Part 33 (1/2)

This recollection eased somewhat the heavy burden of his anxiety, and there was quite a look of triumph in his eyes when he once more turned to Bela.

”Well!” he said, ”there's one thing certain, and that is that Elsa won't have to suffer again from the insolence of that Jewess. I have cut the ground from under your feet in that direction, my friend.”

”Indeed!” retorted Bela airily. ”How did you manage to do that?”

”I rendered her a service this afternoon--she was in serious trouble and asked me to help her.”

”Oh?--and may I ask the nature of the trouble--and of the service?”

sneered the other.

”Never mind about the nature of the service. I did help Klara in her trouble, and in return she has given me a solemn promise to have nothing whatever more to do with you.”

”Oh! did she?” cried Bela, whose savage temper, held in check for awhile, had at last risen to its habitual stage of unbridled fury. All the hot blood had rushed to his head, making his face crimson and his eye glowing and unsteady, and his hand shook visibly as he leaned against the table so that the mugs and bottles rattled, as did the key upon the metal tray. He, too, felt that hideous red mist enveloping him and blurring his sight. He hated Andor with all his might, and would have strangled him if he had felt that he had the physical power to do it as well as the moral strength. His voice came hoa.r.s.e and hissing through his throat as he murmured through tightly clenched teeth:

”She did, did she? And you made her give you that promise which is not going to bind her, let me tell you that. But let me also tell you in the meanwhile, my fine gentleman from America, that your d----d interference will do no good to your former sweetheart, who is already as good as my wife--and will be my wife to-morrow. Klara Goldstein is my friend, let me tell you that, and . . .”

He paused a moment . . . something had arrested the words in his throat.

As so often occurs in the mysterious workings of Fate, a small, apparently wholly insignificant event suddenly caused the full tide of his destiny to turn--and not only of his own destiny but that of many others!

An event--a tiny fact--trivial enough for the moment: the touch of his hand against the key upon the bra.s.s tray.

Mechanically he picked up the key: his mind was not yet working quite clearly, but the s.h.i.+fty glance of his one eye rested upon the key, and contemplated it for awhile.

”Well!” he murmured vaguely at last, ”how strange!”

”What is strange?” queried the other--not understanding.

”That this key should, so to speak, fall like this into my hand.”

”That isn't strange at all,” said Andor, with a shrug of the shoulders, for now he thought that Bela was drunk, so curious was the look in his eye, ”considering that I put that key there myself half an hour ago--it is the key of the back door of this house.”

”I know it is,” rejoined Bela slowly, ”I have had it in my possession before now . . . when Ignacz Goldstein has been away from home, and it was not thought prudent for me to enter this house by the front door . . . late at night--you understand.”

Then, as Andor once more shrugged his shoulders in contempt, but vouchsafed no further comment, he continued still more slowly and deliberately:

”Isn't it strange that just as you were trying to interfere in my affairs, this key should, so to speak, fall into my hand. Fate plays some funny little pranks sometimes, eh, Mr. Guardian Angel?”

”What has Fate got to do with it?” queried Andor roughly.

”You don't see it?”

”No.”

”Then perhaps you were not aware of the fact,” said Bela blandly, as he toyed with the key, ”that papa Goldstein is going off to Kecskemet to-night.”

”Yes,” replied Andor slowly, ”I did know that, but . . .”

”But you didn't know, perhaps, that pretty Klara likes a little jollification and a bit of fun sometimes, and that papa Goldstein is a very strict parent and mightily particular about the proprieties. It is a way those cursed Jews have, you know.”