of Miss Westfall?" + +"There was an errand," reminded the Baron blandly. "Having discharged +it myself, Poynter, I might--er--trust to you to report its +consequences. There are possibilities of confidences over a camp +fire--" + +"You expected me to--spy upon Miss Westfall?" + +"Even so. + +"Pray believe," said Philip stiffly, "that any confidence of Miss +Westfall's would have been to me--as your own." + +"I am to understand then," commented His Excellency suavely, "that you +made absolutely no effort--" + +"You are to understand just that," said Philip quietly. "Moreover," he +manfully met his chief's level glance with one of inexorable decision, +"I sincerely regret that hereafter I shall be unable to discharge my +duties as your secretary." + +The Baron stirred. + +"I may be honored by your reasons, Poynter?" he inquired quietly. + +"The duties of a spy," flashed Philip, "are peculiarly offensive to me. +So is Themar." + +"Themar!" + +"Excellency," said Philip curtly, "to-night as I entered, the lamplight +fell full upon the face and throat of your valet." + +"Yes?" + +"Themar's throat, Excellency, bears peculiar scars." + +"My dear Poynter! Themar's fall injured him severely about the face +and hands." + +"I have not forgotten," insisted Philip grimly, "that Miss Westfall's +servant sunk his terrible fingers into the throat of the man whose +knife scar I bear. Whether or not his knife was meant for me, I can +not say. Nor have I sufficient proof openly to accuse him, but of this +much I am convinced. Themar's presence near the camp of Miss Westfall +is, in the face of your peculiar and secretive errand, ominously +significant." + +The Baron sighed. There was frank hostility in Philip's eyes. + +"Miss Westfall," added Philip hotly, "is the unsuspecting victim of a +peculiar network of mystery of which I feel you hold the key. Her camp +is constantly spied upon. Upon the night of the storm there were two +men lurking mysteriously in the forest near her camp fire. The knife +of one I was unfortunate enough to receive. The other," Philip's eyes +glinted oddly, "the other, Excellency," he finished slowly, "tried, I +firmly believe--to kill Miss Westfall." + +"Impossible!" exclaimed the Baron, greatly shocked. + +"If I might know the nature of your peculiar interest in Miss +Westfall," urged Philip bluntly, "I would have greater faith in your +apparent surprise." + +The Baron reddened. + +"That is quite impossible," he regretted formally. "Pray believe that +you have magnified its importance into exceedingly ludicrous +proportions. I fear I am obliged to dispense with your faith in my +integrity on the conditions you mention. Your resolution to leave +me--that is final?" + +"Entirely so." + +"I am sorry," said the Baron simply. And, meeting his chief's eyes, +Philip felt somewhat ashamed of one or two of his highly colored +suspicions and reddened uncomfortably. + +"It is at least--comforting," observed the Baron quietly, "to feel that +whatever I may have said in confidence to you will be honorably +forgotten." + +"Excellency," said Philip with spirit, "though I may not speak to Miss +Westfall of your interest or my suspicions, for reasons which need no +naming among gentlemen, it is but fair to warn you that henceforth I +shall regard myself as personally responsible for her safety." + +"Gallantly spoken!" declared the older man, and watched his secretary, +as he bowed and withdrew, with more regret than he had seen fit to +express. Then, lying back in his chair he listened with unsmiling +attention as Philip entered the billiard room with a laughing shot of +abuse for Dick Sherrill which aroused an immediate uproar of welcome. + +Watching the Baron's narrowed eyes, one might have wondered greatly. +For Baron Tregar looked very tired and grim. At length, having smoked +his cigar quite to the end, he went up to his room and summoned Themar. + +"Ah, Themar!" said he softly, and laughed with peculiar relish. + +Themar shifted restlessly. + +"Excellency," he began, uncomfortably aware of unpleasant mockery in +his chief's keen eyes. + +The Baron matched the tips of his powerful fingers and studied them +intently. + +"Themar," said he acidly, "within a fortnight I have lost a car whose +burned remains were found several miles from here, and a secretary +whose friendship and invaluable service I prize more highly than your +life. I feel that you can to some extent explain both of these +disasters." + +"Excellency knows," reminded Themar glibly, "that the car was stolen +from the Sherrill garage." + +"I have merely supposed so," corrected the Baron coldly. And rising he +inspected the curious scars upon his valet's throat with interest. +"Odd!" he purred, "that an aeroplane may simulate the marks of tearing +fingers." Swept by a sudden gust of terrible anger, he gripped +Themar's shoulders and shook him until the valet's face was dark with +fear. + +"Why," hissed the Baron, "did you lie? Why did you go to the Westfall +camp and attack Poynter? Why did you swear these scars came from a +disastrous flight in a stolen aeroplane? Why have you been spying upon +Miss Westfall when I expressly forbade it?" + +"Excellency," choked Themar, horrified by the Baron's unprecedented +display of passion, "there was a blunder--I dared not tell." + +"Who blundered?" thundered his chief. + +"I. Granberry, I thought, was to go to his cousin's camp," panted +Themar quaking. "I heard Sherrill telephone--later he told some men--" + +"You took the car--" prompted the Baron icily. + +"I--I did not know it was Poynter until he fell," urged Themar +trembling. "Granberry and he are similar in build." + +"Who attempted to kill Miss Westfall?" blazed the Baron, shaking his +valet into chattering subjection. + +"Excellency, I know not!" protested Themar swallowing painfully. +"There was still another man--he dashed ahead and stole the car." + +After all, reflected the Baron wryly, in this damnable muddle he must +still use Themar. To antagonize him now would be foolhardy. +Wherefore, with a civil expression of regret at his loss of temper and +certain curt instructions, he dismissed Themar, sullen and chastened, +and betook himself to an open window, where he sat smoking thoughtfully +until the house grew quiet and one by one the lights in the valley +faded out. In the web which had engulfed one by one, himself, Themar, +Granberry, Miss Westfall and Poynter, a murderous stranger was +floundering. Who and what he was, it behooved His Excellency to +discover. + +"It would seem," reflected the Baron with grim humor as he thought of +his car and his secretary, "that I am paying heavily for my part in a +task not greatly to my liking." + +In the adjoining room behind locked doors, Themar worked feverishly +upon a cipher inscribed upon a soiled linen cuff. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +NOMADS + +"Johnny!" said Diane in crisp, distinct tones, "Mr. Poynter has slept +long enough. You'd better call him." + +Now it is a regrettable fact that ordinarily this attack would have +provoked a reply of mild impudence from Mr. Poynter's tent, but this +morning a surprising silence lay behind the flapping canvas. Diane +began to hum. When presently investigation proved that Mr. Poynter's +tent was in exemplary order--that Mr. Poynter and his mended shirt were +missing--she went on humming--but to Johnny's amazement, burned her +fingers on the coffeepot; sharply reproved Johnny for staring, and then +curtly suggested that he prepare to break camp that morning, as it was +high time they were on the road. + +"As for Mr. Philip Poynter," reflected Diane with delicate disdain, as +she bent over the fire and rolled some baked potatoes away with a +stick, "what can one expect? Men are exceedingly peculiar and +inconsistent and impudent. I haven't the ghost of a doubt that he +found that ridiculous shirt and went off in a huff. And I'm very glad +he did--very glad indeed. I meant he should, though I didn't suppose +with his unconscionable nerve it would bother him in the least. If a +man's sufficiently erratic to blow a tin whistle all the way to +Florida--as Philip certainly is--and maroon himself on somebody else's +lake for fear he'd miss an acquaintance, he'd very likely fly into a +rage when one least expected it and go tramping off in the night. I do +dislike people who fall into huffs about nothing." + +Diane burned her fingers again, felt that the fire was unnecessarily +hot upon her face, and indignantly resigning the preparation of +breakfast to Johnny, went fishing. + +"He should have gone long ago," mused Diane, flinging her line with +considerable force into the river. "It's a great mercy as it is that +Aunt Agatha didn't appear and weep all over the camp about him. I'm +sorry I mended the shirt. Not but that I was fortunate to find +something that would make him go, but a shirt's such a childish thing +to fuss about. And, anyway, I preferred him to leave in a friendly, +conventional sort of way!" + +There are times, alas, when even fish are perverse! Thoroughly out of +patience, Diane presently unjointed her rod, emptied the can of worms +upon the bank, and returned to camp, where she found Johnny +industriously piling up a heap of litter. + +"What are you going to do with these?" demanded Diane, indicating an +eccentric woodland broom and a rake of forked twigs and twine. "Throw +them out?" + +Johnny nodded. + +"Well, I guess you're not!" sniffed Diane indignantly. "They're mighty +convenient. That rake is really clever." + +Johnny's round eyes showed his astonishment. He had heard his perverse +young mistress malign these inventions of Philip's most cruelly. + +Then what a woodland commotion arose after breakfast! What a cautious +stamping out of fire and razing of tents! What a startled flutter of +birds above and bugs below! What an excited barking on the part of +Rex, who after loafing industriously for a week or so, felt called upon +to sprint about and assist his mistress with a dirt-brown nose! What a +trampling of horses and a creaking of wheels as the great green wagon +wound slowly through the shadowy forest road and took to the open +highway with Rex at His mistress's feet haughtily inspecting the +wayside. + +And what a wayside, to be sure! Past fields of young rye from which a +lazy silver smoke seemed to rise and follow the wind-billowing grain; +past fields of dark red clover rife with the whir and clatter of mowing +machines as the farmers felled the velvety stalks for clover hay; past +snug white farmhouses where perfumed peonies drooped sleepily over +brick walks; on over a rustic bridge, skirting now a tiny village whose +church spire loomed above the trees; now following a road which lay +rough and deeply rutted, among golden fields of buttercups fringed with +bunch grass. + +Farmers waved and called; housewives looked and disapproved; children +stared and jealous canines pettishly barked at the haughty Rex; but +Johnny only chuckled and cracked his whip. Day by day the green and +white caravan rumbled serenely on, camping by night in field and forest. + +A country world of peace and sunshine--of droning bees and the nameless +fragrance of summer fields it was! And the struggling nomads of the +dusty road! Diane felt a kindred thrill of interest in each one of +them. Now a Syrian peddler woman, squat and swarthy, bending heavily +beneath her pack amid a flurry of dust from the sun-baked roads her +feet had wearily padded for days; now a sleepy negro on a load of hay, +an organ grinder with a chattering monkey or a clumsy bear, another +sleepy negro with another load of hay, and a picturesque minstrel with +an elaborate musical contrivance drawn by a horse. Now a capering +Italian with a bagpipe, who danced grotesquely to his own piping, and +piped the pennies out of rural pockets as if they had been so many +copper rats from Hamelin! + +Peddlers and tramps and agents, country drummers and country circuses, +medicine men who shouted the versatile merits of corn salve by the +light of flaring torches, eccentric orators of eccentric theology, +tent-shows of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," with real bloodhounds and unreal +painted ice, gypsies who were always expected to steal some one's +children and never did, peddlers with creaking, clinking wagons, +hucksters and motorcyclists, motorists and dusty hikers--one by one in +the days to come Diane was to meet them all and learn that the nomads +of the summer road were a happy-go-lucky guild of peculiar and +cooeperative good humor. + +But the girl herself was a truer nomad than many to whom with warm +friendliness she nodded and spoke. + +Late one afternoon Diane espied a woodland brook. Shot with gold and +shadow, it laughed along, under a waving canopy of green, freckled with +cool, clean pebbles and hiding roguishly now and then beneath a +trailing branch. A brook was a luxury. It was mirror and spring and +lullaby in one. + +By six the tents of the nomad were pitched by the forest brook and the +nomad herself was smoothing back her ruffled hair over a crystalline +mirror. + +A drowsy negro on a load of hay drove by on the road beyond. + +Diane studied him with critical interest. + +"Johnny," she said, "just why are there so many drowsy negroes about +driving loads of hay? Or is that the same one? And if it is, where +under Heaven has he been driving that hay for the last three days?" + +Johnny didn't know. Wherefore he pursed his lips and shook his head. + +The hay wagon turned on into the forest on the farther side of the road +and halted. The drowsy negro leisurely alighted and shuffled through +the trees until he stood before Diane with a square of birch bark in +his hand. Greatly astonished--for this negro was apparently too lazy +to talk when he deemed it unnecessary--Diane took the birch bark and +inspected it in mystification. A most amazing message was duly +inscribed thereon. + + +"Erastus has acquired a sinewy chicken from somebody's barn yard," it +read. "Why not bring your own plate, knife, fork, spoon and a good saw +over to my hay-camp and dine with me? + +"Philip." + + +Diane stared with rising color at the load of hay. From its ragged, +fragrant bed, a tall, lean young man with a burned skin, was rising and +lazily urging a nondescript yellow dog to do the same. The dog +conceivably demurred, for Philip removed him, yelping, by the simple +process of seizing him by the loose skin at the back of his neck and +dropping him overboard. Having brushed his clothes, the young man +came, with smiling composure, through the forest, the yellow dog +waggling at his heels. + +"I've read so much about breaking the news gently," apologized Philip, +smiling, "that I thought I'd better try a bit of it myself. Hence the +sylvan note. Ras, if you go to sleep by that tree, I'll like as not +let you sleep there until you die. Go back to camp and build a fire +and hollow out the feathered biped." + +Ras slouched obediently off toward the hay-camp. + +"You've hay in your ears!" exclaimed Diane, biting her lips. + +"I'm a nomad!" announced Philip calmly. "So's Erastus--so's Dick +Whittington here. I'm likely to have hay in my ears for months to +come. Dick Whittington," explained Philip, patting the dog, "is a +mustard-colored orphan I picked up a couple of days ago. He'd made a +vow to gyrate steadily in a whirlwind of dust after a hermit flea who +lived on the end of his tail, until somebody adopted him and--er--cut +off the grasping hermit. I fell for him, but, like Ras, a sleep bug +seems to have bitten him." + +"Most likely he unwinds in his sleep," suggested Diane politely. And +added, acidly, "Where are you going?' + +"Florida!" said Philip amiably. + +The girl stared at him with dark, accusing eyes. + +"The trip is really no safer now," reminded Philip steadily, "than it +was when I left camp." + +"In a huff!" flashed Diane disparagingly. + +"In a huff," admitted Philip and dismissed the dangerous topic with a +philosophic shrug. + +"I won't have you trailing after me on a hay-wagon!" exclaimed Diane in +honest indignation. + +"Hum! Just how," begged Philip, "does one go about effecting a +national ordinance to keep hay-carts off the highway?" + +As Philip betokened an immediate desire to name over certain rights +with which he was vested as a citizen of the United States, Diane was +more than willing to change the subject. Persistence was the keynote +of Mr. Poynter's existence. + +"Johnny," begged Philip, "get Miss Diane some chicken implements, will +you, old man? And lend me some salt. You see," he added easily to +Diane, "Ras and I are personally responsible for an individual and very +concentrated grub equipment. It saves a deal of fussing. I carry mine +in my pocket and Ras carries his in his hat, but he wears a roomier +tile than I do and never climbs out of it even when he sleeps. Thank +you, Johnny. I'll send Ras over with your supper. But if it seems to +be getting late, look him up. He may fall asleep." + +After repeated indignant refusals which Mr. Poynter characteristically +splintered, Diane, intensely curious, went with Mr. Poynter to the +hay-camp for supper. + +Now although the somnolent Ras had been shuffling drowsily about a +fresh fire with no apparent aim, he presently contrived to produce a +roasted chicken, fresh cucumbers, some caviare and rolls, coffee and +cheese and a small freezer of ice cream, all of which he appeared to +take at intervals from under the seat of the hay-cart. + +"Ice cream and caviare!" exclaimed the girl aghast. "That's treason." + +"I've my own notions of camping," admitted Philip, "and really our way +is exceedingly simple and comfortable. Ras loads up the seat pantry at +the nearest village and then we cast off all unnecessary ballast every +morning. Of course we couldn't very well camp twice in the same +place--we decorate so heavily--but that's a negligible factor. Oh, +yes," added Philip smiling, "we've blazed our trail with buns and +cheese for miles back. Ras thinks whole processions of birds and dogs +and tramps and chickens are already following us. If it's true, we'll +most likely eat some of 'em." + +"Where," demanded Diane hopelessly, "did you get this ridiculous +outfit?" + +"Well," explained Philip comfortably, "Ras was drowsing by Sherrill's +on a load of hay and I bought the cart and the hay and the horses and +Ras at a bargain and set out. Ras is a free lance without an +encumbrance on earth and I can't imagine a more comfortable manner of +getting about than stretched out full length on a load of hay. You can +always sleep when you feel like it. And every morning we peel the +bed--that is, we dispense with a layer of mattress and _presto_! I +have a fresh bed until the hay's gone. We bought a new load this +morning." + +Swept by an irresistible spasm of laughter, Diane stared wildly about +the hay-camp. + +"And Ras?" she begged faintly. + +"Well," said Philip slowly, "Ras is peculiarly gifted. He can sleep +anywhere. Sometimes he sleeps stretched out on the padded seat of the +wagon, and sometimes he sleeps under it--the wagon I mean; not in the +pantry. And then of course he sleeps all day while he's driving and +once or twice I've found him in a tree. I don't like him to do that," +he added with gravity, "for he's so full of hay I'm afraid the birds +will begin to make nests in his ears and pockets." + +"Mistah Poynteh," reflected Ras, scratching his head through his hat, +"is a lunatict. He gits notions. I cain't nohow understan' him but +s'long as he don' get ructious I'se gwine drive dat hay-cart to de Norf +Pole if he say de word. I hain't never had a real chanst to make my +fortune afore." + +"And what," begged Diane presently, "do you do when it rains?" + +Mr. Poynter agreed that that had been a problem. + +"But with our accustomed ingenuity," he added modestly, "we have solved +it. Back there in a village we induced a blacksmith with brains and +brawn to fit a tall iron frame around the wagon and if the sun's too +hot, or it showers, we shed some more hay and drape a tarpaulin or so +over the frame. It's an excellent arrangement. We can have side +curtains or not just as we choose. In certain wet circumstances, of +course, we'll most likely take to barns and inns and wood-houses and +corncribs and pick up the trail in the morning. You can't imagine," he +added, "how ready pedestrians are to tell us which way the green moving +van went." + +Whereupon the nomad of the hay-camp and his ruffled guest crossed +swords again over a pot of coffee, with inglorious defeat for Diane, +who departed for her own camp in a blaze of indignation. + +"I'll ignore him!" she decided in the morning as the green van took to +the road again. "It's the only way. And after a while he'll most +likely get tired and disgruntled and go home. He's subject to huffs +anyway. It's utterly useless to talk to him. He thrives on +opposition." + +Looking furtively back, she watched Mr. Poynter break camp. It was +very simple. Ras, yawning prodigiously, heaved a variety of +unnecessary provisions overboard from the seat pantry, abandoned the +ice-cream freezer to a desolate fate by the ashes of the camp fire and +peeled the hay-bed. Philip slipped a small tin plate, a collapsible +tin cup, a wooden knife, fork and spoon into his pocket. Ras put his +in his hat, which immediately took on a somewhat bloated appearance. +Having climbed languidly to the reins, the ridiculous negro appeared to +fall asleep immediately. Mr. Poynter, looking decidedly trim and +smiling, summoned Dick Whittington, climbed aboard and, whistling, +disappeared from view with uncommon grace and good humor. The +hay-wagon rumbled off. + +Diane bit her lips convulsively and looked at Johnny. Simultaneously +they broke into an immoderate fit of laughter. + +"Very well," decided the girl indignantly a little later, "if I can't +do anything else, I can lose him!" + +But even this was easier of utterance than accomplishment. Diane was +soon to learn that if the distance between them grew too great, Mr. +Poynter promptly unloaded all but a scant layer of hay, took the reins +himself, and thundered with expedition up the trail in quest of her, +with Dick Whittington barking furiously. It was much too spectacular a +performance for a daily diet. + +Diane presently ordered her going and coming as if the persistent +hay-gypsy on the road behind her did not exist, but every night she +caught the cheerful glimmer of his camp fire through the trees, and +frowned. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A NOMADIC MINSTREL + +Striking west into New York State, Diane had come into Orange County, +whence she wound slowly down into northern Jersey, through the Poconos. +For days now the dusty wanderers had followed the silver flash of the +Delaware, coming at length from a rugged, cooler country of mountain +and lake into a sunny valley cleft by the singing river. It was a +goodly land of peaceful villages tucked away mid age-old trees, of +garrulous, kindly folks and covered bridges, of long, lazy canals with +grassy banks banding each shore of the rippling river, of tow-paths +padded by the feet of bargemen and bell-hung mules and lock-tenders. + +At sunset one night Diane paid her toll at a Lilliputian house built +like an architectural barnacle on to the end of a covered bridge, and +with a rumble of boards wound slowly through the dusty, twilight tunnel +into Pennsylvania. A little later a drowsy negro passed through with a +load of hay, a barking dog and a mysterious voice, with a lazy drawl, +which directed the payment of the toll from among the hay. Still later +a musical nomad driving an angular horse from the seat of a ramshackle +cart, accoutered, among other orchestral devices, with clashing +cymbals, a drum and a handle which upon being turned a trifle by the +curious tollgate keeper aroused a fearful musical commotion in the cart. + +From her camp on a wooded spot by the river, Diane presently watched +the hay-camp anchor with maddening ease for the night. Ras built a +fire, unhitched the horses, produced a variety of things from the seat +of the pantry and took his table equipment from his hat. Philip +smoked, removed an occasional wisp of hay from his hair and shied +friendly pebbles at Richard Whittington. + +Diane was busy making coffee when the third nomad appeared with his +music machine, and, halting near her, alighted and fell stiffly to +turning the eventful crank. + +Instantly two terrible drumsticks descended and with globular +extremities thumped, by no visible agency, upon the drum. The cymbals +clashed--and a long music record began to unfold in segments like a +papier-mache snake. + +"Well," exclaimed Diane fervently, "I do wish he'd stop! For all we've +seen him so often he's never bothered us like this before." + +The unfortunate and frequently flagellated "Glowworm," however, +continued to glow fearfully, impelled to eruptive scintillation by the +crank, and the vocal lady "walked with Billy," and presently the +minstrel came through the trees with his hat in his hand, his dark eyes +very humble and deferential. + +Now as Diane nodded pleasantly and smiled and held forth a coin, the +wandering minstrel suddenly swayed, clapped his hand to his forehead +with a choking groan and pitched forward senseless upon the ground at +her feet. Diane jumped. + +"Johnny!" she exclaimed in keen alarm, "we've another invalid. Turn +him over!" But it was not Johnny who performed this service for the +unfortunate minstrel. It was Mr. Poynter. + +"Hum!" said Philip dryly. "That's most likely retribution. A man +can't unwind all that hullabaloo without feeling the strain. Water, +Johnny, and if you have some smelling salts handy, bring 'em along." + +After one or two vigorous attentions on the part of Mr. Poynter, the +nomad of the music machine opened his eyes and stared blankly about +him. That he was not yet quite himself, however, was readily apparent, +for meeting Mr. Poynter's unsmiling glance, he grew very white and +faint and begged for water. + +Philip supplied it without a word. After an interval of unsympathetic +silence, during which the minstrel's eyes roved uncertainly about the +camp and returned each time to Philip's face in a fascinated stare, he +feebly strove to rise but fell back groaning. + +"If--if I might stay here for but the night," he begged pathetically, +his accent slightly foreign. + +"That's impossible!" said Philip curtly. "I'll help you to your rumpus +machine and back there in the village you will find an inn. My man +will go with you." + +"Philip!" exclaimed Diane with spirit. "The man is ill." + +"I'm not denying it," averred Philip stubbornly. "Nor is there any +denying the existence of the inn." + +"How can you be so heartless!" + +"One may also be prudent." + +"He'll stay here of course if he wishes. The inn is a mile back." + +"Diane!" + +"Is he the first?" flashed Diane impetuously. + +Philip reddened but his eyes were sombre. The knife and the bullet had +engendered a certain cynicism. + +"As you will!" said he. And consigning to Johnny the care of the +invalid, who watched him depart with furtive relief, Philip strode off +through the woods. Hospitality, reflected Philip unquietly, was all +right in its place, but Diane was an extremist. After supper, +however--for Philip was inherently kind hearted and sympathetic--he +dispatched Ras to unhitch the minstrel's snorting steed and remove the +eccentric music machine from the highway. Johnny had already +accomplished both. + +Smoking, Philip stared at the firelit hollow where his lady's +fire-tinted tents glimmered spectrally through the trees. He was +relieved to see that the camp's unbidden guest lay comfortably upon his +own blankets by the fire. + +Somehow the minstrel's face, clean-shaven, strikingly brown of skin and +unmistakably foreign beneath the thatch of dark hair sparsely veined in +grey, lingered hauntingly in his memory. + +"Where in thunder have I seen him before?" wondered Philip restlessly. +"There's something about his eyes and forehead--on the road probably, +for of course I've passed him a number of times. Still--Lord!" added +Philip with a burst of impatience, "what a salamander I am, to be sure! +Whittington, old top, ever since I've known our gypsy lady, I've done +nothing but fuss." + +But, nevertheless, when Diane's camp finally settled into quiet for the +night, there was a watchful sentry in the forest who did not retire to +his bed of hay until Johnny was astir at daybreak. And Philip was to +find his bearings in a staggering flash of memory and know no peace for +many a day to come. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE ROMANCE OF MINSTRELSY + +"I am glad to see that you are better," said Diane pleasantly. + +The minstrel, who had bathed his hands and face in the river until they +were darkly ruddy, bowed with singular grace and ease. That he was +grave and courtly of manner and strikingly handsome to boot, Diane had +already noticed with a flash of wonder. + +"I owe you much," said he simply. "My life perhaps--" + +"I am sure," protested Diane, "that you greatly overrate my small +service." + +"Day by day," exclaimed the minstrel sombrely, "I travel the summer +roads in quest of health." + +Not a little interested, Diane raised frankly sympathetic eyes to his +in diffident question. + +"The music?" said the minstrel with his slow, grave smile. "Is there +not more romance and adventure in the life of a wandering minstrel than +in that of an idle seeker after health? In the open one finds +happiness, health, color and life!" + +Diane felt a sudden tie of sympathy link her subtly to this mysterious +nomad of the summer road. Simply and naturally she spoke of her own +love of the wild things that filled the sylvan world with life and +color. + +"You look much then at the wild flowers!" he exclaimed delightedly. +"There was a leaf back there on a mountain, the edge of white, a white +blossom in the heart like a patch of snow--" + +"Snow-on-the-mountain!" exclaimed Diane. "I've looked for it for days." + +"It shall be my ambition to bring you some," said the minstrel +gallantly. "I shall not forget." + +Diane glanced furtively at the picturesque attire which her nomadic +guest wore with a certain dashing grace, and marveled afresh. It was +of ragged corduroy with a brightly colored handkerchief about the +throat which foiled his vivid skin artistically. Indeed there was more +of sophistication in the careful blending of colors than even the +normal seeker after health might deem expedient for his purpose. + +"It is to few--to none indeed save you that I have confided the secret +of my minstrelsy," he said deferentially a little later. "Illness, +love of adventure, a longing to brush elbows with the world, a hunger +for the woodland--in the eyes of unromantic men these things are +weaknesses. You and I know differently, but nevertheless it is best +that I seem but a poor vagrant grinding forth a hapless tune for the +coppers by the wayside." + +The minstrel gazed idly at the hay-camp. + +"One does not quite understand," he suggested raising handsome eyebrows +in subtle disapproval; "the negro, the hay--the curious camp?" + +Diane recalled Philip's unfeeling attitude of the night before. + +"A happy-go-lucky young man with a taste for hay," she said. "I know +little of him." + +"One treasures one's confidence from the unsympathetic," ventured the +minstrel. "Now the young man of the hay, I take it, is intensely +practical and let us say--unromantic. Lest he laugh and scoff--" he +shrugged and glanced furtively at the girl's face. It was brightly +flushed and very lovely. The velvet dusk of Diane's eyes was sparkling +with the zest of woodland adventure. To repose a confidence in one so +spirited and beautiful was fascinating sport--and safe. + +Now the minstrel found as the morning waned that he was not so strong +as he had fancied. Wherefore he lay humbly by the fire and talked of +his fortunes by the roadside. Bits of philosophy, of sparkling jest, +of vivid description, to these Diane listened with parted lips and eyes +alive with wholesome interest as her guest contrived to veil himself in +a silken web of romance and mystery. + +It was sunset before the girl felt uncomfortably that he ought to go. +A little later, on her way to the van, she found a volume of Herodotus +in the original Greek which with a becoming air of guilt the minstrel +owned that he had dropped. + +"Ah, Herodotus!" he murmured, smiling. "After all, was he not the +wandering, romantic father of all of us who are nomads!" + +"I wonder," said a lazy voice among the trees, "I wonder now if old +Herodotus ever heard of a hay-camp." + +Removing a wisp of hay from his shoe with a certain matter-of-fact +grace characteristic of him, Mr. Poynter, who had been invisible all +day, arrived in the camp of the enemy. Diane saw with a fretful flash +of wonder that he was immaculate as usual. She saw too that the +minstrel was annoyed and that he dropped the volume of Herodotus into +his pocket with a flush and a frown. + +"I trust," said Philip politely, "that you are better?" + +Save for a slight dizziness, the minstrel said, he was. + +"And yet," urged Philip feelingly, "I'm sure you'll not take to the +road to-night, feeling wobbly. The inn back there in the village is +immensely attractive. And a bed is the place for a sick man." + +"He will remain where he is," flashed Diane perversely, "until he feels +quite able to go on." + +"Will you?" asked Philip pointedly. + +The minstrel rose weakly and glanced at Diane with profound gratitude. + +"After all," he said hurriedly, "he is doubtless right. Ill or not I +must go on." + +"An excellent notion!" approved Philip cordially. "I'll go with you." + +Now whether or not the hurry and excitement of rising in these somewhat +frictional circumstances brought on a recurrence of the nomad's +singular disease, Diane did not know, but certainly he staggered and +fell back, faint and moaning by the fire, thereby arousing an immediate +commotion. + +Philip grimly took his pulse and met Diane's sympathetic glance with +one of honest indignation. + +"Diane," he said in a low voice, "he is tricking you into sympathy +merely for the comfort of your camp. Twice now his fainting has been +attended by an absolutely normal pulse. Let Ras and Johnny carry him +back to his rumpus machine and I'll drive him to the inn." + +"You'll do nothing of the sort!" exclaimed the girl with flaming color. +"Why are you so suspicious?" + +Philip sighed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT THE GRAY OF DAWN + +It was very quiet in the wood by the river. A late moon swung its +golden censer above the water by invisible chains, marking checkered +aisles of light in the silent wood, burnishing elfin rosaries of dew, +touching with cool, white fingers of benediction the leaf-cowled heads +of stately trees. Like lines of solemn monks they stood listening +raptly to the deep, full chant of the moving river. The sylvan mass of +the night was a thing of infinite peace and mystery, of silence and +solemnity. + +Into the hush of the moonlit night came presently a jarring note, the +infernal racket of a motorcycle. Philip, a lone sentry by the camp of +his lady, stirred and frowned. The clatter ceased. Once again the lap +of the restless river and the rustle of trees were the only sounds in +the silent wood. Philip glanced at the muffled figure of the minstrel +asleep on the ground by the dead embers of the camp fire, and leaning +carelessly upon his elbow, fell again into the train of thought +disturbed by the clatter. + +"Herodotus!" said Philip. "Hum!" And roused to instant alertness by +the crackle of a twig in the forest, he glanced sharply roadwards where +the trees thinned. + +There was something moving stealthily along in the shadows. With +narrowed eyes the sentry noiselessly flattened himself upon the ground +and fell to watching. + +A stealthy crackle--and silence. A moving shadow--a halt! + +A patch of moonlight lay ahead. For an interval which to Philip seemed +unending, there was no sound or movement, then a figure glided swiftly +through the patch of moonlight and approached the camp. It was a man +in the garb of a motorcyclist. + +Noiselessly Philip shifted his position. The cyclist crept to the +shelter of a tree and halted. + +The moon now hung above the wood. Its light, showering softly through +the trees as the night wind swayed the branches, fell presently upon +the camp and the face of the cyclist. + +It was Themar. + +Now as Philip watched, Themar crouched suddenly and fell to staring at +the muffled figure by the camp fire. For an interval he crouched +motionless; then with infinite caution he moved to the right. A branch +swept his cap back from his forehead and Philip saw now that his face +was white and staring. + +And in that instant as he glanced at the horrified face of the +Houdanian, Philip knew. The stained skin, the smooth-shaven chin and +lip of the minstrel--if Themar had found them puzzling, the revealment +had come to him, as it had come to Philip, in a flash of bewilderment. + +With a bound, the startled American was on his feet, stealing rapidly +toward the man by the tree. To the spying, the mystery, the infernal +trickery and masquerading which dogged his lady's trail, Themar held +the key, wherefore-- + +Cursing, Philip forged ahead. The carpet of dry twigs beneath him had +betrayed his approach and Themar was running wildly through the forest. + +On and on they went, stumbling and flying through the moonlit wood to +the towpath. But Philip was much the better runner and soon caught the +fleeing cyclist by the collar with a grip of steel. + +"Poynter!" panted Themar, staring. + +"At your service!" Mr. Poynter assured him and politely begged instant +and accurate knowledge of a number of things, of a knife and a bullet, +of Themar's spying, of a cuff, of the man by the fire who read +Herodotus, of a motorcyclist seeking for days to overtake a nomad. + +"I--I dare not tell," faltered Themar, moistening his lips. "I--I am +bound by an oath--" + +"To spy and steal and murder!" + +Themar stared sullenly at the river, gray now with the coming dawn. +His dark face was drawn and haggard. + +And again Mr. Poynter shot a volley of questions and awaited the +answers with dangerous quiet. + +Shaking, Themar refused again to answer. With even more quietness and +courtesy Philip obligingly gave him a final opportunity and finding +Themar white and inexorable, smiled. + +"Very well, then," said Mr. Poynter warmly, "I'll take it out of your +hide." Which he proceeded to do with that consummate thoroughness +which characterized his every action, husbanding the strength of his +long, lean arms until a knife appeared in Themar's hand. Then in +deadly silence Mr. Poynter reduced his treacherous assailant to a +battered hulk upon the towpath. + +A mule bell tinkled in the quiet. + +Upstream on the path between canal and river two mules appeared with a +man slouching heavily behind them. The towline led to a grimy scow +which loomed out of the misty stillness like a heavier drift of the +dawn itself. + +"Hello!" Philip hailed the mule driver. + +"What's wantin'?" asked the man and halted. + +Philip indicated Themar with his foot. + +"Here is a gentleman," he explained, "whom I discovered lurking about +my camp a while ago. He showed me his knife and I've mussed him up a +bit." + +The mule-driver bent over Themar and sharply scanned the dark, foreign +face. + +"One o' them damned black-and-tans, eh?" he growled. "They're too +ready with their knives. What ye goin' to do with him?" + +"I'm wondering," shrugged Philip, smoothing his rumpled hair back from +his forehead with the palm of his hand, "if you'll permit me to pay his +passage to a hospital, the farther away, the better." + +The mule-driver glanced searchingly at Mr. Poynter's face. Apparently +satisfied, he cupped his mouth with his hands and called "Ho, Jem!" + +"Jem" jerked sharply at the tiller and presently the scow scraped the +shore. The mule-driver consigned the care of his mules to Philip and +scrambled down the grassy bank to the edge of the water. + +"Where ye want him took?" demanded Jem, scratching a bristling shock of +hair which glimmered through the dawn like a thicket of spikes. + +"Well," said Mr. Poynter indifferently, "where are you going?" + +Jem named a town many miles away. The mule-driver looked hard again at +Philip. + +"Gawd, young feller," he admired, "you're a cool un all right!" + +"Take him there," said Philip with the utmost composure. "Deliver him +somewhere a reasonable distance off for repairs and I'll pay you fifty +dollars." + +"See here," broke in Jem, somewhat staggered by the careless manner in +which Mr. Poynter handled fortunes, "hain't no foul play about this +here, eh? Asher says he's mussed up considerable." + +"Asher's right," admitted Mr. Poynter modestly. "I did the best I +could, of course. Come up and look him over. He's decorated +mournfully with fist marks, but nothing worse. There's his knife." + +After a somewhat cautious inspection, Themar was hoisted aboard the +scow and harnessed discreetly with ropes. Jem shared his companion's +distrust of black-and-tans. With a tinkle of mule-bells the cortege +faded away into the gray of dawn. + +Later, Mr. Poynter discovered an abandoned motorcycle by the roadside, +which with some little malice he had crated at the nearest town and +dispatched to Baron Tregar. + +Thereafter, after a warning talk with Johnny, Philip slept by day and +watched by night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +SYLVAN SUITORS + +Southward wound the green and white van; southward the hay-camp with +infrequent scurries to inn and barn for shelter; southward, his health +still improving, went the musical nomad, unwinding his musical +hullabaloo for the torture of musical crowds. + +Now the world was a-riot with the life and color of midsummer. Sleepy +cows browsed about in fields dotted with orange daisies, horses +switched their tails against the cloudless sky on distant hillsides, +sheep freckled the sunny pastures, and here and there beneath an apple +tree heavy with fruit, lumbered a mother-sow with her litter of pigs. +Sun-bleached dust clouded the highway and the swaying fields of corn +were slim and tall. + +The shuttle of Fate clicked and clicked as she wove and crossed and +tangled the threads of these wandering, sun-brown nomads. How +frequently the path of the music machine crossed the path of the van, +no one knew so well perhaps as Philip, but Philip at times was +tantalizing and mysterious and only evidenced his knowledge in peculiar +and singularly aggravating ways. + +For the friendship between Diane and the handsome minstrel was steadily +growing. By what subtle hints, by what ingenuous bursts of confidence, +by what bewildering flashes of inherent magnetism he contrived to +cement it, who may say? But surely his romantic resources like his +irresistible charm of speech and manner, were varied. A rare flower, +an original and highly commendable bit of woodland verse, some luxury +of fruit or camping device, in a hundred delicate ways he contrived to +make the girl his debtor, talking much in his grave and courtly way of +the gratitude he owed her. Adroitly then this romantic minstrel spun +his shining, varicolored web, linking them together as sympathetic +nomads of the summer road; adroitly too he banned Philip, who by reason +of a growing and mysterious habit of sleeping by day had gained for +himself a blighting reputation of callous indifference to the charm of +the beautiful rolling country all around them. + + +"I'm exceedingly sorry," read a scroll of birch bark which Ras drowsily +delivered to Diane one sunset, "but I'll have to ask you to invite me +to supper. Ras bought an unhappy can of something or other behind in +the village and it exploded. + +"Philip." + + +"If I refuse," Diane wrote on the back, "you'll come anyway. You +always do. Why write? Will you contribute enough hay for a cushion? +Johnny's making a new one for Rex." + + +It was one of the vexing problems of Diane's nomadic life, just how to +treat Mr. Philip Poynter. It was increasingly difficult to ignore or +quarrel with him--for his memory was too alarmingly porous to cherish a +grudge or resentment. When a man has had a bump upon his only head, +held Mr. Poynter, things are apt to slip away from him. Wherefore one +may pardon him if after repeated commands to go home, and certain +frost-bitten truths about officious young men, he somehow forgot and +reappeared in the camp of the enemy in radiant good humor. + +Philip presently arrived with a generous layer of hay under his arm and +a flour bag of tomatoes. + +"Hello," he called warmly. "Isn't the sunset bully! It even woke old +Ras up and he's blinking and grumbling like fury." Mr. Poynter fell to +chatting pleasantly, meanwhile removing from his clothing certain wisps +of hay. + +"You're always getting into hay or getting out of it!" accused Diane. + +Philip admitted with regret that this might be so and Diane stared +hopelessly at his immaculate linen. Heaven alone knew by what +ingenuity Mr. Poynter, handicapped by the peculiar limitations of a +hay-camp, contrived to manage his wardrobe. What mysterious toilet +paraphernalia lay beneath the hay, what occasional laundry chores Ras +did by brook and river, what purchases Mr. Poynter made in every +village, and finally what an endless trail of shirts and cuffs and +collars lay behind him, doomed, like the cheese and buns, as he +feelingly put it, to one-night stands, only Ras and Philip knew; but +certainly the hay-nomad combined the minimum of effort with the maximum +of efficiency to the marvel of all who beheld him. Ras's problem was +infinitely simpler. He never changed. There was much of the original +load of hay, Philip said, dispersed about his ears and pockets and +fringing the back of his neck. + +"Where did you get tomatoes?" inquired Diane at supper. + +"Well," said Philip, "I hate to tell you. I strongly suspect Ras of +spearing 'em with a harpoon he made. Made it in his sleep, too. It's +pretty long and he can spear whatever he wants from the wagon seat. +Lord help the rabbits!" He lazily sprinkled salt upon a large tomato +and bit into it with relish. "But why should I worry?" he commented +smiling. "They're mighty good. Johnny, old top, see if you can rustle +up a loaf of bread to lend me for breakfast, will you? I'm willing to +trade three cucumbers for it. And tell Ras when you take his supper +over that there's a herring under the seat for Dick Whittington's +supper. Tell me," he added humorously to Diane, "just how do you +contrive to remember bread and salt?" + +"I don't," said Diane, smiling. "Johnny does. Did the storm get you +last night, Philip?" + +"It did indeed. It's the third load of hay we've had this week. We're +perpetually furling up the tarpaulin or unfurling it or skinning the +mattress or watching the clouds. I'm a wreck." + +"Where have you been all day?" + +"Haying!" said Philip promptly. + +"Sleeping!" corrected Diane with a critical sniff. + +Mr. Poynter fancied they were synonyms. + +"Do you know," he added pointedly, "I imagine I'd find ever so much +more romance and adventure about it if I only had some interesting +ailment and a music-mill. I did think I had a bully cough, but it was +only a wisp of hay in my throat." + +Philip's powers of intuition were most fearful. Diane colored. + +"Just what do you mean?" she inquired cautiously. + +"Nothing at all," replied Philip with a charming smile. "I never do. +Why mean anything when words come so easy without? It has occurred to +me," he added innocently, "that it takes an uncommonly thick-skinned +and unromantic dub to tour about covered with hay. Fancy sleeping +through this wild and beautiful country when I might be grinding up +lost chords to annoy the populace." + +Diane had heard something of this sort before from quite another +source. Acutely uncomfortable, she changed the subject. There was +something uncanny in Philip's perfect comprehension of the minstrel's +tactics. + +A little later Mr. Poynter produced a green bug mounted eccentrically +upon a bit of birch bark. + +"I found a bug," he said guilelessly. "He was a very nice little bug. +I thought you'd like him." + +Diane frowned. For every flower the minstrel brought, Philip contrived +a ridiculous parallel. + +"How many times," she begged hopelessly, "must I tell you that I am not +collecting ridiculous bugs?" + +Philip raised expressive eyebrows. + +"Dear me!" said he in hurt surprise. "You do surprise me. Why, he's +the greenest bug I ever saw and he matches the van. He's a nomad with +the wild romance of the woodland bounding through him. I did think I'd +score heavily with him." + +Diane discreetly ignored the inference. Whistling happily, Mr. Poynter +poured the coffee and leaned back against a tree trunk. Watching him +one might have read in his fine eyes a keener appreciation of nomadic +life--and nomads--than he ever expressed. + +There was idyllic peace and quiet in this grove of ancient oaks shot +with the ruddy color of the sunset. Off in the heavier aisles of +golden gloom already there were slightly bluish shadows of the coming +twilight. Hungry robins piped excitedly, woodpeckers bored for worms +and flaming orioles flashed by on golden wings. Black against the sky +the crows were sailing swiftly toward the woodland. + +With the twilight and a young moon Philip produced his wildwood pipe +and fell to smoking with a sigh of comfort. + +"Philip!" said Diane suddenly. + +"Mademoiselle!" said Philip, suspiciously grave and courtly of manner. +The girl glanced at him sharply. + +"It annoys me exceedingly," she went on finally, finding his laughing +glance much too bland and friendly to harbor guile, "to have you +trailing after me in a hay-wagon." + +"I'll buy me a rumpus machine," said Philip. + +"It would bother me to have you trailing after me so persistently in +any guise!" flashed the girl indignantly. + +"It must perforce continue to bother you!" regretted Philip. +"Besides," he added absently, "I'm really the Duke of Connecticut in +disguise, touring about for my health, and the therapeutic value of hay +is enormous." + +Now why Diane's cheeks should blaze so hotly at this aristocratic claim +of Mr. Poynter's, who may say? But certainly she glanced with swift +suspicion at her tranquil guest, who met her eyes with supreme good +humor, laughed and fell to whistling softly to himself. Despite a +certain significant silence in the camp of his lady, Mr. Poynter smoked +most comfortably, puffing forth ingenious smoke-rings which he lazily +sought to string upon his pipestem and busily engaging himself in a +variety of other conspicuously peaceful occupations. All in all, there +was something so tranquil and soothing in the very sight of him that +Diane unbent in spite of herself. + +"If you'd only join a peace tribunal as delegate-at-large," she said, +"you'd eliminate war. I meant to freeze you into going home. I do +wish I could stay indignant!" + +"Don't," begged Philip humbly. "I'm so much happier when you're not. + +"There _is_ another way of managing me," he said hopefully a little +later. "I meant to mention it before--" + +"What is it?" implored Diane. + +"Marry me!" + +"Philip!" exclaimed the girl with delicate disdain, "the moon is on +your head--" + +"Yes," admitted Philip, "it is. It does get me. No denying it. +Doesn't it ever get you?" + +"No," said Diane. "Besides, I never bumped my brain--" + +"That could be remedied," hinted Philip, "if you think it would alter +matters--" + +Diane was quite sure it would not and later Philip departed for the +hay-camp in the best of spirits. In the morning Diane found a +conspicuous placard hung upon a tree. The placard bore a bombastic +ode, most clever in its trenchant satire, entitled--"To a Wild +Mosquito--by One who Knows!" + +Since an ill-fated occasion when Mr. Poynter had found a neatly indited +ode to a wild geranium written in a flowing foreign hand, his literary +output had been prodigious. Dirges, odes, sonnets and elegies +frequently appeared in spectacular places about the camp and as Mr. +Poynter's highly sympathetic nature led him to eulogize the lowlier and +less poetic life of the woodland, the result was frequently of striking +originality. + +Convinced that Mr. Poynter's eyes were upon her from the hay-camp, +Diane read the ode with absolute gravity and consigned it to the fire. + +The minstrel's attitude toward the hay-nomad might be one of subtle +undermining and shrugging ridicule, but surely with his imperturbable +gift of satire, Mr. Poynter held the cards! + +Still another morning Diane found a book at the edge of her camp. + +"I am dropping this accidentally as I leave," read the fly leaf in +Philip's scrawl. "I don't want you to suspect my classic tastes, but +what can I do if you find the book!" + +It was a volume of Herodotus in the original Greek! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +LETTERS + +Buckwheat was cut, harvest brooded hazily over the land and the fields +were bright with goldenrod when Diane turned sharply across Virginia to +Kentucky. + +"It is already autumn," she wrote to Ann Sherrill. "The summer has +flown by like a bright-winged bird. For days now the forests have been +splashed with red and gold. The orchards are heavy with harvest +apples, the tassels of the corn are dark and rusty, and the dooryards +of the country houses riot gorgeously in scarlet sage and marigold, +asters and gladiolas. The twilight falls more swiftly now and the +nights are cooler but before the frost sweeps across the land I shall +be in Georgia. + +"For all it is autumn elsewhere, here in this wonderful blue grass +land, it is spring again, a second spring. The autumn sunlight over +the woods and pastures is deeply, richly yellow. There are meadow +larks and off somewhere the tinkle of a cow bell. Oh, Ann, how good it +is to be alive! + +"Ages ago, in that remote and barbarous past when I lived with a roof +above my head, there were times when every pulse of my body cried and +begged for life--for gypsy life and gypsy wind and the song of the +roaring river! Now, somehow, I feel that I have lived indeed--so fully +that a wonderful flood tide of peace and happiness flows strongly in my +veins. I am brown and happy. Each day I cook and tramp and fish and +swim and sleep--how I sleep with the leaves rustling a lullaby of +infinite peace above me! Would you believe that I lived for two days +and nights in a mountain cave? I did indeed, but Johnny was greatly +troubled. Aunt Agatha stuffed his head with commands. + +"The South thrills and calls. After all, though I was born in the +Adirondacks, I am Southern, every inch of me. The Westfalls have been +Florida folk since the beginning of time. + +"There is an interesting nomad in a picturesque suit of corduroy who +crosses my path from time to time with an eccentric music-machine. +Sometimes I see him gravely organ-grinding for a crowd of youngsters, +sometimes--with an innate courtliness characteristic of him--for a +white-haired couple by a garden gate. He is wandering about in search +of health. Oddly, his way lies, too, through Kentucky and Tennessee, +to Florida. He--and Ann, dear, this confidence of his I must beg you +to respect, as I know you will--is a Hungarian nobleman, picturesquely +disguised because of some political quarrel with his country. He +writes excellent verse in French and Latin, is a clever linguist, and +has a marvelous fund of knowledge about birds and flowers. Altogether +he is a cultured, courtly, handsome man whom I have found vastly +entertaining. Romantic, isn't it? + +"A letter to Eadsville, Kentucky, will reach me if you write as soon as +this reaches you. + +"Ever yours, + +"Diane." + + +Let him who is more versed in the science of a nomad's mind than I, say +why there was no mention of the hay-camp! + +Ann's answer came in course of time to Eadsville. As Ann talked in +sprightly italics, so was her letter made striking and emphatic by +numberless underlinings. + + +"How _very_ romantic!" ran a part of it. "I am _mad_ about your +nobleman! Isn't it _wonderful_ to have such unique and thrilling +adventures? I suppose you hung things up on the walls of the cave and +built a delightfully smoky fire and that the Hungarian--_bless_ his +heart!--trimmed his corduroy suit with an ancestral stiletto, and paid +his courtly respects to the beautiful gypsy hermit and fell +_desperately_ in love with her, as well he might. I would _myself_! + +"Diane, I simply _must_ see him! I'm dying for a new sensation. Ever +since Baron Tregar's car was stolen from the farm garage and his +handsome secretary _mysteriously_ disappeared (by the way, it's Philip +Poynter--Carl knows him--do you?) and then reappeared with a most +unsatisfactory explanation which didn't in the least explain where he +had been--only to up and disappear again as strangely as before, and +the _very_ next morning--life has been terribly monotonous. And mother +had a rustic seizure and made us stay at the farm _all_ summer. +Imagine! Dick's aeroplaned the tops off _all_ the trees! + +"_Do_ beg your Hungarian to join us at Palm Beach in January. It would +be _most interesting_ and novel and I'll _swear_ on the ancestral +stiletto to preserve his incognito! You remember you solemnly promised +to come to me in January, no matter _where_ you were! My enthusiasm +grows as I write--it always does. I'm planning a _fete de +nuit_--masked of course. Do please induce the romantic musician to +attend. I _must_ have him. I'm sure he'll enjoy a few days of +conventional respectability and so will you. I'll lend you as many +gowns as you need, you dear, delightful gypsy!" + + +To which Diane's answer was eminently satisfactory. + + +"Last night as Johnny was getting supper," she wrote, "our minstrel +appeared with a great bunch of silver-rod and I begged him to stay to +supper. He was greatly gratified and when later I confessed my +indiscreet revelation to you--and your invitation--he accepted it +instantly. He will be honored to be your guest, he said, provided of +course he may depend upon us to preserve his incognito. That is very +important. Do you know it is astonishing how I find myself keyed up to +the most amazing pitch of interest in him--he's so mysterious and +romantic and magnetic. + +"Your constant craving for new and original sensations brings back a +lot of memories. Will you never get over it? + +"I shall probably leave the van with Johnny at Jacksonville and go down +by rail. There are certain spectacular complications incident to an +arrival at Palm Beach in the van which would be very distasteful, to +say the least. Besides, I'd be later than we planned." + + +For most likely, reflected Diane, nibbling intently at the end of her +pen, most likely Palm Beach had never seen a hay-camp and much Mr. +Poynter would care! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE LONELY CAMPER + +The west was yellow. High on the mountain where a mad little waterfall +sprayed the bushes of laurel and rhododendron with quicksilver, the +afterglow of the sunset on the tumbling water made a streak of saffron. +The wings of a homing eagle were golden-black against the sky. Over +there above the cornfields to the west there was a cliff and a black +and bushy ravine over which soared a buzzard or two. Presently when +the moon rose its splendid alchemy would turn the black to glowing +silver. + +A Kentucky brook chuckled boisterously by the hay-camp, tumbling +headlong over mossy logs and stones and a tangled lacery of drenched +ferns. + +Philip laid aside a bow and arrow upon which he had been busily working +since supper and summoned Dick Whittington. Beyond, through oak and +poplar, glowed the camp fire of his lady. + +"Likely we'll tramp about a bit, Richard, if you're willing," said he. +"Somehow, we're infernally restless to-night and just why our lady has +seen fit to pile that abominable silver-rod in such a place of honor by +her tent, we can't for the life of us see. It's nothing like so pretty +as the goldenrod. By and by, Whittington," Philip felt for his pipe +and filled it, "we'll have our wildwood bow and arrows done and we +fancy somehow that our gypsy's wonderful black eyes are going to shine +a hit over that. Why? Lord, Dick, you do ask foolish questions! Our +beautiful lady's an archer and a capital one too, says Johnny--even if +she does like beastly silver-rod." + +Somewhat out of sorts the Duke of Connecticut set off abruptly through +the trees with the dog at his heels. + +Having climbed over log and boulder to a road which cleft the mountain, +he kept on to the north, descending again presently to the level of the +camp, smoking abstractedly and whistling now and then for Richard +Whittington, who was prone to ramble. Philip was debating whether or +not he had better turn back, for the moon was already edging the black +ravine with fire, when a camp fire and the silhouette of a lonely +camper loomed to the west among the trees. Philip puffed forth a +prodigious cloud of smoke and seated himself on a tree stump. + +"My! My!" said he easily. "Must be our invalid and his rumpus +machine. Whittington, we're just in the mood to-night, you and I, to +wander over there and tell him that he's not getting half so much over +on us as he thinks he is. I've a mind to send you forward with my +card." + +Philip's eyes narrowed and he laughed softly. Tearing a sheet of paper +from a notebook he took from his pocket, he scribbled upon it the +following astonishing message: + +"The Duke of Connecticut desires an audience. Do not kick the courier!" + +Accustomed by now to carry birch-bark messages to Diane, Richard +Whittington waggled in perfect understanding and trotted off obediently +toward the fire with Philip close at his heels. + +Conceivably astonished, the camper presently picked up the paper which +Mr. Whittington dropped at his feet, and read it. As Philip stepped +lazily from the trees he turned. + +It was Baron Tregar. Both men stared. + +"The Duke of Connecticut!" at length rumbled the Baron with perfect +gravity. "I am overwhelmed." + +Philip, much the more astonished of the two, laughed and bowed. + +"Excellency," said he formally, "I am indeed astonished." + +"Pray be seated!" invited the Baron, his eyes more friendly than those +of his guest. "I, too, have taken to the highway, Poynter, on yonder +motorcycle and I have lost my way." He sniffed in disgust. "I am +dining," he added dryly, "if one may dignify the damnable proceeding by +that name, on potatoes which I do not in the least know how to bake +without reducing them to cinders. I bought them a while back at a +desolate, God-forsaken farmhouse. Heaven deliver me from camping!" + +With which pious ejaculation the Baron inspected his smudged and +blistered fingers and read again the entertaining message from the Duke +of Connecticut. + +"Why take to the highway," begged Philip guilelessly, "when the task is +so unpleasant?" + +"Ah!" rumbled the Baron, more sombre now, "there is a man with a +music-machine--" + +"There is!" said Philip fervently. + +The Baron looked hard at His Highness, the Duke of Connecticut. The +latter produced his cigarette case and opening it politely for the +service of his chief, smiled with good humor. + +"There is," said he coolly, "a man with a music-machine, a mysterious +malady, a stained skin and a volume of Herodotus! Excellency knows +the--er--romantic ensemble?" + +Excellency not only knew him, but for days now, taking up the trail at +a certain canal, he had traveled hard over roads strangely littered +with hay and food and linen collars--to find that romantic ensemble. +He added with grim humor that he fancied the Duke of Connecticut knew +him too. The Duke dryly admitted that this might be so. His memory, +though conveniently porous at times, was for the most part excellent. + +"What is he doing?" asked the Baron with an ominous glint of his fine +eyes. + +"Excellency," said Philip, staring hard at the end of his cigarette, +"by every subtle device at his command, he is making graceful love to +Miss Westfall, who is sufficiently wholesome and happy and absorbed in +her gypsy life not to know it--yet!" + +The Barents explosive "Ah!" was a compound of wrath and outraged +astonishment. Philip felt his attitude toward his chief undergoing a +subtle revolution. + +"His discretion," added Philip warmly, "has departed to that forgotten +limbo which has claimed his beard." + +The Baron was staring very hard at the camp fire. + +"So," said he at last,--"it is for this that I have been--" he searched +for an expressive Americanism, and shrugging, invented one, +"thunder-cracking along the highway in search of the man Themar saw by +the fire of Miss Westfall. 'It is incredible--it can not be!' said I, +as I blistered about, searching here, searching there, losing my way +and thunder-cracking about in dead of night--all to pick up the trail +of a green and white van and a music-machine! 'It is unbelievable--it +is a monstrous mistake on the part of Themar!' But, Poynter, this love +making, in the circumstances, passes all belief!" The Baron added that +twice within the week he had passed the hay-camp but that by some +unlucky fatality he had always contrived to miss the music-machine. + +"Days back," rumbled the Baron thoughtfully, "I assigned to Themar the +task of discovering the identity of the man who--er--acquired a certain +roadster of mine and who, I felt fairly certain, would not lose track +of Miss Westfall but Themar, Poynter, came to grief--" + +"Yes?" said Philip coolly. "You interest me exceedingly." + +"He made his way back to me after many weeks of illness," said the +Baron slowly, "with a curious tale of a terrible thrashing, of a barge +and mules, of rough men who kicked him about and consigned him to a +city jail under the malicious charge of a mule-driver who swore that he +loved not black-and-tans--" + +"Lord!" said Philip politely; "that was tough, wasn't it?" + +"Just what, Poynter," begged the Baron, "is a black-and-tan?" + +Mr. Poynter fancied he had heard the term before. It might have +reference to the color of a man's skin and hair. + +An uncomfortable silence fell over the Baron's camp. The Baron himself +was the first to break it. + +"Poynter," said he bluntly, "the circumstances of our separation at +Sherrill's have engendered, with reason, a slight constraint. There +was a night when you grievously misjudged me--" + +"I am willing," admitted Philip politely, "to hear why I should alter +my views." + +"_Mon Dieu_, Poynter!" boomed the Baron in exasperation, "you are +maddening. When you are politest, I fume and strike fire--here within!" + +"Mental arson!" shrugged the Duke of Connecticut, relighting his +cigarette with a blazing twig. "For that singular crime. Excellency, +my deepest apologies." + +The Baron stared, frowned, and laughed. One may know very little of +one's secretary, after all. + +"You are a curious young man!" said he. + +The Duke of Connecticut admitted that this might be so. Hay, +therapeutically, had effected an astonishing revolution in a nature +disposed congenitally to peace and trustfulness. Local applications of +hay had made him exceedingly suspicious and hostile. So much so indeed +that for days now he had slept by day, to the total wreck of his +aesthetic reputation, and watched by night, convinced that Miss +Westfall's camp was prone to strange and dangerous visitors. +Excellency no doubt remembered the knife and the bullet. + +The Baron sighed. + +"Poynter," he said simply, "to a man of my nature and diplomatic +position, a habit of candor is difficult. I wonder, however, if you +would accept my word of honor as a gentleman that I know as little of +this treacherous bullet as you; that for all I am bound to secrecy, my +sincerest desire is to protect Miss Westfall from the peculiar +consequences of this damnable muddle, to clear up the mystery of the +bullet, and for more selfish reasons to protect her from the romantic +folly of the man with the music-machine!" + +Philip, his frank, fine face alive with honest relief, held out his +hand. + +"Excellency," said he warmly, "one may learn more of his chief over a +camp fire, it seems, than in months of service. Our paths lie +parallel." There was a subtle compact in the handshake. + +"What," questioned the Baron presently, "think you, are my fine +gentleman's plans, Poynter?" + +Philip reddened. + +"Excellency," he admitted, "I have definite information of his plans +which I did not seek." + +"And the source?" + +"Miss Westfall's servant." + +"Ah!" + +"There are certain atmospheric conditions," regretted Philip, +"intensely bad for hay-camps, wherefore I found myself obliged to seek +an occasional understudy who would not only blaze the trail for me but +do faithful sentry duty in my absence. And Johnny, Excellency, whom I +pledged to this secret service, uncomfortably insists upon reporting to +me much unnecessary detail. He has developed a most unreasoning +dislike for music-machines and musical gypsies." + +"There appears to be a general prejudice against them," admitted the +Baron grimly. + +"A while back, then," resumed Philip, "Johnny chanced upon the +information that in January Miss Westfall will be a guest of Ann +Sherrill's at Palm Beach. So will our minstrel--still incognito--" + +"Excellent!" rumbled the Baron with relish. "Excellent. If all this +be true," he added, muddling an Americanism, "we have then, of the +horse another color!" + +"Later," said Philip, "when Miss Westfall returns to her house on +wheels, I imagine he too will take to the road again--and resume his +charming erotics." + +"That," said the Baron with decision, "is most undesirable." + +"I agree with you!" said Philip feelingly. + +"I too have promised to be a guest at Miss Sherrill's _fete de nuit_!" +purred the Baron suavely. "And you, Poynter?" + +"Unfortunately Miss Sherrill knows absolutely nothing of my +whereabouts." + +"Sherrill days ago entrusted me with a cordial invitation for you. He +was unaware of our disagreement and expected you to accompany me. As +my official secretary, Poynter, for, let us say the month of January, +it is possible for me to command your attendance at Palm Beach." + +"Excellency," said Philip slowly, "singular as it may seem in my +present free lance state, I am greatly desirous of hearing such a +command." + +"Poynter," boomed the Baron formally, "in January I shall be +overweighted with diplomatic duties at Palm Beach. I regret +exceedingly that I am forced to command your attendance. This +frivoling about must cease." He shook suddenly with silent laughter. +"Doubtless," said he, meeting Philip's amused glance with level +significance, "doubtless, Poynter, we can--" + +"Yes," said Philip with much satisfaction, "I think we can." + +They fell to chatting in lower voices as the fire died down. + +"Meanwhile," shrugged the disgusted Baron a little later, "I shall +abandon that accursed music-machine to its fate, and rest. God knows I +am but an indifferent nomad and need it sorely. Night and day have I +thunder-cracked the highways, losing my way and my temper until I +loathe camps and motor machines and dust and wind and baked potatoes. +I sincerely hope, Poynter, that you can find me the road to an inn and +a bed, a bath and some iced mint--to-night." + +Philip could and did. Presently standing by his abominated motorcycle +on a lonely moonlit road, the Baron adjusted his leather cap and +stroked his beard. + +"Do you know, Poynter," said he slowly, "this is a most mysterious +motorcycle. It was crated to me from an unknown village in +Pennsylvania by the hand of God knows whom!" + +"Excellency," said Philip politely as he cordially shook hands with his +chief, "The world, I find, is full of mystery." + +Rumbling the Baron mounted and rode away. With a slight smile, Philip +watched him thunder-cracking disgustedly along the dusty road back to +civilization. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A DECEMBER SNOW STORM + +As the dusty wanderers wound slowly down into southern Georgia on a +mild bright day, a December snow storm broke with flake and flurry over +the Westfall farm. Whirling, crooning, pirouetting, the mad white +ghost swept down from the hills and hurled itself with a rattle of +shutters and stiffened boughs against the frozen valley. By nightfall +the wind was wailing eerily through the chimneys; but the checkerboard +panes of light one glimpsed through the trees of the Westfall lane were +bright and cheery. + +In the comfortable sitting room of the farmhouse, Carl rose and drew +the shades, added a log to the great, open fireplace and glanced +humorously at his companion who was industriously playing Canfield. + +"Well, Dick," said he, "on with your overcoat. Now that supper's done, +we've a tramp ahead of us." + +Wherry rebelled. + +"Oh, Lord, Carl!" he exclaimed. "Hear the wind!" He rose and drew +aside the shade. "The lane's thick with snow. Heavens, man, it's no +night for a tramp. Allan's coming in with the mail and he looks like a +snow man." + +"You promised," reminded Carl inexorably. "How long since you've had a +drink, Dick?" + +"Nine weeks!" said Wherry, his boyish face kindling suddenly with pride. + +"And your eyes and skin are clear and you're lean and hard as a race +horse. But what a fight! What a fight!" Carl slipped his arm +suddenly about the other's broad shoulders. "Come on, Dick," he urged +gently. "It's discipline and endurance to-night. I want you to fight +this icy wind and grit your teeth against it. Every battle won makes a +force furrow in your will." + +He met Wherry's eyes and smiled with a flash of the irresistible +magnetism which somehow awoke unconscious response in those who beheld +it. It flamed now in Wherry's clear young eyes, a look of dumb +fidelity such as one sees now and then in the eyes of a faithful +animal. Such a look had flashed at times in the bloated face of Hunch +Dorrigan, in the eyes of young Allan Carmody here at the farm, and--in +early manhood when Carl had lazily set a college by the ears--in the +eyes of Philip Poynter. It was the nameless force which the faculty +had dreaded, for it sent men flocking at the heels of one whose daring +whims were as incomprehensible as they were unexpected and original. + +Young Allan brought the mail in and Carl smilingly tossed a letter to +Wherry, who colored and slipped it in his pocket with an air of studied +indifference. + +Carl slit the two directed to himself and rapidly scanned their +contents. One was from Ann Sherrill jogging his memory about a promise +to come to Palm Beach in January, the other from Aunt Agatha, whose +trip to her cousin's in Indiana Carl had encouraged with a great flood +of relief, for it had made possible this nine weeks with Wherry at the +Glade Farm. + +Two steps at a time, Wherry bounded up to his room. When he returned +he was in better spirits than he had been for months. + +"Come on, Carl," he exclaimed boyishly. "I'll walk down any gale +to-night. And Allan says we're in for a blizzard." + +Breasting the biting gale, the two men swung out through the snowy lane +to the roadway. + +Carl watched his companion in silence. It was a test--this wind--to +see how much of a man had been made from the flabby, drunken wreck he +had dragged to the Glade Farm weeks ago with a masterful command. It +had been a bitter fight, with days of heavy sullenness on Wherry's part +and swift apology when the mood was gone, days of hard riding and +walking, of icy plunges after a racking grind of exercise for which +Carl himself with his splendid strength inexorably set the pace, days +of fierce rebellion when he had calmly thrashed his suffering young +guest into submission and locked him in his room, days of horrible +choking remorse and pleading when Carl had grimly turned away from the +pitiful wreck Starrett had made of his clever young secretary. + +Once Starrett had motored up officiously to bully Wherry into coming +back to him. Carl smiled. Starrett had stumbled back to his waiting +motor with a broken rib and a bruised and swollen face. Starrett was a +coward--he would not come again. + +Carl glanced again at Wherry. It was a man who walked beside him +to-night. The battle was over. Chin up, shoulders squared against the +bitter wind, he walked with the free, full stride of health and new +endurance, tossing the snow from his dark, heavy hair with a laugh. +There was clear red in his face and his eyes were shining. + +Five miles in the teeth of a sleety blizzard and every muscle ached +with the fight. + +"Dick," said Carl suddenly, "I'm proud of you." + +Wherry swung sturdily on his heel. + +"But you won for me, Carl," he said quietly. "I'll not forget that." + +In silence they tramped back through the heavy drifts to the farmhouse +and left their snowy coats in the great warm kitchen where the +Carmodys--old Allan and young Allan, young, shy, pretty Mary and old +Mary, the sole winter servants of the Glade--were mulling cider over a +red-hot stove. + +By the fire in the sitting room Dick faced his host with hot color in +his face. + +"Carl," he said with an effort, "my letter to-night--it's from a girl +up home in Vermont. I--I've never spoken of her before--I wasn't fit--" + +"Yes?" said Carl. + +"She's a little bit of a girl with wonderful eyes," said Wherry, his +eyes gentle. "We used to play a lot by the brook, Carl, until I went +away to college and forgot. I--I wrote her the whole wretched mess," +he choked. "She says come back." + +"Yes," said Carl sombrely, "there are fine, big splendid women like +that. I'm glad you know one. God knows what the world of men would do +without them. You'll go back to her?" + +Wherry gulped courageously. + +"If--if you think I'm fit," he said, his face white. "If you feel you +can trust me, I'll go in the morning." + +"I know I can trust you," said Carl with his swift, ready smile. "I +know, old man, that you'll not forget." + +"No," said Dick, "I can't forget." + +"Tell me," Carl bent and turned the log. "What will you do now, Dick? +I know your head was turned a bit by the salary Starrett gave you, but +you'll not go back to that sort of work for a while anyway, will you?" + +"No," said Dick. "If I knew something of scientific farming," he added +after a while, "I think I'd stay home. Dad's a doctor, a kindly, +old-fashioned chap. I--I'd like to have you know him, Carl--he's a +bully sort. He's living up there in Vermont on a farm that's never +been developed to its full possibilities. It's the best farm in the +valley, but, you see, he hasn't the time and he's growing old--" + +"Why not take a course at an agricultural college?" + +Wherry colored. + +"I haven't the money, Carl," he acknowledged honestly. "Most of Dad's +savings went to see me through college. I've a little--" + +"Would a thousand a year see you through, with what you've got?" asked +Carl quietly. + +But Wherry did not answer. He had walked away to the window, shaking. +Presently he turned back to the table, but his face was white and his +eyes dark with agony. Dropping into a chair he buried his face in his +hands, unnerved at the end of his fight by Carl's offer. + +Wisely the man by the fire let him fight it out by himself and for an +interval there was no sound in the quiet room save the crackle of the +log and the great choking breaths of the boy by the table, whose head +had fallen forward on his outstretched arms. + +Carl threw his cigar into the fire and rose. + +"Brace up, Dick!" he said at length. "We've been touching the high +spots up here and you were strung to a tension that had to break." He +crossed to Wherry and laid his hand heavily on the boy's heaving +shoulder. "Now, Dick, I want you to listen to me. I'm going to see +you through an agricultural college and you're not going to tell me I +can't afford it. I know it already. But I've four thousand a year and +that's so far off from what I need to live in my way--that a thousand +or so one way or the other wouldn't make any more difference than a +snowflake in hell. I owe you something anyway--God knows!--for +supplying the model that sent you to perdition. If you hadn't paid me +the ingenuous compliment of unremitting imitation, you'd have been a +sight better off. . . . And you're going to marry the white little +girl with the beautiful eyes and the wonderful, sweet forgiving decency +of heart, and bring up a crowd of God-fearing youngsters, make over the +old doctor's farm for him--and likely his life--and begin afresh. +That's all I ask. Now to bed with you." + +Wherry wrung Carl's hand, and after a passionate, incoherent storm of +gratitude stumbled blindly from the room. + +The old house grew very quiet. Presently to the crackle of the fire +and the wild noise of the wind outside was added the soft and +melancholy lilt of a flute. There was no mockery or impudence in the +strain to-night. It was curiously of a piece with the creaking +loneliness of the ancient farmhouse and so soft at times that the clash +of the frozen branches against the house engulfed it utterly. + +Sombre, swayed by a surge of deep depression, the flutist lay back in +his chair by the fire, piping moodily upon the friend he always carried +in his pocket. To-morrow Dick would be off to the girl in Vermont-- + +The clock struck twelve. The rural world was wrapped in slumber. +Above-stairs Dick was sleeping the sound, dreamless sleep of healthy +weariness, and most likely dreaming of the girl by the brook. A +cleansed body and a cleansed mind, thank God! So had he slept for +nights while the inexorable master of his days, with no companion but +his flute, drank and drank until dawn, climbing up to bed at +cockcrow--sometimes drunk and morose, sometimes a grim and conscious +master of the bottle. + +Carl had been drinking wildly, heavily for months. That in +flagellating Wherry's body day by day he spared not himself, was +characteristic of the man and of his will. That he preached and +dragged a man from the depths of hell by day and deliberately descended +into infernal abysses by night, was but another revelation of the wild, +inconsistent humors which tore his soul, Youth and indomitable physique +gave him as yet clear eyes and muscles of iron, for all he abused them, +but the humors of his soul from day to day grew blacker. + +Kronberg, a new servant Carl had brought with him to the Glade for +personal attendance, presently brought in his nightly tray of whiskey. + +Carl glanced at the bottle and frowned. + +"Take it away!" he said curtly. + +Kronberg obeyed. + +A little later, white and very tired, Carl went up to bed. + +Dick went in the morning. At the door, after chatting nervously to +cover the surge of emotion in his heart, he held out his hand. Neither +spoke. + +"Carl," choked Wherry at last, meeting the other's eyes with a glance +of wild imploring, "so help me God, I'll run straight. You know that?" + +"Yes," said Carl truthfully, "I know it." + +An interval of desperate silence, then: "I--I can't thank you, old man, +I--I'd like to but--" + +"No," said Carl. "I wish you wouldn't." + +And Wherry, wildly wringing his hand for the last time, was off to the +sleigh waiting in the lane, a lean, quivering lad with blazing eyes of +gratitude and a great choke in his throat as he waved at Carl, who +smiled back at him with lazy reassurance through the smoke of a +cigarette. + +Carl's day was restless and very lonely. By midnight he was drinking +heavily, having accepted the tray this time and dismissed Kronberg for +the night. Though the snow had abated some the night before, and +ceased in the morning, it was again whirling outside in the lane with +the wild abandon of a Bacchante. The wind too was rising and filling +the house with ghostly creaks. + +It was one of those curious nights when John Barleycorn chose to be +kind--when mind and body stayed alert and keen. Carl lazily poured +some whiskey in the fire and watched the flame burn blue. He could not +rid his mind of the doctor's farm and the girl in Vermont. + +Again the wind shook the farmhouse and danced and howled to its crazy +castanetting. There was a creak in the hallway beyond. Last night, +too, when he had been talking to Wherry, there had been such a creak +and for the moment, he recalled vividly, there had been no wind. Then, +disturbed by Dick's utter collapse, he had carelessly dismissed it. +Now with his brain dangerously edged by the whiskey and his mind +brooding intently over a series of mysterious and sinister adventures +which had enlivened his summer, he rose and stealing catlike to the +door, flung it suddenly back. + +Kronberg, his dark, thin-lipped face ashen, fell headlong into the room +with a revolver in his hand. + +With the tigerish agility which had served him many a time before Carl +leaped for the revolver and smiling with satanic interest leveled it at +the man at his feet. + +"So," said he softly, "you, too, are a link in the chain. Get up!" + +Sullenly Kronberg obeyed. + +"If you are a good shot," commented Carl coolly, "the bullet you sent +from this doorway would have gone through my head. That was your +intention?" + +Kronberg made no pretense of reply. + +"You've been here nine weeks," sympathized Carl, "and were cautious +enough to wait until Wherry departed. What a pity you were so delayed! +Caution, my dear Kronberg, if I may fall into epigram, is frequently +and paradoxically the mother of disaster. As for instance your own +case. I imagine you're a blunderer anyway," he added impudently; "your +fingers are too thick. If you hadn't been so anxious to learn when +Wherry was likely to go," guessed Carl suddenly, "you wouldn't have +listened and creaked at the keyhole last night. And more than likely +you'd have gotten that creak over on me to-night." + +Kronberg's shifting glance roved desperately to the doorway. + +"Try it," invited Carl pleasantly. "Do. And I'll help you over the +threshold with a little lead. Do you know the way to the attic door in +the west wing?" + +Kronberg, gulping with fear, said he did not. He was shaking violently. + +"Get the little lamp on the mantel there," commanded Carl curtly, "and +light it. Bring it here. Now you will kindly precede me to the door I +spoke of. I'll direct you. If you bolt or cry out, I'll send a bullet +through your head. So that you may not be tempted to waste your blood +and brains, if you have any, and my patience, pray recall that the +Carmodys are snugly asleep by now in the east wing and the house is +large. They couldn't hear you." + +It was the older portion of the house and one which by reason of its +draughts was rarely used in winter, to which Carl drove his shaking +prisoner. In summer it was cool and pleasant. In winter, however, it +was cut off from heat and habitation by lock and key. + +At Carl's curt direction Kronberg turned the key in the door and passed +through the icy file of rooms beyond to the second floor, thence to a +dusty attic where the sweep of the wind and snow seemed very close, and +on to an ancient cluster of storerooms. Years back when the old +farmhouse had been an inn, shivering servants had made these chill and +dusty rooms more habitable. Now with the deserted wing below and the +wind-feet of the Bacchante on the roof above, they were inexpressibly +lonely and dreary. + +Kronberg bit his lip and shuddered. His fear of the grim young guard +behind him had been subtly aggravated by the desolation of his destined +jail. + +Halting in the doorway of an inner room, Carl held the light high and +nodded with approval. + +Its dim rays fell upon dust and cobwebs, trunks and the nondescript +relics of years of hoarding. There were no windows; only a skylight +above clouded by the whirl of the storm. + +Carl seated himself upon a trunk, placed the lamp beside him and +directed his guest to a point opposite. Kronberg, with dark, +fascinated eyes glued upon the glittering steel in his jailer's hand, +obeyed. + +"Kronberg," said Carl coldly, "there's a lot I want to know. Moreover, +I'm going to know it. Nor shall I trust to drunken jailers as I did a +while back with a certain compatriot of yours. Late last spring when +you sought employment at my cousin's town-house, you were already, I +presume, a link in the chain. If my memory serves me correctly, you +were dismissed after ten days of service, through no fault of your own. +The house was closed for the summer. You came to me again this fall +with a letter of recommendation from Mrs. Westfall. Knowing my aunt," +reflected Carl dryly, "that is really very humorous. What were you +doing in the meantime?" + +Carl shifted the lamp that its pale fan of light might fall full upon +the other's face. + +"Let me tell you--do!" said he. "For I'm sure I know. During the +summer, my dear Kronberg, I was the victim of a series of peculiar and +persistent attacks. To a growing habit of unremitting vigilance and +suspicion, I may thank my life. As for the peaceful monotony of the +last nine weeks, doubtless I may attribute that to the constant +companionship of Wherry, the fact that you were much too unpopular with +the Carmodys as a foreigner to find an opportunity of poisoning my +food, and that I've fallen into the discreet and careful habit of +always drinking from a fresh bottle, properly sealed. There was a +chance even there, but you were not clever enough to take it. You're +overcautious and a coward. But how busy you must have been before +that," he purred solicitously, "bolting about in various disguises +after me. How very patient! Dear, dear, if Nature had only given you +brains enough to match your lack of scruples--" + +The insolent purr of his musical voice whipped color into Kronberg's +cheeks. Abruptly he shifted his position and glared stonily. + +"Venice," murmured Carl impudently, "Venice called them _bravi_; +here in America we brutally call them gun-men, but honestly, Kronberg, +in all respect and confidence, you really haven't brains and +originality enough for a clever professional murderer. Amateurish +killing is a sickly sort of sport. And the danger of it! Take for +instance that night when you fancied you were a motor bandit and +waylaid me on the way to the farm. I was very drunk and driving madly +and I nearly got you. A pretty to-do that would have been! To be +killed by an amateur and you a paid professional! My! My! Kronberg, +I blush for you. I really do!" + +He rose smiling, though his eyes were dangerously brilliant. + +"Just when," said he lazily, "did you steal the paper I found in the +candlestick? It's gone--" + +He had struck fire from the stone man at last. A hopeless, hunted look +flamed up in Kronberg's eyes and died away. + +"Ah!" guessed Carl keenly, "so you're in some muddle there, too, eh?" +Kronberg stared sullenly at the dusty floor. + +"A silence strike?" inquired Carl. "Well we'll see how you feel about +that in the morning. As for the skylight, Kronberg, if you feel like +skating down an icy roof to hell, try it." + +Whistling softly, Carl backed to the door and disappeared. An instant +later came the click of a key in the lock. He had taken the lamp with +him. + +Groping desperately about, Kronberg searched for some covering to +protect him from the icy cold. His search was unsuccessful. When the +skylight grayed at dawn, he was pacing the floor, white and shaking +with the chill. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AN ACCOUNTING + +The key clicked in the lock. Kronberg, huddled in a corner, stirred +and cunningly hid the flimsy coverings of chintz he had unearthed from +an ancient trunk. For three days he had not spoken, three days of +bitter, biting cold, three days of creaking, lonely quiet, of mournful +wind and shifting lights above the glass overhead, of infernal +visitations from one he had grown to fear more than death itself. With +heavy chills racking his numb body, with flashes of fever and clamping +pains in his head, his endurance was now nearing an end. + +Bearing a tray of food, Carl entered and closed the door. + +"I'm still waiting, Kronberg," he reminded coolly, "for the answers to +those questions." + +For answer Kronberg merely pushed aside the tray of food with a +shudder. There was a dreadful nausea to-day in the pit of his stomach. + +"So?" said Carl. "Well," he regretted, "there are always the finger +stretchers. They're crude, Kronberg, and homemade, but in time they'll +do the work." + +Kronberg's face grew colorless as death itself as his mind leaped to +the torture of the day before. A clamp for every finger tip, a metal +bar between--the hell-conceived device invented by his jailer forced +the fingers wide apart and held them there as in vise until a stiffness +bound the aching cords, then a pain which crept snakelike to the +elbow--and the shoulder. Then when the tortured nerves fell wildly to +telegraphing spasmodic jerkings of distress from head to toe, the +shrugging devil with the flute would talk vividly of roaring wood fires +and the comforts awaiting the penitent below. Yesterday Kronberg had +fainted. To-day-- + +Carl presently took the singular metal contrivance from his pocket, +deftly clamped the fingers of his victim and sat down to wait, +rummaging for his flute. + +The tension snapped. + +Choking, Kronberg fell forward at his jailer's feet, his eyes imploring. + +"Mercy," he whispered. "I--I can not bear it." + +"Then you will answer what I ask?" + +"Yes." + +Carl unsnapped the infernal finger-stretcher and dropped it in his +pocket. + +"Come," said he not unkindly and led his weak and staggering prisoner +to a room in the west wing where a log fire was blazing brightly in the +fireplace. + +With a moan Kronberg broke desperately away from his grasp and flung +himself violently upon his knees by the fire, stretching his arms out +pitifully to the blaze and chattering and moaning like a thing +demented. Carl walked away to the window. + +Presently the man by the fire crept humbly to a chair, a broken +creature in the clutch of fever, eyes and skin unnaturally bright. + +"Here," said Carl, pouring him some brandy from a decanter on the +table. "Sit quietly for a while and close your eyes. Are you better +now?" he asked a little later. + +"Yes," said Kronberg faintly. + +"What is your real name?" + +"Themar." + +"When you took service with my aunt in the spring, you were looking for +a certain paper?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you find it during your ten days in the town-house?" + +"No." + +"How did you discover its whereabouts?" + +"One night I watched you replace it in a secret drawer in your room. +Before I could obtain it, the house was closed for the summer and I was +dismissed. I had succeeded, however, in getting an impression of the +desk lock." + +"You went back later?" + +"Yes. It was a summer day--very hot. The front door was ajar. I +opened it wider. Your aunt sat upon the floor of the hall crying--" + +"Yes?" + +"I spoke of passing and seeing the door ajar. She recognized me as one +of the servants and begged me to call a taxi. I assisted her to the +taxi and went back, having only pretended to lock the door." + +"And having disposed of her," supplied Carl, "you flew up the stairs, +applied the key made from the impression--and stole the paper?" + +"Yes." + +"Beautiful!" said Carl softly. "How cleverly you tricked me!" + +Themar shrugged. + +"It was very simple." + +Carl smiled. + +"Where is the paper now?" he inquired. + +Themar's face darkened. + +"When later I looked in the pocket of my coat," he admitted, "the paper +had disappeared utterly. Nor have I found it since. It is a very +great mystery--" + +"Ah!" said Carl. "So," he mused, "as long as the paper was in my +possession, my life was safe, for you must watch me to find it. +Therefore I was not poisoned or stabbed or shot at during your original +ten days of service. Later, even though you could not lay your own +hands upon the paper, things began to happen. Knowing what I did, I +had lived too long as it was." + +"Yes." + +"Suppose you begin at the beginning--and tell me just what you know." + +It was a halting, nervous tale poorly told. Carl, with his fastidious +respect for a careful array of facts, found it trying. By a word here +or a sentence there, he twisted the mass of imperfect information into +conformity and pieced it out with knowledge of his own. + +"So," said he coldly, "you thought to stab me the night of the storm +and stabbed Poynter. Fool! Why," he added curtly, "did you later spy +upon my cousin's camp when Tregar had expressly forbidden it?" + +It was an unexpected question. Themar flushed uncomfortably. Carl had +a way of reading between the lines that was exceedingly disconcerting. +His information, he said at length after an interval of marked +hesitancy, had been too meager. He had listened at the door once when +the Baron had spoken of Miss Westfall to his secretary. A housemaid +had frightened him away and he had bolted upstairs--to attend to +something else while they were both safely occupied. Rather than work +blindly as he needs must if he knew no more, he had sought to add to +his information by spying on her camp. + +It was unconvincing. + +"So," said Carl keenly, "Baron Tregar does not trust you!" + +Themar's lip curled. + +"The Baron knew of your ten days in my cousin's house?" + +Again the marked hesitancy--the flush. + +"Yes," said Themar. + +"You're lying," said Carl curtly. "If you wish to go back--" + +Themar moistened his dry lips and shuddered. + +"No," he whispered, "he did not know." + +"Why?" + +Themar fell to trembling. This at least he must keep locked from the +grim, ironic man by the window. + +"You're playing double with Tregar and with me," said Carl hotly. "I +thought so. Very well!" Smiling infernally, he drew from his pocket +the finger-stretchers. + +"Excellency!" panted Themar. + +"Why did you serve in my cousin's house without the knowledge of the +Baron?" + +"If--if the secret was harmful to Houdania," blurted Themar +desperately, spurred to confession by the clank of the metal in Carl's +hand, "I--I could sell the paper to Galituria!" + +The nature of the admission was totally unexpected. Carl whistled +softly. + +"Ah!" said he, raising expressive eyebrows. + +"My mother," said Themar sullenly, "was of Galituria. There is hatred +there for Houdania--a century's feud--" + +"And you in the employ of the rival province hunting this to earth! +What a mess--what a mess!" + +Followed a battery of merciless questions punctuated by the diabolic +clank of metal. + +Themar had been deputed solely to report to Baron Tregar-- + +"And murder me!" supplemented Carl curtly. + +"Yes," said Themar. "Under oath I was to obey Ronador's commands +without question. But he did not even trust me with the cipher message +of instruction. That was mailed to the Baron's Washington address +written in an ink that only turned dark with the heat of a fire. I too +was sent to Washington. Ronador knew nothing of the Baron's trip to +Connecticut." + +By spying before he had sailed, Themar added, at a question from Carl, +he had learned of the cipher. + +"You read the paper of course when you stole it from my desk?" + +"There was a noise," said Themar dully, his face bitter; "I ran for the +street. Later the paper was gone." + +"What were Tregar's intentions about the paper?" + +Themar chewed nervously at his lips. + +"His Excellency spoke to me of a paper. He said that I must discover +its whereabouts, if possible, but that none but he must steal it. +Anything written which you would seem to have hidden would be of +interest to him. He bound me by a terrible oath not to touch or read +it." + +"And you?" + +"After a time I swore that I had seen you burn it--" + +"Clumsy! Still if he believed it, it left me, in the event of Miss +Westfall's complete ignorance of all this hubbub, the sole remaining +obstacle." + +But Themar had not heard. He was shaking again in the clutch of a +heavy chill. Presently, his sentences having trailed off once or twice +into peculiar incoherency, he fell to talking wildly of a hut in the +Sherrill woods in which he had lived for days in the early autumn, of a +cuff in a box buried in the ground beneath the planking. For weeks, he +said, he had vainly tried to solve its cipher, stealing away from the +farm by night to pore over it by the light of a candle. It was +fearfully intricate-- + +"But you--you that know all," he gasped painfully, "you will get it and +read and tell me--" + +Moaning he fell back in his chair. + +Carl rang for Mrs. Carmody. It was young Mary, however, who answered, +her round blue eyes lingering in mystification upon the fire Carl had +built in the deserted wing. + +"Mary," said Carl carelessly, "you'd better phone for a doctor and a +nurse. Kronberg has returned and I fear he's in for a spell of +pneumonia." + +Later in the Sherrill hut, Carl ripped a board from the floor and found +in the dirt beneath, a box containing a soiled cuff covered with an +intricate cipher. + +"Odd!" said he with a curious smile as he dropped the cuff into his +pocket; "it's very odd about that paper." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE SONG OF THE PINE-WOOD SPARROW + +With the dawn a laggard breeze came winging drowsily in from the +southern sea, the first thing astir in the spectral world of palm and +villa. Warm and deliciously fragrant, it swept the stiff wet Bermuda +grass upon the lawn of the Sherrill villa at Palm Beach, rustled the +crimson hedge of hibiscus, caught the subtle perfume of jasmine and +oleander and swept on to a purple-flowered vine on the white walls of +the villa, a fuller, richer thing for the ghost-scent of countless +flowers. + +Into this gray-white world of glimmering coquina and dew-wet palm rode +presently the slim, brisk figure of a girl astride a fretful horse. A +royal palm dripped cool gray rain upon her as she galloped past to the +shell-road looming out of the velvet stillness ahead like a dim, white +ghost-trail. + +The gray ocean murmured, the still gray lagoon was asleep! Here and +there a haunting, elusive splash of delicate rose upon the silver +promised the later color of a wakening world. It was a finer, quieter +world, thought Diane, than the later day world of white hot sunlight. + +With pulses atune to the morning's freshness, the girl galloped rapidly +along the shell-road, the clattering thud of her horse's hoofs +startling in the quiet. As yet only a sleepy bird or two had begun to +twitter. There was a growing noise of wind in the grass and palms. + +A century back it seemed to this girl in whom the restless gypsy tide +was subtly fretting, she had left Johnny and the van at Jacksonville to +come into this sensuous, tropical world of color, fashionable life and +lazy days. + +Coloring delicately, the metallic gray bosom of the lake presently +foretold the sunrise with a primrose glow. When at length the glaring +white light of the sun struck sparks from the dew upon the pine and +palmetto, Diane was riding rapidly south in quest of the Florida +flat-woods. There was a veritable paradise of birds in the pine +barren, Dick Sherrill had said, robins and bluebirds, flickers and +woodpeckers with blazing cockades, shrikes and chewinks. + +It was an endless monotony of pine trees, vividly green and far apart, +into which Diane presently rode. A buzzard floated with uptilted wings +above the sparse woodland to the west. A gorgeous butterfly, +silver-spangled, winged its way over the saw palmetto and sedge between +the trees to an inviting glade beyond, cleft by a shallow stream. +Swamp, jungle, pine and palmetto were vocal with the melody of many +birds. + +Diane reined in her horse with a thrill. This was Florida, at last, +not the unreal, exotic brilliance of Palm Beach. Here was her father's +beloved Flowerland which she had loved as a child. Here were pines and +tall grass, sun-silvered, bending in the warm wind, and the song of a +pine-wood sparrow! + +From the scrub ahead came his quiet song, infinitely sweet, infinitely +plaintive like the faint, soft echo of a fairy's dream. A long note +and a shower of silver-sweet echoes, so it ran, the invisible singer +seeming to sing for himself alone. So might elfin bells have pealed +from a thicket, inexpressibly low and tender. + +Diane sat motionless, the free, wild grace of her seeming a part of the +primeval quiet. For somehow, by some twist of singer's magic, this +Florida bird was singing of Connecticut wind and river, of dogwood on a +ridge, of water lilies in the purple of a summer twilight, of a spot +named forever in her mind--Arcadia. + +Now as the girl listened, a beautiful brown sprite of the rustling pine +wood about her, a great flood of color crept suddenly from the brown +full throat to the line of her hair, and the scarlet that lingered in +her cheeks was wilder than the red of winter holly. + +Surely--surely there was no reason under Heaven why the little bird +should sing about a hay-camp! + +But sing of it he did with a swelling throat and a melodic quiver of +nerve and sinew, and a curious dialogue followed. + +"A hay-camp is a very foolish thing, to be sure!" sang the bird with a +dulcet shower of plaintive notes. + +"To be sure," said the voice of the girl's conscience, "to be sure it +is. But how very like him!" + +"But--but there was the bullet--" + +"I have often thought of it," owned the Voice. + +"A gallant gentleman must see that his lady comes to no harm. 'Tis the +way of gallant gentlemen--" + +"Hum!" + +"And he never once spoke of his discomfort on the long hot road, though +a hay-camp is subject to most singular mishaps." + +"I--I have often marveled." + +"He is brave and sturdy and of charming humor--" + +"A superlative grain of humor perhaps, and he's very lazy--" + +"And fine and frank and honorable. One may not forget Arcadia and the +rake of twigs." + +"One may not forget, that is very true. But he seeks to make himself +out such a very great fool---" + +"He cloaks each generous instinct with a laughing drollery. Why did +you hum when you cooked his supper and called to him through the trees?" + +"I--I do not know." + +"'Twas the world-old instinct of primitive woman!" + +"No! No! No! It was only because I was living the life I love the +best. I was very happy." + +"Why were you happier after the storm?" + +"I--I do not know." + +"You have scolded with flashing eyes about the hay-camp--" + +"But--I--I did not mind. I tried to mind and could not--" + +"That is a very singular thing." + +"Yes." + +"Why have you not told him of the tall sentinel you have furtively +watched of moonlit nights among the trees, a sentinel who slept by day +upon a ridiculous bed of hay that he might smoke and watch over the +camp of his lady until peep o' day?" + +"I--do not know." + +"You are sighing even now for the van and a camp fire--for the hay-camp +through the trees--" + +"No!" with a very definite flash of perversity. + +"Where is this persistent young nomad of the hay-camp anyway?" + +"I--I have wondered myself." + +But with a quiver of impatience the horse had pawed the ground and the +tiny bird flew off to a distant clump of palmetto. + +Diane rode hurriedly off into the flat-woods. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE NOMAD OF THE FIRE-WHEEL + +It had been an unforgettable day, this day in the pine woods. Diane +had forded shallow streams and followed bright-winged birds, lunched by +a silver lake set coolly in the darkling shade of cypress and found a +curious nest in the stump of a tree. Now with a mass of creeping +blackberry and violets strapped to her saddle she was riding slowly +back through the pine woods. + +Though the sun, which awhile back had filled the hollow of palmetto +fronds with a ruddy pool of light, had long since dropped behind the +horizon, the girl somehow picked the homeward trail with the unerring +instinct of a wild thing. That one may be hopelessly lost in the +deceptive flatwoods she dismissed with a laugh. The wood is kind to +wild things. + +It was quite dark when through the trees ahead she caught the curious +glimmer of a cart wheel of flame upon the ground, hub and spokes +glowing vividly in the center of a clearing. Curiously the girl rode +toward it, unaware that the picturesque fire-wheel ahead was the +typical camp fire of the southern Indian, or that the strange wild +figure squatting gravely by the fire in lonely silhouette against the +white of a canvas-covered wagon beyond in the trees, was a vagrant +Seminole from the proud old turbaned tribe who still dwell in the +inaccessible morasses of the Everglades. + +The realization came in a disturbed flash of interest and curiosity. +Though the Florida Indian harmed no one, he still considered himself +proudly hostile to the white man. Wherefore Diane wisely wheeled her +horse about to retreat. + +It was too late. Already the young Seminole was upon his feet, keen of +vision and hearing for all he seemed but a tense, still statue in the +wildwood. + +Accepting the situation with good grace, Diane rode fearlessly toward +his fire and reined in her horse. But the ready word of greeting froze +upon her lips. For the nomad of the fire-wheel was a girl, tall and +slender, barbarically arrayed in the holiday garb of a Seminole chief. +The firelight danced upon the beaten band of silver about her brilliant +turban and the beads upon her sash, upon red-beaded deerskin leggings +delicately thonged from the supple waist to the small and moccasined +foot, upon a tunic elaborately banded in red and a belt of buckskin +from which hung a hunting knife, a revolver and an ammunition pouch. + +But Diane's fascinated gaze lingered longest upon the Indian girl's +face. Her smooth, vivid skin was nearer the hue of the sun-dark +Caucasian than of the red man, and lovelier than either, with grave, +vigilant eyes of dusk, a straight, small nose and firm, proud mouth +vividly scarlet like the wild flame in her cheeks. + +Aloof, impassive, the Indian girl stared back. + +"I wish well to the beautiful daughter of white men!" she said at +length with native dignity. The contralto of her voice was full and +rich and very musical, her English, deliberate and clear-cut. + +Immensely relieved--for the keen glance of those dark Indian eyes had +suddenly softened--Diane leaped impetuously from her horse; across the +fire white girl and Indian maid clasped hands. + +[Illustration: White girl and Indian maid then clasped hands.] + +"Do forgive me!" she exclaimed warmly. "But I saw your fire and turned +this way before I really knew what I was doing." Just as Diane won the +confidence of every wild thing in the forest, so now with her winsome +grace and unaffected warmth, she won the Indian girl. + +Some subtle, nameless sympathy of the forest leaped like a spark from +eye to eye--then with a slow, grave smile in which there was much less +reserve, the Seminole motioned her guest to a seat by the fire. + +Nothing loath, Diane promptly tethered her horse and squatted Indian +fashion by the cartwheel fire, immensely thrilled and diverted by her +picturesque adventure. + +"My name," she offered presently with her ready smile, "is Diane." + +"Di-ane," said the Indian girl majestically. And added naively, "She +was the Roman goddess of light--and of hunting, is it not so?" + +Diane looked very blank. + +"Where in the world--" she stammered, staring, and colored. + +The Indian girl smiled. + +"From _so_ high," she said shyly, "I have been taught by Mic-co. Like +the white student of books, I know many curious things that he has +taught me." + +"And your name?" asked Diane, heroically mastering her mystified +confusion. "May I--may I not know that too?" + +"Shock-kil-law," came the ready reply. + +"That readily becomes Keela!" exclaimed Diane smiling. + +The girl nodded. + +"So Mic-co has said. And so indeed he calls me." + +"Tell me, Keela, what does it mean?" + +"Red-winged blackbird," said Keela. + +It was eminently fitting, thought Diane, and glanced at Keela's hair +and cheeks. + +There was a wild duck roasting in the hub of coals--from the burning +spokes came the smell of cedar. The Indian girl majestically broke a +segment of koonti bread and proffered it to her companion. With +faultless courtesy Diane accepted and presently partook with healthy +relish of a supper of duck and sweet potatoes. + +The silence of the Indian girl was utterly without constraint. + +"I wonder," begged Diane impetuously, "if you'll tell me who Mic-co is? +I'm greatly interested. He taught you about Rome?" + +Nodding, the Indian girl said in her quaint, deliberate English that +Mic-co was her white foster father. The Seminoles called him +Es-ta-chat-tee-mic-co--chief of the White Race. Most of them called +him simply Mic-co. He was a great and good medicine man of much wisdom +who dwelt upon a fertile chain of swamp islands in the Everglades. The +Indians loved him. + +Still puzzled, Diane diffidently ventured a question or two, marveling +afresh at the girl's beauty and singular costume. + +"I am of no race," said Keela sombrely. "My father was a white man; my +mother not all Indian; my grandfather--a Minorcan. Six moons I live +with my white foster father. And I live then as I wish--like the +daughter of white men. Six moons I dwell with the clan of my mother. +Such is my life since the old chief made the compact with Mic-co. +Come!" she added and led the way to the Indian wagon. + +"When the night-winds call," she said wistfully, "I grow restless--for +I am happiest in the lodge of Mic-co. Then the old chief bids me +travel to the world of white men and sell." There was gentle pathos in +her mellow voice. + +Pieces of ancient pottery, quaint bleached bits of skeleton, beads and +shells and trinkets of gold unearthed from the Florida sand mounds, +moccasins and baskets, koonti starch and plumes, such were the +picturesque wares which Keela peddled when the stir of her mingled +blood drove her forth from the camp of her forbears. + +Diane bought generously, harnessed her saddle with clanking relics and +regretfully mounted her horse. + +"Let me come again to-morrow!" she begged. + +"Uncah!" granted the girl in Seminole and her great black eyes were +very friendly. + +Looking back as she rode through the flat-woods, Diane marveled afresh. +It was a far cry indeed from the camp of a Seminole to the legends of +Rome. + +But the primeval flavor of the night presently dissolved in the glare +of acetylenes from a long gray car standing motionless by the roadside +ahead. The climbing moon shone full upon the face of a bareheaded +motorist idly smoking a cigarette and waiting. + +Diane reined in her horse with a jerk and a clank of relics. + +"Philip Poynter!" she exclaimed. + +The driver laughed. + +"I wonder," said he, "if you know what a shock you've thrown into your +aunt by staying out in the flat-woods until dark. She once knew a man +who lost himself. Incidentally they are mighty deceptive to wander +about in. The trees are so far apart that one never seems to get into +them. And then, having meanwhile effectively got in without knowing +it, one never seems to get out." + +"Where," demanded Diane indignantly, "did you come from anyway?" + +"If you hadn't been so ambitious," Philip assured her with mild +resentment, "you'd have seen me at breakfast. I arrived at Sherrill's +last night. As it is, I've been sitting here an hour or so watching +you swap wildwood yarns with the aborigine yonder. And Ann Sherrill +sent me after you in Dick's speediest car. Ho, uncle!" + +An aged negro appeared from certain shadows to which Philip had lazily +consigned him. + +"Uncle," said Philip easily, "will ride your horse back to Sherrill's +for you. I picked him up on the road. You'll motor back with me?" + +Diane certainly would not. + +"Then," regretted Philip, "I'm reduced to the painful and spectacular +expedient of just grazing the heels of your fiery steed with Dick's +racer all the way back to Sherrill's and matching up his hoof-beats on +the shell-road with a devil's tattoo on the horn." + +Greatly vexed, Diane resigned her horse to the waiting negro, who rode +off into the moonlight with a noisy clank. Mr. Poynter's face was +radiant. + +"And after running the chance of a night in the pine barrens," he mused +admiringly, "you amble out of the danger zone in the most +matter-of-fact manner with your saddle clanking like a bone-yard. I +don't wonder your aunt fusses. What made the racket?" + +"Bones and shells and things." + +"Well, for such absolute irresponsibility as you've developed since +you've been out of the chastening jurisdiction of the hay-camp, I'd +respectfully suggest that you marry the very first bare-headed +motorist, smoking a cigarette, whom you happened to see as you rode out +of the pine-woods." + +"Philip," said Diane disdainfully, "the moon--" + +"Is on my head again," admitted Philip. "I know. It always gets me. +We'd better motor around a bit and clear my brain out. I'd hate +awfully to have the Sherrills think I'm in love." + +Almost anything one could say, reflected Diane uncomfortably, inspired +Philip's brain to fresh fertility. + +The camp of Keela, domiciled indefinitely in the flat-woods to sell to +winter tourists, proved a welcome outlet for the fretting gypsy tide in +Diane's veins. She found the Indian girl's magnetism irresistible. + +Proud, unerringly truthful, fastidious in speech and personal habit, +truly majestic and generous, such was the shy woodland companion with +whom Diane chose willfully to spend her idle hours, finding the girl's +unconstrained intervals of silence, her flashes of Indian keenness, her +inborn reticence and naive parade of the wealth of knowledge Mic-co had +taught her, a most bewildering book in which there was daily something +new to read. + +There was a keen, quick brain behind the dark and lovely eyes, a +faultless knowledge of the courtesies of finer folk. Mic-co had +wrought generously and well. Only the girl's inordinate shyness and +the stern traditions of her tribe, Diane fancied, kept her chained to +her life in the Glades. + +Keela, strangely apart from Indian and white man, and granted +unconventional license by her tribe, hungered most for the ways of the +white father of whom she frequently spoke. + +Diane learned smoke signals and the blazing and blinding of a trail, an +inexhaustible and tragic fund of tribal history which had been handed +down from mouth to mouth for generations, legends and songs, wailing +dirges and native dances and snatches of the chaste and oathless speech +of the Florida Indian. + +"Diane, _dear_!" exclaimed Ann Sherrill one lazy morning, "what in the +_world_ is that exceedingly mournful tune you're humming?" + +"That," said Diane, "is the 'Song of the Great Horned Owl,' my clever +little Indian friend taught me. Isn't it plaintive?" + +"It is!" said Ann with deep conviction. "_Entirely_ too much so. I +feel creepy. And Nathalie says you did some picturesque dance for her +and your aunt--" + +"The 'Dance of the Wild Turkey,'" explained Diane, much amused at the +recollection. "Aunt Agatha insisted that it was some iniquitous and +cunningly disguised Seminole species of turkey trot. She was horribly +shocked and grew white as a ghost at my daring--" + +"Fiddlesticks!" said Ann Sherrill. "She ought to have _all_ the shock +out of her by now after bringing up you and Carl! _I'm_ going to ride +out to the flat-woods with you, for I'm simply _dying_ for a new +sensation. Dick's as stupid as an owl. He does nothing but hang +around the Beach Club. And Philip Poynter's tennis mad. He looks hurt +if you ask him to do anything else except perhaps to trail fatuously +after you. It's the flat-woods for mine." + +Ann returned from her visit to the Indian camp scintillant with italics +and enthusiasm. + +"My dear," she said, "I'm _wild_ about her--_quite_ wild! . . . I'm +going again and _again_! . . . If I knew _half_ as much and were +_half_ as lovely-- Why, do you know, Diane, she set me right about +some ridiculous quotation, and I never try to get them straight, for +_half_ the time I find my own way so _much_ more expressive. . . . +There's Philip Poynter with a tennis racquet again! Diane, I'm losing +patience with him." + +From her madcap craving for new sensation, Ann was destined to evolve +an inspiration which with customary energy and Diane's interested +connivance she swept through to fruition, unaware that Fate marched, +leering, at her heels. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE BLACK PALMER + +Curious things may happen when masked men hold revel under a moonlit +sky. + +Thus in a tropical garden of palm and fountain, of dark, shifting +shadows and a thousand softly luminous Chinese lanterns swaying in a +breeze of spice, a Bedouin talked to an ancient Greek. + +"He is here?" asked the Bedouin with an accent slightly foreign. + +"Yes," said the Greek. "He is here and immensely relieved, I take it, +to be rid of the jurisdiction of the hay-camp." + +"I fancied he would not dare--" + +"A man in love," commented the Greek dryly, "dares much for the sake of +his lady. One may conceivably lack discretion without forfeiting his +claim to courage." + +"The disguise of his stained and shaven face," hinted the Bedouin +grimly, "has made him over-confident. Having tested it with apparent +success upon you--" + +"Even so. But he has forgotten that few men have such striking eyes." + +"If he has taken the pains to assure himself of my whereabouts," +rumbled the Bedouin, "as he surely has, I am of course still blistering +in extreme southern Florida, hunting tarpon. I have a permanent +Washington address which I have taken pains to notify of my interest in +tarpon and to which he writes. These incognito days," added the +Bedouin with a slight smile, "my cipher communications cross an ocean +and return immediately by trusted hands to America, though I, of +course, know nothing of it. Those from my charming minstrel to +me--make similar tours." + +"And I?" + +"You--my secretary--having spent a few days with the Sherrills on your +way to join me after months of frivoling with a hay-camp, have been +forced by telegram to depart before the _fete de nuit_ to which Miss +Sherrill begged our attendance. Rest assured he knows that too. +Therefore, to unmask unobtrusively and slip away to his room, and in +the absence of other guests to linger for a week of incognito +quiet--_voila_! he is quite safe though imprudent!" + +Greek and Bedouin fell silent, watching the laughing pageant in the +garden. + +Venetian lamps glowed like yellow witch-lights in the branches; +fountains tossed moon-bright sprays of quicksilver aloft and tinkled +with the splash; the waters of a sunken pool, jeweled in stars, +glimmered darkly green through files of cypress. All in all, an +entrancing moon-mad world of mystery and dusk-moths, heavy with the +scent of jasmine and orange. And the moon played brightly on curious +folk, on spangles and jewels and masked and laughing eyes. + +A gray mendicant monk with sombre, thin-lipped face beneath a grayish +mask slipped furtively by with a curious air of listening intently to +the careless chatter about him; a fat and plaintive Queen Elizabeth +followed, talking to a stout courtier who was over-trusting the seams +of his satin breeches. + +"I doubt if you'll believe me," puffed Queen Elizabeth dolorously, "but +every day since that time she deliberately went out and lost herself +all day in the flat-woods and stopped to look at that ridiculous cart +with the wheel of flame when I was sure a buzzard had bitten her--No! +No! I don't know, Jethro; I'm sure I don't. How should I know why it +was burning? But it was. She said plainly that it was a cart wheel of +fire and if it was a wheel it must certainly have been on something and +what on earth would a wheel be on but a cart? Certainly one wouldn't +buy a bale of cart wheels to make fires in the flat-woods. Well, it's +the strangest thing, Jethro, but nearly every day since, she's visited +the flat-woods and wandered about with that terrible Indian girl who +isn't an Indian girl. Seems that she's a most extraordinary girl with +a foster-father and she sells sand mounds--no, that's not it--the +things they find in them besides the sand--and she has a queer, wild +sort of culture and her father was white. Like as not Diane will come +home some night scalped and she has such magnificent hair, Jethro. To +her knees it is and so black! And what must she and Ann do to-night +but--there, I promised Diane faithfully to keep it a secret, for +they've been working for days and days and she is distractingly lovely. +With the Sherrill topazes too. And now that she's sold all the sand +mounds, or whatever it is, do you know, Jethro, she's going to drive +Diane north to Jacksonville in the Indian wagon. They start to-morrow +morning. I think it's because they're both so mad about trees and +things--I can't for the life of me make it out. Jethro, Diane will +drive me mad--she will indeed. Well, all I can say, Jethro, is that if +you don't know what I'm talking about you must be very stupid to-night. +No! No! do I ever know, Jethro? He may be here and he may not. He +may be off in Egypt shooting scarabs by now. He was at the farm when +he wrote to me in Indiana. Well, _collecting_ scarabs, then, Jethro. +Why do you fuss so about little things? Isn't it funny--strangest +thing!" + +Queen Elizabeth passed on with her aged dandy. + +A dark figure by the cypress pool laughed and shrugged. He was a +singular figure, this man by the pool, with a hint of the Orient in his +garb. His robe was of black, with startling and unexpected flashes of +scarlet lining when he walked. Black chains clanked drearily about his +waist and wrists. There was a cunningly concealed light in his filmy +turban which gave it the singular appearance of a dark cloud lighted by +an inner fire. As he wandered about with clanking chains, he played +strange music upon a polished thing of hollow bones. Sometimes the +music laughed and wooed when eyes were kind; sometimes when eyes were +over-daring it was subtly impudent and eloquent. Sometimes it was so +unspeakably weird and melancholy that along with the clanking chains +and the strangely luminous turban, many a careless stroller turned and +stared. So did a slender, turbaned Seminole chief with a minstrel at +his heels. + +It was upon this picturesque young Seminole that the eyes of the Greek +by the hibiscus lingered longest, but the eyes of the Bedouin scanned +every line of the minstrel's ragged corduroy with grim amusement. + +"A romantic garb, by Allah!" said the Bedouin dryly. + +"It has served its purpose," reminded the Greek sombrely. And laughed +with relish. + +For the Seminole chief had fled perversely through the lantern-lit +trees, her soft, mocking laughter proclaiming her sex and her mood. + +"And still he follows!" boomed the Bedouin. "With or without the +music-machine, he is consistently fatuous." + +The man with the luminous turban spoke suddenly to a girl in trailing +satin with a muff of flowers in her hand. Shoulders and throat gleamed +superbly above the line of golden satin; there were flashing topazes in +her hair and about her throat; and the slender, arched foot in the +satin slipper was small and finely moulded. + +"Tell me," he begged insistently, "who you are! You've grace and poise +enough for a dozen women. And who taught you how to walk? Few women +know how." + +The girl, with a delicate air of hauteur, flung back her head +imperiously and turned away. + +"And you've wonderful eyes--black and wistful and tragic and +beautiful!" persisted the man impudently. "Wonderful, sparkling lady +of gold and black, tell me who you are!" + +"Who," said the girl gravely in a clear, rich contralto, "who are you?" + +The man laughed but his eyes lingered on the firm, proud scarlet lips +and the small even teeth. + +"Call me the 'Black Palmer,'" said he. "There's a tremendous +significance in my rig to be sure, but it's only for one man." + +"What," asked the girl seriously, "is a palmer?" + +Mystified the Black Palmer stared. + +"You honestly mean that you don't know?" + +"I speak ever the truth," said the proud scarlet lips below the golden +mask. "When I ask, I mean that I do not know." + +"And this in a world of sophistication!" murmured the man blankly, but +the girl was moving off with graceful majesty through the trees, the +jewels in her hair alive in the lantern-lit dusk. The Black Palmer +sprang after her. + +"Tell me, I beg of you," he exclaimed earnestly, "you who are so grave +and beautiful and apart from this world of mine, like a fresh keen wind +in a scorching desert, in Heaven's name tell me who you are!" + +But the girl's dark, fine eyes flashed quick rebuke. + +Nothing daunted the Black Palmer impudently stripped the golden mask +from her face. The soft yellow light of the Venetian lamp in the tree +above her fell full upon the lovely oval of a face so peculiar in its +striking beauty of line and vivid coloring that he fell back staring. + +"Lord, what a face!" exclaimed the Greek, too taken aback to resent the +Palmer's insolence. + +And the Bedouin rumbled: "Exquisite! But she is not of your land. +Italian, Spanish, or some bizarre mingling of strange races, but none +of your colder lands!" + +Now as the Black Palmer stared at the dark, accusing eyes of the girl, +a singular thing occurred. His cloak of impudence fell suddenly from +his shoulders and returning the golden mask, he bowed and begged her +pardon with unmistakable deference. + +"Let a humbled Palmer," he said quietly, "pay his sincerest homage to +the most beautiful woman he has even seen." And as the girl moved +proudly away, the strain of fantastic music which followed her was +subtly deferential. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE UNMASKING + +At midnight a mellow chime rang somewhere by the cypress pool. +Laughing and jesting, calling to one another, the masked crowd moved +off to the vine-hung villa ahead, gleaming moon-white through the +shrubbery. + +Somewhat reluctantly the minstrel followed. It had been his intention +to unmask in some secluded corner whence, presently, he might slip away +to his room, but finding himself jostled and pushed on by a Greek and a +Bedouin who, to do them justice, seemed quite unaware of their +importunities, he surrendered to the press about him and presently +found himself in an unpleasantly conspicuous spot in the great room +which the Sherrills occasionally used as a ballroom. + +All about him girls and men were unmasking amid a shower of laughing +raillery. That the Seminole chief with her tunic and beaded sash and +her brilliant turban was very near him, was a pleasant and altogether +accidental mitigation of his mishap. That a Greek and a Bedouin were +just behind him--a fact not in the least accidental--and that a gray +monk was slipping about among the guests whispering to receptive ears, +did not interest him in the least. A string orchestra played softly in +an alcove. The leader's eyes, oddly enough, were upon the ancient +Greek. + +Now suddenly a curious hush swept over the room. Uncomfortably aware +that he was a spectacular object of interest by reason of his mask and +that every unmasked eye was full upon him, the minstrel, following the +lines of least resistance, removed the bit of cambric from his eyes. +After all, in the sea of faces before him, there were none familiar. + +As the mask dropped--the ancient Greek thoughtfully adjusted his tunic. + +Instantly without pause or warning the soft strain of the orchestra +swept dramatically into a powerful melody of measured cadences. It was +the tune Carl had played upon his flute to Jokai of Vienna months +before. The minstrel, mask in hand, stared at the orchestra, blanched +and bit his lip. + +"God bless my soul!" exclaimed Queen Elizabeth to Jethro, "it's the +immigrant, Jethro, and there he was on the lace spread with his feet +tied and gurgling. I'll never forget his eyes." + +"Jokai of Vienna!" said the Black Palmer, whistling. "By Jove, they've +trapped him nicely." + +For an uncomfortable instant, the silence continued, then came the +saving stir of laughter and chatting. + +The Bedouin with an unrelenting air of dignity and command, removed his +mask and bowed low; to Diane in whose startled eyes below the Seminole +turban flashed sympathy and acute regret. + +"Miss Westfall," said he gravely, "permit me to present to you, Prince +Ronador of Houdania." + +White and stern, his fine eyes flashing imperially, Ronador bowed. + +"Rest assured, Miss Westfall," he said, "that I know you have not +betrayed my confidence. Baron Tregar is an ardent patriot who by +virtue of his office must needs object to democratic masquerading." + +The Baron stroked his beard. + +"For inspiring the musical ceremony due your rank, Prince," he said +dryly, "I crave indulgence." + +Smiling, the ancient Greek at the Baron's elbow unmasked, to show the +cheerful face of Mr. Poynter. + +"Prince," said Mr. Poynter, "I sincerely trust I have made no error in +transcribing the Regent's Hymn for our excellent musicians. Having +heard it so many times in your presence in Houdania, I could not well +forget. At your service," with a glance at his Grecian attire, +"Herodotus, father of nomads!" + +But Ann Sherrill in the gorgeous raiment of a Semiramis was already at +hand, sparkling italics upon her royal guest, and Philip moved aside. + +"I am _overwhelmed_!" whispered Ann a little later. "I am _indeed_! I +was not in the _least_ aware that our mysterious incognito was a +prince, were you, Diane?" + +"Yes," said Diane. Her color was very high and she deliberately +avoided the imploring eyes of Mr. Poynter. + +"What in the _world_ is it all about?" begged Ann helplessly. "And +_who_ was the grayish monk who flitted about so mysteriously telling us +that the minstrel was a _prince_! It spread like wildfire. As for +you, Philip Poynter, it's exactly like you! To depart night before +last and suddenly reappear is _quite_ of a piece with your mysterious +habit of fading periodically out of civilization. Baron Tregar, how +_exceedingly_ delightful of you to come this way and surprise me when I +fancied you were so keen about those horrid tarpon that you wouldn't +leave them for all I _wrote_ and _wrote_." + +There was a sprightly nervousness in Ann's manner. She was +uncomfortably aware of a subtle undercurrent. + +"And I've another unexpected guest," she added to Diane. "Carl's here. +Wandering in from Heaven knows where, as he always does. He's making +his peace with your aunt--" + +Herodotus, who had been trying for some time to get into friendly +communication with his lady, suddenly murmured "Frost in Florida!" with +audible regret and moved off good-humoredly to look for Carl. + +He found that young man listening attentively to his aunt's reproaches. + +"And that costume, Carl," fluttered Queen Elizabeth in aggrieved +disapproval. "Why, dear me, it's enough to make a body shudder, it's +so sort of sinister--it is indeed! And I do hope you don't set your +hair on fire with that extraordinary light in your turban. Is it a +candle or an electric bulb?" + +"A forty horse power glowworm!" Carl assured her gravely, and the +portly Jethro sniggered to the danger of his seams. + +Philip's hand came down heavily upon the Palmer's broad shoulder and +Carl wheeled. In that instant as he grasped Philip's hand in a silence +more eloquent than words, every finer instinct of his queerly balanced +nature flashed in his face. The two hands tightened and fell apart. + +"Come, smoke!" invited Carl, smiling. "I'm glad you're here. I +haven't been ragged and abused for so long there's a lonely furrow in +my soul." + +But Dick Sherrill, looking very warm and disgruntled in a costume he +informed them bitterly was meant for Claude Duval, came up as they were +turning away and insisted upon presenting Carl to the guest of the +evening. + +"Ann sent me," he added. "And you've got to come. And I want to say +right now that Ann makes me tired. She's as notional as a lunatic. +_She_ planned this rig and now she doesn't like it. And if I don't +look like a highwayman you can wager your last sou I feel like one, and +that's sufficient. The whole trouble is that Ann's been so busy with +hair-dressers and manicurists and _corsetieres_ and dressmakers and the +Lord knows what not over that stunning Indian girl, who'll likely run +off with the family topazes, that she's had no time for her brother, +and rubs it in now by laughing at the shape of my legs. What's the +matter with my legs, Carl?" + +"Too ornamental," said Carl. "Curvilinear grace is all very well but--" + +"Shut up!" said Sherrill viciously. "Have you ever met this king-pin +I'm exploiting?" + +"I've seen him," said Car. "Once when he was riding up the mountain +road to Houdania with a brilliant escort and one--er--other time. +Think I told you I'd spent a month or so in a Houdanian monastery +several years ago, didn't I, Dick?" + +"Yes," said Dick. "That's why I asked. Poynter, who in blue blazes +are you looking for?" + +Philip flushed. + +"Dry up!" he advised. "You're grouchy." + +Sherrill was still heatedly denying the charge when they halted near +the Baron. + +"You wear a singular costume," suggested Ronador stiffly, when the +formalities of presentation were at an end. He glanced at the luminous +turban and thence to the chains. Carl, though he had primarily +intended the singular rig for the eyes of Tregar, had subtly invited +the remark. His eyes were darkly ironic. + +"Prince," he said guilelessly, "it is a silent parable." + +"Yes?" + +"I am 'The Ghost of a Man's Past!'" explained the Palmer lightly--and +clanked his chains. The level glances of the two met with the keenness +of invisible swords. + +"The heavy, sinister black," suggested the Palmer, "the flashes of +forbidden scarlet--the hours of a man's past are scarlet, are they +not?--the cloud above the head, with a treacherous heart of fire, the +clanking chains of bondage--they are all here. And the skeleton in the +closet--Sire--behold!" He laughed and flung back his mantle, revealing +a perfect skeleton cunningly etched in glaring white upon a +close-fitting garment of black. + +Did the Baron's eyes flash suddenly with a queer dry humor? Philip +could not be sure. + +With a clank of symbolic chains Carl bowed and withdrew, and coming +suddenly upon his cousin, halted and stared. Long afterward Diane was +to remember that she had caught a similar look in the eyes of Ronador. + +"Well?" she begged, slightly uncomfortable. + +Carl smiled. Once more his fine eyes were impassive. With ready grace +he admired the delicately-thonged tunic and the beaded sash, the bright +turban with the beaten band of silver and the darkly lovely face +beneath it. + +"It's a duplicate of the rig my little Indian friend wears," she +explained, smiling. "Hasn't Ann told you? She's quite wild about it." + +"Ann's very busy soothing Dick," laughed Carl and to the malicious +satisfaction of that worthy Greek who had been trailing along in his +wake, presented Herodotus. Diane nodded, smiled politely--and sought +delicately to ignore the ancient Greek. It was a hopeless task. Mr. +Poynter insisted upon considering himself included in every word she +uttered. + +"Isn't mother a _dear_!" exclaimed Ann Sherrill joining them. "After +ragging me _desperately_ for days about Keela, until I threatened to +kill myself, and giving me an _exceedingly_ horrid little book on the +advisability of curbing one's most _interesting_ impulses, she's taken +her under her wing to-night and they're excellent friends. Philip, +dear, go unruffle Dick. He's _horribly_ fussed up about something or +other. Carl, I want you to meet Keela. It's the most _interesting_ +thing I've dared in ages and Dad's been very decent about it. Dad +always _did_ understand me. He has a sense of humor." + +Diane and Carl followed, laughing, at her heels. Ann presently found +her mother and Keela and unaware of the astonished interest in Carl's +eyes, presented him. + +"The Black Palmer!" said Keela naively. + +"Lady of Gold and Black!" said Carl and bowed profoundly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE RECKONING + +The reckoning of Ronador and the Baron came by the cypress pool. + +"It is useless to rave and storm," said Tregar quietly. "I hold the +cards." + +"Was it necessary to humiliate me in the presence of Miss Westfall?" +demanded Ronador bitterly. With all his sullenness there was in his +tone a marked respect for the older man. + +"It was necessary to end this romantic masquerade!" insisted Tregar. +"Why are you here?" + +"I--I came in a flash of panic. It seemed to me that after all I--I +could not trust to other hands when the dead thing stirred." Ronador's +face was white and haggard. In that instant his forty-four years lay +heavily upon his shoulders. + +"Have I ever misplaced your trust?" reminded Tregar sombrely. "Have I +not even kept your secret from your father?" + +"Yes." + +"Then tell me," asked the Baron bluntly, "why you must come to America +and hysterically complicate this damnable mess by--a bullet!" + +Greatly agitated, Ronador fell to pacing to and fro. Heavy cypress +shadows upon the water moved like pointing fingers. + +"Is there nothing I may keep from you?" broke from him a little +bitterly. + +"Why," insisted the older man, "have you seen fit to conduct yourself +with the irrationality of a madman by trundling a music-machine about +the country and making love to a girl you tried in a moment of fright +and frenzy--to kill?" + +"I--I lost my head," said the Prince with an effort. "It--it seemed at +first that she must die. The other, I thought to myself, I will leave +to Themar and the Baron. This I must do for myself. They will spare +her and years hence the thing may stir again. I--I can not bear to +think of it even now, Tregar. I have paid heavily for my moment of +madness. For nights after, I did not sleep. Even now the memory is +unspeakable torture!" And Ronador admitted with stiff, white lips that +some nameless God of Malice had made capital of his bullet, stirring +his heart into admiration for the fearless girl who had stood so +gallantly by the fire in a storm-haunted wood. In the heart of the +forest a happier solution had come to him and eliminated the sinister +thought of murder. + +The Baron coldly heard the passionate avowal through to the end. + +"And the Princess Phaedra?" he begged formally. "What of her? What of +the marriage that is to dissolve the bitter feud of a century between +Houdania and Galituria, this marriage to which already you are +informally bound?" + +"It is nothing to me. I shall marry Miss Westfall." + +"So!" The Baron matched his heavy fingertips. "So! And this is +another infernal complication of the freedom of marital choice we grant +our princes!" + +"Ten years ago," flamed Ronador passionately, "you and my father picked +a wife for me! Is not that enough? Now that she is dead, I shall +marry whom I choose. Has it not occurred to you that after all it is +the sanest way out of this horrible muddle?" + +"It is one way out," admitted Tregar, "and by that way lies war with +Galituria." He fell silent, plucking at his beard. "I fancy," he said +at last, "that you will not go back to the music-machine." + +"It was--and is--my only means of following her." + +"Do so again," said the Baron dryly, "and the American yellow papers +shall blazon your identity to the world. 'Son of a prince +regent--nephew of a king--trundles a music-machine about to win a +beautiful gypsy!' And Galituria and the Princess Phaedra will read +with interest." Then he blazed suddenly with one of his infrequent +outbursts of passion, "Is it not enough to have Galituria laughing at a +mad king whose claim to the throne by our laws may not be invalidated +by his madness? A king so mad that the affairs of a nation must be +administered by a prince regent--your father? Must you add to all this +the disgrace of breaking faith with Galituria and plunging your country +into war? Your father is an old man. With but his life and the life +of an aging madman between you and the throne, it behooves you to walk +with a full recognition of your future responsibilities. Your father +knows you are here in America?" + +"No. There was an Arctic expedition. He thinks I have gone hunting +with that. At first I thought I could come to America and return with +no one the wiser." + +"Having murdered Miss Westfall!" completed the Baron quietly. + +Ronador's face was ashen. + +"Excellency," he choked suddenly, "my little son--" + +"Yes," said Tregar with sudden kindness, "I know. Your great love and +ambition for the boy drove you to madness." He paused. "You are fully +decided to break faith with Phaedra, knowing what may come of it?" + +"Yes. Even if my great love for Miss Westfall did not drive me on--" + +"To indiscretion!" supplied the Baron dryly. + +"As you will. Even then, to me it is now the one way out. With +Granberry dead, with the treacherous paper in my possession--" + +"It has been burned." + +Ronador did not hear. + +"With Miss Westfall my wife," he finished, "even if the dead thing +stirs again, it can make no difference." + +"Then," said the Baron formally, "I am through with it all, quite +through. The task was never of my choosing, as you know. When the +dead hand reached forth from the grave to taunt you, Ronador, I was +willing at first to stoop to unutterable things to save you--and +Houdania--from dishonor, but more and more there has been distaste in +my heart for the blackness of the thing. Days back I warned you by +letter that I would not see Miss Westfall coldly sacrificed for a +muddle of which she knew absolutely nothing. There are things a man +may not do even for his country--one is murdering women. Now, though I +pledged myself through loyalty to my country, my king, my regent and +yourself to spying and murder and petty thievery, with a consequent +chain of discomfort and misunderstandings for myself, I am through and +mightily glad of it!" + +"And what have you accomplished?" flamed Ronador passionately. +"Granberry, for all your ciphered pledges, lives and mocks me as he did +tonight, as he did months back. I could kill him for the indignities +he has heaped upon me, if for nothing else. And he knows more than you +think. What did he mean to-night?" + +"Circumstances," said Tregar coldly, "have made you unduly sensitive +and suspicious. Granberry's costume was planned maliciously as an +impersonal affront to me. He knew of my plans through a telegram of +mine to Themar and made his own accordingly. It was not your past to +which he referred. Surely it is not difficult to catch his meaning?" + +"Blunders and blunders and quixotic scruples," raved Ronador, "and now +this crowning indignity to-night! What has Themar been doing? . . . +What have you done? . . . Why is Granberry still alive? Hereafter, +Tregar, Themar will report to me. I personally will see that the thing +is cleared up and silenced forever. I may trust at least to your +silence?" + +"My word as a gentleman is sufficient?" + +"It is." + +"Consider me pledged to silence as I have been for a quarter of a +century." + +"Where is Themar?" + +"He is here at my command to-night after an illness of weeks. He has +been Granberry's prisoner. His illness alone won his release for him +through some inconsistent whim of sympathy on the part of Granberry. +He wears the garb of a gray monk." + +"Send him here." + +The Baron bowed and withdrew. At the path he turned. + +"Ronador," he said quietly, "for the sake of the lifetime friendship I +have borne your father, for the sake of the position of honor and trust +I hold in your father's court, for the sake of my great love for +Houdania, let me say that when you find you are sinking deeper and +deeper into a pitfall of errors and unhappiness and treachery, I shall +be ready and willing to aid and advise you as best I may. I think I +know you better than you know yourself. You have an inheritance of +wild passion, a nature that swayed by irresistible and fiery impulse, +will for the moment dare anything and regret it with terrible suffering +ever after. One such lesson you have had in early manhood. I hope you +may not rush on blindly to another. Until you come to me, however," he +added with dignity, "I shall not meddle again." + +"I shall not come!" said Ronador imperiously. But the Baron was gone. + +Later, by the cypress pool, the gray monk and the minstrel talked long +and earnestly of one who knew overmuch of the affairs of both. + +"There is but one thing more," faltered Themar at the end. "I may +speak with freedom?" + +"Yes," said Ronador impatiently, "what is it?" + +"Miss Westfall--I spied upon her camp in Connecticut--" + +"Yes?" + +"It is well to know all. For days she lived with Poynter in the +forest--" + +Ronador's eyes blazed. + +"Go, go!" he cried, his face quite colorless, "for the love of God go +before I kill you! I--I can not bear any more to-night." + +Who had scored! For Ronador, at least, in the guileful hands of a +traitor who by reason of a strong maternal sympathy desired the +alliance of Ronador and Princess Phaedra, there was doubt and bitter +suffering. And he might not return to the music-machine. + +Themar's thin lips smiled but he wisely retreated. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +FOREST FRIENDS + +Northward to Jacksonville had journeyed the camp of the Indian girl, +bearing away Diane, to Aunt Agatha's unspeakable agitation. Now, +joining forces, these two forest friends, linked in an idle moment by +the nameless freemasonry of the woodland, were winding happily south +along the seacoast. Nights their camps lay side by side. + +Keela, with shy and delightful gravity, slipped wide-eyed into the +niceties of civilization, coiled her heavy hair in the fashion of Diane +and copied her dress naively. Diane felt a thrill of satisfaction at +this singular finding of a friend whose veins knew the restless stir of +nomadic blood, a friend who was fleeter of foot, keener of vision and +hearing and better versed in the ways of the woodland than Diane +herself. And Diane had known no peer in the world of white men. + +There were gray dawns when a pair of silent riders went galloping +through the stillness upon the Westfall horses, riding easily without +saddles; there were twilights when they swam in sheltered pools like +wild brown nymphs; there were quiet hours by the camp fire when the +inborn reticence of the Indian girl vanished in the frank sincerity of +Diane's friendship. Of Mr. Poynter and the hay-camp there was no sign. + +"Doubtless," considered Diane disdainfully, "he has come at last to his +senses. And I'm very glad he has, very glad indeed. It's time he did. +I think I made my displeasure sufficiently clear at the exceedingly +tricky way he and the Baron conducted themselves at Palm Beach. And +the Baron was no better than Philip. Indeed, I think he was very much +worse. If Philip hadn't wandered about in the garb of Herodotus and +murmured that impertinence about 'frost in Florida' it wouldn't have +been so bad. It's a very unfortunate thing, however, that he never +seems to remember one's displeasure or the cause of it." + +But for one who rejoiced in Mr. Poynter's belated inheritance of common +sense, Diane's comment a few days later was very singular. + +"I wonder," she reflected uncomfortably, "if Philip understands smoke +signals. He may be lost." + +But Philip was not lost. He was merely discreet. + +A lonely beach fringed in sand hills lay before the camp. Beyond +rolled the ocean, itself a melancholy solitude droning under an azure +sky. There were beach birds running in flocks down the sand as the +white-ridged foam receded; overhead an Indian file of pelicans winged +briskly out to sea. + +On the broad, hard beach to the north presently appeared a +music-machine. Piebald horse, broad, eccentric wagon, cymbals and +drum--there was no mistaking the outfit, nor the minstrel himself with +his broad-brimmed sombrero tipped protectively over his nose. + +Now despite the fact that the Baron had hinted that Ronador's +masquerade was at an end, the music-machine steadily approached and +halted. The minstrel alighted and fell stiffly to turning the crank, +whereupon with a fearful roll of the drum and a clash of cymbals, the +papier-mache snake began to unfold and "An Old Girl of Mine" emerged +from the cataclysm of sound and frightened the fish hawks over the +shallow water. A great blue heron, knee-deep in water, croaked with +annoyance, flapped his wings and departed. + +When the dreadful commotion in the wagon at last subsided, the minstrel +came through the trees and sweeping off his sombrero, bowed and smiled. + +"Merciful Heavens!" exclaimed the girl, staring. + +It was Mr. Poynter. + +"I'm sorry," regretted Mr. Poynter. "I'm really sorry I feel so +well--but I've got a music-machine." And seating himself most +comfortably by the fire, with a frankly admiring glance at his corduroy +trousers, silken shirt and broad sombrero, he anxiously inquired what +Diane thought of his costume. Indeed, he admitted, that thought had +been uppermost in his mind for days, for he'd copied it very faithfully. + +"It's ridiculous!" said Diane, "and you know it." + +There, said Mr. Poynter, he must disagree. He didn't know it. + +"Well," said Diane flatly, "to my thinking, this is considerably worse +than blowing a tin whistle on the steps of the van!" + +Mr. Poynter could not be sure. He said in his delightfully naive way, +however, that a music-machine was a thing to arouse romance and +sympathy with conspicuous success, that more and more the moon was +getting him, and that he did hope Diane would remember that he was the +disguised Duke of Connecticut. Moreover, his most tantalizing +shortcoming up-to-date had seemed to be a total inability to arouse +said romance and sympathy, especially sympathy, for, whether or not +Diane would believe it, even here in this land of flowers he had +encountered frost! Wherefore, having personal knowledge of the success +incidental to unwinding a hullabaloo in proper costume, he had +purchased one from a--er--distinguished gentleman who for singular and +very private reasons had no further use for it. And though the +negotiations, for reasons unnamable, had had to be conducted with +infinite discretion through an unknown third person, he had eventually +found himself the possessor of the hullabaloo, to his great delight. +He had hullabalooed his way along the coast in the wake of a nomadic +friend, but deeming it wise to await the dispersal of frost strangely +engendered by a Regent's Hymn, had discreetly kept his distance and +proved his benevolence, in the manner of his distinguished predecessor, +by playing to all the nice old ladies in the dooryards. . . . And one +of them had given him a piece of pie and a bottle of excellent coffee +and fretted a bit about the way he was wasting his life. Mr. Poynter +added that in the fashion of certain young darkies who infest the +Southern roads, he would willingly stand on his head for a baked potato +in lieu of a nickel, being very hungry. + +"You probably mean by that, that you're going to stay to supper!" said +Diane. + +Mr. Poynter meant just that. + +"Where," demanded Diane, "is the hay-camp?" + +"Well," said Philip, "Ras is a hay-bride-groom. He dreamt he was +married and it made such a profound impression upon him that he went +and married somebody. He slept through his wooing and he slept through +his wedding and I gave him the hay and the cart and Dick Whittington. +I don't think he entirely appreciated Dick either, for he blinked some. +All of which primarily engendered the music-machine inspiration. It's +really a very comfortable way of traveling about and the wagon was +fastidiously fitted up by my distinguished predecessor. The seat's +padded and plenty broad enough to sleep on." + +Mr. Poynter presently departed to the music-machine for a peace +offering in the shape of a bow and some arrows upon which, he said, +he'd been working for days. When he returned, laden with luxurious +contributions to the evening meal, the camp had still another guest. +Keela was sitting by the fire. Philip eyed with furtive approval the +modish shirtwaist, turned back at the full brown throat, and the +heavily coiled hair. + +"The Seminole rig," explained Diane, "was an excellent drawing card for +Palm Beach tourists but it was a bit conspicuous for the road. Greet +him in Seminole, Keela." + +"Som-mus-ka-lar-nee-sha-maw-lin!" said Keela with gravity. + +Philip looked appalled. + +"She says 'Good wishes to the white man!'" explained Diane, smiling. + +"My Lord," said Philip, "I wouldn't have believed it. Keela, I thought +you were joint by joint unwinding a yard or so of displeasure at my +appearance. No-chit-pay-lon-es-chay!" he added irresponsibly, naming a +word he had picked up in Palm Beach from an Indian guide. + +The effect was electric. Keela stared. Diane look horrified. + +"Philip!" she said. "It means 'Lie down and go to sleep!'" + +"To the Happy Hunting Ground with that bonehead Indian!" said Philip +with fervor. "Lord, what a civil retort!" and he stammered forth an +instant apology. + +Immeasurably delighted, Keela laughed. + +"You are very funny," she said in English. "I shall like you." + +"That's really very comfortable!" said Philip gratefully. "I don't +deserve it." He held forth the bow and arrows. "See if you can shoot +fast and far enough to have six arrows in the air at once," he said, +smiling, "and I'll believe I'm forgiven." + +With lightning-like grace Keela shot the arrows into the air and smiled. + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Philip admiringly. "Seven!" + +With deft fingers she strung the bow again and shot, her cheeks as +vivid as a wild flower, her poise and skill faultless. + +"Eight!" said Philip incredulously. "Help!" + +"Keela is easily the best shot I ever knew," exclaimed Diane warmly. +"Try it, Philip." + +"Not much!" said Philip feelingly. "I can shoot like a normal being +with one pair of arms, but I can't string space with arrows like that. +You forest nymphs," he added with mild resentment, "with woodland eyes +and ears and skill put me to shame. You and I, Diane, quarreled once, +I think, about the number of Pleiades--" + +"They're an excellent test of eyesight," nodded Diane. "And you said +there were only six!" + +"There is no seventh Pleiad!" said Philip with stubborn decision. + +"Eight!" said Keela shyly. And they both stared. Shooting a final +arrow, she sent it so far that Philip indignantly refused to look for +it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +BY THE WINDING CREEK + +At dawn one morning a long black car shot out from Jacksonville and +took to the open road. It glided swiftly past arid stretches of pine +barrens streaked with stagnant water, past bogs aglow with iris, +through quaint little cities smiling under the shelter of primeval oaks +and on, stopping only long enough for the driver to ask a question of a +negro on a load of wood--or a mammy singing plaintively in the +flower-bright dooryard of a house. + +Sometimes losing, sometimes finding, the trail of a green and white +van, the long black car shot on, through roads of pleasant windings +flanked by forest and river, beyond which lay the line of green-fringed +sand hills which parallel the rolling Atlantic. Past placid lakes +skimmed by purple martins, past orange groves heavy with fruit, past +fences overrun with Cherokee roses, and on, but the driver, abroad with +the sunrise glow, seemed somehow to see little or none of it. +Sometimes he stared sombrely at a ghostly palmetto, tall and dark +against the sky. Once with a grinding shudder of brakes he halted on +the border of a cypress swamp and stared frowningly at the dark, dank +trees knee-deep in stagnant water above which the buzzards flew, as if +the loathsome spot matched his mood. As indeed it did. + +For the words of Themar had done cruel work. Torn by black suspicion, +Ronador saw no peace in this tranquil Florida world of sun and flower, +of warm south wind and bright-winged bird. He saw only the buzzards, +birds of evil omen. Swayed by fiery gusts of passion, of remorse, of +sullenness and jealousy, he rode on, a prey to sinister resolution. To +confront Diane with his knowledge of those days by the river, this +resolution alternated as frequently with another--to put his fate to +the test and passionately avow his utter trust in one immeasurably +above the rank and file of women. He had racked Themar with insistent +questions, he had quarreled again and again with the Baron since that +night by the pool, until now he had at his finger-ends, the ways and +days of Philip Poynter since the day the Baron had dispatched his young +secretary upon the ill-fated errand to Diane. And as there were finer +moments when his faith in the girl was unmarred by suspicion, so there +were wild, unscrupulous hours of jealousy when he could have killed +Philip and taunted her with insults. + +Driving steadily, he came in course of time to a narrow, grass-banked +creek. The nomads on the winding road beside it were many and +beautiful. Here were yellow butterflies, sandpipers and kingfishers, +and now and then an eagle cleaved the dazzling blue overhead with +magnificent wing-strokes. Sand hills reflected the white sunlight. +Beyond glistened a stretch of open sea with a flock of beautiful +gannets of black and white whipping its surface. But Ronador did not +thrill to the peaceful picture. He glanced instead at the buzzard +which seemed curiously to hang above the long black car. + +Now presently as he eyed the road ahead for a glimpse of the van, +Ronador saw the familiar lines of a music-machine and drove by it with +a glance of interest. Instantly the blood rushed violently to his +face. For, as the horse and music-machine had been familiar, so was +the driver, who swept a broad sombrero from his head and revealed the +face of Philip Poynter. + +With a curse Ronador abruptly brought the car to a standstill. The +very irony of this masquerade fired him with terrible anger. + +"You!" he choked. "You!" + +Philip nodded. + +"I guess you're right," he said. + +The blazing dark eyes and the calm, unruffled blue ones met in a glance +of implacable antagonism. Not in the least impressed Philip replaced +his sombrero and spoke to his horse. Fish crows flew overhead with +croaks of harsh derision. + +Another buzzard! With a terrible jerk, Ronador drove on, his face +scarlet. + +So Poynter still dared to follow! By a trick he had bought the +music-machine, by a trick he had given the Regent's Hymn to the curious +ears at Sherrill's. Very well, there were tricks and tricks! And if +one man may trick, so, surely, may another. + +Passion had always hushed the voice of the imperial conscience, though +indeed it awoke and cried in a terrible voice when passion was dead. +So now with stiff white lips fixed in unalterable resolution, Ronador +drove viciously on, turning over and over in his fevered brain the ways +and days of Philip Poynter. . . . So at last he came to the camp he +sought. + +It was pitched upon the upland bank of the winding creek and as the car +shot rapidly toward it, a great blue heron flapped indignantly and +soared away to the marsh beyond the trees. Ronador jumped queerly and +colored with a sense of guilt. + +There was yellow oxalis here carpeting the ground among the low, dark +cedars, yellow butterflies flitted about among the trees where Johnny +was washing the van, and the inevitable buzzard floated with upturned +wings above the camp. Ronador had grown to hate the ubiquitous bird of +the South. Superstition flamed hotly up in his heart now at the sight +of it. + +Diane was sewing. He had caught the flutter of her gown beneath a +cedar as he stopped the car. There was no one visible in the camp of +the Indian girl. Ronador sprang from his car and waved to the girl, +smiling, she came to meet him. + +Now as Ronador smiled down into the clear, unfaltering eyes of the girl +before him, he knew suddenly that he trusted her utterly, that the mad +suspicion, sired by the words of Themar and mothered by jealousy, was +but a dank mist that melted away in the sunlight of her presence. Only +jealousy remained and a smouldering, unscrupulous hate for the +persistent young organ-grinder behind him. + +Chatting pleasantly they returned to camp. + +Imperceptibly their talk of the fortunes of the road took on a more +intimate tinge of reminiscence and presently, with searching eyes fixed +upon the vivid, lovely face of the wind-brown gypsy beneath the cedar, +Ronador asked the girl to marry him. + +Very gently Diane released her hands from his grasp, her cheeks scarlet. + +"Indeed, indeed," she faltered, "I could not with fairness answer you +now, for I do not in the least know what I think. You will not +misunderstand me, I am sure, if I tell you that not once in the long, +pleasant days we journeyed the same roads, did I ever dream of the +nature of your pleasant friendship." Her frank, dark eyes, alive with +a beautiful sincerity, met his honestly. "There was always +tradition--" she reminded. + +Ronador's reply was sincere and gallant. Diane was lovelier than any +princess, he said, and in Houdania, tradition had been replaced years +back by a law which granted freedom. + +"Though to be sure," he added bitterly, "each generation seeks to break +it. Tregar tried, urging me persistently for diplomatic reasons to +take a wife of his choosing. And when I--I fled to America to escape +his infernal scheming and spying--he followed. Even here in America I +have been haunted by spies--" + +His glance wavered. + +"And then," he went on earnestly, "I saw you and I knew that Princess +Phaedra was forever impossible. There was a night of terrible wind and +storm when I planned to beg shelter in your camp and make your +acquaintance. . . . You are annoyed?" + +"No," said Diane honestly. "Why fuss now?" + +"Tregar must have suspected. I met his--his spy in the forest and we +quarreled wildly. He tried to kill me but the bullet went wild." + +Again his glance wavered but the lying words came smoothly. "My +servant, Themar, leaped and stabbed him in the shoulder--" + +"No! No!" cried Diane. "Not that--not that!" Her eyes, dark with +horror in the colorless oval of her face, met Ronador's with mute +appeal. "It--it can not be," she added quietly. "The man was Philip +Poynter." + +Ronador caught her hands again with fierce resolve. His eyes were +blazing with excitement and anger at the utter faith in her voice. + +"Why do you think I adopted the stained face--the disguise of a +wandering minstrel?" he demanded impetuously. "It was to free myself +from his infernal spying--to afford myself the opportunity of gaining +your friendship without his knowledge! Why did he follow--always +follow? Because at the command of his chief, he must needs obstruct my +plan of winning you. There was always Princess Phaedra! Why did he +watch by night in the forest. To spy! Can you not see it?" + +"Surely, surely," said Diane, "you must be wrong!" + +But Ronador could not be wrong. Themar, his servant, whom he had +dispatched to seek employment with the Baron when the fortunes of the +road had made further attendance upon himself inconvenient, had learned +of the hay-camp and of Poynter's pledge to make his victim's advances +ridiculous in the eyes of Diane. + +"And when Themar followed--to warn me--Poynter beat him brutally," he +went on fiercely, "beat him and sent him in a dirty barge to a distant +city. All the while when I fancied my disguise impenetrable, he was +laughing in his sleeve, for he is as clever as he is unscrupulous. He +was even meeting his chief in a Kentucky woods to report. Tregar +admitted it. Why did he make me ridiculous at the Sherrill fete? +Purely because your eyes, Miss Westfall, were among those who watched +the indignity! Why is he driving about now in the music-machine to +mock me? Because having forced me from the road, he must needs see to +it that I do not return. When I do, he must be near at hand to report +to the Baron." + +It was an artful network. Somehow, by virtue of the sinister skeleton +of facts underlying the velvet of his logic, it rang true. Diane, as +colorless as a flower, sat utterly silent, slender brown fingers +tightened against the palms of her hands. + +Philip false! Philip a spy! Philip--almost a murderer! It could not +be! + +Yet how insistently he had striven to force her to return to +civilization. Away from Ronador? It might be. How insistently the +Baron had urged him to linger in her camp! _To spy_? A great wave of +faintness swept over her. And there was Arcadia and the hay-camp and +the mildly impudent indignities--they all slipped accurately into place. + +"I--I do not know!" she faltered at last in answer to his impetuous +pleading. "If you will not see me again until I may think it all out--" + +But there was danger in waiting. A hot appeal flashed in Ronador's +eyes and eloquently again he fell to pleading. + +But Diane had caught the clatter of the music-machine up the road where +Philip was good-humoredly unwinding the hullabaloo for a crowd of +gleeful young darkies, and suddenly she turned very white and stern. + +"No! No!" she said. "It must be as I said." + +And presently, with faith in his poisoned arrows Ronador went, pledged +to await her summons. + +Diane sat very still beneath the cedars, with the noise of the +music-machine wild torture to her ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE MOON ABOVE THE MARSH + +The moon silvered the marsh and the creek. Off to the east rippled a +silent, moon-white stretch of sea, infinitely lonely, murmuring in the +star-cool night. + +Restless and wakeful Diane watched the stream glide endlessly on, each +reed and pebble silvered. Rex lay on the bank beside her, whither he +had followed faithfully a very long while ago, snapping at the insects +which rose from the grass. So colorless and fixed was the face of his +mistress that it seemed a beautiful graven thing devoid of life. + +Now presently as Diane stared at the moon-lit pebbles glinting at her +feet, a shadow among the cedars, having advanced and retreated +uncertainly a score of times before, suddenly detached itself from the +wavering stencil of tree and bush upon the moonlit ground and resolved +itself into the figure of a tall, determined sentinel who approached +and seated himself beside her. + +"What's wrong?" begged Philip gently. "I've been watching you for +hours, Diane, and you've scarcely moved an inch." + +"Nothing," said Diane. But her voice was so lifeless, her lack of +interest in Philip's sudden appearance so pointed, that he glanced +keenly at her colorless face and frowned. + +"There is something, I'm sure," he insisted kindly. "You look it." +Finding that she did not trouble to reply, he produced his wildwood +pipe and fell to smoking. + +"Likely I'll stay here," said Philip quietly, "until you tell me. +Surely you know, Diane, that in anything in God's world that concerns +you, I stand ready to help you if you need me." + +It was manfully spoken but Diane's lips faintly curled. Philip's fine +frank face colored hotly and he looked away. + +In silence they sat there, Philip smoking restlessly and wondering, +Diane staring at the creek, with Ronador's impassioned voice ringing +wildly in her ears. + +In the east the sky turned faintly primrose, the creek glowed faintly +pink. The great moon glided lower by the marsh with the branch of a +dead tree black against its brilliant shield. Marsh and oak were +faintly gray. The metallic ocean had already caught the deepening glow +of life. Where the stream stole swampwards, a mist curled slowly up +from the water like beckoning ghosts draped in nebulous rags. + +Suddenly in the silence Diane fell to trembling. + +"Philip!" she cried desperately. + +"Yes?" said Philip gently. + +"Why are you following me with the music-machine?" + +"I could tell you," said Philip honestly, "and I'd like to, but you'd +tell me again that the moon is on my head." + +The girl smiled faintly. + +"Tell me," she begged impetuously, "what was that other reason why I +must not journey to Florida in the van? You spoke of it by the lily +pool in Connecticut. You remember?" + +"Yes," said Philip uncomfortably. "Yes, I do remember." + +"What was it?" insisted Diane, her eyes imploring. "Surely, Philip, +you can tell me now! I--I did not ask you then--" + +"No," said Philip wistfully. "I--I think you trusted me then, for all +our friendship was a thing of weeks." + +"What was it?" asked Diane, grown very white. + +"I am sorry," said Philip simply. "I may not tell you that, Diane. I +am pledged." + +"To whom?" + +"It is better," said Philip, "if I do not tell." + +Diane sharply caught her breath and stared at the sinister wraiths +rising in floating files from the swamp stream. + +"Philip--was it--was it Themar's knife?" + +"Yes," said Philip. + +"And the man to whom you are pledged is--Baron Tregar!" + +"Yes," said Philip again. + +"Why were you in the forest that night of storm and wind?" + +Philip glanced keenly at the girl by the creek. Her profile was stern +and very beautiful, but the finely moulded lips had quivered. + +"What is it, Diane?" he begged gently. "Why is it that you must ask me +all these things that I may not honorably answer?" + +"I--I do not see why you may not answer." + +"An honorable man respects his promise scrupulously!" said Philip with +a sigh. "You would not have me break mine?" + +"Why," cried Diane, "did you fight with Themar in the forest? Why have +you night after night watched my camp? Oh, Philip, surely, surely, you +can tell me!" + +Philip sighed. With his infernal habit of mystery and pledges, the +Baron had made this very hard for him. + +"None of these things," he said quietly, "I may tell you or anyone." + +Diane leaned forward and laid her hand upon his arm. + +"Philip," she whispered with dark, tragic eyes fixed upon his face, +"who--who shot the bullet that night? Do you know?" + +"Yes," said Philip, "I--I am very sorry. I think I know--" + +"You will not tell me?" + +"No." + +Diane drew back with a shudder. + +"I know the answers to all my questions!" she said in a low voice, and +there was a great horror in her eyes. "Oh, Philip, Philip, go! If--if +you could have told me something different--" + +"Is it useless to ask you to trust me, Diane?" + +"Go!" said Diane, trembling. + +By the swamp the gray ghosts fell to dancing with locked, transparent +hands. + +Blood-red the sun glimmered through the pines and struck fire from a +gray, cold world. + +Philip bent and caught her hands, quietly masterful. + +"What you may think, Diane," he said unsteadily, "I do not know. But +part of the answer to every question is my love for you. No--you must +listen! We have crossed swords and held a merry war, but through it +all ran the strong thread of friendship. We must not break it now. Do +you know what I thought that day on the lake when I saw you coming +through the trees? I said, I have found her! God willing, here is the +perfect mate with whom I must go through life, hand in hand, if I am to +live fully and die at the last having drained the cup of life to the +bottom. If, knowing this, you can not trust me and will tell me so--" + +But Ronador's eloquent voice rang again in the girl's ears. Her glance +met Philip's inexorably. And there was something in her eyes that hurt +him cruelly. For an instant his face flamed scarlet, then it grew +white and hard and very grim. + +"Go!" said Diane and buried her face in her hands. + +With no final word of extenuation Philip went. + +Diane stumbled hurriedly through the trees to Keela's camp and touched +the Indian girl frantically upon the shoulder. + +"Keela," she cried desperately, "wake! wake! It's sunrise. Let us go +somewhere--anywhere--and leave this treacherous world of civilization +behind us. I--I am tired of it all." + +Keela stared. + +"Very well," she said sedately a little later. "You and I, Diane, we +will journey to my home in the Glades. There--as it was a century +back--so it is now." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +THE WIND OF THE OKEECHOBEE + +Southward along the beautiful Kissimmee river, where the fabled young +grandee of Spain kissed the plaintive Seminole maid, rumbled the great +green van and the camp of Keela. Southward, unremittingly protective, +followed the silent music-machine. For though the dear folly and humor +were things of the past, like Arcadia, a true knight may surely see +that his willful lady comes to no harm though he must worship from +afar. And at length they came to the final fringe of civilization +edging the Everglades where, despite repeated protests, Johnny must +stay behind with the cumbrous van. + +And now the Southern woods were gloriously a-riot with blossoms; with +dogwood and magnolia, with wild tropical blossoms of orange and +scarlet; and the moon hung wild and beautiful above the Everglades. + +"Little Spring Moon!" said Keela softly in Seminole. + +Diane thought suddenly of a late moon above a marsh. + +"He--he can not follow me into those terrible wilds ahead," she thought +with sudden bitterness. "I shall be free at last from his dreadful +spying." + +At sunrise one morning they bade Johnny adieu and struck off boldly +with the Indian wagon into the melancholy world of the Everglades. + +"It is better," said Keela gravely, "if you wear the Seminole clothes +you wore at Sherrill's. They are in the wagon. My people love not the +white man." + +"But--" stammered Diane. + +"They will think," explained Keela shyly, "that you are a beautiful +daughter of the sun from the wilderness of O-kee-fee-ne-kee. You are +brown and beautiful. Such, they tell, was my grandmother. It is a +legend of my mother's people, but I do not think," added Keela +majestically, "that the wild and beautiful tribe of mystery who were +sons and daughters of the Sun, are half so beautiful as you!" + +To the dull baying of the alligators in the saw grass, and the +melancholy croak of the great blue herons, Keela's wagon penetrated the +weird and terrible wilds of the Everglades, winding by the gloomy +border of swamps where the deadly moccasin dwelt beneath the darkling +shadow of cypress, on by ponds thick with lilies and tall ghostly +grasses, over tangled underbrush, past water-dark jungles of dead trees +where the savage cascade of brush and vine and fallen branches had +woven a weird, wild lacery among the trees, through mud and saw grass, +past fertile islands and lagoons of rush and flag--a trackless +water-prairie of uninhabitable wilds which to Keela's keen and +beautiful eyes held the mysteriously blazed home-trail of the Seminole. + +As Keela knew the trail, so surely from the rank, tropical vegetation +of the great Southern marshland she knew the art of wresting food. +Bitter wild oranges, pawpaws, oily palmetto cabbage, wild cassava, +starred gorgeously now with orange colored blossoms, and guavas; these, +with the wild turkeys and mallard ducks, turtles and squirrels and the +dark little Florida quail with which the wild abounded, gave them +varied choice. + +Cheerfully fording miles of mud and water, his discomforts not a few, +came Philip, greatly disturbed by the incomprehensible whims of his +lady. By day he followed close upon the trail of the canvas wagon, +patterning his conquest of the aquatic wilderness about him after that +of Keela, hunting the wild duck and the turkey and discarding the +bitter orange with aggrieved disgust. And if Keela occasionally found +a brace of ducks by the camp fire or a bass in a nest of green +palmetto, she wisely said nothing, sensing the barrier between these +two and wondering greatly. + +By night when the great morass lay in white and sinister tangle under +the wild spring moon, when the dark and dreadful swamps were rife with +horrible croaks and snaps, the whirring of the wings of waterfowl or +the noise of a disturbed puff adder, Philip stretched himself upon the +seat of the music-machine and slept through the twilight and the early +evening. When the camp ahead, glimmering brightly through the live +oaks, was silent, Philip awoke and watched and smoked, a solitary +sentinel in the terrible melancholy of the moonlit waste of ooze and +dead leaf and sinister crawling life. + +So they came in time to the plains of Okeechobee and thence to the +wild, dark waters of the great inland sea--a wild, bleak sea, mirroring +cloud and the night-lamp of the Everglades. The wind wafting across on +night-tipped wings rippled the great water shield and brought its +message to the silent figure on the shore. + +"So," sighed the wind of the Okeechobee, "he still follows!" + +"Yes," said Diane, shuddering at the howl of a cat owl, "he has dared +even that!" + +"Brave and resolute to plunge into the wilds with a music-machine! +Would he, think you, dare all this for the sake of--spying?" + +"I--I do not know. I have wondered greatly. Still he has dared much +for it before." + +"He asked you to remember--his love--" + +"I--I dare not think of it. For every admission he made that night by +the marsh tallied with the terrible tale of Ronador. I had thought he +followed and watched by night for another reason." + +"What reason?" + +"I--do not know. A finer, holier reason--" + +The wind fluttered and fell, and rose again with a plaintive sigh. + +"You know, but you will not tell!" + +"It--it may be so. He is false--he is false!" cried the voice of the +girl's sore heart; "a false sentry and a false protector. I can not +bear it. Philip! Philip! It was Themar's knife--and the bullet was +his--and all that seemed fine and noble was black and false!" + +"You will not trust him as he begged!" + +"I can not. For he will not tell me the reason for all these things!" + +"You will wed Prince Ronador?" + +"Yes. It is the one way out." + +"Why?" + +"He is a gallant lover and the victim of much that is vile and unfair." + +"Yes--he has said so." + +"He has suffered much through me." + +"Yes." + +"And he is honorable and devoted." + +"It may be." + +"He told me all, though he found it difficult." + +"He was not bound by a pledge." + +"No." + +"Well, there is wisdom, the wisdom of the world, in your choice. +Flashing jewels, robes of state, maids of honor--" + +"These things," spurned Diane with beautiful insolence, "I may buy with +gold." + +"Ah!" crooned the wind, "but the vassalage of this elfin nation that +plays at empire, the romance and adventure of an imperial court! And +when the mad King dies and the Prince Regent, then Ronador will be +king--" + +"I have thought of it all. I can not go back to the old shallow life +with Aunt Agatha. No! No! And I am very lonely. If in the days to +come wind and moon and the call of the wilderness stir my gypsy blood +to rebellion--if I am ever to forget--" + +"What must you forget?" + +"It was foolish to speak so. I do not know. Then when the call of the +wildwood comes I must have crowded days and fevered gayety to hush it. +And surely this will come to me in the court of Ronador." + +The wild moon drifted behind a cloud, the sea darkened, something huge +and shadowy lumbered down to the water and splashed heavily away, the +cat owl hooted. A mist drooped trailing fingers over the water as the +wind died away. + +A profoundly dreary setting for a dream of empire! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +UNDER THE LIVE OAKS + +"See!" said Keela shyly. "It is the camp of my people." + +It lay ahead, a fire-blot in the darkling swamp, a primitive mirage of +primitive folk, of palmetto wigwams and log-wheel fires among the live +oaks of a lonely island. + +Keela's wagon presently forded a shallow creek and crossed an island +plain. Thence it came by a winding road to the village, where, with +the halting of the wagon, the travelers became the hub of a vast and +friendly wheel of excitement. + +Hospitable hands were already leading Keela's horses away when Mr. +Poynter rode sedately into camp and, descending to terra firma in the +light of the nearest camp fire, guilefully proceeded to assure himself +of a welcome and immediate attention by spectacular means; he simply +unwound the hullabaloo. + +Cymbals clashed, the drum cannonaded fearfully and to the sprightly +measures of "The Glowworm," the Indians who had collected about Keela's +wagon to stare at Diane, decamped in a body to the side of Mr. Poynter, +who smiled and proceeded in pantomime to make friends with all about +him. + +This, by virtue of the entertaining music-machine, was not difficult. +Having exhausted the repertoire of the hullabaloo, he initiated the +turbaned warriors into the mystery of unwinding tunes, thereby +cementing the friendship forever. + +The general din and excitement grew fearful. Presently the Thunder-Man +was warmly assigned a wigwam, made of palmetto and the skins of wild +animals above a split-log floor, to which he retired at the heels of +Sho-caw, a copper-colored young warrior who had learned a little +English from the traders. + +Already rumor was rife among the staring tribe that Diane had strayed +from the legendary clan of beautiful Indians in the O-kee-fee-ne-kee +wilderness. The assignment of her wigwam, therefore, had been made +with marked respect. + +Here, as the Indian camp settled into quiet and the fires died lower, +as the wild night sounds of the Glades awoke in the marsh outside, +Diane lay still and wakeful and a little frightened. Wilderness and +Seminole were still primeval. The world seemed very far away. The +thought of the music-machine brought with it somehow a feeling of +security. + +With the broad white daylight, courage returned. From her wigwam Diane +watched the silent village, wrapped in fog, wake to the busy life of +the Glades. Somber-eyed little Indian lads carried water and gathered +wood, fires brightened, there was a pleasant smell of pine in the +morning air. Later, by Keela's fire, she furtively watched Philip ride +forth with a band of hunters. + +So at last in the heart of the wildwood, among primitive folk whose +customs had not varied for a century, Diane drank deep of the wild, +free, open life her gypsy heart had craved. There were times when a +great peace dwarfed the memory of the moon above the marsh; there were +times when the thought of Ronador and Philip sent her riding wildly +across the plains with Keela; there were still other times when a +nameless disquiet welled up within her, some furtive distrust of the +gypsy wildness of her blood. But in the main the days were quiet and +peaceful. + + +"It is a wild world of varied color and activity," she wrote to Ann. +"The trailing air plants in the trees beside my wigwam weave a dense, +tropical jungle of shadow shot with sunlight. Keela's wigwam lies but +a stone's throw beyond. It is lined with beaded trinkets, curious +carven things of cypress, pots of dye made of berries and barks, and +pottery which she has patterned after the relics in the sand mounds. +There is an old chief with all the terrible pathos of a vanishing race +in his eyes. I find in his wistful dignity an element of tragedy. He +is very kind to Keela and talks much of her in his quaint broken +English. + +"Moons back, he declares, when E-shock-e-tom-isee, the great Creator, +made the world of men by scattering seeds in a river valley, of those +who grew from the sand, some went to the river and washed too pale and +weak--the white man; some, enough--the strong red man; some washed not +at all--the shiftless black man. But Keela came from none of these. + +"Ann, the squaws are _hideous_! Their clothes, an indescribable +_potpourri_ of savage superstition and stray inklings (such as a +disfiguring bang of hair across the forehead, a Psyche knot and a full +skirt) from the white man's world of fashion--years back. The pounds +and pounds of bead necklaces they wear give the savage touch. I don't +wonder Keela's delicate soul rebelled and drove her to the barbaric +costume of a chief. It is infinitely more picturesque and beautiful. + +"There are thrilling camp fire tales of Osceola, the brilliant, +handsome young Seminole chief who blazoned his name over the pages of +Florida history, but here among Osceola's kinsmen, pages are +unnecessary. The sagas of the tribe are handed down from mouth to +mouth to stir the youth to deeds of daring. Keela, like Osceola, had a +white father and a Seminole mother. Ann, I sometimes wonder what +opportunity might have done for Osceola. As great as Napoleon, some +one said. What might opportunity do for this strange, exotic flower of +Osceola's people? She has brains and beauty and instinctive grace +enough to startle a continent. I am greatly tempted. Ann, I beg of +you, don't breathe any of this to Aunt Agatha. Some day I may carry +Keela away to the cities of the North for an experiment quite my own. +Her delicate beauty--her gravity--her shy, sweet dignity, hold me +powerfully. It would make life well worth the living--the regeneration +of a life like hers. + +"No, I am not mad. If I am, it is a delicious madness indeed, this +craving to do something for some one else. I need the discipline of +thinking for another. + +"I don't know when you will get this. Once in a while an Indian rides +forth to civilization, and this letter will perforce await such a +messenger. I wrote to Aunt Agatha from the little hamlet where Johnny +is waiting with the van. I know she is fussing. + +"You wrote me something in one of your letters, that Dick and Carl were +planning to camp and hunt wild turkeys in the Glades. Let me know what +luck they had and all the news. + + "Ever yours, + + "Diane." + + +Now, if Diane proved readily adaptable to the wild life about her, no +less did Philip. At night he smoked comfortably by his camp fire, +unwound the hullabaloo upon request or lent it to Sho-caw. He rode +hard and fearlessly with the warriors, hunted bear and alligator, +acquired uncommon facility in the making of sof-ka, the tribal stew, +and helped in the tanning of pelts and the building of cypress canoes. + +Presently the unmistakable whir of a sewing machine which Sho-caw had +bought from a trader, floated one morning from Philip's wigwam. Keela +reported literally that Mr. Poynter had said he was building himself a +much-needed tunic, though he had experienced considerable difficulty in +the excavation of the sleeves. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +IN THE GLADES + +"What the devil is the matter with you, Carl?" demanded Dick Sherrill +irritably. "If I'd known you were going to moon under a tree and +whistle through that infernal flute half the time, I'd never have +suggested camping. Are you coming along to-night or not?" + +"No. I've murdered enough wild turkeys now." + +Sherrill plunged off swampwards with the guides. + +Left to himself Carl laid aside his flute and sat very quiet, staring +at the cloud-haunted moon which hung above the Glades. He had been +drinking and gaming heavily for weeks. Now floundering deeper and +deeper into the mire of debt and dissipation, forced to a fevered +alertness by distrust of all about him, he found the weird gloom of the +Everglades of a piece with the blackness of his mood. For days he had +taken wild chances that horrified Sherrill inexpressibly; drinking +clear whiskey in the burning white tropical sunlight, tramping off into +trackless wilds without a guide, conducting himself, as Sherrill +aggrievedly put it, with the general irrationality of a drunken madman. + +"The climate or a moccasin will get you yet!" exclaimed Sherrill +heatedly. "And it will serve you right. Or you'll get lost. And to +lose your way in this infernal swamp is sure death. They used to enter +runaway niggers who came here, on the undertaker's list. I swear I +won't tell your aunt if you do disappear. That's a job for a deaf +mute. And only yesterday I saw you corner a moccasin and tantalize him +until the chances were a hundred to one that he'd get you, and then you +blazed your gun down his throat and walked away laughing. Faugh!" + +With the perversity of reckless madmen, however, Carl went his +foolhardy way unharmed. But his nights were fevered and sleepless and +haunted by a face which never left him, and the locked hieroglyphics on +Themar's cuff danced dizzily before his eyes. + +Carl presently lighted a lantern, seated himself at the camp table and +fell moodily to poring over the tormenting hieroglyphics which had +haunted him for days. + +The night was cloudy. Only at infrequent intervals the moon soared +turbulently out from the somber cloud-hills and glinted brightly +through the live oaks overhead. + +Carl had been drinking heavily since the morning, with vicious recourse +to the flute when his mood was darkest. Now he felt strung to a +curious electric tension, with pulse and head throbbing powerfully like +a racing engine. Still there was satanic keenness in his mind +to-night, a capacity for concentration that surprised him. Somewhere +in his head, taut like an overstrung ligament or the string of a great +violin, something sinister droned and hummed and subtly threatened. +For the hundredth time he made a systematic list of recurrent symbols, +noting again the puzzling similarity of the twisted signs, but no sign +appeared frequently enough to do vowel work. + +To-night somehow the cipher mocked and gibed and goaded him to frenzy. +The mad angles pointing up and down and right and left--it was +impossible to sort them. They danced and blurred and crept +irresistibly into the wrong list. + +And in error came solution. Carl glanced intently at the jumbled list +and fell feverishly to working from a different viewpoint. From the +cryptic snarl came presently the single English word in the cipher--his +name. The keen suspicion of his hot brain had, at last, been right. +For every letter in the alphabet, four symbols had been used +interchangeably but whether they pointed up or down or right or left, +their significance was the same. There were no word divisions. + +When at last Ronador's frantic message to the Baron lay before him, +Carl was grateful for the quiet monastery days in Houdania with Father +Joda. They had given him an inkling of the language. + +Some of the message, to be sure, was missing--for Themar had been +interrupted--and some of it unintelligible. But clear and cold before +his fevered eyes lay the words which marked him irrevocably for the +knife of a hired assassin. There was no suggestion of sealing his lips +with gold, as in a drunken moment he had suggested in his letter. The +seal of death was safer than the seal of gold. Seeing the sinister +command there before him, even though the knowledge was not new, Carl +felt a nameless fury rise in his reeling brain. He must +live--live--live! he told himself fiercely. With the vivid, lovely +face of Keela tormenting him to sensual conquest, he must live no +matter what the price! How safeguard his life from the men who were +hunting him? + +What if Diane were to--_die_? Carl shuddered. Then the sirocco of +fear and hate centering about her, would blow itself out forever and +his own life would be safe, for the secret would be worthless. These +men--Tregar, Ronador, Themar--scrupled for vastly different reasons to +take the life of a woman. + +Money! Money! He must have money! And if Diane were to _die_, the +great estate of Norman Westfall would revert to him of course; there +was no other heir. Why had he not thought of that before? In that +instant he knew that barely a year ago the treacherous thought would +have been for him impossible, that slowly, insistently he had been +sliding deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of degradation where all +things are possible. + +There had been intrigue and dishonor of a sort in the letter to +Houdania, but not this--Oh, God! not this horrible, beckoning Circe +with infamous eyes and scarlet robes luring him to the uttermost pit of +the black Inferno. + +But Diane had flashed and mocked him as a child when he was sensitive +and lonely. She had always mocked the memory of his mother. Brown and +lovely his cousin's face rose before him in a willful moment of +tenderness--and then from the shadows came again the flash of topaz and +Venetian lamps and the lovely face of Keela. + +Something in Carl's haunted brain snapped. With a groan of horror and +suffering, he pitched forward upon the ground, breathing Philip +Poynter's name like an invocation against the things of evil crowding +horribly about him. + +It was Dick Sherrill who at last found him. + +"Nick!" he called in horror to one of the guides. "For God's sake +bring some brandy! No! he's had too much of that already. Water! +Water--can't somebody hurry!" + +"Leave him to me, Mr. Sherrill!" said Nick with quiet authority. And +bending over the motionless figure under the oak, he gently loosened +the flannel shirt from the throat, laid a wet cloth upon the forehead +and fell to rubbing the rigid limbs. + +Presently, with a long, shuddering sigh, Carl opened his eyes, stared +at the scared circle of faces about him and instantly tried to rise. + +"Don't, don't, Carl," exploded Dick Sherrill solicitously. "Lie still, +man! I was afraid something would get you." + +Carl fell back indifferently. + +Presently with a slight smile he sat up again. + +"I'm all right now, Dick," he insisted. "It's nothing at all. I've +had something like it once before. Don't mention it to my aunt. She'd +likely fuss." + +Dick readily promised. + +"Nevertheless," he insisted, "we're going to break camp in the morning. +This infernal bog's got on my nerves. There are more creepy, oozy +things in that cypress swamp over there than a man can afford to meet +in the dark. To the devil with your wild turkeys, Nick! Quail and +duck are good enough for me." + +The camp wagons drove back to Palm Beach in the morning. Carl was very +quiet and evaded Sherrill's anxious eyes. He seemed to be brooding +morosely over some inner problem which frequently furrowed his forehead +and made him very restless. + +"Cheer up!" exclaimed Dick reassuringly. "You'll feel better when you +get a shower and some other clothes. As for me, I'm going to hunt +field mice and ground doves from now on. Lord, Carl, I'll never forget +that beastly swamp. Did I tell you that last night, after all our +discomfort, I got nothing but a smelly buzzard? Ugh!" Dick's hunting +interest was steadily on the wane. He finally came down to birds and +humble bees, though when they started he had talked magnificently of +alligators and bears. + +Carl laughed and relapsed into brooding silence. + +A little later on the Sherrill porch he found himself listening with +tired patience to Aunt Agatha's opinion of camping in the Everglades. + +"What with your Esquimaux," she puffed tearfully, "and the immigrant +who wasn't an immigrant--and I must say this once, Carl, for all I +promised to ask no further questions, that you never attempted to +explain that performance to my satisfaction--the young man with the +eye, you know, and the immigrant with his feet on the lace spread--to +say nothing at all of Diane's losing herself in the flat-woods over a +cart wheel of flame, I wonder I'm not crazy, I do indeed! And riding +off to Jacksonville with the Indian girl, for all I've lain awake night +after night seeing her scalp lying by the roadside! It was bad enough +to have you in those horrible Glades, but Diane--" + +"Aunt Agatha," said Carl patiently, "what in thunder are you driving at +anyway?" + +"Why," said Aunt Agatha in aggrieved distress, "Diane's gone and left +Johnny at some funny little hamlet and she's gone into the Everglades +to a Seminole village with the Indian girl. There's a letter in my +room. You can read for yourself." + +Aunt Agatha burst into tears. Carl patiently essayed a comforting word +of advice and followed Dick indoors to seek relief in less calamitous +showers. Before he did so, however, he read his cousin's letter. + +For that night and the night following Carl did not sleep. On the +morning of the third day, after a careless inquiry he went to West Palm +Beach and interviewed some traders who were reported to be on the eve +of an expedition into the Everglades with a wagonload of scarlet calico +and beads to trade for Indian products. + +The fourth day he was missing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +IN PHILIP'S WIGWAM + +For hours now, Carl had lain hidden in the waist-high grass, staring at +the Seminole camp. The sun had set in a wild red glory in the west, +staining dank pool and swamp with the color of blood. The twilight +came and with it the eerie hoot of the great owls whirring by in the +darkness. Unseen things crept silently by. Once a great winged wraith +of ghostly white flapped by with a croak, a snowy heron, winging like a +shape of Wrath Incarnate, above the crouching man in the grass. The +wheel fires of the Seminoles flared among the live oaks, silhouetting +dusky figures and palmetto wigwams. + +By the swamp the night darkened. Carl had thrown himself upon the +grass now, his white, haggard face buried upon his arm. Back there +scarcely a mile to the east lay the camp of the traders. In the +morning they would ride into the Indian camp saddled with bright beads +and colored calicoes. In the morning--Carl shuddered and lay very +quiet, fighting again the ghastly torment that had racked and driven +him into the melancholy solitude of the Everglades. Now the firelit +palmetto roof of the wigwam he knew to be Diane's seemed somehow, to +his distorted fancy, redder than the others--the color of blood. +There, too, was the wigwam of Keela, bringing taunting desire. + +A crowd of Seminoles rode into camp and, dismounting, led their horses +away. Carl watched them gather about the steaming sof-ka kettles on +the fires, handing the spoon from mouth to mouth. One, a tall, broad +young warrior in tunic and trousers and a broad sombrero--disappeared +in a wigwam on the fringe of camp. + +A great wave of dizziness and burning nausea swept over Carl. Again he +was conscious of the taut, over-strung ligament droning, droning in his +head. The camp ahead became a meaningless blur of sinister scarlet +fire, of bloodred wigwams and dusky figures that seemed to dance and +lure and mock. The wild wind that bent the grasses, the horrible +persistent hoot of the owl in the cypress tree, the night noises of the +black swamp to the west, all mocked and urged and whispered of things +unspeakable. + +The camp fell quiet. A black moonless sky brooded above the dying camp +fires. Not until this wild world of swamp and Indian seemed asleep did +the man in the grass stir. + +Silently then he crept forward upon hands and knees until he had passed +the first of the Indian wigwams. Here he dropped for a silent interval +of caution into shadow and lay there scarcely breathing. On toward the +door of Diane's shelter he crept and once more lay inert and quiet. + +Thunder rumbled disquietingly off to the east, The wind was rising over +the Glades with a violent rustle of grass and leaves. Now that his arm +was nerved at last to its terrible task, it behooved him to hurry, ere +the rain and thunder stirred the camp. + +Noiselessly he crawled forward again. As he did so a ragged dart of +lightning glinted evilly in his eyes. With a leap something bounded +from the shadows behind him and bore him to the ground. + +In the thick pall of darkness, he fought with infernal desperation. +The rain came fiercely in great gusts of tearing wind. There was the +strength of a madman to-night in Carl's powerful arms. Relentlessly he +bore his assailant to the ground and raised his knife. The lightning +flared brilliantly again. With a great, choking cry of unutterable +horror, Carl fell back and flung his knife away. + +"Oh, God!" he cried, shaking. "Philip!" He flung himself face +downward on the ground in an agony of abasement. + +With a roar of wind and rain the hurricane beat gustily upon the +wigwams. Neither man seemed aware of it. Philip, his face white, had +risen. Now he stood, tall, rigid, towering above the man upon the +ground, who lay motionless save for the shuddering gusts of +self-revulsion which swept his tortured body. + +It was Philip at last who spoke. Bending he touched the other's +shoulder. + +"Come," he said. "Diane must not know." + +"No," said Carl dully. "No--she must not know. I--I am not myself, +Philip, as God is my witness--" He choked, unable to voice the horror +in his heart. A man may not raise the knife of death to his one friend +and speak of it with comfort. + +Rising, Carl stumbled blindly in the wake of the tall figure striding +on ahead. They halted at last at a wigwam on the fringe of the camp. +Philip lighted a lantern, his white face fixed and expressionless as +stone. + +"You were going to kill her!" he said abruptly. + +"Yes," said Carl. He shuddered. + +In the silence the storm battered fiercely at the wigwam. + +Philip wheeled furiously. + +"What is it?" he demanded. "In God's name what threatens her, that +even here in these God-forsaken wilds she is not safe?" He towered +grim above the crouching man on the floor of the wigwam. "For months I +have guarded her day and night," he went on fiercely, "from some +damnable mystery and treachery that has almost muddled my life beyond +repair. What is it? Why were you creeping to her wigwam to-night with +a knife in your hand?" + +Carl flinched beneath the blazing anger and contempt in his eyes. The +droning in his head grew suddenly to a roar. The nausea flamed again +over his body. For a dizzy interval he confused the noise of the storm +with the drone in his head. Philip seized the lantern and bending, +stared closely into his white face and haunted eyes. + +"You're ill!" he said gently. + +"Yes," said Carl. "I--I think so." He met Philip's glance of sympathy +with one of wild imploring. It was the man's desperate effort to keep +this one friend from sweeping hostilely out of his life on the wings of +the dark, impious tempest he had roused himself. To his disordered +brain nothing else mattered. Philip had trusted him always--and his +knife had menaced Philip. In Philip's hand lay then, though he could +not know it, the future of the man at his feet. In the silence Carl +fell pitifully to shaking. + +"Steady, Carl!" exclaimed Philip kindly and setting the lantern down, +slipped a strong, reassuring arm about the other's shoulders. + +In that second Philip proved his caliber. With big inherent generosity +he saw beyond the bloated mask of brutal passion and resolve. +Miraculously he understood and said so. This white, haggard face, +marked cruelly with dissipation and suffering, was the face of a man at +the end of the way. In his darkest hour he needed--not an inexorable +censor--but a friend. With heroic effort Philip put aside the evil +memory of the past hour, though his sore heart rebelled. + +"Carl," he said gently, "you've got to pull up. You've come to the +wall at last. You know what lies on the other side?" + +Carl shuddered. + +"Yes," he whispered. "Madness--or--or suicide. One of the two must +come in time." + +"Madness or suicide!" repeated Philip slowly and there was a great pity +in his eyes. + +Carl caught the look and his face grew whiter beneath its tan. Chin +and jaw muscles went suddenly taut. + +"Philip," he choked, unnerved by the other's gentleness, "you +don't--you can't mean--you believe in me--_yet_?" + +"Yes," said Philip steadily. "God help me, I do." + +Carl flung himself upon the floor, torn by great dry sobs of agony. +Shaking, Philip turned away. Presently Carl grew quieter and fell to +pouring forth an incoherent recital about a candlestick. From the +meaningless raving of the white, drawn lips came at last a single +sentence of lucid revelation. Philip leaped and shook him roughly by +the shoulder. + +"Carl, think! think!" he cried fiercely. "For God's sake, think! +You--don't know what you are saying!" + +But Carl repeated the statement again and again, and Philip's eyes grew +sombre. With quick, keen questions he reduced the chaotic yarn to +order. + +The wild tale at an end, Carl fell back, limp and very tired. + +"In God's name," thundered practical Philip, "why didn't you look in +the other candlestick?" + +Carl stared. Then suddenly without a word of warning, he pitched +forward senseless upon the floor. + +Philip loosened his clothing, rubbed his icy hands and limbs and bathed +his forehead, but the interval was long and trying before the stark +figure on the floor shuddered slightly and struggled weakly to a +sitting posture. + +"I'm all right now," said Carl dully. "And I've got to go on. I--I +can't meet Diane." He drew something from his pocket and jabbed it in +his arm. + +Philip looked on with disapproval. + +"No," said Carl, meeting his glance. "No, not so very often, Philip. +Just lately, since Sherrill and I camped in the Glades. There's +something--something very tight here in my head whenever I grow +excited. When it snaps I'm done for a while, but this helps." + +Philip's fine, frank mouth was very grim. + +"Carl," he said quietly, "off there to the south is the eccentric swamp +home of a singular man, a philosopher and a doctor. He's Keela's +foster father. I've met and smoked with him. I want you to go to him +and rest. The Indians do that. He's what you need. And tell him +you're down and out. You'll go--for me?" + +"Anywhere," said Carl. + +"Tell him about the dope and every other hell-conceived abuse with +which you've tormented your body. Tell him about the infernal +tightness in your head." + +"Yes," said Carl. + +"But this thing of the candlestick," added Philip bitterly, "tell to no +man. You're strong enough to start now?" + +"Yes." + +Philip left the wigwam. When at length he returned, there was a dark, +slight figure at his heels, turbaned and tunicked, a guide whom he +trusted utterly. + +A burning wave swept suddenly over Carl's body and left him very cold. +Philip could not know, of course. + +"Keela will guide you," said Philip. "She could follow the trail with +her eyes closed. The horses are saddled at the edge of camp. You'll +be there by daylight." + +He smiled and held out his hand and his eyes were encouraging. The +hands of the two men tightened. Carl stumbled blindly away at the +heels of the Indian girl. Philip watched them go--watched Keela lead +the way with the lithe, soft tread of a wild animal, and mount--watched +Carl swing heavily into the saddle and follow. Silhouetted darkly +against the watery moon, the silent riders filed off into the +swamp-world to the south. For an instant Philip experienced a sudden +flash of misgiving but Philip was just and honorable in all things and +having disciplined himself to faith in his friend, maintained it. + +Then his eyes wandered slowly to the wigwam of Diane. Thinking of the +story of the candle-stick, with his mouth twisted into a queer, wry +smile, Philip fumbled for his pipe. + +"_Requiescat in pace_," said Philip, "the hopes of Philip Poynter!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +UNDER THE WILD MARCH MOON + +Southward under the watery moon and the wild, dark clouds rode the +Indian girl, following a trail blazed only for Indian eyes. The +aquatic world about them had grown steadily wilder, more remote from +the haunts of men. Fording miry creeks, silver-streaked with +moon-light, trampling through dense, dark, tangled brakes and on, under +the wild March moon, followed Carl, a prey to the memory of the Indian +girl as he had seen her that night at Sherrill's. + +Keela's face, vividly dark and lovely, had mocked his restless slumbers +this many a day. Keela's eyes, black like a starless night or the +cloud-black waters of Okeechobee had lured and lured to sensual +conquest. + +But a great shame was adding its torment to the terrible pain in his +head and the fevered singing of his pulses. In the torture of his +self-abasement, the over-strung ligament in his head fell ominously to +droning again. Everything seemed remote and unreal. He hated the +awful silence about him--the crash of his horse's feet through the +matted brush and the twist of palmetto, resolved itself into dancing +ciphers. + +Ahead Keela stopped. Motionless, like a beautiful sculptured thing, +she sat listening as Carl rode up beside her. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"I fancied some one followed," said Keela soberly. "It may not be." +She rode forward, glancing keenly at the trail behind her. + +Thus they rode onward until the east grew pale and gray. A bleak dawn +was breaking in melancholy mists over the Everglades. The lonely +expanse of swamp and metallic water, of grass-flats and tangled wilds, +loomed indistinctly out of the half light in sinister skeleton. + +Keela glanced with furtive compassion at the haggard face of the rider +behind her. Since midnight he had ridden in utter silence, growing +whiter it seemed as the night waned. + +"Another hour!" said Keela in her soft, clear voice. "Be of courage. +When the sun rises there behind the cypress, we shall be at our +journey's end." + +"I--I am all right," stammered Carl courageously, but he bit his lips +until they bled, and swayed so violently in the saddle that Keela slid +to the ground in alarm. + +"Put your arms about my shoulders--so!" she commanded imperiously. +"You will fall! Philip surely could not know how ill you are. Can you +get down?" + +With an effort Carl dismounted and fell forward on his knees. + +"You must sleep for a while," said Keela. "I will build a fire. We +can breakfast here and rest as long as you like." She took a blanket +from his saddle and spread it on the ground. + +Carl crept on hands and knees to the Indian blanket and lay very still. +A drowsiness numbed his senses. When he awoke after a brief interval +of restless slumber, it was not yet daylight, though the sky in the +east was softly streaked with color. The moon hung low. + +A fire crackled in the center of a clearing. The horses were tethered +to a tree. Keela was off somewhere with bow and arrow to hunt their +breakfast. + +Now suddenly as he lay there, tired and apathetic, Carl was conscious +of a face leering from among the trees close at hand, a dark, +thin-lipped foreign face with eyes black with hate and malicious +triumph. There was a horse hitched to a tree in the thicket beyond. +In that instant Carl knew that the Houdanian had furtively followed the +camp of the traders into the wilds of the Everglades, spurred on by the +fierce command of Ronador. But he did not move. A terrible apathy +made him indifferent to the knife of the assassin. He had had his day +of masterful torment back there in the attic of the farm, he told +himself. Now he must pay. The knife would quiet this unbearable agony +in his head. + +Themar met his eyes, smiled evilly and raised his knife. But the +weapon fell suddenly from his hand. With an ominous hum an arrow +whizzed fiercely through the trees and anchored in the flesh above his +heart. + +Themar stumbled and fell forward on his face. Like the stricken moose +who seeks to press his wound against the earth, he drove the arrow home +to his heart. He sobbed, and choked and lay very still, a scarlet +wound dying his flannel shirt. + +Carl's horrified eyes turned slowly to the west. + +Keela was coming through the trees, proud eyes fierce with terrible +anger; halting beside the dead man, she spurned him with moccasined +foot. + +The tense, droning string in Carl's head whirred again--and snapped. +He lay in a heavy stupor, dozing fitfully until the moon climbed high +again above the Glades. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE VICTORY + +When consciousness and a restful sense of returning strength came at +last Keela was bending anxiously over him. + +"You have been quiet so long," she said gravely, "that I grew afraid. +Drink." She held forth a cup of woven leaves, and the glance of her +great black eyes was very soft and gentle. + +Carl flushed and taking the cup with shaking hand, drank. There was a +flash of gratitude in his eyes. + +"Themar?" he whispered. "Where is he?" He looked toward the trees +beyond. + +"In the swamp!" said Keela, her face stern and beautiful. "It is +better so." + +"You--you dragged him there?" + +"I am very strong," said Keela simply. "The vultures will get him. It +is the Indian way with one who murders." + +Their eyes met, a great wave of crimson suddenly dyed Keela's throat +and face and swept in lovely tide to the brilliant turban. A +constrained silence fell between them, broken only by the whir of a +great heron flapping by on snowy wings. And there was something in +Keela's eyes that sent the blood coursing furiously through Carl's +fevered veins. + +The Indian girl busied herself with the wild duck roasting in the hub +of coals. Carl ate a little and lay down again. He saw now that +Themar's horse was tethered beside Keela's--that the dead man's +saddlebags lay by the fire. Furtive recourse to the drug in his pocket +presently flushed his veins with artificial calm. He fell asleep to +find his dreams haunted again by the lovely face of Keela, kinder and +gentler now than that proud, imperious face above the line of flashing +topaz. + +He awoke with a start. + +The Indian girl lay asleep on a blanket by the fire. The world of +moon-haunted jungle and water was very quiet. Firelight faintly haloed +Keela's face and brought mad memories of the soft light of the Venetian +lamp at the Sherrill fete. He noted the pure, delicate regularity of +feature, the delicate, vivid skin--it was paler than Diane's--and +flaming through his brain went the dangerous reflection that conquest +lay now perhaps in the very hollow of his hand. + +Desire had driven him on to things unspeakable. It had clouded his +brain, fired his blood to ugly resolve, blinded every finer instinct +with its turbulent call, until the siren who beckons men onward through +the marshland of passion had flung the gift at his feet in the haunted +wilds. + +Staring at the tranquil, delicate face of the sleeper by the camp fire, +a great horror of the scarlet hours behind him awoke suddenly in Carl's +heart. There had been a girl who cried. And he had laughed and +shrugged and voiced an ironical philosophy of sex for her consolation. +There was no philosophy of sex, only a hideous injustice which Man, the +Hunter, willfully ignored. There were faces in the fire--faces like +that of Keela, that had lured to sensual conquest and faded. + +Trembling violently, Carl stared long and steadily at the Indian girl. +There had been a time, before he sank to the bottom of the pit, when +her face had awakened in him an eager deference. The moon darkened. A +white wall of mist settled thickly over the Glades. Then came other +thoughts. Philip trusted him. He must not forget. And the immortal +spark of control lay somewhere within him. Unbridled passion of mind +and body had made him very ill. Very well, then, it behooved him to +exorcise the demon while this tormenting clarity of vision whirled the +dread kaleidoscope of his careless life before him in honest colors. + +Unleashed by drug and drink and ceaseless brooding, nerve centers had +rebelled, an infernal blood pressure born of mental agony had inspired +the droning, his will had slipped its moorings. That his body was not +ill, he now knew for the first time. Fever, nausea, pain and droning, +they had all leaped at the infernal manipulation of his disordered mind +with sickening intensity. Now with a terrible effort he summoned each +tattered remnant of the splendid mental strength he had indifferently +abused, disciplined his fleeing faculty of concentration and sat very +quiet. + +Philip trusted him. He must not forget! Keela's face had made its +delicate appeal to his finer side until that appeal had been hushed by +the call of his blood. And there were times when Diane had been kind. +He must not forget. Like the stirring of a faint shadow, he felt the +first dawning sense of self-mastery he had known for days. + +The horrible Circe with infamous eyes and scarlet robes no longer lured +. . . the terrible sirocco of unbridled passion which had dominated his +body almost to destruction was burning itself out . . . the droning in +his head was very faint. He must not forget Philip, truest and best of +friends. + +Carl lay down again beside the fire with a great sigh. He was very +tired--very sleepy. + +He slept soundly until morning. + +When he awoke it was broad daylight. There was a curious sense of +utter rest in his veins and meeting Keela's solicitous glance, he said, +a little diffidently, that he was better and that he thought they might +go on. After a breakfast of quail and wild cassava they rode on, Keela +on Themar's horse. Her own obediently followed. + +An hour later they came to an aquatic jungle haunted by noisome +reptiles. Here fallen trees and a matted underbrush of poisonous vines +lay submerged in dank black water. Cypress gloomed in forbidding +shadow above the stagnant water; the swamp itself was rife with +horrible quacks and croaks and off somewhere the distant bellow of an +alligator. + +So dense and dark this terrible haunt of snake and bird and brilliant +lizard that Carl shuddered, but Keela, dismounting, tethered her horses +to the nearest tree and struck off boldly across a narrow trail of dry +land above the level of the water. Carl followed. Presently the +matted jungle thinned and they came to a rude foot-bridge made of +twisted roots. It led to the first of a series of fertile islands +which threaded the terrible swamp with a riot of color. Here royal +poinciana flared gorgeously beside the orange-colored blossoms of wild +cassava, and hordes of birds flamed by on brilliant wings. + +Through rude avenues of palm and pine and cypress, through groves of +wild orange and banana fringed with mulberry and persimmon trees, over +rustic bridges which led from island to island, they came at last to a +larger hummock and the wild, vine-covered log lodge of Mic-co, the +Indians' white friend. + +It was thatched like the Seminole wigwams in palmetto and set in a +cluster of giant trees. Trailing moss and ferns and vines hung from +the boughs, weaving a dense, cool shade about the dwelling. The +exuberant air plants brought memories of Lanier's immortal poem: + + + "Glooms of the live oaks, beautiful-braided and woven + With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven + Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs,--" + + +There were brilliant vistas of bloom beyond the shadow. The odor of +orange hung heavily in the still, warm air. A pair of snowy herons +flapped tamely about among the pines. + +Utter peace and quiet, alive with the chirp of many birds, brilliant +sunshine and deep, dark shadow! But Carl stared most at the figure +that came to greet them, a tall, broad man of dark complexion and +wonderful, kindly eyes of piercing darkness. His hair and beard were +snow-white and reached nearly to his waist, his attire buckskin, laced +at the seams. But his slender, sensitive hands caught and held +attention. + +"Mic-co," said Keela gravely, "he is very tired in his head. Philip +would have him rest." + +Mic-co held out his hand with a quiet smile. Whatever his searching +eyes had found in the haggard face of his young guest was reflected in +his greeting. + +"You are very welcome," he said simply. + +"No," said Carl steadily, "I may not take your hand, sir, until you +know me for what I am. There are none worse. I have been through the +mire of hell itself. I have dishonorably betrayed a kinsman in the +hope of gold. I had thought to kill. Only a freak of fate has stayed +my hand. And there is more that I may not tell--" + +[Illustration: "No, I may not take your hand."] + +"So?" said Mic-co quietly. + +Flushing, Carl took the outstretched hand. + +"I--I thank you," he said, and looked away. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +IN MIC-CO'S LODGE + +The rooms of Mic-co's lodge opened, in the fashion of the old Pompeian +villas, upon a central court roofed only by the Southern sky. This +court, floored with split logs, covered with bearskin rugs and +furnished in handmade chairs of twisted palmetto and a rude table, +years back Mic-co and his Indian aides had built above a clear, lazy +stream. Now the stream crept beneath the logs to a quiet open pool in +the center where lilies and grasses grew, and thence by its own channel +under the logs again and out. Storm coverings of buckskin were rolled +above the outer windows and above the doorways which opened into the +court. + +Here, when the moon rose over the lonely lodge and glinted peacefully +in the tilled pool, Mic-co listened to the tale of his young guest. It +was a record of bodily abuse, of passion and temptation, which few men +may live to tell, but Mic-co neither condoned nor condemned. He smoked +and listened. + +"Let us make a compact," he said with his quiet smile. "I may question +without reserve. You may withhold what you will. That is fair?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you ever endured hardship of any kind?" + +"I have hunted in the Arctics," said Carl. "There was a time when food +failed. We lived for weeks on reindeer moss and rock tripe. I have +been in wild territory with naturalists and hunters. Probably I have +known more adventurous hardship than most men." + +Mic-co nodded. + +"I fancied so," he said. "What is your favorite painting?" he asked +unexpectedly. + +The answer came without an instant's hesitation. + +"Paul Potter's 'Bull.'" + +"A thing of inherent virility and vigor, intensely masculine!" said +Mic-co with a smile, adding after an interval of thought, "but there is +a danger in over-sexing--" + +"I have sometimes thought so. The over-masculine man is too brutal." + +"And the over-feminine woman?" + +"Kindly, sentimental, helpless and weak. I have lived with such an +aunt since I was fifteen. No, I beg of you, do not misunderstand me! +I blame nothing upon her. Like many good women whose minds are blocked +off in conventional squares, she is very loyal and sympathetic--and +very trying. The essence of her temperament is ineffectuality. My +cousin and I were a wild, unmanageable pair who rode roughshod over +protest. That Aunt Agatha was not in fault may be proved by my cousin. +She is a fine, true, splendid woman." + +An ineffectual aunt in the critical years of adolescence! Mic-co did +not suggest that his cousin's sex had been her salvation. + +So nights by the pool Mic-co plumbed the depths of his young guest with +the fine, tired eyes. + +"Tell me," he said gently another night; "this inordinate sensitiveness +of which you speak. To what do you attribute it?" + +Carl colored. + +"My mother," he said, "was courageous and unconventional. She +recognized the fact that marriage and monogamy are not the ethical +answers of the future--that though ideal unions sometimes result, it is +not because of marriage, but in spite of it--that motherhood is the +inalienable right of every woman with the divine spark in her heart, no +matter what the disappointing lack of desirable marriage chances in her +life may be. Therefore, when the years failed to produce her perfect +and desirable human complement, she sought a eugenic mate and bore me, +refusing to saddle herself to a meaningless, man-made partnership with +infinite possibilities of domestic hell in it, merely as a sop to the +world-Cerberus of convention. Marriage could have added nothing to her +lofty conceptions of motherhood--but I--I have been keenly resentful +and sensitive--for her. I think it has been the feeling that no one +understood. Then, after she died, there was no one--only Philip. I +saw him rarely." + +"And your cousin?" + +"She had been taught--to misunderstand. There was always that barrier. +And she is very high spirited. Though we were much together as +youngsters she could not forget." + +A singular maternal history, a beautiful, high-spirited, intolerant +cousin who had been taught to despise his mother's morality! What +warring forces indeed had gone to the making of this man before him. + +"You have been lonely?" + +"Yes," said Carl. "My mother died when I needed her most. Later when +I was very lonely--or hurt--I drank." + +"And brooded!" finished Mic-co quietly. + +"Yes," said Carl. "Always." He spoke a little bitterly of the wild +inheritance of passions and arrogant intolerance with which Nature had +saddled him. + +"All of which," reminded Mic-co soberly, "you inflamed by intemperate +drinking. Is it an inherited appetite?" + +"It is not an appetite at all," said Carl. + +"You like it?" + +"If you mean that to abandon it is to suffer--no. I enjoyed it---yes." + +The wind that blew through the open windows and doors of the lodge +stirred the moonlit water lilies in the pool. To Carl they were pale +and unreal like the wraith of the days behind him. Like a reflected +censer in the heart of the bloom shone the evening star. The peace of +it all lay in Mic-co's fine, dark, tranquil face as he talked, subtly +moulding another's mind in the pattern of his own. He did not preach. +Mic-co smoked and talked philosophy. + +Carl had known but little respect for the opinions of others. He was +to learn it now. He was to find his headstrong will matched by one +stronger for all it was gentler; his impudent philosophy punctured by a +wisdom as great as it was compassionate; his own magnetic power to +influence as he willed, a negligible factor in the presence of a man +whose magnetism was greater. + +Mic-co had said quietly by the pool one night that he had been a +doctor--that he loved the peace and quiet of his island home--that +years back the Seminoles had saved his life. He had since devoted his +own life to their service. They were a pitiful, hunted remnant of a +great race who were kindred to the Aztec. + +He seemed to think his explanation quite enough. Wherefore Carl as +quietly accepted what he offered. There was much that he himself was +pledged to withhold. Thus their friendship grew into something fine +and deep that was stronger medicine for Carl than any preaching. + +"My mother and I were _friends_!" said Carl one night. "When I was a +lad of ten or so, as a concession to convention she married the man +whose name I bear, a kindly chap who understood. He died. After that +we were very close, my mother and I. We rode much together and talked. +I think she feared for me. There was peace in my life then--like this. +That is why I speak of it. I needed a friend, some one like her with +brains and grit and balance that I could respect--some one who would +understand. There are but few--" + +"She spoke of your own father?" + +"No. I do not even know his name. We were pledged not to speak of it. +I fancied as I grew older that she was sorry--" + +The subject was obviously painful. + +"And you've never been honestly contented since?" put in Mic-co quickly. + +"Once." Carl spoke of Wherry. "They were weeks of genuine hardship, +those weeks at the farm, but it's singular how frequently my mind goes +back to them." + +"Ah!" said Mic-co with glowing eyes, "there is no salvation like work +for the happiness of another. That I know." + +So the quiet days filed by until Mic-co turned at last from the healing +of the mind to the healing of the body. + +"Let us test your endurance in the Seminole way," he said one morning +by the island camp fire where his Indian servants cooked the food for +the lodge. Beyond lay the palmetto wigwams of the Indian servants who +worked in the island fields of corn and rice and sugar cane, made wild +cassava into flour, hunted with Mic-co and rode betimes with the island +exports into civilization by the roundabout road to the south which +skirted the swamp. Off to the west, in the curious chain of islands, +lay the palmetto shelter of the horses. + +Mic-co placed a live coal upon the wrist of his young guest and quietly +watched. There was no flinching. The coal burned itself out upon the +motionless wrist of a Spartan. + +Thereafter they rode hard and hunted, day by day. Carl worked in the +fields with Mic-co and the Indians, tramped at sunset over miles of +island path fringed with groves of bitter orange, disciplining his body +to a new endurance. A heavy sweat at the end in a closed tent of +buckskin which opened upon the shore of a sheltered inland lake, +hardened his aching muscles to iron. + +Upon the great stone heating in the fire within the sweat-lodge an +Indian lad poured water. It rose in sweltering clouds of steam about +the naked body of Mic-co's guest, who at length plunged from the tent +into the chill waters of the lake and swam vigorously across to towels +and shelter. + +Carl learned to pole a cypress canoe dexterously through miles of swamp +tangled with grass and lilies, through shallows and deep pools darkened +by hanging branches. He learned to tan hides and to carry a deer upon +his shoulders. Nightly he plunged from the sweat-lodge into the lake +and later slept the sleep of utter weariness under a deerskin cover. + +So Mic-co disciplined the splendid body and brain of his guest to the +strength and endurance of an Indian; but the quiet hours by the pool +brought with them the subtler healing. + +Carl grew browner and sturdier day by day. His eyes were quieter. +There was less of arrogance too in the sensitive mouth and less of +careless assertiveness in his manner. + +So matters stood when Philip rode in by the southern trail with Sho-caw. + +Now Philip had wisely waited for the inevitable readjustment, trusting +entirely to Mic-co, but with the memory of Carl's haggard face and +haunted eyes, he was unprepared for the lean, tanned, wholly vigorous +young man who sprang to meet him. + +"Well!" said Philip. "Well!" + +He was shaken a little and cleared his throat, at a loss for words. + +"You--you infernal dub!" said Carl. It was all he could trust himself +to say. + +It was a singular greeting, Mic-co thought, and very eloquent. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +THE RAIN UPON THE WIGWAM + +To the heart of the gypsy there is a kindred voice in the cheerful +crackle of a camp fire--in the wind that rustles tree and grass--in the +song of a bird or the hum of bees--in the lap of a lake or the +brilliant trail of a shooting star. + +A winter forest of tracking snow is rife with messages of furry folk +who prowl by night. Moon-checkered trees fling wavering banners of +gypsy hieroglyphics upon the ground. Sun and moon and cloud and the +fiery color-pot of the firmament write their symbols upon the horizon +for gypsy eyes to read. + +What wonder then that the milky clouds which piled fantastically above +the Indian camp fashioned hazily at times into curious boats sailing +away to another land? What wonder if the dawn was streaked with +imperial purple? What wonder if Diane built faces and fancies in the +ember-glow of the Seminole fire-wheel? What wonder if like the +pine-wood sparrow and the wind of Okeechobee the voice of the woodland +always questioned? Conscience, soul-argument--what you will--there +were voices in the wild which stirred the girl's heart to introspection. + +So it was with the rain which, at the dark of the moon, pattered gently +on the palmetto roof of her wigwam. + +"And now," said the rain with a soft gust of flying drops, "now there +is Sho-caw!" + +"Yes," said Diane with a sigh, "there is Sho-caw. I am very sorry." + +"But," warned the rain, "one must not forget. At Keela's teaching you +have fallen into the soft, musical tongue of these Indian folk with +marvelous ease. And you wear the Seminole dress of a chief--" + +"Yes. After all, that was imprudent--" + +"You can ride and shoot an arrow swift and far. Your eyes are keen and +your tread lithe and soft like a fawn--" + +"It is all the wild lore of the woodland I learned as a child." + +"But Sho-caw does not know! To him the gypsy heart of you, the +sun-brown skin and scarlet cheeks, the night-black hair beneath the +turban, are but the lure and charm of an errant daughter of the +O-kee-fee-ne-kee wilderness. What wonder that he can not see you as +you are, a dark-eyed child of the race of white men!" + +"I do not wonder." + +"He has been grave and very deferential, gathered wood for you and +carried water. Yesterday there was a freshly killed deer at the door +of the wigwam. It is the first shy overture of the wooing Seminole." + +"I know. Keela has told me. It has all frightened me a little. I--I +think I had better go away again." + +"There was a time, in the days of Arcadia, when Philip would have +laughed, and a second deer would have lain at the door of your +wig-wam--" + +"Philip is changed." + +"He is quieter--" + +"Yes." + +"A little sterner--" + +"Yes." + +"Like one perhaps who has abandoned a dream!" + +"I--do--not--know." + +"Why does he ride away for days with Sho-caw?" + +"I have wondered." + +The wind, wafting from the rain which splashed in the pool of Mic-co's +court, might have told, but the wind, with the business of rain upon +its mind, was reticent. + +"And Ronador?" + +"I have not forgotten." + +"He is waiting." + +"Yes. Day by day I have put off the thought of the inevitable +reckoning. It is another reason why presently I must hurry away." + +"A singular trio of suitors!" sighed the rain. "A prince--an Indian +warrior--and a spy!" + +"Not that!" cried the girl's heart. "No, no--not that!" + +"You breathed it but a minute ago!" + +"I know--" + +"And of the three, Sho-caw, bright copper though he is, is perhaps +braver--" + +"No!" + +"Taller--" + +"He is not so tall as Philip." + +"To be sure Philip is brown and handsome and sturdy and very strong, +but Ronador--ah!--there imperial distinction and poise are blended with +as true a native grace as Sho-caw's--" + +"Humor and resource are better things." + +"Sho-caw's grace is not so heavy as Ronador's--and not so sprightly as +Philip's--" + +"It may be." + +"One may tell much by the color and expression of a man's eye. +Sho-caw's eyes are keen, alert and grave; Ronador's dark, compelling +and very eloquent. What though there is a constant sense of +suppression and smouldering fire and not quite so much directness as +one might wish--" + +"Philip's eyes are calm and steady and very frank," said the girl, "and +he is false." + +"Yes," said the rain with a noise like a shower of tears, "yes, he is +very false." + +The wind sighed. The steady drip of the rain, filtering through the +vines twisted heavily about the oak trunks, was indescribably mournful. +Suddenly the nameless terror that had crept into the girl's veins that +first night in the Seminole camp came again. + +"When the Mulberry Moon is at its full," she said shuddering, "I will +go back to the van with Keela. I do not know what it is here that +frightens me so. And I will marry Ronador. Every wild thing in the +forest loves and mates. And I--I am very lonely." + +But by the time the Mulberry Moon of the Seminoles blanketed the great +marsh in misty silver Diane was restlessly on her way back to the world +of white men. + +Philip followed. Leaner, browner, a little too stern, perhaps, about +the mouth and eyes, a gypsy of greater energy and resource than when he +had struck recklessly into the Glades with the music-machine he had +since exchanged for an Indian wagon, Philip camped and smoked and +hunted with the skill and gravity of an Indian. + +So the wagons filed back again into the little hamlet where Johnny +waited, daily astonishing the natives by a series of lies profoundly +adventurous and thrilling. Rex's furious bark of welcome at the sight +of his young mistress was no whit less hysterical than Johnny's instant +groan of relief, or the incoherent manner in which he detailed an +unforgettable interview with Aunt Agatha, who had appeared one night +from heaven knows where and pledged him with tears and sniffs +innumerable to telegraph her when from the melancholy fastnesses of the +Everglades, Diane or her scalp emerged. + +"She wouldn't go North," finished Johnny graphically, his apple cheeks +very red and his eyes very bright, "she certainly would not--she'd like +to see herself--she would indeed!--and this no place for me to wait. +Them very words, Miss Diane. And she went and opened your +grandfather's old house in St. Augustine--the old Westfall +homestead--and she's there now waitin'. Likely, Miss Diane, I'd better +telegraph now--this very minute--afore she takes it in her head to come +again!" + +Johnny's dread of another Aunt Agathean visitation was wholly candid +and sincere. He departed on a trot to telegraph, hailing Philip warmly +by the way. + +Here upon the following morning Diane and Keela parted--for the Indian +girl was pledged to return to the lodge of Mic-co. + +"Six moons, now," she explained with shining eyes, "I stay at the lodge +of Mic-co, my foster father. When the Falling Leaf Moon of November +comes, I shall still be there, living the ways of white men." She held +out her hand. "Aw-lip-ka-shaw!" she said shyly, her black eyes very +soft and sorrowful. "It is a prettier parting than the white man's. +By and by, Diane, you will write to the lodge of Mic-co? The Indian +lads ride in each moon to the village for Mic-co's books and papers." +Her great eyes searched Diane's face a little wistfully. "Sometime," +she added shyly, "when you wish, I will come again. You will not ride +away soon to the far cities of the North?" + +"No!" said Diane. "No indeed! Not for ever so long. I'm tired. +Likely I'll hunt a quiet spot where there's a lake and trees and +lilies, and camp and rest. You won't forget me, Keela?" + +Keela had a wordless gift of eloquence. Her eyes promised. + +Diane smiled and tightened her hold of the slim, brown Indian hand. + +"Aw-lip-ka-shaw, Keela!" she said. "Some day I'm coming back and take +you home with me." + +The Indian girl drove reluctantly away; presently her canvas wagon was +but a dim gray silhouette upon the horizon. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +THE RIVAL CAMPERS + +Northward by lazy canal and shadowy hummock, northward by a river +freckled with sand bars, Diane came in time to a quiet lake where +purple martins winged ceaselessly over a tangled float of lilies--where +now and then an otter swam and dipped with a noiseless ripple of +water--where ground doves fluttered fearlessly about the camp as Johnny +pitched the tents at noonday. + +But for all the whir and flash of brilliant birdlife above the placid +water--for all the screams of the fish hawks and the noise of crows and +grackle in the cypress--for all the presence of another camper among +the trees to the west, the days were quiet and undisturbed. And at +night when the birds were winging to the woods now black against the +yellow west, and the lonely lake began to purple, the fires of the +rival camps were the single spots of color in the heavy darkness along +the shore. + +Diane wrote of it, with disastrous results, to Aunt Agatha. + +At sunset, one day, a carriage produced an aggrieved rustle of silk, a +voice and a hand bag. Each fluttered a little as the driver accepted +his fare and rolled away. The hand bag, in accordance with a +sensational and ill-conditioned habit which had roused more than one +unpopular commotion in crowded department stores and thoroughfares, +leaped unexpectedly from a gloved and fluttering hand. + +Aunt Agatha possessed herself of the bag with a sniff and rustled +heedlessly into the nearest camp. + +It was, of course, Mr. Poynter's. + +Utterly confounded by the unexpected sight of a tall young man who was +cooking a fish over the fire, Aunt Agatha gurgled fearfully and backed +precipitately into the nearest tree, whence the ill-natured hand bag +forcibly opened a grinning mouth, leaped into space and disgorged a +flying shower of nickels and dimes, smelling salts and hairpins and a +variety of fussy contrivances of sentimental value. + +"God bless my soul!" bleated Aunt Agatha with round, affrighted eyes, +"there's a dime in the fish! And I do beg your pardon, young man, but +will you be so good as to poke the smelling salts out of the fire +before they explode." + +There was little likelihood of the final catastrophe, but Mr. Poynter +obeyed. Laughing a little as he collected the scattered cargo, he +good-humoredly suggested that he was not nearly so dangerous as Aunt +Agatha's petrified gaze suggested, and that possibly she might remember +him--his name was Poynter--and that Miss Westfall's camp lay a little +farther to the east. + +Aunt Agatha departed, greatly impressed by his gallantry and common +sense. Arriving in the camp of her niece, she roused an alarming +commotion by halting unobserved among the trees, staring hard at her +niece's back-hair, dropping her hand bag, and bursting into tears that +brought the startled campers to her side in a twinkling. + +"Great Scott, Johnny!" exclaimed Diane, aghast. "It's Aunt Agatha!" + +Aunt Agatha dangerously motioned them away with the hand bag Johnny had +returned. + +"I'll be all right in a minute!" she sniffed tearfully. "Mamma was +that way, too--mamma was. Tears would burst right out of her, +especially when she grew so stout. I can't help it! When I think of +all I've gone through with you off in the Green-glades or the +Never-glades or whatever they are--and worrying all the time about your +scalp and alligators--and you sitting there so peaceful, Diane, with +your hair still on--I've got to cry--I just have and I will. And +Carl's mysteriously disappeared--Heaven knows where! I've not seen him +for weeks. Nor did he condescend to write me--as I must say you +did--and very good of you too!" Whether Aunt Agatha was crying because +her mother was stout and eruptively lachrymose, or because Diane's hair +was still where it belonged, or because Carl was missing, Diane could +not be sure. + +Aunt Agatha puffed presently to a seat by the fire, with hair and hat +awry, and dropped her hand bag. + +"Johnny," she said severely, "don't stare so. I'm sorry of course that +I made you drop the kettle when I came, I am indeed, but I'm here and +there's the kettle--and that's all there is to it." + +"Of course it is!" exclaimed Diane, kissing her heartily. "And I'm +mighty glad to see you, Aunt Agatha, tears and all!" + +There was some little difficulty in persuading Aunt Agatha of the truth +of this, but she presently removed her hat, narrowly escaped dropping +it into the fire, and consigned it, along with the athletic hand bag, +to Johnny. + +Now Diane with a furtive glance at Philip's camp, had been hostilely +considering the discouraging effect of Aunt Agatha's presence upon the +rival camper. That Aunt Agatha would presently discern degenerative +traces of criminality in his face by reason of his reprehensible +proximity to her niece's camp, Diane did not doubt. That the aggrieved +lady would call upon him within a day or so and air her rigid notions +of propriety and convention, was well within the range of probability. +Wherefore-- + +Aunt Agatha broke plaintively in upon her thoughts. + +"If you would only listen, Diane!" she complained. "I've spoken three +times of your grandfather's old estate and dear knows you ought to +remember it--" + +"I beg your pardon, Aunt!" stammered the girl sincerely. + +"Certainly," said Aunt Agatha with dignity, "I deserve some attention. +What with the dark, gloomy rooms of the house and the cobwebs and +cranky spiders--and the people of St. Augustine believing it to be +haunted--so that I could scarcely keep a servant--and green mould in +the cellar--and a croquet set--and waiting down South when I distinctly +promised to go back with the Sherrills in March--I take it very hard of +you, Diane, to be so absent-minded. Ugh! How dark the lake has grown +and the wind and the noise of the water. There's hardly a star. +Diane, I do wonder how you stand it. The shore looks like bands of +mourning crepe. And in the midst of it all, Diane, there in St. +Augustine, the Baron aeroplaned the top off the Carroll's orchard--" + +"Aunt Agatha!" begged the girl helplessly. "What in the world is it +all about?" + +Aunt Agatha flushed guiltily. + +"Why is it," she demanded, "that no one ever seems to understand what +I'm saying? Dear knows I haven't a harelip or even a lisp. Why, Baron +Tregar, my dear. He's been staying in St. Augustine, too. It almost +seemed as if he had deliberately followed me there--though of course +that couldn't be. And the Prince too. And the Baron bought an +aeroplane to amuse himself and annoy the Carrolls--" + +Aunt Agatha flushed again, cleared her throat and looked away. Why +Ronador was in St. Augustine she knew well enough. He had waited near +her, successfully, for news of Diane. And though the Baron had been +very quiet, he had kept his eye upon the Prince. Aunt Agatha had for +once been the startled hub of intrigue. + +"And what with the driver mumbling to himself this afternoon because I +lost my umbrella and made him go back, and the horse having ribs," she +complained, shying from a topic which contained dangerous possibilities +of revealing a certain indiscretion, "I do wonder I'm here at all. And +the young man was very decent about the dime in his fish--though I'm +sure he burned his fingers digging for the smelling salts--for they'd +already begun to sizzle--but dear me! Diane, you can't imagine how I +jarred my spine and my switch--I did think for a minute it would tumble +off--and he was so quick and pleasant to collect the nickels and +hairpins. Such a pleasant, comfortable sort of chap. I remember now +he was at the Sherrill's and very good-looking, too, I must say, and +very lonely too, I'll wager, camping about for his health. He didn't +say anything about his health, but one can see by his eyes that he's +troubled about it." + +"Aunt Agatha!" begged Diane helplessly in a flash of foreboding, "what +in creation are you trying to say?" + +"Why, Mr. Poynter, of course!" exclaimed Aunt Agatha. "The hand bag +shot into his camp and spilled nickels, and I bumped into a tree and +jarred my switch. And a very fine fellow he is, to be sure!" + +Diane stared. + +It was like Aunt Agatha to blunder into the wrong camp. And surely it +was like Philip to win her favor by chance. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +THE TALE OF A CANDLESTICK + +The friendship of Aunt Agatha and Mr. Poynter miraculously grew. Aunt +Agatha, upon the following morning, took to wandering vaguely about the +wooded shore and into Philip's camp, impelled by gracious concern for +his health, which she insisted upon regarding as impaired, and by +effusive gratitude for such trifling civilities as he had readily +proffered the day before. From there she wandered vaguely back to her +niece's camp fire in a chronic state of worry about Carl. +Discontented, unfailing in her melancholy reminiscences of +cannibalistic snakes and herons. Aunt Agatha plainly had no immediate +intentions of any sort. She had no intention of lingering in camp, she +said, accoutered solely with a hand bag! And she had no intention--no +indeed!--of departing until Diane went back with her to the deserted +Westfall house in St. Augustine, with the green mould and the cobwebs +and cranky spiders and the croquet set in the cellar. Arcadia, if +Diane had not crushed the memory out of her heart, had had a parallel. + +Greatly disturbed by her aunt's melancholy state of uncertainty, Diane +one morning watched her set forth to gather lilies in the region of +Philip's camp. + +The woodland about was very quiet. Diane lay back against the tree +trunk and closed her eyes, listening to the welcome gypsy voices of +wind and water, to the noisy clapper rails in the island grass at the +end of the lake and to the drone of a motor on the road to the north. +Dimly conscious that Johnny was briskly scrubbing the rude table among +the trees, she fell asleep. + +When she awoke, with a nervous start, Johnny was down at the edge of +the lake scouring pans with sand and whistling blithely. Off there to +the west, with Aunt Agatha fussing at his heels, Philip was +good-naturedly gathering the lilies at the water's edge. And some one +was approaching camp from the northern road. + +Diane glanced carelessly to the north and sprang to her feet with wild +scarlet in her cheeks. + +Ronador was coming through the forest. + +His color was a little high, his eyes, beneath the peak of his motoring +cap profoundly apologetic, but he was easier in manner than Diane. + +"I'm offending, I know," he said steadily, "and I crave forgiveness, +but muster an indifferent gift of patience as best I may, I can not +wait. It is weeks, you recall--" + +Diane flushed brightly. + +"Yes," she said. "I know. I have been in the Everglades." + +"Your aunt told me." Ronador searched her face suddenly with peculiar +intentness. He might have added, with perfect truth, that to Aunt +Agatha, who had indiscreetly afforded him a glimpse of her niece's +letter, might be attributed the halting of the long, black car on the +road to the north. "You have no single word of welcome, then!" he +reproached abruptly and impatiently brushed his hair back from his +forehead with a hand that shook a little. + +From the north came the clatter of a motorcycle. + +Diane held out her hand. + +"Let us make a mutual compact!" she exclaimed frankly. "I have +overstrained your patience--you have startled me. Let us both forgive. +In a sense we have neither of us kept strictly to the letter of our +agreement." + +Ronador bent with deference over the girl's outstretched hand and +brushed it lightly with his lips, unconscious that her face had grown +very white and troubled. Nor in his impetuous relief was he aware that +other eyes had witnessed the eloquent tableau and that Aunt Agatha had +arrived in camp with an escort who quietly deposited an armful of +dripping lilies upon the camp table and oddly enough made no effort to +retire. + +When at length, conscious of the electric constraint of the atmosphere, +Ronador wheeled uncomfortably and met Philip's level glance, he stared +and reddened, hot insolent anger in the flash of his eyes and the curl +of his lips. + +"Dear me!" faltered Aunt Agatha, guiltily conscious of the letter, "I +am surprised, I am indeed! Who ever would have thought of seeing you +here, Prince, among the trees and--and the ground doves and--and all +the lilies!" The unfortunate lady, convinced by now that Ronador's +apparent resentment concerned, in some inexplicable way, her escort, +herself and the lilies, glanced beseechingly about her. "And what with +the lilies," she burst forth desperately in apology for the inopportune +arrival of herself and her escort, "what with the lilies, Prince, and +the water so wet--though, dear me! it was not to be wondered at, of +course--growing wild in the water that way--and only one gown and the +hand bag--though to be sure I can't wear the hand bag, and wouldn't if +I could---Mr. Poynter, with his usual courtesy was good enough to carry +the lilies into camp when I asked him." + +"Mr. Poynter was undoubtedly very good, Aunt Agatha," said Diane +quietly, "but the lilies scarcely require any further attention." + +Still Mr. Poynter did not stir. + +"I regret exceedingly," he said formally to Diane, "that I am unable to +avail myself of your cordial permission to retire. Unfortunately, I +have urgent business with Prince Ronador. Indeed, I have waited for +just such an opportunity as this." + +He was by far the calmest of the four. Ronador's violent temper was +rapidly routing his studied composure. Diane's lovely face was flushed +and indignant. Aunt Agatha, making a desperate pretense of sorting the +lilies, was plainly in a flutter and willing to be tearfully repentent +over their intrusion. Not so Philip. There was satisfaction in his +steady glance. + +"There is scarcely any business which I may have with--er--Tregar's +secretary," said Ronador with deliberate insolence, "which may not be +more suitably discharged by Tregar himself." + +There was a biting suggestion of rank in his answer at which Philip +smiled. + +"My spread-eagle tastes," he admitted, "have always protected my eyes +from the bedazzlement frequently incident to the sight of royalty. Nor +do I wish to flaunt unduly my excellent fortune in being born an +American and a democrat, but for once. Prince, we must overlook your +trifling disadvantage of caste and meet on a common footing. Permit me +to offer my humble secretarial apology that the business is wholly +mine--and one other's--and not my chief's." + +Here Aunt Agatha created a singular diversion by dropping the lilies +and gurgling with amazement. + +"God bless my soul!" she screamed hysterically, conscious that her +indiscretion was rapidly weaving a web around her which might not find +favor in her niece's eyes, "it's Baron Tregar! I know his beard." + +Now as it was manifestly impossible for the Baron and his beard to be +secreted among the lilies which Aunt Agatha was wildly gathering up, +Philip looked off in the wood to the north. + +There was a motorcyclist approaching who had conceivably felt +sufficient interest in the long black car to follow it. + +The Baron arrived, gallantly swept off his cap and bowed, and suddenly +conscious of an indefinable hostility in the attitudes of the silent +quartet, stared from one to the other with some pardonable astonishment. + +"Tregar!" shouted the Prince hotly, "you will account to me for this +officious espionage." + +The Baron stroked his beard. + +"One may pay his respects to Miss Westfall?" he begged with gentle +sarcasm. "It is a sufficiently popular epidemic, I should say, to +claim even me. Besides," he added dryly, "in reality I have come in +answer to a letter of Poynter's. It has interested me exceedingly to +find you on the road ahead of me." + +"Baron Tregar," said Diane warmly, "you are very welcome, I assure you. +Mr. Poynter has been pleased to inject certain elements of melodrama +into his chance intrusion. Otherwise you would not find us staring at +each other in this exceedingly ridiculous manner!" + +"Hum!" said the Baron blandly and glanced with interest at the +undisturbed countenance of Mr. Poynter. + +"A mere matter of justice and belated frankness to Miss Westfall!" said +Philip quietly. "I must respectfully beg Prince Ronador to disclose to +her the original motive of his singular and highly romantic courtship. +I bear an urgent message of similar import from one who has had the +distinction of playing--imperial chess!" + +They were curious words but not so curious in substance as in effect. +With a cry of startled anger, Ronador leaped back, his eyes flashing +terrible menace at Philip. There was only one pair of eyes, however, +quick and keen enough, for all their loveliness, to follow his swift +movement or the glitter of steel in his hand. + +With a cry of fear and horror, Diane leaped like a wild thing and +struck his hand aside. A revolver fell at her feet. Aunt Agatha +screamed and covered her eyes with her hands. + +In the tense quiet came the tranquil lap of the lake, the call of a +distant bird, the lazy murmur of many leaves in a morning wind. Philip +stood very quietly by the table. He looked at Diane; he seemed to have +forgotten the others, Tregar thought. + +With terrible anger in her flashing eyes, Diane flung the revolver into +the placid lake, and facing Ronador, her sweet, stern mouth +contemptuous, she met his imploring gaze with one of scathing rebuke. + +"Excellency," she said to Ronador, "whatever else Mr. Poynter may have +in mind, there is surely now an explanation which it behooves you to +make as a gentleman who is not a coward!" + +Ronador moistened his white lips and looked away. + +Trembling violently she turned to Philip. + +"Philip!" she cried. "What is it?" As her eyes met his, her hand went +to her heart and the color swept in brilliant tide from the slim brown +throat to the questioning eyes. "Oh, Philip! Philip!" She choked and +fell again to trembling. It was a cry of remorse and heart-broken +apology for the memory of a moon above the marsh. + +For somehow in that instant, by a freak of instinct, the rain and the +wind of Okeechobee and the bird in the pines came into their own. +Their subtle messages dovetailed with the hurt look in Philip's +eyes--with the conviction of the girl's sore heart, unconquerable for +all she had desperately fought it--with the revelation of treachery +which lay now at the bottom of the lake. + +Philip was very white. + +"But," he said gently, "you could not know." + +"I could have waited and trusted," cried the girl. "I could have +remembered Arcadia!" + +Was Ronador forgotten? Tregar thought so. These two mutely avowing +with blazing eyes their utter trust and loyalty had for the moment +forgotten everything but each other. + +Ronador stalked viciously away to the lake, restlessly turned on his +heel with a curse and came slowly back. There was despair in his eyes. +Tregar thought of the black moments of impulse and the tearing +conscience and pitied him profoundly. + +"Excellency," reminded Diane, "there is an explanation--" + +But Ronador's pallid lips were set in lines of fierce denial. + +"Philip!" appealed the girl. + +"Well," said Philip looking away, "it's a tale of a candlestick." + +"A candlestick!" + +"And a hidden paper." + +"Yes?" + +Ronador seemed about to speak, thought better of it and closed his lips +in a tense white line of sullenness. + +Philip glanced keenly at him, and his own mouth grew a little sterner. + +"Excellency," he said to Ronador, "that you may not feel impelled again +to violence in the suppression of this curious fragment of family +history, let me warn you that the story has been entrusted in full to +Father Joda, who knew and loved your cousin. Any spectacular +irrationality that you may hereafter develop in connection with Miss +Westfall, will lead to its disclosure. He is pledged to that in +writing." + +The color died out of Ronador's face. The fire, roused by the specter +he had fought this many a day, burned itself quite to ashes and left +him cold and sullen. He had played and lost. And he was an older and +quieter man for the losing. Whatever else lay at the bottom of his +contradictory maze of dark moods and passions, he had courage and the +curse of conscience. There were black memories struggling now within +him. + +Tregar moved quietly to Ronador's side, an act of ready loyalty not +without dignity in the eyes of Philip. + +"Your letter hinted something of all this," he said. "Let us be quite +fair, Poynter. Ronador feared only for his little son." + +"Why must we talk in riddles?" cried Diane with a flash of impatience. +"Why does Ronador fear for his son? Where is the candlestick? And the +paper? Who found it?" + +"Carl found it," said Philip. "It was written nearly a quarter of a +century ago, by one--Theodomir of Houdania." + +Diane glanced in utter mystification at Ronador's ashen face--there was +a great fear in his eyes--and thence to Baron Tregar. + +"Excellency," she appealed, "it is all very hard to understand. Who is +Theodomir? And why must his life touch mine after all these years?" + +The Baron cleared his throat. + +"Let me try to make it simpler," he said gravely. "Theodomir, Miss +Westfall, was a lovable, willful, over-democratic young crown prince of +Houdania who, many years ago, refused the responsibilities of a royal +position whose pomp and pretensions he despised--quoting Buddha--and +fled to America where in the course of time he married, divorced his +wife and later died--incognito. He was Ronador's cousin, and his +flight shifted the regency of the kingdom to Ronador's father." + +"Yes," said the girl steadily, "that is very clear." + +"Theodomir married--and divorced--your mother," said Philip gently. + +Diane grew very white. + +"And even yet," she said bravely, "I--can not see why we must all be so +worked up. There is more?" + +"Yes. Later, after her divorce from Theodomir, your mother married +Norman Westfall--" + +"My father," corrected Diane swiftly. + +Philip looked away. + +"Her second marriage," he said at last, "was childless." + +"Philip!" Diane's face flamed. "And I?" + +"You," said Baron Tregar, "are the child of Theodomir." + +In the strained silence a bird sent a sweet, clear call ringing lightly +over the water. + +"That--that can not be!" faltered Diane. "It--it is too preposterous." + +"I wish to Heaven it were!" said Philip quietly. "Whether or not it +was Theodomir's wish that his daughter be reared, in the eyes of the +world, as the daughter of Norman Westfall, to protect her from any +consequences incident to his possible discovery and enforced return to +Houdania, it is impossible to say. Hating royalty as he did, he may +have sought thus to shield his daughter from its taint. Why he +weakened and consigned the secret to paper--how or when he hid it in an +ancient candlestick in the home of Norman Westfall, remains shrouded in +utter mystery. It is but one of the many points that need light." + +Again the Baron cleared his throat. + +"And," said he, "since unwisely, Miss Westfall, for eugenic reasons, we +grant a certain freedom of marital choice to our princes--since wisely +or not as you will, the Salic Law does not, by an ancient precedent, +obtain with us, and a woman may come in the line of succession, the +danger to Ronador's little son, is, I think, apparent." + +"Surely, surely!" exclaimed Diane hopelessly, "there is some mistake. +There is so much that is utterly without light or coherence. So much--" + +For the first time Ronador spoke. + +"What," said he sullenly to Philip, "would you have us do?" + +"I would have you eliminate the secrecy, the infernal intrigue, the +scheming to smother a fire that burned wilder for your efforts," said +Philip civilly. "I would have you face this thing squarely and +investigate it link by link. I would have you abandon the damnable +man-hunt that has sent one man to his death in a Florida swamp and +goaded another to a reckless frenzy in which all things were possible. +Themar is dead. That Granberry is alive is attributable solely to the +fact that he was cleverer and keener than any of those who hounded him. +But he has paid heavily for the secret he tried in a drunken moment to +sell to Houdania." + +"I do not understand Carl's part in it," said Diane. "Nor can I see--" + +But whatever it was that Diane could not see was not destined for +immediate revealment. At the mention of Carl's name by her niece, Aunt +Agatha came unexpectedly into the limelight with a gurgle and fainted +dead away. Her white affrighted face had been turned upon Ronador in +fearful fascination since Diane had struck his arm. Whether or not she +had comprehended any of the talk that followed is a matter of doubt. + +When at last, after an interval of flurry and excitement in the camp, +Aunt Agatha gasped, sat up again and stared wildly at the sympathetic +line of faces about her, Ronador was gone. When or where he had gone, +no one knew. Only Diane caught the whir of his motor on the road to +the north. + +"It is better so," said Tregar compassionately. "Though his love began +in treachery, Miss Westfall, and drove him through the mire, it was, I +think, genuine. A man may not see his hopes take wing with comfort. +And Ronador's life has not been of the happiest." + +"Excellency," said Philip who had been wandering restlessly about among +the trees, "I know that you are but an indifferent gypsy, and strongly +averse to baked potatoes, but such as it is, let me extend to you the +hospitality of my camp. Doubtless Miss Westfall will dispatch Johnny +for your motorcycle." + +The Baron accepted. + +"There is one thing more, Miss Westfall," he added as they were +leaving. "Frankness is such a refreshing experience for me, that I +must drink of the fount again. Days back, a headstrong young secretary +of mine of considerable nerve and independence and--er--intermittent +disrespect for his chief---having come to grief through a knife of +Themar's intended for another--refused, with a habit of infernal +politeness he has which I find most maddening, refused, mademoiselle, +to execute a certain little commission of mine because he quixotically +fancied it savored of spying!" + +"Tregar!" said Philip with an indignant flush. And added with an +uncomfortable conviction of disrespect, "Er--Excellency!" + +"I said--intermittent disrespect," reminded Tregar. "Moreover," he +continued, stroking his beard and selecting his words with the +precision of the careful linguist that he was, "this secretary of mine, +after an interview of most disconcerting candor, took to the road and a +hay-cart in a dudgeon, constituting himself, in a characteristic +outburst of suspicion, quixotism, chivalry and protection, a sentinel +to whom lack of sleep, the discomforts of a hay-camp--and--er--spying +black-and-tans were nothing. I have reason for suspecting that he may +have been misrepresented and misjudged--" + +"Excellency," said Philip shortly, "my camp lies yonder. And Mrs. +Westfall will doubtless rejoice when her niece's camp is quiet." + +Diane met the Baron's glance with a bright flush. + +"Excellency," she said, "I thank you." + +The two men disappeared among the trees. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +THE GYPSY BLOOD + +It was a curious puzzle which, through the quiet of the afternoon that +followed, Diane sought desperately to assemble from the chaos of +highly-colored segments which the morning had supplied. There were +intervals when she rejected the result, with its maddening gaps and +imperfections, with a laugh of utter derision--it was so preposterous! +There were quieter intervals when she pieced the impossible segments +all together again and stared aghast at the result. No matter how +incredulous her attitude, however, when the scattered angles slipped +into unity, riveted together by a painful concentration, the result, +with its consequent light upon the wooing of Ronador, though more and +more startling, was in the main convincing. + +Days back in Arcadia Diane remembered the Baron had suavely spoken of +his kingdom, and Philip had told her much. There was a mad king +without issue upon the throne. There were two brothers of the mad +king, each of whom had a son. Theodomir, then, had been the son of the +elder, Ronador of the younger. Theodomir had fled at the death of his +father, unwilling to take up the regency under a mad king. So +Ronador's father had come to the regency of the kingdom and Ronador +himself and his little son had stood in the direct line of succession +until the ghost arose from the candlestick and mocked them all. And +she--Diane--was the child of Theodomir. + +Diane was still dazedly sorting the pieces of the puzzle when the sun +set in a red glory beyond the lake, matching the flame of Philip's fire +by which he and the Baron sat in earnest discussion. + +The west was faintly yellow, the forest dark, when from the tent to +which she had retired at noon, quite distraught and incoherent. Aunt +Agatha begged plaintively for a cup of tea. + +"Diane," she said, when the girl herself appeared with it, "I--I can't +forget his face. I--I never shall. Twice now I've tried to get up, +but I thought of his eyes and the revolver, and my knees folded up. +It--it was just so this morning. What with the ringing in my ears--and +the dizziness--and his face so dark with anger--and digging my heels in +the ground to keep my knees from folding up under me--I--I thought I +should go quite mad, quite mad, my dear. He--he meant to kill Mr. +Poynter?" + +"Yes," said Diane with a shudder. "Yes. I--think so." + +"I'm sorry I told him where you were," fluttered Aunt Agatha, taking a +conscience-stricken and somewhat tearful gulp of very hot tea. "I--I +am indeed, but I couldn't in the least know that he went about killing +people, could I, Diane?" + +"No," said Diane patiently. "No, of course not. Don't bother about +it. Aunt Agatha. Why not wait until your tea is a little cooler?" + +"I'll have to," said Aunt Agatha with an aggrieved sniff. "For I do +believe I'm filled with steam now. Why are you so white and quiet, +Diane? Is it the revolver?" + +"Aunt Agatha," exclaimed the girl impetuously, "why have you always +been so reticent about my mother?" + +The effect of the girl's words was sufficient proof that the frightened +lady had absorbed but little of Philip's revelation. Tired and +nervous, hazily aware that the scene of the morning had been +portentous, and now confounding it in a panic with something that by a +deathbed pledge had lain inexorably buried in her heart for years, Aunt +Agatha screamed and dropped her teacup. It rolled away in a trail of +steam to the flap of the tent. Covering her face with her hands, Aunt +Agatha burst hysterically into a shower of tears. + +Diane started. + +"Aunt Agatha," she exclaimed, "what is it? For heaven's sake, don't +sob and tremble so." + +"I--I might have known it!" sobbed Aunt Agatha, wringing her plump +hands in genuine distress. "I might have guessed they would tell you +that, though how in the world they found it out is beyond me. If I'd +only listened instead of worrying about my knees and the revolver, and +staring so. And you in the Everglades--where your father went to hunt +alligators. Oh, Diane, Diane, not a single night could I sleep--and +it's not to be wondered at that I was scared. And the dance you did +for Nathalie Fowler and me--and the costume that night at Sherrill's. +I was fairly sick! I knew it would come out--though how could I +foresee that the Baron and Mr. Poynter and the Prince would know? I--I +told your grandfather so years ago, but he pledged me on his +deathbed--and your father was wild and clever like Carl and singular in +his notions. I'll never forget your grandfather's face when you ran +away into the forest to sleep as a child. He was white and sick and +muttered something about atavism. It--it was the Indian blood--" + +Diane caught her aunt's trembling arm in a grip that hurt cruelly. + +"Aunt Agatha," she said, catching her breath sharply, "you must not +talk so wildly. Say it plainer!" + +But Aunt Agatha tranquil was incoherent. + +Aunt Agatha frightened and hysterical was utterly beyond control. + +"And very beautiful too," she sobbed. "And Norman, poor fellow, was +quite mad about her--for all she was an Indian girl--though her father +was white and a Spaniard, I will say that for her. Not even so dark as +you are, Diane, and shy and lovely enough to turn any man's head--much +less your father's--though your grandfather stormed and threatened to +kill them both and only for Grant he would have. And when an Indian +from the Everglades told Norman that--that she really hadn't been +married before but just a--mother like Carl's mother, my dear--" + +But Diane was gone, stumbling headlong from the tent. Aunt Agatha was +to remember her white agonized face for many a day. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +IN THE FOREST + +With the darkening of the night a wind sprang up over the bleak, black +expanse of lake and swept with a sigh through the forest on the shore. +It was a wind from the east which drove a film of cloud across the +stars and bore a hint of rain in its freshness. The rain itself +pattering presently through the forest fell upon the huddled figure of +a girl who lay face downward upon the ground among the trees. + +She lay inert, her head pillowed upon her arm, face to face with the +unspeakable shadow that had haunted Carl. Not married. Aunt Agatha +had said, but just a mother! Now the pitiful fragments of a hallowed +shrine lay mockingly at her feet. How scornfully she had flashed at +Carl! + +Diane quivered and lay very still, torn by the bitter irony of it. + +And the Indian mother! Carl had known and Ronador. She had caught a +startled look in the eyes of each at the Sherrill _fete_. Every wild +instinct, if she had but heeded the warning, had pointed the way; the +childhood escapade in the forest, the tomboy pranks of riding and +running and swimming that had horrified Aunt Agatha to the point of +tears, and later the persistent call of the open country. + +What wonder if the soft, musical tongue of the Seminole had come +lightly to her lips? What wonder if Indian instincts had driven her +forth to the wild? What wonder if the nameless stir of atavism beneath +a Seminole wigwam had frightened her into flight. Indian instincts, +Indian grace, Indian stoicism and courage, Indian keenness and +hearing--all of these had come to her from the Indian mother with the +blood of white men in her veins. + +But the stain of illegitimacy-- + +That brought the girl's proud head down again with a strangled sob of +grief. Shaking pitifully, she fell forward unconscious upon the ground. + +Some one was calling. There was rain and a lantern. + +Diane stirred. + +"Diane! Diane!" called the voice of Philip. + +At the memory of Philip and Arcadia, Diane choked and lay very still. + +"Diane!" The lantern shone now in her face and Philip was kneeling +beside her, his face whiter than her own. + +"Great God!" said Philip and stared into her haunted eyes with infinite +compassion. + +But Philip, as he frequently said, was preeminently a "practician," +wherefore he gently covered the girl with his coat, busied himself with +the lantern and, for various reasons, sought to create a general +atmosphere of commonplace reality. + +"Your aunt sent me," he said at length. "She's awfully upset." + +"She told you?" + +"Yes." + +"Of--of the Indian mother?" + +"I knew," said Philip. "Carl told me. I withheld it this morning +purposely. Why fuss about it, Diane? Lord Almighty!" added this +exceedingly practical and democratic young man, "I shouldn't worry +myself if my grandfather was a salamander! . . . And, besides, your +true Indian is an awfully good sport. He's proud and fearless and +inherently truthful--" + +"I know," said Diane. "It isn't that I mind--so much. It--it's the +other." + +"Of course!" said Philip gently, "but, somehow, I can't believe it's +true, Diane. There's logic against it. Why, Great Scott!" he added +cheerfully, for all there was a lump in his throat at the wistful +tragedy in the girl's eyes, "there's Theodomir's own statement in the +candlestick--have you forgotten?" + +"It spoke of--of marriage?" + +"It said that Theodomir had gone into the Glades hunting and had come +upon the Indian village. There he met and married your mother and +later divorced her." + +"If I could only be sure!" faltered Diane. + +"You can," said Philip, "for I am going back to the Glades to-morrow to +hunt this thing to earth. The old chief will know." + +"But the trail, Philip?" + +"There are ways of finding it," said Philip reassuringly. + +He was so cool and matter-of-fact, so entirely cheerful and +resourceful, that Diane found his comfortable air of confidence +contagious. Only for a time, however. A little later she glanced +mutely into his face, met his eyes, flushed scarlet and fell to shaking +again. + +"Philip!" she whispered. + +"Yes?" There was a wonderful gentleness in Philip's voice. + +"I--I can't go back to camp yet, for all it's raining." + +"Well," said Philip comfortably, "rain be hanged. We'll wait a bit." + +Diane gave a sigh of relief and lay very quiet. + +Philip wisely said nothing. He shifted the lantern so his own face +might be in the shadow and for some reason of his own, fell to speaking +of Carl. He told of Mic-co, of the quiet hours of healing by the pool, +of another night of storm and stress when Carl had gone forth into the +wilds with the Indian girl. + +For the first time now he felt that he had pierced the girl's shell of +tragic introspection and caught her interest. Though the rain came +faster and the lantern flickered, Philip went on with his quiet story. + +He spoke of the forces that had fired Carl to drunken resentment, the +defection of his comrades, his conviction of injustice in the +apportionment of the Westfall estate, the climax of his sensitive +rebellion against Diane's attitude toward his mother, the morose and +morbid loneliness which had driven him relentlessly to ruin. + +"What did he hope to gain by writing to Houdania?" asked the girl a +little bitterly. + +"Money!" said Philip firmly. "He fancied he could frighten them and +put a heavy price upon his silence. Later when his letter to Houdania +was ignored he altered his plans. If he could prove that you were the +daughter of Theodomir and not of Norman Westfall--then the great estate +of his uncle would revert to him. Before he could act further, things +began to happen. And then," added Philip thoughtfully, "comes another +dark patch in the mystery. Carl's story must have crossed wires with +something else--something that frightened them and made his death +imperative. The hysterical desperation of these men was out of all +proportion to the cause. Baron Tregar, baffling as he is at times, is +not the man to lend himself to deliberate assassination merely to keep +the succession of Ronador's son free from incumbrances. Later still, +Carl planned to sell the secret to the rival province of Galituria, but +the net closed in so rapidly and he fell to drinking so heavily, that +brain and body revolted and the first shadow of insanity whispered +another way--" + +"To murder me!" flashed the girl. For the first time there was warmth +and color in her face. + +Philip was glad. He had struck fire from her stony calm at last. + +"Yes," he said, and catching her chilled hands, compelled the glance of +her wistful eyes. "Diane," he said deliberately, "let us withhold our +censure. Carl has a curious and tragic psychology and he has paid in +full. Thanks to a habit of wonderful alertness and ingenuity, he has +made his enemies respect and fear him. But the tangle aroused the +blackest instincts of his soul." + +But the girl was very bitter. The old impatience and intolerance +flashed suddenly in her face. + +Philip fell silent for an instant. Then he shot his final barb with +deliberate intention--not so much to reproach--though there was utter +honesty and loyalty to Carl in what he said--but more to touch the +girl's tragedy with something sharp enough to pierce her morbidness. + +"Carl blames no one but himself," he said gently. "But--but if you had +been a little kinder, Diane--" + +"Philip!" He had hurt and knew it. + +"Yes, I know!" said Philip quickly, "but you're not going to +misunderstand, I'm sure. Let me say it with all gentleness and without +reproach. If you could have forgotten his mother's history and made +him feel that he was not quite alone--that there was some one to whom +his careless whims made a difference! But you were a little scornful +and indifferent. I wonder if you'll believe that he can tell you each +separate moment in his life when you were kind to him." + +"I too was alone and lonely!" defended the girl. "And the call of the +forest had made me most unhappy." + +"Yes. But Carl was not mocking any sensitive spot in your life--" + +"No--I was cruel--cruel!" + +"I remember in college," said Philip, "he talked so much of his +beautiful cousin, and the rest of us were wild to see her. We used to +rag him a lot, but you held aloof and we told him we didn't believe he +had a cousin. We discovered after a while that he was sensitive +because you didn't come when he asked you, and we quit ragging him +about it. You didn't even come when he took his degree." + +"No. I--Oh, Philip! I am sorry." + +"Your aunt," went on Philip, "was not mentally adapted to inspire his +respect. He merely laughed and petted her into tearful subjection. +You were the only one, Diane, who was his equal in body and brain, and +you failed him at a period when your influence would have been +tremendous. I can't forget," added Philip soberly, "that much of this +I knew in college and carelessly enough I ignored it all later. I let +him drift when I might have done much to help him." + +Philip's instinct was right and kindly. + +He had provided a counter wound to dwarf, at saving intervals, the +sting of Aunt Agatha's frightened revelation. Thereafter, the memory +of Philip's loyal rebuke was to trouble her sorely, temper a little the +old intolerance and arouse her keen remorse. The consciousness that +Philip disapproved was quite enough. + +With a sudden gesture of solicitude, Diane touched the sleeve of his +shirt. It was very wet. + +"Philip!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet. "We must go back." + +"Lord," said Philip lazily, "that's nothing at all. I'm a +hydro-aviator." + +She glanced wistfully up into his face. + +"You're right about Carl," she said. "I'm very sorry." + +Philip felt suddenly that it behooved him to remember a certain +resolution. + +Later, as he hurried through the rainy wood to his own camp, where the +Baron sat huddled in the Indian wagon in a state of deep disgust about +the rain, he halted where the trees were thick and lighted his pipe. + +"There's the Baron's aeroplane at St. Augustine," he said. "We can go +there in the morning. And the old chief will know. His memory's good +for half a century." Philip flung away his match. "But I can't for +the life of me see which is the lesser of the two evils. If her mother +wasn't married, it was bad enough, of course. But with Theodomir a +crown prince--it's worse if she was!" + +And a little later with a sigh-- + +"A princess! God bless my soul, with my spread-eagle tastes I +shouldn't know in the least what to do with her!" + +Huddled in the Indian wagon, the Baron and his secretary talked until +daybreak. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +"THE MARSHES OF GLYNN" + +For the rides over the sun-hot plains, the poling of cypress canoes, +the days of hunting and the tanning of hides, there was now a third of +fearless strength and endurance. Keela had come with the Mulberry Moon +to the home of her foster father, a presence of delicate gravity and +shyness which pervaded the lodge like the breath of some vivid wild +flower. + +"Red-winged Blackbird," said Carl, one morning, laying aside the flute +which had been showering tranquil melody through the quiet beneath the +moss-hung oaks, "why are you so quiet?" + +"I am ever quiet," said Red-winged Blackbird with dignity. "Mic-co +says it is better so." + +"Why?" + +"Mic-co only understands, and even to him I may not always talk." She +went sedately on with the modeling of clay, her slender hands swift, +graceful, unfaltering. Mic-co's lodge abounded in evidences of their +deftness. + +"You have more grace," said Carl suddenly, "than any woman I have ever +known." + +"Diane!" said Keela with charming and impartial acquiescence. + +"Yes, Diane has it, too," assented Carl, and fell thoughtful, watching +Mic-co's snowy herons flap tamely about the lodge. + +"Play!" said Keela shyly. + +Carl drew the flute from his pocket again and obeyed. + +"Like a brook of silver!" said the Indian girl with an abashed +revealment of the wild sylvan poetry with which her thoughts were rife. + +"The one friend," said Carl, "to whom I have told all things. The one +friend, Red-winged Blackbird, who always understood!" + +"I," said Keela with majesty, "I too am your friend and I understand." + +Carl reddened a little. + +"What do you understand, little Indian lady?" he asked quietly. + +He was totally unprepared for the keenness of her unsmiling analysis. + +"That you have been very tired in the head," she nodded, her delicate, +vivid face quite grave. "So tired that you might not see as you +should, so tired that the medicine of white men could not reach it, but +only the words of Mic-co, who knows all things. So tired that a moon +was not a moon of lovely brightness. It was a thing of evil fire to +scorch. Uncah? Mic-co would say warped vision. I must talk in +simpler ways for all I study." + +They fell quiet. + +"Read me again that live oak poem of Lanier's," said Carl. "After a +while Mic-co will be back to spirit you away to his Room of Books." + +She read, as she frequently read to Carl and Mic-co in the long quiet +afternoons, with an accent musical and soft, of the immortal marshes of +Glynn. + + + "Glooms of the live oaks, beautiful-braided and woven + With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven + Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs,--" + + +What vivid memories it awoke of the morning the swamp had revealed to +him the island home of Mic-co! + + + "Ay, now, when my soul all day hath drunken the soul of the oak, + And my heart is at ease from men, and the wearisome sound of the stroke + Of the scythe of time and the trowel of trade is low, + And belief overmasters doubt, and I know that I know, + And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within, + That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn + Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought me of yore + When length was fatigue, and when breadth was but bitterness sore, + And when terror and shrinking and dreary unnameable pain + Drew over me out of the merciless miles of the plain." + + +Lanier, dying of heartbreak! How well he had understood! + + + "Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea? + Somehow my soul seems suddenly free + From the weighing of Fate and the sad discussion of sin, + By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn." + + +And Keela too had guessed. + + + "In the rose-and-silver evening glow, + Farewell--" + + +Keela broke off and laid aside the book. + +"I may not read more," she said, bending to the pottery with wild color +in her face. "I--I am very tired, Carl. You go in the morning?" + +"Yes." + +"You are strong--and sure?" + +"Yes. Quite. I've promised Mic-co not to lose my grip again." + +"And sometime you will come here again?" + +"Often!" + +A little later she went quietly away to the Room of Books with Mic-co. + +When the evening star flashed silver in the lilied pool, Carl sat +alone. Mic-co had been summoned away by an Indian servant. A soft +light gleamed in the corner of the court in a shower of vines. Its +light was a little like the soft rays of the Venetian lamp that had +shone in the Sherrill garden, but Carl ruthlessly put the memory aside. +It had grown once into a devouring flame of evil portent. It must not +do so again. + +His thoughts were so far away that a soft footfall behind him and the +rustle of satin seemed part of that other night until turning +restlessly, he caught the sheen of satin, brightly gold in the +lantern-glow. The dark, vivid skin, the hair and eyes that were +somehow more Spanish than Indian--the golden mask--Carl's face went +wildly scarlet. + +"Keela!" he cried, springing toward her, "Keela!" + +There was much of his old intolerance, much of his impudent immunity to +the world's opinion in the curious flash of adjustment which leveled +barriers of caste and convention and bridged, for him, in the fashion +of a willful uncle, the gulf of race and breeding. + +The golden mask dropped. + +"Is it not a pretty farewell?" she faltered, with a wistful glance at +the shimmering gown. "Diane gave it all. As you saw me first, +so--now!" + +Some lines of Lanier's poem of the morning were ringing wildly in +Carl's ears. + + + "The blades of the marsh grass stir; + Passeth a hurrying sound of wings that westward whir; + Passeth, and all is still; and the currents cease to run; + And the sea and the marsh are one." + + +"Why do you look at me so?" asked Keela. + +"I have been a fool," said Carl steadily, "a very great fool--and +blind." + +Keela's lovely, sensitive mouth quivered. + +"Is it--" she raised glistening, glorified eyes to his troubled face, +"is it," she whispered naively, "that you care like the lovers in +Mic-co's books?" + +"Yes. And you, Keela?" + +"I--I have always cared," she said shyly, "since that night at +Sherrill's. I--I feared you knew." + +Trembling violently the girl dropped to her knees with a soft crash of +satin and buried her face in her hands. She was crying wildly. + +Carl gently raised her to her feet again and squarely met her eyes. + +"Red-winged Blackbird," he said quietly, "there is much that I must +tell you before I may honorably face this love of yours and mine--" + +Keela's black eyes blazed in sudden loyalty. + +"There is nothing I do not know," she flung back proudly. "Philip told +me. And for every wild error you made, he gave a reason. He loves and +trusts you utterly. May I not do that too?" + +"He told you!" + +"Some that night in the storm when he and I were saddling the horses to +ride to Mic-co's. Some later. He pledged me to kindness and +understanding." + +For every break in the thread there had always been Philip's strong and +kindly hand to mend it. A little shaken by the memory of the night in +Philip's wigwam, Carl walked restlessly about the court. + +"But there is more," he said, coloring. "There was passion and +dishonor in my heart, Keela, until, one night, I fought and won--" + +"Is it not enough for me that you won?" asked Keela gently and broke +off, wild color staining her cheeks and forehead. + +Mic-co stood in the doorway. + +"Mic-co," she said bravely, "I--I would have you tell him that he is +strong and brave and clean enough to love. He--he does not know it." + +She fled with a sob. + +"Have you forgotten?" asked Mic-co slowly. + +"I care nothing for race!" cried Carl with a flash of his fine eyes. +"Must I pattern my life by the set tenets of race bigotry. I have +known too many women with white faces and scarlet souls." + +"If I know you at all," said Mic-co with a quiet smile, "there will be +no pattern, save of your own making." + +"I come of a family who rebel at patterns," said Carl. "My mother--my +uncle--my cousin. Let me tell you all," and he told of the night in +the Sherrill garden; of the brutal desire that had later come with the +brooding and the wild disorders of his brain, to drive him deeper and +deeper into the black abyss until he fought and won by the camp fire; +of his consequent panic-stricken rebound of horror and remorse when he +had put it all aside, fighting the call with reason, seeking +desperately to crush it out of his life, until the sight of Keela in +the satin gown had sent him back with a shock to that finer, cleaner, +quieter call that had come in the Sherrill garden. Then the disordered +interval between had fled to the limbo of forgotten things. + +Mic-co heard his story to the end without comment. He was silent so +long that Carl grew uncomfortable. + +"Since Keela was a little, wistful, black-eyed child," said Mic-co at +last, "I have been her teacher. We have worked very hard together. +Peace came to me through her." He broke off frowning and spoke of the +alarming mine of inherited instincts from the white father which his +teaching had awakened. Keela had been restless and unhappy, +fastidiously aloof with the Seminoles, shy and reticent with white men. +He must not make another mistake, he said, for Keela was very dear to +him. + +"The white father?" asked Carl curiously. + +"An artist." + +"She has a marvelous gift in modeling," said Carl. "I know a famous +young sculptor whose work is nothing like so virile. Might not +something utterly new and barbaric come of it with proper direction? +If she could interpret this wild life of the Glades from an Indian +viewpoint--" + +"I have frequently thought of it," agreed Mic-co. "You would help her, +Carl?" + +"Yes." + +"It would give a definite and unselfish direction to your own life, +would it not, like those weeks at the farm with Wherry?" + +"Yes. You trust me, Mic-co?" + +"Utterly." + +Carl held out his hand. + +"One by one," said Mic-co, "fate is slipping into the groove of your +life people who are destined to care greatly--" + +"You mean--" + +"It shall be Keela's to decide." + +"Mic-co, I--cannot thank you. You and Philip--" + +But he could not go on. + +A little later he went to bed and lay restless until morning. He was +up again at sunrise, tramping over the island paths with Mic-co. + +The quiet of the early morning was rife with the chirp of countless +birds, with the crackle of the camp fire where the turbaned Indians in +Mic-co's service were preparing the morning meal. There was young corn +on the fertile island to the east. Over the chain of islands lay the +promise of early summer. + +There was a curious drone overhead as they neared the lake. + +"Look!" exclaimed Carl. "A singular sight, Mic-co, for these island +wilds of yours." + +An aeroplane was whirring noisily above the quiet lake, startling the +bluebills floating about on the surface. + +"A singular sight!" nodded Mic-co, "and a prophetic one. Symbolic of +the spirit of progress which hangs now above the Glades, is it not? +The world is destined to reap much one day from the exuberant fertility +of this marshland of the South." + +The aeroplane glided gracefully to the bosom of the lake, alighted like +a great bird and came to shore with its own power. + +The aviator swept off his cap and smiled. + +It was Philip. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +ON THE LAKE SHORE + +With the departure of Philip and the Baron for St. Augustine, a fever +of energy had settled over Diane. Riding, rowing, swimming, tramping +miles of Florida road, taking upon herself much of Johnny's camp labor, +she ruthlessly tired herself out by day that she might soundly sleep by +night. Youth and health and Spartan courage were a wholesome trio. + +Aunt Agatha watched, sniffed and frequently groaned. + +How much the kindly ruse of Philip had helped, Diane herself could not +suspect, but her remorseful thoughts were frequently busy with memories +of the old childhood days with Carl. He had been an excellent +horseman, a sturdy swimmer, an unerring shot, compelling respect in +those old, wild vacation days on the Florida plantation. If the +cruelty had crept into her manner at an age when she could not know, it +had been a reflex of the attitude of the stern old planter whose son +and daughter had been so conspicuously erratic. + +Gently enough, too, the girl sought to make Aunt Agatha comprehend the +curious facts that had come to light that morning beneath the trees. +Quite in vain. That good lady refused flatly to absorb it, grew +ludicrously plaintive and aggrieved and flew off at tearful tangents +into complicated segments of family history from which it was possible +to extricate only the most ridiculous of facts, chief among them the +reiterated assurance that her own father had been, in the bosom of his +family, of a delightfully sportive nature, but nothing like the +Westfalls--dear no!--that he had a genteel figure, my dear, for all he +had developed a somewhat corpulent tendency in later years; that the +corn-beef which mother procured was highly superior to those portions +of salted quadruped which Johnny obtained in the village--and facts of +similar irrelevancy. + +Diane had heard of the corn-beef and father's corpulency before, but +she was now somewhat gentler and less impatient and checked the old +careless flashes of annoyance. And, having supplemented the hand bag +by a shopping trip to the nearest village, Aunt Agatha, to the girl's +dismay, announced one day: + +"It's my duty to stay, Diane, and stay I will. Mother would have +stayed, I'm sure, and mother's judgment was usually correct, though she +would wear smoked glasses." + +Rowing in one morning with a string of fish, Diane was a little +fluttered at the sight of a tall, broad-shouldered young man upon the +shore, who waved his hat and quietly waited for her boat to come in. +His dark skin was clear and ruddy and very brown, his mouth resolute, +the careless grace and impudence of his old manner replaced by +something steadier, quieter and possibly a shade less assured. + +The meeting was by no means easy for either, and with remorseful +memories leaping wildly in the heart of each, they smiled and called +cheerfully to one another until the girl's boat glided in under the +ready assistance of a masculine hand that shook a little. + +"Let me moor it for you!" said Carl and busied himself with the rope +for longer than the careless task would seem to warrant. When at +length he straightened up again and briskly brushed the sand from his +coat sleeve to cover his emotion, he forced himself to meet his +cousin's troubled glance directly. + +Instantly the careless byplay ceased. The desperate imploring in the +eyes of each keyed the situation to electric tensity. Curiously +enough, both were thinking of Philip. Curiously enough, in this hour +of reckoning Philip was an invisible arbiter urging them to generous +understanding. + +Diane was the first to speak. And, in the fashion of Diane since +childhood, she bravely plunged into the heart of the thing with +glistening eyes. + +"Carl," she said, "I am very sorry." + +It was heartfelt apology for the old offense. + +Carl's face went wildly scarlet. The girl's gentleness, prepared as he +was for the inevitable flash of fire, had caught him unawares. +Springing forward, he caught her hands roughly in his own. + +"Don't!" he said roughly. "For God's sake, Diane, don't! It's awfully +decent of you--but--but I can't stand it! Have you forgotten--" he +choked. "Surely," he said, "Philip told you all. He promised--" + +"Yes," said Diane, "and--and that's why--" She was very close to tears +now, but with the old imperiousness, with the Spartan pride of the +Westfall training behind her, she flung back her head with a quick dry +sob, her eyes imploring. + +"Let's both forget," she said. "Oh, Carl, I was cruel, cruel! I--I +can not see now what made me so. Philip is right. He is always just +and honorable. He blames himself and me. You'll forgive me?" + +"_I forgive_!" faltered Carl. + +"There were forces driving you," said Diane steadily, "but I--was +deliberate. Let's pledge to a new beginning. Let me be your friend as +Philip is." + +Their hands tightened in a clasp whose warmth was prophetic. + +Mic-co's words rang again in Carl's ears. + +"Fate is slipping into the groove of your life people who are destined +to care greatly!" + +Diane was another! + +Deeply moved, Carl glanced away over the sunlit water, rippling and +sparkling with myriad shafts of light. + +"Let's sit here on the bank a minute," he said. "There's something I +must tell you. It's all right," he added with a smile, interpreting +her glance aright, "I made my peace with Aunt Agatha before you came +in. She burst into tears at the sight of me and retired to her tent. +I can't make out just why, but I think she said it was either because +I'm so tanned and a little thinner, or because none of her family were +ever addicted to disappearing, or because she has an uncle who's a +bishop. I came from Philip." + +"Philip!" + +"Yes. He came to Mic-co's the morning I was leaving. Later we met +again at a village on the outskirts of the Glades. He waited for me. +There was a telegram there from the Baron. Philip said he knew you'd +forgive him if he sent his message on by me--his father is very ill." + +"Poor Philip!" exclaimed the girl. In the fullness of her swift +compassion she forgot why Philip had gone back to the Indian village. +It flooded back directly and her wistful eyes implored. + +"It was a jealous lie," said Carl gently. "The old chief knew. The +Indian who told it hated your father." + +Diane sat so white and still that Carl touched her diffidently upon the +arm. + +"Don't look so!" he pleaded. "There was some difficulty at first, for +Philip's Seminole is nearly as fragmentary as the old chief's English, +but they called in Sho-caw and after a host of blunders and +misunderstandings, Philip ran the thing to earth at last. Theodomir +married and divorced your mother in the Indian village just as the +paper in the candlestick said." + +Still the girl did not speak or move and Carl saw with compassion that +the veins of her throat were throbbing wildly. He fell quietly to +talking of Keela, caught her interest and watched with a sense of +relief the rich color flood back to his cousin's lips and cheeks. + +It was plain the tale of the golden mask had startled her a little, for +she laid her hand impetuously upon his arm, and her eyes searched his +face with troubled intentness. + +"It will all be very singular and daring," she faltered after a while. +"I had thought of something like it myself--to help her, I mean. You +are so--_different_, Carl! I know of no man who might dare so much and +win." Then with unconscious tribute to one whose opinion she valued +above all others, she added: "Philip trusts you utterly. He has said +so. And Philip knows!" + +Carl glanced furtively at her face and cleared his throat. + +"Diane," he asked gravely, "I wonder how much that incredible tale of +the old candlestick pleased you?" + +"I don't know," said Diane honestly. "I wish I did. I've wondered and +wondered. No matter how hard I think, it doesn't somehow come right. +It's like shattering a cherished crystal into fragments to think that +every tie of blood and country I valued is meaningless--that every +memory is a mockery--that grandfather and you and Aunt Agatha--" she +paused and sighed. "When I try to realize," she finished, "I feel very +lonely and afraid." + +"And Philip?" hinted Carl. + +"I don't think he is pleased." + +"You're right," said Carl with decision. "It upset him a lot. But +that night by the old chief's camp fire, Philip discovered--" + +"Yes?" + +"That some imperfection in the stilted wording of the hidden paper had +led us all astray. Philip said he could not be sure--there was so much +fuss and trouble and misunderstanding--but the old chief had nursed +Theodomir through some dreadful illness and knew it all. They were +staunch friends. Norman Westfall came into the Glades hunting with a +friend. He persuaded your mother to go away with him, but they +went--_alone_!" + +"You mean--" + +"That they did not take a child away from the Indian village as the +paper in the candlestick declares--" + +"And the daughter of Theodomir?" + +"Is Keela. They left her by the old chief's wigwam." + +Diane stared. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + +MR. DORRIGAN + +Carl, traveling north after a day of earnest discussion in his cousin's +camp, thought much of the second candlestick. Since that night in +Philip's wigwam, it had haunted him persistently. Now with Diane's +permission to probe its secret--if, indeed, it had one like its charred +companion--he was fretting again, as he had intermittently fretted in +the lodge of Mic-co, at the train of circumstances that had interposed +delay. + +Train and taxi were perniciously slow. Carl found his patience taxed +to the utmost. + +The grandfather's clock was booming eight when at length, after a +gauntlet of garrulous servants, he pushed back the great, iron-bound +doors of the old Spanish room in his cousin's house and entered. The +war-beaten slab of table-wood, the old lanterns, the Spanish grandee +above the mantel, the mended candlestick and its unmarred mate, all +brought memories of another night when Starrett's glass had struck the +marble fireplace. Vividly, too, he recalled how the firelight had +stained the square-paneled ceiling of oak overhead, and how Diane had +stood in the doorway. The room was the same. It was a little hard, +however, to reconcile the sullen, resentful, impudent young scapegrace +of that other night with the man of to-night. + +He put out his hand to touch the second candlestick--the telephone bell +rang. + +Carl frowned impatiently and answered it. + +"Hello," said he. "Yes, this is Carl Granberry speaking . . . +Who? . . . Oh! Hello, Hunch, is that you?" + +It plainly was. Moreover, Mr. Dorrigan was very nervous and ill at +ease. Carl laughed with relish. + +"What's the trouble?" he demanded. "You're stuttering like a kid . . . +Shut up and begin over again. . . . Hello. . . . Yes. . . . Well, +I've been out of town since January. . . . Hum! . . . Well," he +hinted dryly, "there was sufficient time for an explanation before I +went. . . . I guess you're right. . . . I went up to the farm in +October with Wherry." + +Mr. Dorrigan desperately admitted that some of the time between the +escape of His Nibs and Carl's departure for the farm had been spent in +panic-stricken remorse and dread--some in the hospital due to an +altercation with Link Murphy, who for reasons not immediately apparent +wished jealously to obliterate his other eye. He begged Carl to give +him an immediate opportunity of squaring himself, for he had telephoned +the house so frequently of late that the butler had grown insulting. +Mr. Dorrigan added that he hoped Mr. Granberry's wholly justified wrath +had somewhat abated, but that for purposes of initial communication the +telephone had seemed more prudent. + +He was plainly relieved at the answer. + +Carl glanced at the tormenting candlestick and sighed. Another delay! + +"All right," he said finally to Hunch, "come along. I'll give you +twenty minutes. If you're not through then, like as not I'll stir up +the grudge again--" + +The telephone at the other end clicked instantly. Conceivably Hunch +was already on his way up town. + +Carl impatiently busied himself with some mail upon the table. It had +followed him from the farm to Palm Beach and from Palm Beach to New +York. There were half a dozen wild letters of gratitude from Wherry +and a letter from the old doctor, Wherry's father, that brought a flush +of genuine pleasure to Carl's face. + +"Wherry, too!" said he softly. "Of course. He stuck that other night. +I've been too blind to see." Drawing his flute from his pocket, he +glanced with a curious smile and glow at a row of notches in the wood. +The first notch he had cut in the flute after the rainy night in +Philip's wigwam, the second by Mic-co's pool, the third was subtly +linked with the marshes of Glynn, and a fourth had been furtively added +in the camp of his cousin. Now with a glance at Wherry's letters, he +was quietly carving a fifth. Who may say what they portended--this +record of notches carved upon the one friend who had always understood! + +Carl was to carve another, of which he little dreamed, before the +summer waned; and the spur to its making was close at hand. + +The doorbell rang as he finished, and dropping the flute back into his +pocket, he rang for some whiskey and cigars for the entertainment of +Mr. Dorrigan, who presently appeared, at the heels of a servant, +twirling his hat with a nonchalant ease much too elaborate and at +variance with the look in his good eye to be genuine. + +"'Lo!" said Hunch uncomfortably. + +"Hello!" said Carl pleasantly, pushing the decanter across the table. + +Hunch stared at his host, fidgeted, poured himself a generous drink and +waited suggestively. + +Carl merely laughed good-humoredly and lighted a cigar. + +"Sorry, Hunch," he regretted, "but I've joined the Lithia League!" + +"My Gawd!" burst forth Hunch despairingly, adding in heartfelt memory +of his host's enviable steadiness of head, "My Gawd, Carl, what a waste +o' talents!" + +Carl laughed. + +"Sit down," he invited, "and get it off your mind." + +But Hunch's single eye was wandering in fascinated appraisal over +Carl's dark, pleasant face. Even he, coarse and brutal in perception +as he was, was conscious of a difference not wholly attributable to the +Lithia League and felt himself impelled to some verbal recognition of +his host's conspicuous well-being. + +"Ye're on the level all right," he swore obscurely. "Ye're white! +Ye're lookin' good, ye're lookin' fine-- By the Lord Harry, Carl, I +don't know as I blame yuh!" + +Unable to fathom the nature of the censure thus withheld, Carl remained +silent and Hunch fell again to staring, his immovable eye ridiculously +expressive in stony conjunction with the other. Whatever he found in +Carl's face this time plainly afforded him intense relief, for he +seated himself with a long breath and drew a yellowish paper from his +pocket. + +"I says to meself," he explained, "'Hunch, old sport, ye're in for it. +He'll like as not drop yuh out of the window with an electric wire, +feed yuh to an electric wolf or make yuh play hell-for-a-minute chess +or some other o' them woozy stunts 'at pop up in his bean like +mushrooms, but yuh gotta square yerself with that paper. Yuh gotta get +up yer nerve an' hike up there to the brownstone with it.' I ask yuh," +he finished dramatically, and evidently laboring under the momentary +conviction that Carl, too, was optically afflicted, "I ask yuh, Carl, +to cast yer good lamp over that there paper." + +Carl opened the paper and stared. + +"Hunch," he exclaimed with an involuntary glance at the mended +candlestick, "where in the devil did you get this?" + +"I ask yuh to remember," went on Hunch in some excitement, "that I was +drunk an' the old she-wol--Gr-r-r-r-r!" Hunch cleared his heavy throat +in a panic, with a rasp like the stripping of gears, and corrected +himself. "The Old One," he spoke somewhat as if this singular title +was a degree, "the Old One put one over on me." + +"My aunt, I imagine," said Carl, "has given me a fairly accurate +version of His Nibs' escape. I'll admit a pardonable anxiety to +interview you for a while. As a matter of fact there was a night--when +I was not in the Lithia League--that I drove down to look you up. Tell +me," he added, "where you found this." + +"It was not, stric'ly speakin', found," said Hunch with a modest cough. +Once more, overwhelmed afresh by Carl's appearance, he let his good eye +go roving. + +"Tell it," said Carl with what patience he could muster, "in your own +way." + +"I ask yuh to remember," urged Hunch with a firm belief in the dignity +of this phrase, "that I was still drunk an' batty in me thinker when +the old she-wol--Gr-r-r-r-r-r--the Old One told me to dig out. So I +halts on the corner to collect me wits an' by'm'by I sees a guy wid a +darkish face an' lips like Link. He comes along, looks up an' down +suspicious, sees the door ain't tight shut an' heel-taps it up the +steps. He opens the door an' by'm'by he helps the Old One to a taxi +an' makes out to walk off--see--whiles she's a watchin'. Later, when +the taxi turns the corner, back he goes, heel-taps it up the steps +ag'in, an' goes in at the door he ain't locked, though he'd made out he +had. An' right there," said Hunch impressively, "right there is where +yer Uncle Hunch feels a real glimmer in his bean an' goes back. +Thin-lips ain't in sight. Yer Uncle Hunch softly heel-taps it upstairs +an' finds the darkish guy adoptin' a paper with a fatherly pat, which +he slips in his coat pocket. Whereupon--whiles he's lockin' the desk +drawer ag'in, aforesaid uncle slips downstairs an' out. By'm'by, +Thin-lips trots out with an ugly grin on his mug--an' Uncle Hunch, +gettin' soberer an' soberer by the minute, trots after him with his +good lamp workin' overtime." + +Carl glanced at the paper. + +"Yes?" he encouraged. + +"Well," said Hunch with a sheepish grin that was rendered somewhat +sinister by the fixed eye, "I jostled him real rude in a crowd an' +picked his pocket. An' there yuh are!" + +There was some slight rustle of greenish paper in the handshake. + +"I'm mighty grateful," said Carl. "That paper cost me a couple of +hours of laborious preparation. It's a duplicate, Hunch, for the +purpose of decoy. The original's in safe deposit." + + + + +CHAPTER L + +THE OTHER CANDLESTICK + +The closing of the outer door betokened the departure of Mr. Dorrigan. + +Carl swiftly marked the second candlestick where the shallow receptacle +in the other had begun and applied the thin, fine edge of a craftsman's +saw. When at length the candled branches lay upon the table, the light +of the lanterns overhead revealed, as he had hoped, a second paper. + +He was to read the faded sheets, with staring, incredulous eyes, and +learn that its contents were utterly unrelated to the contents of the +other. + + +I am impelled by one of the damnable whims which sway me at times to my +own undoing, to trust to some chance discovery that which under oath I +may never deliberately reveal with my lips. It is the history of +certain events which have heavily shadowed my life and brought me up +with a tight rein from a life of reckless whim and adventure to one of +terrible suffering. I write this with a wild hope that may never be +gratified. + +The first foreshadowing of this singular cloud came one night in the +Adirondack hunting lodge of Norman Westfall, a young Southerner whose +inheritance of a childless uncle's millions had made him a conspicuous +figure months before. He was living there with his sister and both, as +usual, were at odds with the grim old father down South who resented +the wild, unconventional strain that had come into his family through +the blood of his wife. + +They were a wild, handsome, reckless pair--Ann and Norman +Westfall--inseparable companions in wild adventure for which another +woman would have neither the endurance nor the inclination. + +Ann was a strong, beautiful, impetuous woman with rich coloring; +deliciously feminine in her quieter moments, incredibly daring in +others; keen-brained, cultured, and utterly unconventional; generous, +sympathetic and a splendid musician. Norman worshiped her. She was +older than he and without the occasional strain of flippancy which so +maddened his father. + +Norman and Ann and I had traversed the whole length of the Mississippi +to New Orleans on a raft and had traveled thence to this recently +inherited Adirondack tract of Norman's to rest. + +"Grant," he said one night after Ann had gone to bed, "you've more +brains and brawn and breeding than any man I know, and you've splendid +health." + +Naturally enough, I flushed. + +Norman narrowed his handsome, impudent eyes and regarded me intently. + +"And you're sufficiently clear-cut and good-looking," he said +thoughtfully, "for the purpose. Not so handsome as Ann to be sure, but +Ann's an exceptionally beautiful woman." + +I was utterly at a loss to understand his reference to a purpose and +said so. He laughed and shrugged and enlightened me. + +"My dear fellow," he said in answer to my stammered suggestion that +marriage was simpler and less fraught with perilous possibilities, "Ann +and I are not in the least hoodwinked by marriage. It has enervated +the whole race of womankind and led to their complete economic +dependence upon a polygamous sex who abuse the trust. Now Ann believes +firmly in the holiness of maternity, but she flatly refuses to take +upon herself the responsibility of an unwelcome tie. In this, as in +everything, I cordially endorse her views. Ann is past the callow age. +She has refused a number of men who were conspicuously her inferiors, +though Dad has stormed a bit. Now you are the one man whom I consider +her physical and mental equal, the one man to whom I may talk in this +manner without fear of bigoted misunderstanding, but--while Ann's +friendship for you is warm and wholly sincere--she doesn't love you. +If she did," said my impudent young friend, "she'd likely shrug away +her aversion to marital custom and marry you before you were well aware +of it. As it is, she declines to sacrifice the maternal inheritance of +her sex and she refuses to marry. And there you are!" + +Looking back now after five years of readjustment and metamorphosis, I +marvel at the cool philosophy with which two adventurous young +scapegraces settled the question of a little lad's unconventional birth. + +I pass over now the heartbroken reproaches of Ann's father when my son +was born. We told him the truth and he could not understand. He +looked through the eyes of the world and it widened the gulf forever. +Thereafter Norman and Ann lived in the lodge. + +Ann was a wonderful mother and the boy as sturdy and handsome a little +lad as the mother-heart of any woman ever worshiped. But I! How easy +it had been to promise to make no particular advance of affection to my +son--to suggest in no way my claim upon him--to take up the thread of +my life again as if he had never been born--to regard myself merely as +the physical instrument necessary to his creation! + +I was to learn with bitter suffering the truth that my act bound me +irrevocably in soul and heart to my boy and his mother. + +I shall not forget the night when I faced the truth. It was in the +great room of the lodge, the blazing wood fire staining the bearskin +rugs. Outside, in the early twilight, there was wind, and trees hung +with snow, and the dull, frozen lap of a winter lake. I had come up to +the lodge at Norman's invitation. As far as he and Ann were concerned, +my claim upon Ann's boy was quite forgotten. + +He had grown into a dark, ruddy, handsome little lad, this son of mine, +with a brain and body far beyond his years, thanks to Ann's marvelous +gift of motherhood, her care and her teaching. + +Ann sat by the old, square piano singing some marvelous mother's +lullaby of the Norseland, her full contralto ringing with splendid +tenderness. Mother and son were alone when I entered. Carl was busily +at play on a rug by the fire. + +In that instant, with the plaint of the Norse mother in my ears, I +knew. The tie was too strong to fight. I loved my little son--I loved +his mother. + +I do not remember how I stumbled across the room and told her. I only +know that she was greatly shocked and troubled and very kind, that she +told me as gently as she could that I must try to conquer it all--that +there must be no one in Carl's life but herself--that man's part in the +scheme of creation was but the act of a moment; a woman's part, her +whole life. + +I think now that her great love for the little chap had crowded +everything else out of her mind; that living up there in those snowy +acres of trees away from the world, she was so calmly contented and +happy that she feared an intrusive breath of any sort. And she did not +love me. + +Suddenly in a moment of impulsive tenderness, she bent over and caught +Carl up in her arms. + +"My little laddie!" she cried, her face glorified, and he nestled his +head in her full, beautiful throat and laughed. + +An instant later he looked up and smiled and held out his hand with a +curious instinct of kindliness he had, even as a very little fellow. + +"Don't feel so awful bad, Uncle Grant!" he said shyly. "I love you +too. Don't I, mother?" I don't know, but I think Ann cried. + +I choked and stumbled from the room. + +So, for me, ended the singular episode of my life that has condemned me +again to the fate of a wanderer, drifting about like thistledown in the +wind of fancy. + +There is but one chance in many hundred that this paper, which bears +upon the back the address of solicitors who will always know my +whereabouts--sealed and buried after a whim of mine as it will be--will +ever come to the eyes of him for whom it is intended, but maddened by +the thought that I must go through life alone--and lonely--without +hinting to my son the truth, I have desperately begged from Ann the +boon of the single chance, forlorn as it is, that I may have some +flickering hope to feed upon. And she, out of the compassionate +recognition that for the single moment of creation I am entitled to +this at least, has granted it. If this paper ever comes to the eyes of +my son--and I am irrevocably pledged to drop no hint of its +whereabouts--then--and not until then--are all my pledges void. + +Who knows? In the years to come, some wild freak of destiny may guide +the feet of my son to the secret of the candlestick. I shall live and +pray and likely die a childless, unhappy old man, whose Fate lies +buried profoundly in the sealed, invulnerable heart of a Spanish +candlestick--a stranger to his son. + + Grant Satterlee. + + +It was the name of a wealthy bachelor whose lonely austerity of life +upon a yacht which rarely lingered in any port, whose quiet acts of +philanthropy as he roved hermitlike about the world, had been the talk +of continents. + +Reading to the end, Carl dropped the scattering sheets and buried his +face in his hands, unnerved and shaking. + + + + +CHAPTER LI + +IN THE ADIRONDACKS + +To the wild, out-of-the-world hunting lodge in the Adirondack +wilderness of tree and lake and trout-haunted mountain stream which had +been part of Norman Westfall's heritage, came, one twilight of cloud +and wind, Diane, tanned with the wind and sun of a year's +wandering--and very tired. + +Wild relief at Carl's tale of the jealous Indian, thoughts of Philip, +of Carl, of Keela, of Ronador, all these, persistently haunting the +girl's harassed mind, had wearied her greatly. Moreover, Aunt Agatha +was not restful; nor would she depart. + +Wherefore, with the old habit when the voice of the forest called--when +school and city and travel had palled and tortured--Diane had traveled +feverishly north with Aunt Agatha, and thence to the Adirondack lodge +which had been her hermitage since early childhood and to which, by an +earlier compact, Aunt Agatha might not follow. + +She had telegraphed old Roger to meet her with the buckboard. Now, as +they drove up at twilight, Annie, his wife, stood in the cottage +doorway. Beyond among the rustling trees stood the log lodge of Norman +Westfall, far enough away for solitude and near enough, as Aunt Agatha +frequently recalled with comfort, to the cottage of the two old +servants for safety. + +The lake stretched away to a dusk-dimmed shore set in a whispering line +of ghostly birches. + +"There's wood in the fireplace, dearie!" said old Annie, patting the +girl's shoulder. "It's a wee bit chill yet, for all the summer ought +well be here. And you've not run away to the old lodge to cook and +keep house and play gypsy this many a day!" + +"No," said Diane, "I haven't." She spoke of the van and Johnny. + +"Dear! Dear!" quavered Annie, raising wrinkled, wondering hands. +"Think of that now! And like you, too! And you grown so like your +father, child, that I can't well keep my eyes off your face. And brown +as a berry from the sun. I've set a bit of a lunch in the great room +yonder, dearie. You'll likely be too tired to-night to be a gypsy." + +Old Roger, who had consigned the buckboard and horses to a tall awkward +country lad who had slouched forward from the shadows, hurried off to +light the fire in the lodge. + +When Diane entered, the fire was crackling cheerfully in the great +fireplace and dancing in bright waves over the china and glass upon a +table by the fire. + +The old room, extending the entire width of the lodge and half its +generous depth, was much as it had been in the days of Norman Westfall. +By the western wall stood the old piano. Uncovered rafters and an +inner wall-lining of logs hinted nothing of the substantial plaster +behind it. It was a great room of homely comfort, subtly akin to the +forest beyond its walls. + +It was the old fashioned desk in the corner, however, upon which +Diane's thoughtful gaze rested as she ate her supper. The thought of +it had primarily inspired her coming. Surely the old desk, locked this +many a year, might hold some breath of the tragedy that had ghostlike +trailed her footsteps. Ann Westfall had kept the key until her death. +She had bravely put her brother's house in order at his tragic death +and transferred all the papers of value. The key hung now in a sliding +panel beneath the ledge of the desk. The spirit which had kept the old +room unchanged, even to the faded books of Orientalism and the old +pictures strangely mellowed, had led to the hiding of the key away from +vandal fingers. + +Once Diane herself had unlocked the desk and peered timidly within. +She remembered now the faultless order of the few dry, uninteresting +papers, an ink well made of the skull of a tiny monkey, a bamboo pen, a +half-finished manuscript of wild adventure in some out-of-the-world +spot in the South Pacific. There had been nothing more. But the desk +was one of intricate drawers and panels. + +With a sudden distaste for the food before her, Diane pushed the little +table back, lighted a small lamp and crossed to her father's desk. She +unlocked it with nervous fingers. The monkey skull, the bamboo pen, +the few irrelevant papers were all as she remembered them. + +Diane glanced hurriedly over the scribbled manuscript of adventure with +a wild, choking sensation in her throat. There was no mention of the +Indian wife. Hurriedly she opened each tiny drawer and panel. They +were for the most part empty. Only in one, a small drawer within a +drawer, lay a faded packet of letters directed to Ann Westfall in the +hand that had penned the manuscript--Norman Westfall's. + + + + +CHAPTER LII + +EXTRACTS FROM THE LETTERS OF NORMAN WESTFALL + +Reluctantly, Diane opened the letters of long ago and read them: + + +Grant and I have had wild sport killing alligators with the Seminoles. +A wild, dark, unexplored country, Ann, these Florida Everglades! How I +wish you were with us! Tyson had an Indian guide, evoked somewhere +from the wild by smoke signals, waiting for us. We traversed miles and +miles of savage, uninhabitable marsh before at last we came to the +isolated Indian camp. Small wonder the Seminole is still unconquered. +It is a world here for wild men. I'll write as I feel inclined and +bunch the letters when there is an Indian going out to the fringe of +civilization. + +We hunt the 'gators by night in cypress canoes. Grant sat in the bow +of our boat to-night with a bull's-eye lantern in his cap. The fan of +it over the silent, black water, the eyes of the 'gators blazing in the +dark, these cool, bronze, turbaned devils with axes to sever the spinal +cord and rifles to shatter the skull--it's a wild and thrilling scene. + +I'm sorry Carl was not so well. Now that Dad is kinder to the little +chap, we could have left him at St. Augustine if he'd been well enough +to make the trip. It bothers me that you're not along. It's my first +time without you, and you're a better shot than Grant and more +dependable in mood. I can't make out what's come over him of late. +He's so moody and reckless that the Indians think he's a devil. He's +more prone to wild whims than ever. We've shot wild turkey and bear +but I like the 'gator sport the best. + +There's a curious white man here who's lived a good part of his life +with the tribe. He's a Spaniard, a dark-skinned, bitter, morose sort +of chap--really a Minorcan--whose Indian wife is dead. He has a +daughter, a girl of twenty or so whom the Seminoles call Nan-ces-o-wee. +He calls her simply Nanca. She speaks Spanish fluently. The morose +old Spaniard has taught her a fund of curious things. Her heavy hair, +black as a storm-cloud, falls to her knees. Grant says her wonderful +eyes remind him somehow of midnight water. Her eyebrows have the +expressive arch of the Seminole. Her color is dark and very rich, but +it's more the coloring of the Spanish father than the Seminole mother. +Altogether, she's more Spanish than Indian, I take it, though she's a +tantalizing combination of each in instinct. Her grace is wild and +Indian--and she walks lightly and softly like a doe. Ann, her face +haunts me. + +Young as she is, this Nanca of whom I have written so much to you, has, +they tell me, had a most romantic history. With her beauty it was of +course, inevitable. Men are fools. At eighteen, urged into proud +revolt against her Seminole suitors by her father, who for all his +singular way of life can not forget his white heritage, she married a +young foreigner who came into the Glades hunting. He seems to have +been utterly without ties and decided to live with the Indians in the +manner of the Spaniard. A year or so later, a young artist imitator of +Catlin's made his way to the Seminole village with a guide. He had +been traveling about among the Indians of the reservations painting +Indian types, and had heard of this old turbaned tribe buried in the +Everglades. Nanca's beauty must have driven him quite mad, I think. +At any rate he wooed and won. Nanca begged the young foreigner to +divorce her, which he did. The Seminole divorce custom is lenient when +the marriage is childless. The artist, I fancy, was merely a wild, +reckless, inconstant sort of chap who did not regard the simple +Seminole marriage tie as binding. After the birth of his daughter, a +tiny little elf whom Nanca has named "Red-winged Blackbird," he tried +to run away, and the Indians killed him. + + +Red-winged Blackbird! Keela then was the child of the artist! + + +The old Spaniard in his gruff and haughty way has been kind to Grant +and me. He's not well--some obscure cardiac trouble from which he +suffers at times most horribly. He has confided to me a singular +secret. The young foreigner who divorced Nanca is the crown prince of +some obscure little mountain kingdom called Houdania. His name is +Theodomir. He had wild revolutionary notions, hated royalty and fled +at the death of his father. But America and its boasted liberty had +cankers and inequalities too, and heartsick, Theodomir roamed about +until at length on a hunting trip he came into the village of the +Seminoles. Here was the communistic organization of which this +aristocratic young socialist had dreamed--tribal ownership of lands, +cooeperative equality of men and women--no jails, no poor-houses, no +bolts or bars or locks--honorable old age and perfect moral order +without law. What wonder that he lingered? Now that he is divorced +from Nanca he wanders about from tribe to tribe. I'd like to see him. + + * * * * * * + +Ann, I must write the truth. The face of this Spanish girl haunts me +day and night. There is a madness in my blood. I wish you were here! +I am tormented by terrible doubts and misgivings. If Dad were not so +intolerant! + + * * * * * * + +Nanca has fled from the Indian village with Grant and me. Oh, Ann, it +had to come! I lost my head. The old Spaniard died three days ago. +That was the cause of it. Nanca's grief was wild and terrible. Her +wailing dirge was all Indian, yet immediately she cried out that the +Indian way of life for her was impossible without her father. She +begged me to take her away. And yet--Oh, Ann, Ann! How could I take +that other man's child? We left her outside the old chief's wigwam. + +Much as I have scoffed at marriage, I have married Nanca. Grant +insisted. He was a little bitter. I do not know what makes him so. + +I have seen Dad. We quarreled bitterly. Agatha was there with him. I +can hardly write what followed. By some God-forsaken twist of Fate, a +jealous, sullen-eyed young Indian who had loved Nanca and had been +spurned by her father, followed us relentlessly from the Glades to St. +Augustine. He told Dad that Nanca had not been married to the +artist--that she was a mother and not a wife--and Dad believed it. I +told him patiently enough that there is no ceremony among the +Seminoles--that the man goes forth to the home of the girl at the +setting of the sun, and that he is then as legally her husband as if +all the courts in Christendom had tied the knot. Dad can not see it. +I shall be in New York in two weeks. Nanca and I are going to Spain. +I can not forget Dad's white, horror-struck face nor what he said. He +is bigoted and unjust. God help me, I hope that I may never set eyes +upon him again! + + * * * * * * + +We have been very happy here in Spain. I have run across a wonderful +old room in a Spanish castle. Ceiling, doors, fireplace, paintings, +table, chairs and lanterns, I am transplanting. What a setting for +Nanca! + +We are sailing for home. Nanca is not so well as I could hope. She +grieves, I think, for the little girl in Florida. There are times when +I am bitterly jealous of those two other men. + + +There was a lapse of weeks in the letters. Then came a long one from +New York. + + +Grant came that night just after you had gone. He has been with me a +week. His notions are more erratic than ever. For instance, last +night, while we were smoking, I told him the story of Prince Theodomir. +He was greatly interested. + +"What a chance!" said he softly. "What a chance, Norman, for wild +commotion in your ridiculous little court. I've been there. It's a +kingdom of crazy patriots who grant freedom of marital choice to their +princes to freshen and strengthen the royal blood; and they boast an +ancient line of queens wiser than Catherine of Russia. A hidden paper +purporting to be a deathbed statement of Prince Theodomir's--this +little daughter of Nanca and the artist--and, Lord! what complications +we could have immediately. How easily she might have been the child of +Theodomir and a princess!" + +And sitting there by the table, Ann, he drew up an ingenious document +couched in the stilted English of a foreigner. Like most of Grant's +notions, it was infernally clever. It suggested that my marriage to +Nanca had been childless and that we had brought a child--the daughter +of Theodomir and Nanca--away from the Indian village and had reared her +with my name. Then he showed me with a laugh where three conflicting +meanings might be read from the stilted phrasing and eccentric +punctuation. + +"Drop that, old man," said he, "into your chauvinistic little Punch and +Judy court along with the name of the missing Theodomir and watch the +blaze!" + +After all, I do not think we will stay here in New York. Nanca is not +at all well. She longs for trees and the open country. We are coming +up to the lodge. + + * * * * * * + +I'm glad Dad sent for you. I think he is growing fonder of Carl, +though of course his prejudices will probably always flash out now and +then. . . . He's fond of us both, Ann, for all he raves so. No word +of Grant since that night of which you told me. . . . I am sorry. + + * * * * * * + +You tell me Grant has written to you. Tell him when you write--to +write to me. I miss him. + + * * * * * * + +Grant has sent me a giant pair of candlesticks from Spain. They are +six feet tall, of age-old wood and Spanish carving. He begs that they +may stand in the Spanish room and makes some incoherent reference to +you in connection with them, out of which I can't for the life of me +extract a grain of sense. If you could have cared for him a little, +Ann! + + * * * * * * + +I will not take this thing that fate has whipped into my face with a +scornful jeer. Nanca is dead! Her life went out with the life she +gave my daughter. Oh, Ann, Ann, why are you not with me now when I +need you most. After all what is this mortal tegument but a shell +which a man sloughs off in eternal evolution. Outside, the moon is +very bright upon the lake. The "Mulberry Moon," Nanca called it, and +loved its light. It shines in at her window now, but she can not see +it. Ann, because the moon is so bright to-night--because the name of +the moon goddess bears within it your name--let the name of my poor, +motherless little girl be Diane. Nanca called her "Little Red-winged +Blackbird!" I believe at the end she was thinking of the little girl +we left in the Indian village. They are very much alike. Poor Nanca! + + +The writing broke off with a wild scrawl. With agonized eyes Diane +pushed the letters away and stared at the quiet firelit room, building +again within its log walls the tragedy of her father's death. He had +lain there by the fire, his life snuffed out like a candle by his own +hand. The broken-hearted old man down South had carried the child of +his son away, fiercely denied the Indian blood, and pledged Aunt Agatha +to the keeping of the secret. And this was the net that had driven +Carl to the verge of insanity and sent Themar to his death in a Florida +swamp! + +There was no princess--no child of the exiled Theodomir. The paper +stuffed in the candle-stick in a reckless moment had been but the +ingenious figment of a man's brain for the entertainment of an hour. +The old chief and Sho-caw with their broken tale to Philip had but +tangled the net the more. As the blood of the Indian mother had driven +Diane forth to the forest, so had the blood of the artist father driven +Keela forth from the Indian village, a wanderer apart from her people, +and Fate had relentlessly knotted the threads of their lives in a +Southern pine wood. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII + +BY MIC-CO'S POOL + +To the dark, old-fashioned house in St. Augustine in which Baron Tregar +was a "paying guest" came one twilight, a man for whom compassionately +he had waited. His visitor was sadly white and tired, with heavy lines +about his sullen mouth and the dust of the highway upon his motoring +rig. There was no fire in his eyes; rather a stupid apathy which in a +man with less strength about the mouth and chin might easily have +become commonness. + +"Tregar," he said with an effort, "you told me to come when I needed +you. I am here. I can not see my way--" + +Tregar held out his hand in silence. Only he knew the sacrifice of +insolent pride that had brought his guest so low. + +Ronador took his hand and reddened. + +"My father rightly counts upon your loyalty," he choked and walked away +to the window. + +Suddenly he wheeled with blazing eyes of agony. + +"Why must that old horrible remorse grind and tear!" he cried, "now +when I can not bear it! It is keener and crueler now than it was that +day when you found me in the forest. Every new twist of this damnable +mess has been a barb tearing the old wound open afresh. And now--I--I +can not even find Miss Westfall. I have motored over the roads in +vain. The van is gone from the lake shore. It seemed that I must make +one final desperate effort to make her understand--" + +With the memory of the eyes of Diane and Philip flashing messages of +utter trust that day beneath the trees, the Baron sighed. + +"Ronador," he said kindly, "it would have been in vain." + +"And now," Ronador moistened his pallid lips, "there is a rumble of war +from Galituria." + +"Yes," said Tregar sadly, "Themar was a traitor." + +"I told him much," said Ronador, great drops of moisture standing forth +upon his forehead. "It seemed that I must, to make him understand the +urgent need of silencing Granberry forever. He cabled the news to +Galituria and sold it. I am ill and discouraged. There is fever in my +blood, Tregar, from this climate of eternal summer--a fever in my +head--" + +Tregar stroked his beard. + +"There is a doctor," he said quietly, "of whom Poynter has told me +much--a doctor who healed Granberry's mind as well as his body. I had +thought to go to him myself--to rest. I, too, am tired, Ronador. One +goes to a little hamlet and an old man guides by a road to the south +into the Everglades. Let us go there together." + +"No!" said Ronador sullenly. "Let us rather go home. I am sick of +this land of insolent men like Granberry and Poynter, who bend the knee +to no man." + +"You would go back then, ill, sullen, resentful, with the news that we +must lay before your father? By Heaven, no!" thundered the Baron with +one of his infrequent outbursts. "Let us go back smiling, for all we +have lost, and seek to tell of this child of Theodomir with what grace +we can muster. Poynter is at the bedside of his father. Granberry has +gone to learn the tale of the other candlestick. These men, Ronador, +we must see again before we sail. In the meantime, there is Poynter's +physician." + +"Very well," said Ronador, goaded to a sudden consent by a fevered wave +of nausea and shaking, "let us go to him." + +So came Prince Ronador and the Baron to the island lodge of Mic-co. + +Though Ronador in the first disorder of rebellious mind and body, had +fancied himself sicker than he really was, he was suffering more now +than even Tregar guessed. The last stage of the journey to a man of +less indomitable grit and courage would have been impossible. It was +no sickness of the mind alone. His body was wildly ravaged by a fever. + +Through a dizzy blur which distorted every object and which frowningly +he sought to drive away with clenched hands, he stared at the lodge, +stared at Keela, stared at the grave and quiet face of Mic-co. He was +still staring vaguely about him when night curtained the lilied pool +and the stars flashed brightly overhead. + +"I am not ill, Tregar!" he insisted curtly. "Let me rest by the pool. +There is peace here and I am tired. We traveled rapidly--" + +Nevertheless, for all his feverish denial, his desperate attempts to +keep to the thread of desultory talk were pitiful. He frowned heavily, +began his sentences slowly and trailed off incoherently to a halt and +silence. + +The Baron turned compassionately away from him to Mic-co with a +question. + +"Names," said Mic-co, "are nothing to me, Baron Tregar. They are +merely a part of that great world from which I live apart. I am a +Heidelberg man, since you feel sufficiently interested to inquire. +Though my choice of a profession was merely a careless desire to know +some one thing well, I have never regretted it." + +"I--I beg your pardon," stammered the Baron and glanced keenly at +Mic-co. + +"It is a habit of mine," hinted Mic-co, "to take what confidence a man +may offer and let him withhold what he will." + +"There is nothing to withhold!" flashed Ronador with sudden fierceness. +"Why do you speak of it?" + +Mic-co thought of a white-faced young fellow who had stubbornly refused +to accept his hospitality, one morning beneath the live oaks, until he +might name aloud his offenses in the sight of God and Man. This man +before him, sweeping rapidly into the black gulf of delirium, was of a +different caliber. + +By the pool Ronador leaped suddenly, his face quite colorless save +where the flame of fever burned in his cheeks. + +"That Voice!" he said, standing in curious attitude of listening. "You +hear it, Tregar? Always--always it comes so in the quietest hours. +Tell him! Tell him! Why should I tell him? What is he to me? I may +not purchase relief at the price of any man's respect. Only Tregar +knows. Hush!--In God's name, hush! Thou shalt not kill! Thou shalt +not kill!" He seemed, without conscious effort, to be repeating the +words of this Voice with which he held this terrible communion, and +waved Tregar back with an imperious gesture of defiance. Facing Mic-co +he flung out his arm. + +"I am a murderer in the sight of God and Man!" he choked. "I murdered +my cousin Theodomir for a dream of empire. I can not forget--Oh, God! +I can not forget. The Voice bids me tell!" + +He dropped wildly to his knees, his eyes imploring. + +"Oh, God!" he prayed with pallid lips, "hear this, my prayer. I have +paid in black hours of bitter suffering. I have played and lost and +the fire of life is but ashes in my hand. Give me peace--peace!" + +He stayed so long upon his knees that Tregar touched him gently on the +shoulder. + +"Ronador," he said gently. "Come. You are very ill and know not what +you say." + +Ronador staggered blindly to his feet. Once more he waved the Baron +aside and took up his terrible dialogue with the inner Voice. + +"The Voice! The Voice!" he whispered. "Thou shalt not kill! Thou +shalt not kill! You lie!" he cried in a sudden outburst of terrible +fierceness. "He was not a fool. He loved men more than the mockery +and cant of courts. He loved--he trusted me--and I betrayed him. Who +knew when he fled wildly away from the pomp and inequalities he hated? +I! Who watched for his secret letters? I! Who came to America when +his letter of homesick pleading came? I! I! I! Who killed him when +conscience and duty would have sent him back to the court of his +father? I, his cousin whom he loved above all men. You lie. I did +love him. I was drunk with the royal glitter ahead. I craved it even +as he hated it. Thou shalt not kill! Thou shalt not kill! Mercy! +Mercy! I can not bear it." + +He fell groveling upon the floor and crawled to Mic-co's feet. + +"The Voice bids me tell!" he whispered, clutching fearfully at Mic-co's +hand. "Twice, since, I would have killed to keep this thing of the +candlestick from creeping back and back until that thing of long ago +lay uncovered and I disgraced! . . . Theodomir hid in the Seminole +village. No--no, you must listen--the Voice bids me tell or lose my +reason. I came there at his bidding--his marriage to the Indian girl +had been unhappy. He was homesick and this fair land of liberty had a +rotten core. I struck him down and fled. You will heal and fight the +Voice--" + +Mic-co bent and raised the groveling figure. + +"Peace!" he said, his face very white. "We will heal and quiet the +Voice forever. Come!" Gently he led the sick man away. + +"He will sleep now, I think," he said a little later. "A drug is best +when a Voice is mocking?--" + +The Baron leaned forward and caught Mic-co's arm in a grasp of iron. + +"Who are you," he whispered, "that you suffer with him now? You are +white and shaking. Who are you that you know the tongue of my country?" + +Mic-co sighed. + +"I," said he sadly, "am that man he thought to kill!" + +White-faced, the Baron stared at the snowy beard and hair and the fine, +dark eyes. + +"Theodomir!" he whispered brokenly. "Theodomir! It--it can not be." + +He fell to pacing the floor in violent agitation. + +"The eyes are quieter," he said at length with an effort, "but the hair +and heard so white! I would not have guessed--I would not have +guessed!" Again he stared. + +"Are you man or saint," he cried at last, "that you can forgive as I +have seen your eyes forgive to-night?" + +"May a man look upon such remorse as that," asked Mic-co, "and not +forgive? I loved him greatly. Had I loved him less--had I loved her +less--that Indian wife who had no love in her heart for me, this hair +of mine would not have turned snow-white when the Indians were fanning +the flickering spark of life into a blaze again." + +"There is peace in your face," said Tregar a little bitterly, "and none +of the old fretful discontent. Have you no single thought of regret +for that fair land of ours you left?" + +"For that fatherland of rugged mountain and silver waterfall--yes!" +cried Theodomir with sudden fire. "For the festering core of +imperialism that darkens its beauty with sable wing--no! No single +thought of regret. How pitiful and absurd our Lilliputian game of +empire! What man is better than another? Tolstoi and Buddha, they are +the men who knew. Was not my wildest error," he demanded reverting +afresh to the other's reproach, "that homesick letter that brought him +to my side? Peace came to me, Tregar, in building this lodge, in +working in the field and hunting, in doctoring these primitive people +who saved my life, in teaching the child of my Indian wife--" + +"The child of your wife! You mean your daughter?" + +"I have no child," said Theodomir. "The girl you saw to-night is my +foster daughter, the child of my wife and the man for whose whim she +begged me to divorce her." + +"No child!" exclaimed the Baron with a sickening flash of realization. +"My poor Ronador!" + +"My kindness to her," said Mic-co, "was at first a discipline. Her +mother deserted her and the old chief granted me half her life. I +could not bear the touch of her hands or the look in her eyes for many +months, but through her, Tregar, at last I learned peace and +forgiveness and forbearance, as men should. I built the lodge for her +and me. I taught her the ways of her white father. I made myself +proficient in the English tongue that those traders and hunters and +naturalists who stray here might guess nothing of my origin. I shall +never again leave the peace and quiet of this island home. And you and +I, Tregar, must quiet that Voice forever!" + +"Is that possible?" choked Tregar. + +"I think so," said Mic-co. "I think we may some day send him home with +the Voice quieted forever and the remorse and suffering healed. Had I +thought he was strong enough to bear it, I would have told him +to-night." + +"Let me tell you," said Tregar with strong emotion, "how I found him in +the forest, when years back I came to know this secret I have tried so +hard to keep for him. I had been hunting with the King and lost my way +in the forests of Grimwald. I found him there in the thickest +part--naked, slashing his body wildly with a knife in an agony of +remorse and penance and the most terrible grief I have ever witnessed. +Before he well knew what he was about he had blurted forth the whole +pitiful story--that he had killed his cousin in a moment of +passion--that he must scourge and torture his body to discipline his +soul. I--I shall not forget his face." + +"Poor fellow!" said Mic-co. "My poor cousin!" + +They wheeled suddenly at a choking sound in the doorway. Some wild +memory of the Grimwald had surged through the fevered brain of the sick +man. His clothes were gone, his body slashed cruelly in a dozen +places. He had torn down the buckskin curtain at his window and bound +it about his body in the fashion of earlier ages. How long he had +stood there in the doorway they did not know. Now as they turned, he +rushed forward and flung himself with a great heart-broken sob at the +feet of his cousin. + +"Theodomir! Theodomir!" he cried. + +Tregar turned away from the sound of his terrible sobbing. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV + +ON THE WESTFALL LAKE + +Hurrying clouds curtained the silver shield of a full moon and found +themselves fringed gloriously with ragged light. It was a lake of +white, whispering ghosts locking spectral branches in the wind, of +slumbering lilies rustled by the drift of a boat; a lake of checkered +lights and shadows fitfully mirroring stars at the mercy of the +moon-flecked clouds. On the western shore of the wide, wind-ruffled +sheet of water, on a wooded knoll, glimmered the lights of the village. + +To Diane, stretched comfortably upon the cushions of the boat, which +had drifted idly about since early twilight, the night's sounds were +indescribably peaceful. The lap and purl of water, the rustle of +birch, the call of an owl in the forest, the noise of frog and tree +toad and innumerable crickets, they were all, paradoxically enough, the +wildwood sounds of silence. + +With a sigh the girl presently paddled in to shore. As she moored her +boat, the moon swept majestically from the clouds and shone full upon a +second boatman paddling briskly by the lily beds. The boat came on +with a musical swirl of water; the bareheaded boatman waved his hand +lazily to the girl standing motionless upon the moonlit wharf, and as +lazily floated in. + +"Hello!" he called cheerfully. + +The moon, doomed to erotic service, was again upon the head of Mr. +Poynter. + +"It's the milkman's boat!" explained Philip smiling. "He's a mighty +decent chap." + +Diane's face was as pale as a lily. + +"How did you know?" she asked, but her eyes, for Philip, were welcome +enough. + +"I saw Carl," said he, dexterously rounding to a point at her feet. +"He told me." + +He lazily rocked the boat, met her troubled glance with frank serenity +and said with his eyes what for the moment his laughing lips withheld. + +"Come, row about a bit," he said gently. "There's a lot to tell--" + +"The other candlestick?" + +"That," said Philip as he helped her in, "and more." + +The boat shot forth into the moonlit water. + +"And your father, Philip?" + +"Better," said Philip and feathered his oars conspicuously in a moment +of constraint. Then flushing slightly, he met her glance with his +usual frank directness. "Dad and I had quarreled, Diane," he said +quietly, "and he was fretting. And now, though the fundamental cause +of grievance still remains, we're better friends. Ames, the doctor, +said that helped a lot." He was silent. "A dash of Spanish," he began +thoughtfully, "a dash of Indian, and the blood of the old southern +cavaliers--it's a ripping combination for loveliness, Diane!" + +Not quite so pale, Diane glanced demurely at the moon. + +"Yes, I know," nodded Philip with slightly impudent assurance; "but the +moon is kind to lovers." + +"Tell me," begged Diane with a bright flush, "about the second +candlestick." + +Somewhat reluctantly, with the moon urging him to madness, Philip +obeyed. To Diane his words supplied the final link in the chain of +mystery. + +"And Satterlee's yacht," finished Philip, leaning on his oars, "was +laid up in Hoboken for repairs. Carl phoned his attorneys." + +"You spoke of seeing Carl?" + +"Yes. He was with his father then. Telegraphed me Monday. I have yet +to see such glow and warmth in the faces of men. They're going back to +Mic-co's lodge together for a while. Odd!" he added thoughtfully. +"I've known Satterlee for years, a quiet chap of wonderful kindliness +and generosity. But I've heard Dad tell mad tales of his reckless +whims when he was younger." + +"And the first paper?" + +"Satterlee had almost forgotten it. It's so long ago. If he thought +at all of its discovery it was to doubt any other fate for it than a +waste-paper basket or a fire. Anything else was too preposterous. But +he brooded a lot over the other. The most terrible results of his +foolhardy whim Carl pledged me not to tell him. Says the blame is all +his and he'll shoulder it. What little we did reveal, horrified +Satterlee inexpressibly. You see he'd found the candlesticks in a +ruined castle. They were sadly battered and he consigned them to a +queer old wood-carver to patch up. In the patching, the shallow wells +came to light, packed with faded, musty love letters from some young +Spanish gallant to somebody's inconstant wife, and the carver spoke of +them. Satterlee impetuously bade him halt his work and wrote a wild +letter to Ann Westfall begging her to let him hide the truth in the +well of the candlestick with the forlorn hope that one day Carl might +know. This she granted. Later he had the candlesticks brought to his +apartments to be sealed in his presence. As he took from his pocket +the written account intended for Carl, another paper fluttered to the +floor. It was the deathbed statement of Theodomir which in a whimsical +moment he had drawn up for the entertainment of your father. He +promptly consigned it to the other well with a shrug. He was greatly +agitated and thought no more about it." + +"A careless act," said Diane, "to be fraught with such terrible +results." Then she told the history of her father's letters. + +"A persistent moon!" said Philip, glancing up at its mild radiance. +"And my head is queer again. Likely that very moon is shining on the +minister in the village yonder." + +"Likely," said Diane cautiously. + +The boat swept boldly toward the western shore. + +Diane raised questioning eyes to his. + +"Where are you going?" she asked. + +"I'm sorry," said Philip. "I did mean to tell you before. It's +abduction." + +"Abduction!" + +"I'm to be married in the village to-night. And I'm awfully afraid the +benevolent old gentleman in the parsonage is waiting. He promised. +Diane, I can't pretend to swing this function without you!" + +"Philip!" faltered Diane and meeting his level, imploring gaze, laughed +and colored deliciously. + +"A matrimonial pirate!" said Philip. "That's what I am. I've got to +be." + +"Aunt Agatha!" whispered Diane despairingly. + +"I'll patch it up with Aunt Agatha," promised Philip. "You forget I'm +in strong with her now. Didn't I rescue a dime from the fish?" + +"And the Seminole girl makes her lover a shirt--it's always customary--" + +"You've forgotten," said that young practician with his most charming +smile, "I've a shirt mended nicely along the sleeve and shoulder by my +lady's fingers. Indeed, dear, I have it on! And to-morrow--it's +Arcadia for you and me--" + +Somehow, with the words came a flood of memory pictures. There was +Philip by the camp fire in Arcadia whittling his ridiculous wildwood +pipe; Philip aboard the hay-camp and Philip in the garb of a nomadic +Greek; Philip unwinding the music-machine for the staring Indians and +building himself a tunic with Sho-caw's sewing machine; Philip and a +moon above the marsh-- + +Utter loyalty and unchanging protection! Shaking, the girl covered her +face with her hands. + +The boat's bow touched the shore; whistling softly, Philip leaped +ashore and moored it. + +"Diane!" he said gently. + +The girl raised glistening, glorified eyes to his face and smiled, a +radiant smile for all her eyes were bright with unshed tears. + +Philip held out his arms. + +The silvered sheet of water rippled placidly at their feet. There was +wind among the birches. They watched the great moon sail behind a +cloud and emerge, flooding the sylvan world with light. + +"Sweetheart," said Philip suddenly, "I thought that Arcadia was back +there in Connecticut by the river, but it's here too! Dear little +gypsy, it is everywhere that you are!" + +"It will be Arcadia--always!" said Diane, "for Arcadia is +Together-land, isn't it, Philip?" + +The moon and Philip answered. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIANE OF THE GREEN VAN*** + + +******* This file should be named 16101.txt or 16101.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/0/16101 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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