Part 63 (1/2)

”What!” exclaimed Mrs. Porter.

”Sure thing,” said Steve. His coolness, the ease with which he found words astonished him as much as his rapidity of action.

”I stole the kid,” he said, ”and it was my idea at that. Kirk didn't know anything about it. I wired to him to-day what I had done and that he was to come right along. And,” added Steve in a burst of inspiration, ”I said bring along Mamie, too, as the kid's used to her and there ought to be a woman around. And she could be here, all right, and no harm, she being my affianced wife.” He liked that phrase. He had read it in a book somewhere, and it was the goods.

He eyed Mrs. Porter jauntily. Mrs. Porter's gaze wavered. She was not feeling comfortable. Hers was a nature that did not lend itself easily to apologies, yet apologies were obviously what the situation demanded.

The thought of all the eloquence which she had expended to no end added to her discomfort. For the first time she was pleased that Kirk had so manifestly not been listening to a word of it.

”Oh!” she said.

She paused.

”That puts a different complexion on this affair.”

”Betcha life!”

She paused once more. It was some moments before she could bring herself to speak. She managed it at last.

”I beg your pardon,” she said.

”Mine, ma'am?” said Steve grandly. Five minutes before, the idea that he could ever speak grandly to Lora Delane Porter would have seemed ridiculous to him; but he was surprised at nothing now.

”And the young wom---- And the future Mrs. Dingle's,” said Mrs. Porter with an effort.

”Thank you, ma'am,” said Steve, and released Mamie, who forthwith bolted from the room like a scared rabbit.

Steve had started to follow her when Mrs. Porter, magnificent woman, s.n.a.t.c.hing what was left from defeat, stopped him.

”Wait!” she said. ”What you have said alters the matter in one respect; but there is another point. On your own confession you have been guilty of the extremely serious offence, the penal offence of kidnapping a child who--”

”Drop me a line about it, ma'am,” said Steve. ”Me time's rather full just now.”

He disappeared into the outer darkness after Mamie.

In the room they had left, Kirk and Ruth faced each other in silence.

Lora Delane Porter eyed them grimly. It was the hour of her defeat, and she knew it. Forces too strong for her were at work. Her grand attack, the bringing of these two together that Ruth might confront Kirk in his guilt, had recoiled upon her. The Old Guard had made their charge up the hill, and it had failed. Victory had become a rout. With one speech Steve had destroyed her whole plan of campaign.

She knew it was all over, that in another moment if she remained, she would be compelled to witness the humiliating spectacle of Ruth in Kirk's arms, stammering the words which intuition told her were even now trembling on her lips. She knew Ruth. She could read her like a primer. And her knowledge told her that she was about to capitulate, that all her pride and resentment had been swept away, that she had gone over to the enemy.

Elemental pa.s.sions were warring against Lora Delane Porter, and she bowed before them.

”Mr. Winfield,” she said sharply, her voice cutting the silence like a knife, ”I beg your pardon. I seem to have made a mistake. Good night.”

Kirk did not answer.

”Good night, Ruth.”

Ruth made no sign that she had heard.