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Rather, did it seem that he could still hear her voice and Graham's recklessly singing the "Gypsy Trail."
Had she been playing with Graham? Or had she been playing with him?
Such conduct, for her, was unprecedented and incomprehensible. As he groped for a solution, he saw her again in the moonlight, clinging to Graham with upturned lips, drawing Graham's lips down to hers.
d.i.c.k shook his head in bafflement, and glanced at his watch. At any rate, in ten minutes, in less than ten minutes, he would hold her in his arms and know.
So tedious was the brief s.p.a.ce of time that he strolled slowly on the way, pausing to light a cigarette, throwing it away with the first inhalation, pausing again to listen to the busy click of typewriters from the secretaries' room. With still two minutes to spare, and knowing that one minute would take him to the door without a k.n.o.b, he stopped in the patio and gazed at the wild canaries bathing in the fountain.
When they startled into the air, a cloud of fluttering gold and crystal droppings in the suns.h.i.+ne, d.i.c.k startled. The report of the rifle had come from Paula's wing above, and he identified it as her 30-30 as he dashed across the patio. _She beat me to it,_ was his next thought, and what had been incomprehensible the moment before was as sharply definite as the roar of her rifle.
And across the patio, up the stairs, through the door left wide-flung behind him, continued to pulse in his brain: _She beat me to it. She beat me to it._
She lay, crumpled and quivering, in hunting costume complete, save for the pair of tiny bronze spurs held over her in anguished impotence by the frightened maid.
His examination was quick. Paula breathed, although she was unconscious. From front to back, on the left side, the bullet had torn through. His next spring was to the telephone, and as he waited the delay of connecting through the house central he prayed that Hennessy would be at the stallion barn. A stable boy answered, and, while he ran to fetch the veterinary, d.i.c.k ordered Oh Joy to stay by the switches, and to send Oh My to him at once.
From the tail of his eye he saw Graham rush into the room and on to Paula.
"Hennessy," d.i.c.k commanded. "Come on the jump. Bring the needful for first aid. It's a rifle shot through the lungs or heart or both. Come right to Mrs. Forrest's rooms. Now jump."
"Don't touch her," he said sharply to Graham. "It might make it worse, start a worse hemorrhage."
Next he was back at Oh Joy.
"Start Callahan with the racing car for Eldorado. Tell him he'll meet Doctor Robinson on the way, and that he is to bring Doctor Robinson back with him on the jump. Tell him to jump like the devil was after him. Tell him Mrs. Forrest is hurt and that if he makes time he'll save her life."
Receiver to ear, he turned to look at Paula. Graham, bending over her but not touching her, met his eyes.
"Forrest," he began, "if you have done--"
But d.i.c.k hushed him with a warning glance directed toward Oh Dear who still held the bronze spurs in speechless helplessness.
"It can be discussed later," d.i.c.k said shortly, as he turned his mouth to the transmitter.
"Doctor Robinson?... Good. Mrs. Forrest has a rifle-shot through lungs or heart or maybe both. Callahan is on his way to meet you in the racing car. Keep coming as fast as G.o.d'll let you till you meet Callahan. Good-by."
Back to Paula, Graham stepped aside as d.i.c.k, on his knees, bent over her. His examination was brief. He looked up at Graham with a shake of the head and said:
"It's too ticklish to fool with."
He turned to Oh Dear.
"Put down those spurs and bring pillows.--Evan, lend a hand on the other side, and lift gently and steadily.--Oh Dear, shove that pillow under--easy, easy."
He looked up and saw Oh My standing silently, awaiting orders.
"Get Mr. Bonbright to relieve Oh Joy at the switches," d.i.c.k commanded.
"Tell Oh Joy to stand near to Mr. Bonbright to rush orders. Tell Oh Joy to have all the house boys around him to rush the orders. As soon as Saunders comes back with Mr. Bishop's crowd, tell Oh Joy to start him out on the jump to Eldorado to look for Callahan in case Callahan has a smash up. Tell Oh Joy to get hold of Mr. Manson, and Mr. Pitts or any two of the managers who have machines and have them, with their machines, waiting here at the house. Tell Oh Joy to take care of Mr.
Bishop's crowd as usual. And you come back here where I can call you."
d.i.c.k turned to Oh Dear.
"Now tell me how it happened."
Oh Dear shook her head and wrung her hands.
"Where were you when the rifle went off?"
The Chinese girl swallowed and pointed toward the wardrobe room.
"Go on, talk," d.i.c.k commanded harshly.
"Mrs. Forrest tell me to get spurs. I forget before. I go quick. I hear gun. I come back quick. I run."
She pointed to Paula to show what she had found.
"But the gun?" d.i.c.k asked.
"Some trouble. Maybe gun no work. Maybe four minutes, maybe five minutes, Mrs. Forrest try make gun work."
"Was she trying to make the gun work when you went for the spurs?"
Oh Dear nodded.
"Before that I say maybe Oh Joy can fix gun. Mrs. Forrest say never mind. She say you can fix. She put gun down. Then she try once more fix gun. Then she tell me get spurs. Then... gun go off."
Hennessy's arrival shut off further interrogation. His examination was scarcely less brief than d.i.c.k's. He looked up with a shake of the head.
"Nothing I can dare tackle, Mr. Forrest. The hemorrhage has eased of itself, though it must be gathering inside. You've sent for a doctor?"
"Robinson. I caught him in his office.--He's young, a good surgeon,"
d.i.c.k explained to Graham. "He's nervy and daring, and I'd trust him in this farther than some of the old ones with reputations.--What do you think, Mr. Hennessy? What chance has she?"
"Looks pretty bad, though I'm no judge, being only a horse doctor.
Robinson'll know. Nothing to do but wait."
d.i.c.k nodded and walked out on Paula's sleeping porch to listen for the exhaust of the racing machine Callahan drove. He heard the ranch limousine arrive leisurely and swiftly depart. Graham came out on the porch to him.
"I want to apologize, Forrest," he said. "I was rather off for the moment. I found you here, and I thought you were here when it happened.
It must have been an accident.'"
"Poor little kid," d.i.c.k agreed. "And she so prided herself on never being careless with guns."
"I've looked at the rifle," Graham said, "but I couldn't find anything wrong with it."
"And that's how it happened. Whatever was wrong got right. That's how it went off."
And while d.i.c.k talked, building the fabric of the lie so that even Graham should be fooled, to himself he was understanding how well Paula had played the trick. That last singing of the "Gypsy Trail" had been her farewell to Graham and at the same time had provided against any suspicion on his part of what she had intended directly to do. It had been the same with him. She had had her farewell with him, and, the last thing, over the telephone, had a.s.sured him that she would never have any man but him in all the world.