Part 31 (2/2)
”Why--they won't hurt us--”
”Tut, tut! I know what I'm talking about. We're in worse danger now than ever, and if we don't break up those Vigilantes there'll be bloodshed--that's what. They're a menace, and they're trying to force me off the bench so they can take the law into their own hands again. That's what I want to see you about. They're planning to kill Alec and me--so he says--and we've got to act quick to prevent murder. Now, this young Glenister is one of them, and he knows who the rest are. Do you think you could get him to talk?”
”I don't think I quite understand you,” said the girl, through whitening lips.
”Oh yes, you do. I want the names of the ring-leaders, so that I can jail them. You can worm it out of that fellow if you try.”
Helen looked at the old man in a horror that at first was dumb.
”You ask this of me?” she demanded, hoa.r.s.ely, at last.
”Nonsense,” he said, irritably. ”This isn't any time for silly scruples. It's life or death for me, maybe, and for Alec, too.” He said the last craftily, but she stormed at him:
”It's infamous! You're asking me to betray the very man who saved us not twelve hours ago. He risked his life for us.”
”It isn't treachery at all, it's protection. If we don't get them, they'll get us. I wouldn't punish that young fellow, but I want the others. Come, now, you've got to do it.”
But she said ”No” firmly, and quietly went to her own room, where, behind the locked door, she sat for a long time staring with unseeing eyes, her hands tight clenched in her lap. At last she whispered:
”I'm afraid it's true. I'm afraid it's true.”
She remained hidden during the dinner-hour, and pleaded a headache when McNamara called in the early evening. Although she had not seen him since he left her the night before, bearing her tacit promise to wed him, yet how could she meet him now with the conviction growing on her hourly that he was a master-rogue? She wrestled with the thought that he and her uncle, her own uncle who stood in the place of a father, were conspirators. And yet, at memory of the Judge's cold-blooded request that she should turn traitress, her whole being was revolted. If he could ask a thing like that, what other heartless, selfish act might he not be capable of? All the long, solitary evening she kept her room, but at last, feeling faint, slipped down-stairs in search of Fred, for she had eaten nothing since her late breakfast.
Voices reached her from the parlor, and as she came to the last step she froze there in an att.i.tude of listening. The first sentence she heard through the close-drawn curtains banished all qualms at eavesdropping. She stood for many breathless minutes drinking in the plot that came to her plainly from within, then turned, gathered up her skirts, and tiptoed back to her room. Here she made haste madly, tearing off her house clothes and donning others.
She pressed her face to the window and noted that the night was like a close-hung velvet pall, without a star in sight.
Nevertheless, she wound a heavy veil about her hat and face before she extinguished the light and stepped into the hall. Hearing McNamara's ”Good-night” at the front-door, she retreated again while her uncle slowly mounted the stairs and paused before her chamber. He called her name softly, but when she did not answer continued on to his own room. When he was safely within she descended quietly, went out, and locked the front-door behind her, placing the key in her bosom. She hurried now, feeling her way through the thick gloom in a panic, while in her mind was but one frightened thought: ”I'll be too late. I'll be too late.”
CHAPTER XVII
THE DRIP OF WATER IN THE DARK
Even after Helen had been out for some time she could barely see sufficiently to avoid collisions. The air, weighted by a low-hung roof of clouds, was surcharged with the electric suspense of an impending storm, and seemed to sigh and tremble at the hint of power in leash. It was that pause before the conflict wherein the night laid finger upon its lips.
As the girl neared Glenister's cabin she was disappointed at seeing no light there. She stumbled towards the door, only to utter a half-strangled cry as two men stepped out of the gloom and seized her roughly. Something cold and hard was thrust violently against her cheek, forcing her head back and bruising her. She struggled and cried out.
”Hold on--it's a woman!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the man who had pinioned her arms, loosing his hold till only a hand remained on her shoulder.
The other lowered the weapon he had jammed to her face and peered closely.
”Why, Miss Chester,” he said. ”What are you doing here? You came near getting hurt.”
”I am bound for the Wilsons', but I must have lost my way in the darkness. I think you have cut my face.” She controlled her fright firmly.
”That's too bad,” one said. ”We mistook you for--” And the other broke in, sharply, ”You'd better run along. We're waiting for some one.”
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