Part 31 (1/2)

”But there must be some one about here,” West insisted. ”For this was the house I saw from the ridge, and there was a light burning then in one of the windows, and there was a wisp of smoke rising from a chimney.

Perhaps the shutters are all closed, or, early as it is, the people may have retired.”

She stepped boldly forward, and placed her hand on the k.n.o.b of the door.

”Why,” she whispered, excitedly. ”It is unlocked; see, I can open it.

Perhaps something is wrong here. What shall we do?”

”Knock first; then if there is no response, we can feel our way about inside. My matches are all wet.”

She rapped sharply on the wood; waited for some reply, and then called out. Not a sound reached them from within. The situation was strange, nerve-racking, and she shrank back as though frightened before the black silence confronting her. West, his teeth clinched, stepped in through the open door, determined to learn the secret of that mysterious interior.

With hands outstretched he felt his way forward, by sense of touch alone a.s.suring himself that he traversed a hall, carpeted, his extended arms barely reaching from wall to wall. He encountered no furniture, and must have advanced some two yards, before his groping disclosed the presence of a closed door on the left. He had located the k.n.o.b, when the outer door suddenly closed, as though blown shut by a draught of wind, and, at the same instant, his eyes were blinded by a dazzling outburst of light.

This came with such startling, unexpected brilliancy that West staggered back as though struck. For the instant he was positively blind; then he dimly perceived a man standing before him--a man who, little by little, became more clearly defined, recognizable, suddenly exhibiting the features of Jim Hobart, sarcastically grinning into his face.

”You are evidently a cat of nine lives, West,” he said sneeringly. ”But this ought to be the last of them.”

CHAPTER x.x.x

HOBART FORGETS AND TALKS

For a moment West lost all control over himself. He was too completely dazed for either words or action; could only stare into that mocking countenance confronting him, endeavouring to sense what had really occurred. He was undoubtedly trapped again, but how had the trick been accomplished? What devilish freak of ill luck had thus thrown them once more into the merciless hands of this ruffian? How could it have happened so perfectly? The boat on the sand in the cove yonder; perhaps that was the key to the situation. Those fellows who had left the _Seminole_ to sink behind them, knew where they were when they deserted the yacht; they landed at the nearest point along sh.o.r.e, where they had a rendezvous already arranged for. Then what? The helpless raft had naturally drifted in the same direction, blown by the steady east wind, until gripped by the land current, and thus finally driven into this opening on the coast. His mind had grasped this view, this explanation, before he even ventured to turn his head, and glance at the girl. She stood leaning back against the closed door as though on guard, her uncovered hair ruffled, a scornful, defiant look in her eyes, the smile on her lips revealing the gleam of white teeth. In spite of a wonderful resemblance, a mysterious counterfeit in both features and expression, West knew now this was not Natalie Coolidge. Her dress, the way in which her hair was done, the sneering curl of her red mouth, were alike instantly convincing. He had permitted himself to be tricked again by the jade; the smart of the wound angered him beyond control.

”You are not Miss Coolidge,” he insisted hotly. ”Then who are you?”

She laughed, evidently enjoying the scene, confident of her own cleverness.

”Oh, so even Captain West has at last penetrated the disguise. No, I am not the lady you mention, if you must know.”

”Then who are you?”

She glanced toward Hobart, as though questioning, and the man answered the look gruffly.

”Tell him if you want to, Del,” he said, with an oath. ”It will never do the guy any good. He's played his last hand in this game; he'll never get away from me again. Spit it out.”

”All right,” with a mocking curtsey. ”I've got an idea I'd like to tell him; it is too good a joke to keep, and this fellow has certainly been an easy mark. You never did catch on to me until I got into the wrong clothes, did you, old dear? Lord, but I could have had you making love to me, if I'd only have said the word--out there on the hills in the dark, hey! I sure wanted to laugh; but that tender tone of yours told me what you were up to; what sent you trailing us around the country--you was plumb nutty after this Natalie Coolidge. That's the straight goods, isn't it, Mister Captain West?”

”I care very much for Miss Coolidge, if that is what you mean.”

”Sure you do; and you've put up a game fight for her too, my boy.

I'd like it in you if I wasn't on the other side. But you see we can't be easy on you just because of that. Sentiment and romance is one thing, while business is another. You and I don't belong in the same worlds--see? You can't rightly blame me because I was born different, can you?”

”Perhaps not; what would you make me believe?”

”I thought I'd put it that way so you'd understand, that's all. There's a difference in people, ain't there. I'm just as good looking as this Natalie Coolidge, ain't I? Sure I am; you can't even tell us apart when we are dressed up alike. I could come in here, and have you make love to me inside of twenty minutes. But we ain't a bit alike for all that. She's a lady, and I'm a crook--that's the difference. She's been brought up with all the money she wants, while I've had to hustle for every penny since I was a kid. Now life don't ever look the same to any two people like that.”

”No,” West admitted, beginning to realize her defence. ”It is hardly probable it would.”