The Gray Dawn Part 62

Nan had burst into a parlour with an open fire. Before it stood a small table crowded with bottles and gla.s.ses. Sansome rose, rather unsteadily, from one of the easy chairs. Nan uttered an exclamation of relief as she recognized him.

"Oh, I'm glad you're here!" she cried. "This is kind! How is he? Where is he?"

LXXII

Morrell had no easy day with Ben Sansome. He had been forced to spend the whole of it with his protege, save for the hour he had devoted to seeing Keith off on the piratical expedition. It was a terrible bore.

In turn he had played on the youth's pique, the supposed insult to his manhood, his desire for the woman. Sansome was not naturally a valiant adventurer; but he had an exceedingly touchy vanity, which, with a little coddling, answered nearly as well. Morrell took the confident att.i.tude that, of course, Sansome was not afraid; therefore Sansome was ashamed to be afraid.

"For the moment," said the Englishman, "she's carried away by the glamour of this Vigilante movement. They seem to her strong men. She contrasts them with us men of the world, and as she cannot see that a polished exterior is not incompatible with strength, she has a faint growing contempt for us. Women like strength, masterfulness. It is the chance of your life to show her that a man _comme il faut_ is the equal of these squalid brutes in that respect. She is in love with you already, but she doesn't know it. All that is necessary is a show of masterfulness to make her realize it." He stifled a yawn. "Lord, what dreary piffle!" he confided to himself. He painted Keith as a contemptible renegade from his own cla.s.s, currying favour with those below him, a cheap demagogue, a turncoat avid for popular power.

"At heart he's a coward--all such men are. And he's so wrapped up in his ambition that his wife is a small matter to him. There's no danger from him, for he's away; and after the first flare-up we'll be able to handle him among us, never fear!" But after impressing this point, Morrell always was most careful to interpose the warning: "If it should come to trouble, don't let him get near you! He's absolutely rotten with a gun--you saw him in that farce of a duel--but he's a strong beggar. Don't let him get his hands on you!"

"I won't," promised Sansome, a trifle shakily.

Then Morrell, lighting a fresh cigar and fortifying his bored soul with another drink, skilfully outlined a portrait of Sansome himself as a hero, a das.h.i.+ng man of the world, a real devil among the ladies, the haughty and proud exponent of aristocratic high-handedness. He laid this on pretty thick, but Sansome had by now consumed a vast number of drinks, and was ready to swallow almost anything in addition. Morrell's customary demeanour was rather stolid, silent, and stupid; but when he was really interested and cared to exert himself, he became unexpectedly voluble and plausible. Mid-evening he drove this creature of his own fas.h.i.+oning out to Jake's Place, and deposited him in the parlour with the open fire, the table of drinks, and the easy chairs.

His plans from this point on were based on the fact that he had started Keith out on an expedition that should last all night. Had there been the slightest chance that the injured husband could appear, you may be sure Morrell would not have been present. Of course witnesses were necessary to the meeting at the road house. With Keith imminent, hirelings would have been arranged for. With Keith safety away, Morrell saw no reason why he should not enjoy the situation himself. Therefore he had arranged a little supper party. Teeny McFarlane and Jimmy Ware were his first thought. Then he added Pop McFarlane. If he wanted Teeny as a witness, the party must be respectable!

At the sound of wheels outside Morrell arose and slipped out the back door of the parlour.

"Now, remember!" he told Sansome from the doorway. "Now's the chance of your life! You've got her love, and you must keep her. She'll cut up rough at first. That's when you must show what's in you. Go right after her!"

As Nan burst into the room by one door he softly closed--and locked--the other behind him.

LXXIII

But Sansome, although he had put up a brave front to the last moment, was not in reality feeling near the hero of romance he looked. In spite of Morrell's cleverness, the Englishman had failed to observe that Sansome had touched the fringe of that second stage of semi-drunkenness when the "drinks were dying on him." While outwardly fairly sober, inwardly he was verging toward the incoherent. First one phase or mood would come to the top, then another, without order; sequence, or logical reason. He was momentarily dangerous or harmless. Nan's abrupt entrance scattered his last coherences. For the moment he fell back on habit, and habit was with him conventional He smiled his best smile.

"Do sit down," he urged in his most society manner.

This immediately convinced Nan that Keith must be badly hurt.

"Tell me at once!" she demanded "Where is Milton? Is he--is--"

"As far as I know," replied Sansome, still in his courtly manner, "Mr.

Keith is in perfect health. As to where he is"--he waved an airy hand--"I do not know. It does not matter, does it? The point is we are cozy here together. Do sit down."

"I don't understand," said she, advancing a step nearer, her brows knit, "Don't put me off. I got a note saying--"

"I know; I wrote it," boasted Sansome fatuously.

The blood mounted her face, her fists clenched, she advanced several steps fearlessly.

"I don't, quite understand," she repeated, in hard, crisp tones. "You wrote it?' Isn't it true? What did you do such a thing for?"

"To get you here, my dear, of course," rejoined Sansome gallantly. "I knew your puritanical scruples--I love them every one--but--"

"Do you mean to say you dared decoy me here!" challenged Nan, all aflame. Her whole emotion was one of rage. It did not occur to her to be afraid of Ben Sansome, the conventional, the dilettante exquisite, without the gumption to say boo to a goose!

This Sansome answered her, the habit of society strong within him. He became deprecatory, pleading, almost apologetic. His manners were on top and his rather weak nature quailed before the blaze of her anger.

"I know it was inexcusable," he babbled, "but what could I do? I am mad about you! Do forgive me! Just sit down for a few moments. I don't blame you for being angry--any one is angry at being deceived--but do forgive me. If you'll only consider why I did it, you won't be angry.

That's right," he ended soothingly, seeing that she neither spoke nor moved, "Just sit right down here and be comfortable. It must be cold driving. Let me give you a gla.s.s of sherry." He fussed about, shoving forward an armchair, arranging pillows, unstopping the decanter.

"You fool!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed in a low voice. She looked him all up and down, and turned to go.

The door was locked! For the first time she noticed that Mrs. Morrell had not followed her in. Her heart fluttered in sudden panic, which she subdued. She moved toward the other door.

The words, and especially the frustration of her intention, brought another mood to the surface of Sansome's intoxication. The polished society man with the habit of external unselfishness disappeared.

Another Sansome, whom Nan did not recognize, sprang to take his place.

"No, you don't!" he snarled. "That door's locked, too. You don't get out of here until I choose to let you out!"

"You'll let me out; and you'll let me out right now, or I'll call for help," said Nan determinedly.

Sansome deliberately seated himself, stretching his legs out straight before him, his hands in his pockets. This was the masterful role he had seen himself playing, and he instinctively took the att.i.tude approved by the best melodramatic masters.

"Call all you please," he sneered. "n.o.body's going to pay any attention to your calls at Jake's Place!"

Nan's heart went cold as she realized the complete truth of this. She was beginning to know fear. This was a new sort of creature before her, one with which she was acquainted only by instinct. She did not know what to do next, except that she saw surely that open opposition would only aggravate the situation.

"I must gain time!" she told herself, though to what end she could not have said.

Her pulses beat wildly, but she forced herself to a specious calmness.

"But Ben," she said as naturally as she could, "why did you do so foolish a thing as this? It might make all kinds of trouble. You can always see me at the house; you know that. Why did you get me out on this mad expedition? If we were to be seen here by anybody we would be deeply compromised."

The words reminded her of Mrs. Morrell; but out of sheer terror she resolutely thrust that idea from her mind. At this appeal Sansome suddenly became maudlin.

"You've treated me like a dog lately--a yellow dog!" he mourned. "What good did it do to go to your house and be treated like a yellow dog?"

Nan's faculties were beginning to rally after the first panic. Her heart was still thumping violently, but her eyes were bright, and her fighting courage was flowing back. For the first time his obvious condition registered on her brain.

"He's drunk!" she thought.

This discovery at first induced in her another, small panic. Then her courage boldly took it as a point of attack. The man was drunk and dangerous; very well, let us make him more drunk and less dangerous.

That was a desperate enough expedient, but at least it was definite.

She crossed deliberately to the other easy chair, and sat down.

"Well, let's sit down," she agreed. "No!" more decidedly, "you sit there, on the other side. It's more cozy," she continued, at just the right moment to get her effect on his instinct of good manners. "Now, I will have that sherry. No, don't bother; it is next my hand. You must drink with me. Let me pour it for you--with my own hands--aren't you flattered?"