Part 20 (1/2)

The judge looked pleased. ”That one? Why, that's my own--was, at least, half an hour ago. You see, about that twenty-thousand-dollar proposition--” They moved nearer him. They stood, the four, around the red velvet-covered table, like people waiting to be served. ”The trouble is right here,” said the judge, emphasizing with blunt forefinger. ”The crook has a pal. That's probable, isn't it?”

Harry nodded. Flora felt Kerr's eyes upon her, but she could not look at him.

”And we see the thing is at a deadlock, don't we? Well, now,” the judge went on triumphantly, ”we know if any one person had the whole ring it would be turned in by this time. That is the weak spot in the reward policy. They didn't reckon on the thing's being split.”

”Split? No, really, do you think that possible?” Kerr inquired, and Flora caught a glimmer of irony in his voice.

”Well, can you see one of those chaps trusting the other with more than half of it?” The judge was scornful. ”And a fellow needs a whole ring if he is after a reward.” He rolled his head waggishly. ”Oh, I could have been a crook myself!” he chuckled, but his was the only smiling face in the party.

For Kerr's was pale, schooled to a rigid self-control.

And Harry's was crimson and swollen, as if with a sudden rush of blood.

His twitching hands, his sullen eyes, responded to Judge Buller's last word as if it had been an accusation.

”It makes me d.a.m.ned sick, the way you fellows talk--as if it was the easiest thing in the world to--” He broke off. It was such a tone, loose, harsh and uncontrolled, as made Flora shrink.

As if he sensed that movement in her, he turned upon her furiously.

”Well, are we going to stand here all night?” He took her by the arm.

She felt as if he had struck her. Buller was staring at him, but Kerr had opened the door through which she had entered, and now, turning his back upon Harry, silently motioned her out.

She had a moment's fear that Harry's grasp, even then, wouldn't let go.

Indeed, for a moment he stood clutching her, as if, now that his rage had spent itself, she was the one thing he could hold to. Then she felt his fingers loosen. He stood there alone, looking, with his great bulk, and his great strength, and his abashed bewilderment, rather pathetic.

But that aspect reached her dimly, for the fear of him was uppermost.

Her arm still burned where he had grasped it. She moved away from him toward the door Kerr had opened for her. She pa.s.sed from the light of the crimson room into the dark of the pa.s.sage. Some one followed her and closed the door. Some one caught step with her. It was Kerr. He bent his dark head to speak low.

”I don't know why you did it, you quixotic child, but you must not expose yourself in this way, for any reason whatsoever.”

The light of the crowded rooms burst upon them again.

”Oh,” she turned to him beseechingly, ”can't you get me away?”

”Surely.” His manner was as if nothing had happened. His smile was rea.s.suring. ”I'll call your carriage, and find Mrs. Britton.”

When Flora came down from the dressing-room she found Clara already in the carriage, and Kerr mounting guard in the hall. As he handed her in, Clara leaned forward.

”Where is Mr. Cressy?” she inquired.

”He sent his apologies,” Kerr explained. ”He is not able to get away just now.”

Clara could not control a look of astonishment. As the carriage began to move and Kerr's face disappeared from the square of the window, she turned to Flora.

”Have you and Harry quarreled over that man?”

Flora's voice was low. ”No. But Harry--Harry--” she stammered, hardly knowing how to put it, then put it most truly: ”Harry is not quite himself to-night.”