Part 35 (1/2)
f.a.gin struck the table with his fist.
”Of course it is, drink ter the bride after the ceremony. Bill, bring in the preacher.”
It was growing daylight. I could perceive the glow of the sky out through the window, but the candles still sputtered on the table, casting grim lights and shadows on the faces of the three men. As Bill disappeared into the parlor, I stole silently back to the library door. What could be done was not entirely clear, but I proposed to defend Claire in every way possible.
”Tom,” I whispered briefly, ”find the boys, and bring them in here, through that broken window. They are in the orchard to the right, and there are no guards in front. Move lively, but be quiet.”
”What is it, Major?” asked young Mortimer, eagerly.
”I can't explain now. I must get back where I can see and hear. But there is going to be a fight. Hold the men ready here until I call. See that their weapons are in good order.”
I caught the glint of his eye, but could wait no longer. Indeed I was scarcely back, snuggled under the stairs, when Bill came forth, gripping the collar of his prisoner's coat, and urging him down the hall. I crouched lower, the morning light threatening to reveal my hiding place, yet with mind more at ease, now I knew the men were close at hand. Within five minutes the entire squad would be crowded into that room, eager for trouble to begin. Probably f.a.gin did not have a half-dozen fellows in the house. If we could strike swiftly enough we might overpower them all, without creating alarm outside, where the main body lay. Some carelessness had brought us good luck in having the front of the house left unguarded. These thoughts swept over me, and left me confident. The time had come when I was to serve her, to prove my own worthiness. I felt ready and eager for the trial.
I caught a glimpse of Jenks's face, as Bill jerked him forward. The man was gray with terror, his parchment-like skin seamed and contorted. He was a tall, loose-jointed creature, wearing a long black coat flapping about his knees. The guard fairly held him up in the doorway, and both f.a.gin and Jones laughed at the pitiful sight, the former ending his roar with an outburst of profanity.
”Go on back ter the front door, Bill,” he ordered roughly. ”This fellow'll never run away; his legs wouldn't carry him. Now, Mr.
Preacher,” glowering savagely at the poor devil across the bottle-strewn table, ”do yer know who I am?”
Jenks endeavored to answer, from the convulsive movement of his throat, but made no sound. f.a.gin cursed again.
”If it wasn't such a waste of good liquor I'd pour some of this down your gullet,” he exclaimed, shaking a half-filled bottle in his fist. ”Then maybe you could answer when I spoke to you. Now, see here, you canting old hypocrite, I'm Red f.a.gin, an' I guess you know what that means. I'm pisen, an' I don't like your style. Now you're goin' to do just what I tell you, or the boys will have a hangin' bee down in the ravine. Speak up, an' tell me what you propose to do.”
Jenks wet his dry lips with his tongue, clinging to the sides of the door with both hands.
”I--I am the Lord's servant,” he managed to articulate, ”and have taken no part in this unholy war.”
”You're a cheerful liar, but don't try snivelling on me. You are too big a coward to go out yourself, but you're hand in glove with Farrell. Oh, I know you, sneaking saint; I've had my eyes on you a long while. Now it's do as I say, or hang; that's all, Jenks, an' I'm cussed if I care very much which you choose.”
”What--what is it you wish of me?” his uncertain gaze wandering over the three faces, but coming back to f.a.gin.
”You are to marry this officer here to a young lady.”
”What--what young lady?”
”Mortimer's daughter--Claire is the name, isn't it, Grant? Yes, Claire; you know her, I reckon.”
I could hear the unfortunate man breathe in the silence, but f.a.gin's eyes threatened.
”Is--is she here?” he faltered helplessly. ”Does she desire the--the ceremony?”
”That doesn't happen to be any of your business,” broke in f.a.gin bluntly.
”This is my affair, an' the fewer questions you ask the better. If we want some fun, what the h.e.l.l have you got to do with it, you snivelling spoil-sport! I haven't asked either of them about it. I just decided it was time they got married. Stand up, man, and let go that door,” he drew a derringer from his belt and flung it onto the table. ”There's my authority--that, an' fifty h.e.l.l-hounds outside wondering why I don't loot the house, an' be done. Do you want to be turned over to them? If you don't, then speak up. Will you tie them, or not?”
Jenk's eyes wandered toward Jones, who stared blankly back at him, yellow fangs showing beneath his beard.
”Why--of course--yes,” he faltered weakly. ”I--suppose I must.”