Part 42 (1/2)

”Not a big bag, is it? And so common, it wouldn't be likely to tempt a thief. But it holds what is worth--if it has a price--about half a million dollars.”

”Oh!” exclaimed Annesley. She looked horrified; and through the green gloom the old man read her face.

”I see!” he said, with a laugh in his young voice. ”You have heard the great secret! That makes another who knows. But I'm not afraid you'll throw me to the dogs. You wouldn't do that even if you weren't Donaldson's wife. Being his wife, you could not.”

”My husband has told me no secret about you, none at all,” the girl protested, defending Knight involuntarily. ”I beg you to believe that, Mr. Van Vreck.”

”I do believe it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's being a judge of character. That's why I've made a success of life. You wouldn't lie, perhaps not even to save the one you love best. I believe that he did not tell you the secret. Yet I'm certain you know it. I suppose other discoveries you must have made gave you supernatural intuition. You guessed.”

Annesley did not answer. Yet she could not take her eyes from his.

”You needn't mind confessing. But I won't catechize you. I'll take it for granted that what Donaldson knows you know--not in detail, in the rough.... In this bag are six gold images set with precious stones. They are of the time of the Incas, and they've been up till now the most precious things in Mexico. From now on they will be among the most precious things in Paul Van Vreck's secret collection.

”Some weeks ago I hoped that Donaldson would get them for me. He refused, so I had to go myself. I couldn't trust any one else, though the only difficulty was getting to Central Mexico with Const.i.tutionals raging on one side and Federals on the other. A man promised to deliver the goods to my messenger. I've been bargaining over these things for years. But, as I said, Don wouldn't go, so I had to do the job myself. You see, Mrs.

Donaldson, your husband is the only honest man I ever came across.”

”Honest!” The exclamation burst from Annesley's lips.

”Yes. Honest is the word. I might add two others: 'true' and 'loyal.'”

Paul Van Vreck held her with his strange, straight look, commanding, yet amused. ”That is the opinion,” he added after a pause, ”of a very old friend. It's worth its weight in--gold images.”

The girl gave him no answer. But the effort of keeping her face under control made lips and eyelids quiver.

”May I sit down, Mrs. Donaldson?” Van Vreck asked in a tone which changed to commonplaceness--if his voice could ever be commonplace. ”I'm a fugitive, and have had a run for my money, so to speak. I'm seeking sanctuary. Also I came in the hope of trying my eloquence on Donaldson.

But now I've seen you, I will not do that. In future he's safe from me, I promise you.”

”Oh!” Annesley faltered. And then: ”Thank you!” came out, grudgingly.

How astonis.h.i.+ng that _she_ should thank Paul Van Vreck, the monster of wickedness and secrecy she had pictured, for ”sparing” her husband--her husband whom _he_ called loyal, true, and honest; whom she had called in her heart a thief!

”Do sit down,” she hurried on, hypnotized. ”Forgive my not asking you.

I----”

”I understand,” he soothed her. ”I've taken advantage of you--sprung a surprise, as Don would say, and then turned on the tortures of the Inquisition. Aren't _you_ going to sit? I can't, you know, if you don't.”

”I thought you might like something to eat,” the girl stammered. ”I could call our cook----”

”No, thank you,” replied Van Vreck. ”I'm peculiar in more ways than one.

I never eat at night. I live mostly on milk, water, fruit, and nuts.

That's why I feel forty at seventy-two. I give out that I'm frail--an invalid--that I spend much time in nursing homes. This is my joke on a public which has no business to be curious about my habits. While it thinks I'm recuperating in a nursing home I--but no matter! That won't interest you.”

When she had obediently sat down, her knees trembling a little, Van Vreck drew up a chair for himself, and, resting his arms on the table, leaned across it gazing at the girl with a queer, humorous benevolence.

”How soon do you think your husband will come?” he asked, abruptly.

”I don't know,” Annesley replied. ”He told our Chinese boy he'd be early.

I suppose the sandstorm has delayed him.”

”No doubt.... And you're worried?”

”No-o,” she answered, looking sidewise at Van Vreck, her face half turned from him. ”I don't think that I'm worried.”