Part 6 (1/2)
”Do you know that you will dishonor me? If you care, let me go.”
”There is another reason. I will not have the Wabash blown up. There is a-a-”
”Another man?” shouted Sempland. ”You are a coquette! Let me out, I say! I will get out! My G.o.d, was ever a man in such a situation?”
He beat and hammered on the ma.s.sive door until his bruised hands bled again. He shook it in its frame like a madman. He was exhausted by the violence of his efforts and of his pa.s.sion. Through it all the girl stood in the hall frightened nearly to death. What mad scheme had she entered upon? Had she strength enough to carry it through? The three servants were terrified also, their eyes rolling in their sockets, their hands nervously fingering their weapons. Suddenly another voice, Caesar's, broke through the turmoil, reaching even the ear of the desperate man on the other side of the heavy mahogany door. He stopped to listen.
”Miss f.a.n.n.y,” said the butler, ”dah's a sojah man at de do', an' he wants to know if Ma.s.s' Semplan' is heah.”
”Tell him, no,” said f.a.n.n.y Glen, resolutely. ”Say he left a half-hour ago.”
”My G.o.d!” groaned Sempland. ”I am a disgraced and ruined man! Listen to me, f.a.n.n.y Glen! I swear to you, on my honor as a gentleman, if you do not instantly open this door I'll blow my brains out in this room!”
”Oh, you wouldn't do that?”
”I will, so help me G.o.d!”
There was conviction in his voice. The girl listening in the pa.s.sage heard the click of a raised revolver hammer.
”Don't!” she cried in greater terror than ever, ”I will open!”
He heard a brief whispered consultation, the key was turned in the lock, and the door was suddenly flung open. Sempland darted toward it on the instant and recoiled from the terrible figure of the little woman barring him with outstretched arms. If he had suffered within, she had suffered without the room. Such a look of mortal agony and anguish he had never seen on any human face. She trembled violently before him. Yet she was resolute not to give way, determined to keep the door. Cl.u.s.tered at her back were the three trembling negroes armed one with a knife, another with a pistol, another with a stout club. He would have swept them out of his path in an instant had it not been for the girl. She stood before him with outstretched arms, her att.i.tude a mixture of defiance and appeal.
”The door was suddenly flung open.”
”It is too late,” she said, ”you were to go at seven. It is past that now. Saved, saved!”
He could do her no violence, that was certain. He stood silent before her, his head bent toward the floor, thinking deeply. Her heart went out to him then, her soul yearned to him. She had hurt him, he must hate her-and she loved him.
”Will you not come in and speak to me for a moment?” he asked her quietly enough at last.
She signed to the men, stepped forward, the door was closed, and locked behind her, and they were alone.
”Did you think to be of service to me?” he burst out, as she drew near and then paused irresolute, miserable. ”You have ruined me for life! I begged that detail. I volunteered. I must get out! They may wait for me. It may not be too late. For G.o.d's sake unlock that door!”
She shook her head, she could not trust herself to speak.
”I don't understand you. If it is-love-for me-”
She stared at him beseechingly, mute appeal for mercy, for help, in her lovely eyes.
”You are condemning me to death, to worse than death. I am going!”
”You cannot!”
She came nearer as she spoke. Suddenly he seized her, drew her close to him, held her with his left arm, and there was happiness for her in his touch. She was as a child before his strength. With his right hand he presented his pistol to her temple. He took advantage of her weakness, but only in the service of a higher cause than love of woman, in answer to a greater demand than even she could make. She offered no resistance either. What was the use?