Part 14 (1/2)
”You are either the cleverest or the most unsophisticated woman I have ever met. You are attractive enough to send a saint to perdition, yet you are quite indifferent to the power of your beauty and the tumult it arouses in the men who chance to cross your path. You seem to be absolutely without feeling. Yet I don't believe you devoid of temperament. I think I know women. I have met a good many. You do not belong to the type of cold, pa.s.sionless women.”
Again his eyes sought hers and found them. Again she tried to avoid his gaze and could not. There was something in his manner, his gestures, the tone of his voice, that conveyed to her more his real meaning than his actual words, yet, to her surprise, she was not aroused to anger. Sure of herself, she found herself listening, wondering what he would say next, ready to flee at the first warning of peril, but playing a dangerous game like the moth in the flame. As she sat back on the sofa, her head in the sofa cus.h.i.+ons, he leaned nearer to her, and in those low, musical tones which held her under a kind of spell, he murmured:
”You are the cleverest woman I ever met.”
She smiled in spite of herself, and he, mistaking the motive, thought she intended it as an encouragement. He glanced round to see if anyone was watching them, but Mr. Parker was peacefully dozing in a deep armchair a dozen yards away, and at the far end of the room Ray, Steell and Reynolds were engrossed in an exciting game of cards. Leaning quickly over, he seized her hand. His voice vibrating with pa.s.sion, he said:
”Not only the cleverest, but the most desirable of women. Don't you see that you've set me afire? I'm mad for you! Helen--I want you!”
For a moment she was too stunned by his insolent daring to withdraw her hand, which he continued to press in his. His eyes flas.h.i.+ng, he went on:
”Haven't you seen all along that I love you--desperately, pa.s.sionately.
You've set me afire. I'm mad for you. Let me awaken that love that's in your breast, but which your husband has never awakened. Let me----”
He did not finish, for that moment a small, jeweled hand, suddenly torn from his grasp, struck him full on the mouth. Rising and trying with difficulty to control the emotion in her voice, she said quickly:
”You'd better go now--so as to prevent a scandal. If they knew, it might be awkward for you. Of course, you must never come here again.”
That was all. She swept away from him with the dignity of an offended queen. The silence was deadly. All one heard was the silk rustle of her gown as she moved across the floor.
”It's my say,” exclaimed Ray.
”I lead with trumps,” said Steell.
”Signor Keralio has to go. Isn't it too bad!”
Mr. Steell and d.i.c.k rose and bowed politely.
There was nothing to be done. He was ignominiously dismissed like a lackey caught pilfering. But there was black wrath in his heart as he picked himself up, and turning to the others, he bowed and said:
”Good night.”
CHAPTER VII
Dawn broke over the desert region of the Kalihari. The gray mists of the South African night slowly dissolved on the approach of the rising sun, until the crimson glow of the coming day, spreading high in the eastern heavens, tipped with gold the snow-clad peaks of the Drachenberg, and then, swiftly inundating the valley like a flood, chased away the shadows and filled the undulating plains with warmth and light.
Stretched out near the flickering embers of an expiring camp fire, not half a day's _trek_ from the Vaal River, lay what, at first view, appeared to be bundles of rags. A closer inspection showed them to be the prostrate forms of two men, asleep. Huddled close together, as if seeking all possible protection from the keen air of the open _veldt_, they appeared grateful even for the little warmth that still came from the dying fire. Every now and again a tiny flame, bursting from one of the smouldering logs, would light up the rec.u.mbent figures, revealing a brief glimpse of the sleepers.
Both bore traces of desperate need. The rags they wore were filthy, and gave only scant protection from the weather, their emaciated faces and hollowed cheeks told eloquently of many days of fatigue and hunger; their feet, long since without shoes, were clumsily protected from the rocky _veldt_ by pieces of coa.r.s.e sacking. For weeks they had tramped across the great, merciless desert, guided only by the stars, often losing the trail, begging their way from farm to farm, glad to do little jobs for friendly Boers in return for a meal, always in peril of attack by hostile Kaffirs, yet never halting, trudging ever onward in their anxiety to reach the coast. That was the haven they painfully sought--the open sea where at least there was a chance to die among their fellows and not perish miserably like dogs on the lonely.
G.o.d-forsaken plains, with only the howling jackal and the screaming vulture to pick their bones.
They had tried and they had lost in the great gamble. Like thousands of other reckless adventurers attracted to the newly discovered diamond country, they had rushed out there from England, confident that they, too, could wrest from nature that wonderful gem, ever a.s.sociated with tragedy and romance, mystery and crime, for the possession of which, since history began, men have been ready to give up their lives.
Confident of their success, they had risked all on a turn of the wheel, and Fortune, mocking their puny efforts, had first ruined and then degraded them, afterward sending them back home to die.
It was now quite light. The fire, which had flickered up fitfully at intervals, was entirely extinguished. A chilly wind had started to blow from the plateau on the north. The strangers stirred uneasily in their sleep and awoke almost simultaneously. Sitting up with a start, they yawned and rubbed their eyes.
”What show o' gettin' some breakfast, Handsome?” asked the smaller of the two.
”d.a.m.ned little!” was the profane and laconic rejoinder.