Jason Part 40

The old man stared at her with open mouth for a breathless moment, and then shambled hastily away, looking over his shoulder at intervals until he was out of sight.

But after that the girl still remained in her place from sheer weariness and lack of impulse to move. She fell to wondering about Captain Stewart and what had become of him, but she did not greatly care. She had a feeling that her world had come to its end, and she was quite indifferent about those who still peopled its ashes--or about all of them save her father.

She heard the distant sound of a motor-car, and at that sat up quickly, for it might be Ste. Marie's friend, Mr. Hartley, returning from Paris.

The sound came nearer and ceased, but she waited for ten minutes before rapid steps approached from the east wall and Hartley was before her.

He cried at once: "Where's Ste. Marie? Where is he? He hasn't tried to walk into the city?"

"He is asleep in the house," said the girl. "He was struck on the head and stunned. I got him into the house, and he is asleep now. Of course,"

she said, "we could wake him, but it would probably be better to let him sleep as long as he will if it is possible. It will save him a great deal of pain, I think. He'll have a frightful headache if he's wakened now. Could you come for him or send for him to-morrow--toward noon?"

"Why--yes, I suppose so," said Richard Hartley. "Yes, of course, if you think that's better. Could I just see him for a moment?" He stared at the girl a bit suspiciously, and Coira looked back at him with a little tired smile, for she read his thought.

"You want to make sure," said she. "Of course! Yes, come in. He's sleeping very soundly." She led the man into that dim room where Ste.

Marie lay, and Hartley's quick eye noted the basin of water and the stained towels and the little bottle of aromatic salts. He bent over his friend to see the bruise at the side of the head, and listened to the sleeper's breathing. Then the two went out again to the moonlit terrace.

"You must forgive me," said he, when they had come there. "You must forgive me for seeming suspicious, but--all this wretched business--and he is my closest friend--I've come to suspect everybody. I was unjust, for you helped us to get away. I beg your pardon!"

The girl smiled at him again, her little, white, tired smile, and she said: "There is nothing I would not do to make amends--now that I know--the truth."

"Yes," said Hartley, "I understand. Arthur Benham told me how Stewart lied to you all. Was it he who struck Ste. Marie?"

She nodded. "And then tried to shoot him; but he didn't succeed in that.

I wonder where he is--Captain Stewart?"

"I have him out in the car," Hartley said. "Oh, he shall pay, you may be sure!--if he doesn't die and cheat us, that is. I nearly ran the car over him a few minutes ago. If it hadn't been for the moonlight I would have done for him. He was lying on his face in that lane that leads to the Issy road. I don't know what is the matter with him. He's only half conscious and he's quite helpless. He looks as if he'd had a stroke of apoplexy or something. I must hurry him back to Paris, I suppose, and get him under a doctor's care. I wonder what's wrong with him?"

The girl shook her head, for she did not know of Stewart's epileptic seizures. She thought it quite possible that he had suffered a stroke of apoplexy as Hartley suggested, for she remembered the half-mad state he had been in.

Richard Hartley stood for a time in thought. "I must get Stewart back to Paris at once," he said, finally. "I must get him under care and in a safe place from which he can't escape. It will want some managing. If I can get away I'll come out here again in the morning, but if not I'll send the car out with orders to wait here until Ste. Marie is ready to return to the city. Are you sure he's all right--that he isn't badly hurt?"

"I think he will be all right," she said, "save for the pain. He was only stunned."

And Hartley nodded. "He seems to be breathing quite naturally," said he.

"That's arranged, then. The car will be here in waiting, and I shall come with it if I can. Tell him when he wakes." He put out his hand to her, and the girl gave him hers very listlessly but smiling. She wished he would go and leave her alone.

Then in a moment more he did go, and she heard his quick steps down through the trees, and heard, a little later, the engine of the motor-car start up with a sudden loud volley of explosions. And so she was left to her solitary watch. She noticed, as she turned to go indoors, that the blackness of the night was just beginning to gray toward dawn.

XXIX

THE SCALES OF INJUSTICE

Ste. Marie slept soundly until mid-morning--that it to say, about ten o'clock--and then awoke with a dull pain in his head and a sensation of extreme giddiness which became something like vertigo when he attempted to rise. However, with the aid of the old Michel he got somehow up-stairs to his room and made a rather sketchy toilet.

Coira came to him there, and while he lay still across the bed told him about the happenings of the night after he had received his injury. She told him also that the motor was waiting for him outside the wall, and that Richard Hartley had sent a message by the chauffeur to say that he was very busy in Paris making arrangements about Stewart, who had come out of his strange state of half-insensibility only to rave in a delirium.

"So," she said, "you can go now whenever you are ready. Arthur is with his family, Captain Stewart is under guard, and your work is done. You ought to be glad--even though you are suffering pain."

Ste. Marie looked up at her. "Do I seem glad, Coira?" said he.

And she said: "You will be glad to-morrow--and always, I hope and pray.

Always! Always!"

The man held one hand over his aching eyes.

"I have," he said, "queer half-memories. I wish I could remember distinctly."

He looked up at her again.

"I dropped down by the gate in the wall. When I awoke I was in a room in the house. How did that happen?"

"Oh," she said, turning her face away, "we got you up to the house almost at once."

But Ste. Marie frowned thoughtfully.

"'We'? Who do you mean by 'we'?"

"Well, then, I," the girl said. "It was not difficult."

"Coira," cried the man, "do you mean that you carried me bodily all that long distance? _You_?"

"Carried or dragged," she said. "As much one as the other. It was not very difficult. I'm strong for a woman."

"Oh, child! child!" he cried. And he said: "I remember more. It was you who held Stewart and kept him from shooting me. I heard the shot and I heard you scream. The last thought I had was that you had been killed in saving me. That's what I went out into the blank thinking."

He covered his eyes again as if the memory were intolerable. But after awhile he said:

"You saved my life, you know."

And the girl answered him:

"I had nearly taken it once before. It was I who called Michel that day you came over the wall, the day you were shot. I nearly murdered you once. I owed you something. Perhaps we're even now."

She saw that he did not at all remember that hour in the little room--her hour of bitterness--and she was glad. She had felt sure that it would be so. For the present she did not greatly suffer, she had come to a state beyond active suffering--a chill state of dulled sensibilities.

The old Justine knocked at the door to ask if Monsieur was going into the city soon or if she should give the chauffeur his dejeuner and tell him to wait.

"Are you fit to go?" Coira asked.

And he said, "I suppose as fit as I shall be."

He got to his feet, and the things about him swam dangerously, but he could walk by using great care. The girl stood white and still, and she avoided his eyes.