Part 64 (2/2)
Portal turned a shaken, strange face to the other man.
”Carson, you must excuse me; I'm queer to-night ... I've been listening to Cap.r.o.n's ravings until I'm nearly raving myself ... but I think I understand ... I begin to see through it all.... Women do and say strange things in the name of Love!... But I _know_ that what you say is true--I believe in you, Karri.”
Carson could not pretend to understand the meaning of this, and moreover, Ferrand's cart was at the door, and the sickening remembrance of his own broken hopes was upon him.
”Well, good-night, old man.... I must go home. If anything I've got can be of any use to you, let me know.” He held out his hand and Portal gripped it.
”Good-night, Karri--I'm going home, too.” His face was transformed.
Carson never solved the problem of that conversation with Portal; never knew how near death he had been, never knew how his accidental confidence had saved his life and given back her husband to Clem Portal.
Indeed, he never remembered much about his interview with Portal at all.
The memory of it was lost amongst the crowded events of that phantasmagorial night.
Ferrand's coolie spun the cart along at a great rate behind the doctor's best polo pony. Just as they turned into West Street a flying rickshaw pa.s.sed them, but though Carson heard a man's voice hailing he did not respond. Mrs. Portal and de Grey were in the rickshaw returning from long and vain seeking for Mrs. Cap.r.o.n, and it was de Grey who shouted, thinking he recognised the doctor's cart in the darkness.
But even if Carson had known, he would not have stopped. He had been too long delayed from his own affairs, and he was driving now to get ease from the torture burning in his brain and searing his heart. His thoughts were fixed on one thing now--an interview with Bramham.
”He's the only honest man amongst us, by Heaven!” he said loudly, so that the coolie driver gave him a nervous glance, and drew away. ”The only one I'd take the trouble to believe.”
He stopped the cart at the gate of Sea House, and told the man to go back to the Club, then strode away up the sea-sanded path. Lights gleamed brilliantly from the dining-room, but silence reigned, and every other part of the house was dark as death. Walking through the verandah with light, swift feet and into the dining-room, he came upon Poppy and Abinger sitting there, facing each other across a corner of the table.
There were tears on her face, and one arm was flung out before her with the gesture of one who has thrown the dice on a last and desperate venture. Abinger's hand lay on hers.
They stood up as Carson sped into the room, his eyes blazing light in his dark face, and before anyone could speak he reached Abinger and without word or warning struck him a tremendous blow between the eyes, felling him to the floor, where he lay quite still. Then he took the girl by the throat--the long, white throat that shone in the darkness.
”By G.o.d! I must kill you!” he said, and his voice was whispering like the sea's. She heard him; but she made no movement upward of her hands, though the pressure on her throat was terrible to bear. She closed her eyes and prepared to die. The thought slipped into her mind then that it would be good to have rest at last from the ache and storm of life. That was the message the sea was whispering.
”_Rest, rest ... peace ... rest!_”
After a long while she opened her eyes and found that she was sitting in the same chair she had previously risen from. Bramham's broad back was before her, but she could see Evelyn Carson leaning heavily against the wall like a drunken man, and Abinger seated in another chair delicately wiping his lips. His scar had opened, and blood was trickling down it.
The silence was broken by Bramham's voice--quite calm and pleasant.
”If you want to kill each other, take a brace of revolvers and go out and do it decently somewhere in the open, where it won't make a mess--killing Miss Chard, however, is quite another matter.”
Again silence prevailed. Later, Carson said collectedly:
”She can live--_if she wants to_”--he gave her a look that lashed across her face like a whip, leaving it distorted. ”Let them both live, and be d.a.m.ned to them!”
The tone and expression of bitter pleasantry Bramham had adopted, died away.
”Well! _you_ fellows from home--!” he began, and looked from face to face. Abinger continued to wipe blood delicately away, but he did not wipe the sneer from his lips. The girl had the face of a little tired, weeping child: the sight of it turned Bramham's heart to water. He put out a hand to Carson, appealingly:
”G.o.d! Karri, what is it?”
The paleness of Carson under his tan had once more given place to an inartistic-grey tint, and his eyes were dull; but he appeared strangely composed.
”Nothing, Bram,” he said. ”Only to find the girl you love--less than nothing.”
A cry broke upon their ears, and all started and stared about them, especially at the open door of Carson's room, from whence that m.u.f.fled, involuntary sound had come. A stiffness came over them; their masks slipped on. What unknown person had listened to the wild words that had been spoken?
<script>