Part 62 (1/2)

Nan had burst into a parlour with an open fire. Before it stood a small table crowded with bottles and gla.s.ses. Sansome rose, rather unsteadily, from one of the easy chairs. Nan uttered an exclamation of relief as she recognized him.

”Oh, I'm glad you're here!” she cried. ”This is kind! How is he? Where is he?”

LXXII

Morrell had no easy day with Ben Sansome. He had been forced to spend the whole of it with his protege, save for the hour he had devoted to seeing Keith off on the piratical expedition. It was a terrible bore.

In turn he had played on the youth's pique, the supposed insult to his manhood, his desire for the woman. Sansome was not naturally a valiant adventurer; but he had an exceedingly touchy vanity, which, with a little coddling, answered nearly as well. Morrell took the confident att.i.tude that, of course, Sansome was not afraid; therefore Sansome was ashamed to be afraid.

”For the moment,” said the Englishman, ”she's carried away by the glamour of this Vigilante movement. They seem to her strong men. She contrasts them with us men of the world, and as she cannot see that a polished exterior is not incompatible with strength, she has a faint growing contempt for us. Women like strength, masterfulness. It is the chance of your life to show her that a man _comme il faut_ is the equal of these squalid brutes in that respect. She is in love with you already, but she doesn't know it. All that is necessary is a show of masterfulness to make her realize it.” He stifled a yawn. ”Lord, what dreary piffle!” he confided to himself. He painted Keith as a contemptible renegade from his own cla.s.s, currying favour with those below him, a cheap demagogue, a turncoat avid for popular power.

”At heart he's a coward--all such men are. And he's so wrapped up in his ambition that his wife is a small matter to him. There's no danger from him, for he's away; and after the first flare-up we'll be able to handle him among us, never fear!” But after impressing this point, Morrell always was most careful to interpose the warning: ”If it should come to trouble, don't let him get near you! He's absolutely rotten with a gun--you saw him in that farce of a duel--but he's a strong beggar. Don't let him get his hands on you!”

”I won't,” promised Sansome, a trifle shakily.

Then Morrell, lighting a fresh cigar and fortifying his bored soul with another drink, skilfully outlined a portrait of Sansome himself as a hero, a das.h.i.+ng man of the world, a real devil among the ladies, the haughty and proud exponent of aristocratic high-handedness. He laid this on pretty thick, but Sansome had by now consumed a vast number of drinks, and was ready to swallow almost anything in addition. Morrell's customary demeanour was rather stolid, silent, and stupid; but when he was really interested and cared to exert himself, he became unexpectedly voluble and plausible. Mid-evening he drove this creature of his own fas.h.i.+oning out to Jake's Place, and deposited him in the parlour with the open fire, the table of drinks, and the easy chairs.

His plans from this point on were based on the fact that he had started Keith out on an expedition that should last all night. Had there been the slightest chance that the injured husband could appear, you may be sure Morrell would not have been present. Of course witnesses were necessary to the meeting at the road house. With Keith imminent, hirelings would have been arranged for. With Keith safety away, Morrell saw no reason why he should not enjoy the situation himself. Therefore he had arranged a little supper party. Teeny McFarlane and Jimmy Ware were his first thought. Then he added Pop McFarlane. If he wanted Teeny as a witness, the party must be respectable!

At the sound of wheels outside Morrell arose and slipped out the back door of the parlour.

”Now, remember!” he told Sansome from the doorway. ”Now's the chance of your life! You've got her love, and you must keep her. She'll cut up rough at first. That's when you must show what's in you. Go right after her!”

As Nan burst into the room by one door he softly closed--and locked--the other behind him.

LXXIII

But Sansome, although he had put up a brave front to the last moment, was not in reality feeling near the hero of romance he looked. In spite of Morrell's cleverness, the Englishman had failed to observe that Sansome had touched the fringe of that second stage of semi-drunkenness when the ”drinks were dying on him.” While outwardly fairly sober, inwardly he was verging toward the incoherent. First one phase or mood would come to the top, then another, without order; sequence, or logical reason. He was momentarily dangerous or harmless. Nan's abrupt entrance scattered his last coherences. For the moment he fell back on habit, and habit was with him conventional He smiled his best smile.

”Do sit down,” he urged in his most society manner.

This immediately convinced Nan that Keith must be badly hurt.

”Tell me at once!” she demanded ”Where is Milton? Is he--is--”

”As far as I know,” replied Sansome, still in his courtly manner, ”Mr.

Keith is in perfect health. As to where he is”--he waved an airy hand--”I do not know. It does not matter, does it? The point is we are cozy here together. Do sit down.”

”I don't understand,” said she, advancing a step nearer, her brows knit, ”Don't put me off. I got a note saying--”

”I know; I wrote it,” boasted Sansome fatuously.

The blood mounted her face, her fists clenched, she advanced several steps fearlessly.

”I don't, quite understand,” she repeated, in hard, crisp tones. ”You wrote it?' Isn't it true? What did you do such a thing for?”

”To get you here, my dear, of course,” rejoined Sansome gallantly. ”I knew your puritanical scruples--I love them every one--but--”