Part 30 (1/2)
Sick with the agony of it, speechless, she still made the effort; and, as he stumbled to his feet and turned to escape, she struggled upright, choking, blood running from the knife p.r.i.c.ks in her neck.
With the remnant of her strength, and still writhing and gasping for breath, she tore herself from the sheets and blankets, reeled across the room to where Stormont's rifle stood, threw in a cartridge, dragged herself to the window.
Dimly she saw a running figure in the night mist, flung the rifle across the window sill and fired. Then she fired again--or thought she did.
There were two shots.
”Eve!” came Stormont's sharp cry, ”what the devil are you trying to do to me?”
His cry terrified her; the rifle clattered to the floor.
The next instant he came running up the stairs, bare headed, heavy pistol swinging, and halted, horrified at sight of her.
”Eve! My G.o.d!” he whispered, taking her blood-wet body into his arms.
”Go after Leverett,” she gasped. ”He's robbed daddy. He's running away--out there--somewhere----”
”Where did he hurt you, Eve--my little Eve----”
”Oh, go! go!” she wailed,--”I'm not hurt. He only p.r.i.c.ked me with his knife. I'm not hurt, I tell you. Go after him! Take your pistol and follow him and kill him!”
”Oh,” she cried hysterically, twisting and sobbing in his arms, ”don't lose time here with me! Don't stand here while he's running away with dad's money!” And, ”Oh--oh--_oh_!!” she sobbed, collapsing in his arms and clinging to him convulsively as he carried her to her tumbled bed and laid her there.
He said: ”I couldn't risk following anybody now, after what has happened to you. I can't leave you alone here! Don't cry, Eve. I'll get your man for you, I promise! Don't cry, dear. It was all my fault for leaving this room even for a minute----”
”No, no, no! It's my fault. I sent you away. Oh, I wish I hadn't. I wish I had let you come back when you wanted to.... I was waiting for you....
I left the door unbolted for you. When it opened I thought it was you.
And it was Leverett!--it was Leverett!----”
Stormont's face grew very white: ”What did he do to you, Eve? Tell me, darling. What did he do to you?”
”Dad's money was under my pillow,” she wailed. ”Leverett tried to make me tell where it was. I wouldn't, and he hurt me----”
”How?”
”He p.r.i.c.ked me with his knife. When I screamed for you he tried to choke me with the pillow. Didn't you hear me scream?”
”Yes. I came on the jump.”
”It was too late,” she sobbed; ”--too late! He saw the money packet under my pillow and he s.n.a.t.c.hed it and ran. Somehow I found your rifle and fired. I fired twice.”
Her only bullet had torn his campaign hat from his head. But he did not tell her.
”Let me see your neck,” he said, bending closer.
She bared her throat, making a soft, vague complaint like a hurt bird,--lay there whimpering under her breath while he bathed the blood away with lint, sterilised the two cuts from his emergency packet, and bound them.
He was still bending low over her when her blue eyes unclosed on his.