299CHAPTER XLIIITHEODORE SENDS FOR MOLLY
Theodore King was rallying rapidly in the hospital. All danger of blood poison had passed, and though he was still very weak, his surgeon had ceased to worry, and the public at large sat back with a sigh, satisfied that the wealthiest and most promising young citizen in the county had escaped death at the hand of an assassin.
One morning a telephone message summoned Molly Merriweather to the hospital. In extreme agitation she dressed quickly, telling Mrs. King she would return very soon. Never had she been so hilariously happy. Jinnie Grandoken had disappeared, as if she had been sunk in the sea. Molly now held the whip hand over her husband; she could force him to divorce her quietly. It was true of them both now their principal enemies were out of the way. Theo was getting well, and would come home in a few days.
While she had thought him dying, nothing save Jordan’s tales of the girl’s experiences in the gorge house had been able to rouse her to more than momentary interest.
With glowing cheeks she followed the hospital attendant through a long corridor to Theodore’s room. She entered softly and for a moment stood gazing at him admiringly. How very handsome he was, even with the hospital pallor! When the sick man became cognizant of Molly’s presence, he turned and smiled a greeting. He indicated a chair, and she sank into it.300
“You sent for me, Theodore?” she reminded him softly, bending forward.
“Yes.”
He was silent so long, evidently making up his mind to something, that Molly got up and smoothed out his pillow. Theodore turned to her after she had reseated herself.
“Molly,” he began, “do you know where Jinnie Grandoken is?”
Molly’s eyelids narrowed. So he was still thinking of the girl!
“No,” she said deliberately.
“It seems strange,” went on King somberly. “I’ve tried every way I know how to discover her whereabouts, and can’t. I sent to the Grandoken’s for her, but she was gone.”
“You still care for her then?” queried Molly dully.
“Yes. I know you dislike the poor child, but I thought if you knew that I—well, I really love her, you might help me, Molly.”
It was a bitter harvest to reap after all these weeks of waiting—his telling her he loved another woman—and as his voice rang with devotion for Jinnie Grandoken, Molly restrained herself with difficulty. She dared not lose her temper, as she had several times before under like conditions. With her hands folded gracefully in her lap, she replied:
“If I could help you, Theo, I would; but if Mrs. Grandoken doesn’t know where her own niece is, how should I know?”
“You’re so clever,” sighed Theodore, “I imagined you might be able to discover something where a woman like Mrs. Grandoken would fail. She’s got a young child, I hear.”301
“What do you suggest?” inquired Molly presently.
“I want to find out quickly where she’s gone,” the sick man said bluntly.
“You want to see her?” demanded Molly.
Theodore nodded.
“Yes, I’d get well sooner if I could,” and he sighed again. Then his ivory skin grew scarlet even to his temples, but the blood rushed away, leaving him deathly white. Molly went to him quickly and leaned over the bed. She wanted—oh, how she wanted to feel his arms about her! But he only touched her cold hand lightly.
“Help me, Molly,” he breathed.
Molly choked back an explanation. She would glory in doing anything for him—anything within her power; but nothing, nothing for Jinnie Grandoken. Suddenly an idea took possession of her. She would make him doubt Jinnie’s love for him, even if she lied to him.
“Of course I knew you cared for her,” she said slowly.
“Yes, I made that clear, I think,” said Theo, “and she cares for me. I told you I asked her to marry me.”
He laid stress on the latter half of his statement because of a certain emphasis in Molly’s.
“I don’t like to hurt you—while you’re ill,” she ventured.
Theodore thrust forth his hand eagerly.
“Come closer,” he pleaded. “You know something; you can tell me. Please do, Molly.”
“I don’t know much, mind you, Theo––”
“Take hold of my hand, Molly!... Please don’t keep me in such suspense.”
She drew her chair closer to the bed, her heart throbbing first with desire, then with anger, and laid her white fingers in his.
“Tell me,” insisted Mr. King.302
“There was a boy––”
“You mean the little blind boy?”
“No, no,” denied Molly, paling. The very mention of such an affliction hurt her sadly. “No,” she said again, “I mean a friend of the boy who was shot; you remember him?”
“Oh, I remember Maudlin Bates; certainly I do; but I don’t think I heard of any other.”
Molly hadn’t either; she had shot at random and the shot told.
Theodore sat up in bed with whitening face.
“Molly,” he stammered, “Molly, has any one hurt her? Has––”
Molly shook her head disgustedly.
“Don’t be foolish, Theo,” she chided. “No one would want to hurt a grown girl like her.”
“Then what about the man?”
“I think she went away with him.”
“Where to?”
“I’m not sure––”
Theodore sank back. Molly’s fingers slipped from his, and for a moment he covered his face with his hands, soundless sobs shaking his weak body. The woman knew by his appearance that he believed her absolutely.
“It’ll kill me!” he got out at last.
Molly slipped an arm under his head. She had never seen him in such a state.
“Theo, don’t! Don’t!” she implored. “Please don’t shake so, and I’ll tell you all I know.”
“Very well!... I’m listening.”
The words were scarcely audible, but Molly knew and hugged the thought that his belief in Jinnie Grandoken had been shaken.
“Did you hear that Jinnie was in Binghamton?”303
“Yes,” murmured Theodore.
The woman released her hold on Theodore, and said:
“The man was over there with her.”
Theodore turned his face quickly away and groaned.
“That’s enough,” he said. “Don’t tell me any more.”
They were quiet for a long time—very quiet.
Then Molly, with still enlarging plans, burst out:
“What if I should bring her back to you, Theo?”
He flashed dark-circled eyes toward her.
“Could you?” he asked drearily.
“I think so, perhaps. Suppose you write her a little note, and then––”
“Ring the bell for writing material quickly.”
He had all his old-time eagerness. He was partly sitting up, and Molly placed another pillow under his head.
Theodore wrote steadily for some moments. Then he addressed an envelope to “Jinnie Grandoken,” placed the letter in it, and fastened down the flap.
“You won’t mind?” he asked wearily, handing it to Molly and sinking back.
Molly took the letter, and with a few more words, went out. Once at home in her bedroom, she sat down, breathing deeply. With a hearty good will she could have torn the letter into shreds, but instead she ripped open the envelope and read it.
After she had finished, she let the paper flutter from her hand and sat thinking for a long time. Then, sighing, she got up and tucked the letter inside her dress.
304CHAPTER XLIVMOLLY GIVES AN ORDER TO JINNIE
A motor car dashed to the side of the street, and Jordan Morse helped Molly to the pavement. She stood for a moment looking at the gorge building contemplatively.
“And she’s been here all the while?” she remarked.
“Yes, and a devil of a time I’ve had to keep her, too. If there’d been any one in the whole place, I believe she’d have made them hear; though since the boy came she’s behaved better.” Morse’s face became positively brutal under recollections. “I’ve made her mind through him,” he terminated.
Jinnie had put Bobbie into bed and kissed him, and soon the child was breathing evenly. She knew Jordan Morse would come that night, so she closed the door between the two rooms and walked nervously up and down. Bobbie was always ill for hours after Morse had made his daily calls. She hoped the man would allow the child to remain in bed. When the key grated in the lock, she was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes fastened on the door. Every time he came, she had hopes that he might relent, if but a little.
Morse entered, followed by Molly the Merry. Jinnie took a step forward when she saw the woman. Molly paused and inspected sharply the slim young figure, her mind comprehending all its loveliness. Then woman to woman they measured each other, as only women can. Jinnie advanced impulsively.305
“You’ve come to take me home!” she breathed.
Molly shook her head.
“I’ve come to talk to you,” she retorted hoarsely.
Never had she seen so beautiful a girl! The martyrdom Jinnie had endured had only enhanced her attractiveness.
“Sit down,” said Molly peevishly.
Jinnie made a negative gesture.
“I’m tired of sitting.... Oh, you will do something for me, something for poor little Bobbie?”
Morse moved to the door between the two rooms, but Jinnie rushed in front of him.
“He’s asleep,” she said beseechingly. “Don’t wake him up! He’s had a dreadful spell with his heart to-day.”
Morse turned inquiring eyes upon Molly.
“You wanted to see him, didn’t you?” he asked.
Molly flung out a hand pettishly.
“Let him sleep,” she replied. “I don’t want to be bored with fits and tears.”
Jinnie sank into a chair.
“He ought to have a doctor,” she sighed, as if she were speaking to herself. Then turning to Molly, she bent an entreating look upon her.
“Please do something for him. Get a doctor, oh, do! He’s so little and so sick.”
“I’m not a bit interested in him,” replied Molly with a shrug.
Jinnie’s nerves had borne all they could. She trembled unceasingly. The girlish spirit had been broken by Morse’s continual persecution.
“He’s so little,” she petitioned again, “and he can’t live long.”
As Molly had said, she was not interested in the sleeping child. The only time she cared to hear him mentioned was when Jordan told her of Jinnie’s anguish over his306treatment of the child. She had delighted in his vividly described scene of how he had forced the girl to do his will through her love for the little fellow. Now she, too, would wreak her vengeance on Jinnie through the same source.
“I’ve come to tell you something about Theodore King,” she remarked slowly, watching the girl avidly the while.
Jinnie sat up quickly. If her dear one had sent her a message, then he must know where she was.
“Then tell it,” was all she said.
Molly put her hand into a leather hand bag and drew forth a letter.
“It isn’t for you,” she stated, with glinting eyes. “I’ve known for a long time you thought he cared for you––”
“He does,” interjected Jinnie emphatically.
“I think not. Here’s a letter he wrote to me. It will dispel any idea you may have about his affection for you.”
“I don’t wish to read your letter,” said Jinnie proudly.
“Read it!” ordered Morse frowning, and because she feared him, Jinnie took the letter nervously. The woman’s words had shattered her last hope. For a moment the well-known handwriting whirled; then the words came clearly before her vision:
“My Darling,” she read.
“Won’t you come to me when you get this? My heart aches to have you once more in my arms. I shall expect you very soon. With all my love,
“Theodore.”
It was not strange that she crushed the paper between her fingers.
“You needn’t destroy my letter,” Molly said mockingly, thrusting forth her hand. “Give it to me.”307
She took it from Jinnie’s shaking hand and, smoothing it out, replaced it in her pocket book.
“I wouldn’t have come but for your own good,” she said, looking up. “Mr. Morse told me you had an idea that Mr. King loved you, and I want you to write him a letter––”
“Write who a letter?” asked Jinnie dully.
“Theodore.”
“Why?”
“Because I tell you to,” snapped Molly.
Then taking another letter from her bag, she held it out.
“You’re to copy this and give it to Mr. Morse to-morrow.”
Jinnie took the letter and read it slowly. She struggled to her feet.
“I’ll not write it,” she said hoarsely.
“I think you will,” said Morse, rising.
Jinnie stared at him until he reached the closed door behind which Bobbie slept.
“Don’t! Don’t!” she shuddered. “I’ll write, I’ll do anything if you won’t hurt Bobbie.” Raising her eyes to Morse, she said in subdued tones, “I’ll try to give it to you to-morrow.”
Never had her heart ached as it did then. The perils she was passing through and had passed through were naught to the present misery. She realized then her hope had been in Theodore’s rescuing her.
A certain new dignity, however, grew upon her at that moment. She stood up, looking very tall, very slight, to the man and woman watching her.
“I wish you’d both go,” she said wearily. “I’d rather be alone with Bobbie.”
Molly smiled and went out with Jordan Morse.308
“She gave in all right,” remarked Molly, when they were riding down the hill. “I knew she would.”
Morse shrugged his shoulders.
“Of course. She worships Grandoken’s youngster.... I was wondering there once how you felt when you knew she was reading her own letter.”
Molly’s face grew dark with passionate rebellion.
“He’ll write me one of my own before the year is out,” said she.
“I’m not so sure!” responded Morse thoughtfully.
For a long time after the closing of the door, Jinnie sat huddled in the chair. Nothing else in all the world could have hurt her as she had been hurt that night, and it wasn’t until very late that she crept in beside the blind boy, and after four or five hours, dropped asleep.
309CHAPTER XLVWRITING A LETTER TO THEODORE
The first thing Jinnie saw the next morning was the rough draft of the letter Molly had ordered her to copy. To send it to Theodore was asking more of her than she could bear. She turned and looked at Bobbie. He was still sleeping his troubled, short-breathed sleep. She had shielded him with her life, with her liberty. Now he demanded, in that helpless, babyish, blind way of his, that she repudiate her love.
In the loneliness of the gorge house she had become used to the idea of never again seeing Theodore, but to allow him to think the false thing in that letter was dreadful. She picked it up and glanced it over once more, then dropped it as if the paper had scorched her fingers. She’d die rather than send it, and she would tell her uncle so when he came that morning.
She was very quiet, more than usually so, when she gave the blind boy his breakfast.
“Bobbie,” she said, “you know I’d do anything for you in this whole world, don’t you? I mean—I mean anything I could?”
Mystified, the boy bobbed his curly head.
“Sure I do, Jinnie, and I’d do anything for you too, honey.”
She kissed him passionately, as her eyes sought the letter once more. It lay on the floor, the words gleaming310up at her in sinister mockery. She tore her eyes from it, shaking in dread. Would she have the courage to stand against Jordan Morse in this one thing? She had given in to him at every point, but this time she intended to stand firmly upon the rock of her love. Once more she picked up the letter and put it away.
Two hours later, with loathing and disgust depicted in her white face, she saw Mr. Morse enter, and her blazing blue eyes stabbed the man’s anger to the point of desiring to do her harm. For a moment he contemplated her in silence. He was going to have trouble with her that day. What a fool Molly was! It was she who insisted upon that bally letter. What did he care about Theodore King? Still his wife had him completely within her power, and he was really afraid of her now and then when she flew into rages about his niece and Theodore. He mopped his brow nervously.
A few days more and it would be ended. Inside of one week he would be free from every element which threatened him, free to commence the search for his child. He strode across the room to Jinnie.
“Come on with me,” he ordered under his breath.
Jinnie obediently followed him into the inner room. Morse slammed the door with his foot.
“Where’s the letter?” he growled between his teeth.
Jinnie went to the table, got the original draft and handed it over.
“Here it is,” she said slowly.
He glanced over the paper.
“Why, this is the one we left here yesterday, isn’t it?”
“Yes!”
“Where is the one you wrote? I don’t want this.”
A glint of understanding flashed upon him.
“Where is the other?” he demanded once more.311
“I haven’t written it and I don’t intend to.”
For one single instant Morse’s mind swept over the sacrifices she had made. She had done every single thing he had told her, not for her sake but for others. He shuddered when he thought of the trouble he would have had with her had not the blind boy been within his power also.
“Get the paper and write it now,” he said ominously.
“I will not!”
She meant the words, a righteous indignation flaming her face, making her eyes shine no longer blue, but opal color. Morse wondered dully if she could and would stand out against what he would be forced to do.
“I see,” he began shiftily. “I have to teach you a lesson every time I come here, eh?”
“This time you won’t,” she flashed at him.
“This time I will,” he taunted.
“I’d rather be dead,” she faltered. “I’d rather be dead than write it.”
“Perhaps! But would you rather have––” he made a backward jerk of his thumb toward the other room—“him dead?”
Jinnie’s eyes misted in agony, but Theodore was still near her in spirit, and she remembered the dear hours they had spent together and how much she loved him. A sudden swift passion shook her as his kisses lived warm again upon her face. That letter she would not write. But as she made this decision for the hundredth time that day, Morse’s words recurred to her. Would she rather have Bobbie dead? Yes, if she were dead too. But life was so hard to part with! She was so strong. How many times she had prayed of late to die! But every morning found her woefully and more miserably alive than the one before.
“I understand you’d rather, then,” drawled Morse.
Jinnie shook her head.312
“I don’t know what I’d rather have, only I can’t write the letter.” She made one rapid step toward him—“I know,” she went on feverishly, “I won’t ever see Theodore again––”
Morse’s emphatic nod broke off her words, but she went on courageously. “I don’t expect to, but I love him. Can’t you see that?”
“Quite evident,” replied the man.
“Why hurt me more than necessary then?” she demanded.
“This is part of Miss Merri––”
“She loves him too?” cried Jinnie, staggering back.
“Yes, and he—well, you saw his letter yesterday.”
“Yes, I saw it,” breathed Jinnie with swift coming breath.
“Miss Merriweather thinks Theodore might still feel his obligations to you unless you––”
“Does she know he asked me to marry him?” In spite of her agony, she thrilled in memory.
“Yes, and he told me, too. But Miss Merriweather intends to marry him herself, and all she wants is to wipe thoughts of you from his mind.”
A powerful argument swept from her lips.
“It wouldn’t make any difference to him about me if he loved her.”
“You’re an analytical young miss,” said Morse with one of his disagreeable smiles.
“You’ve taught me to be,” she retorted, blazing. “Now listen! You asked me if I’d rather have Bobbie die than write the letter, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“Then I say ‘yes’.” She caught her breath. “We’ll both die.”
“Well, by God, you’re a cool one! Theodore’s more313lucky than I thought. So that’s the way you love him?”
She grew more inexplicable with each passing day.
“Poor Theodore!” murmured Morse, to break the tense silence.
“I thought it all out this morning,” explained Jinnie. “Bobbie’s awfully ill, terribly. He can’t live long anyway, and I––” A terrific sob shook her as a raging gale rends a slender flower.
Jinnie controlled her weeping that the blind child in the other room might not hear. Never had Jordan been so sorely tempted to do a good deed. Good deeds were not habitual to him, but at that moment a desire possessed him to take her in his arms, to soothe her, to restore her to Peggy and give her back to Theodore. But the murder scene in the cobbler’s shop came back with strong renewed vigor. He had gone too far, and he must have money. Molly held him in her power, and as he thought of her tightly set lips, the danger signal she had tossed at him more times than once, he crushed dead his better feeling.
“Your plan won’t work,” he said slowly. “Write the letter—I am in a hurry.”
“I will not,” she refused him once more.
Morse walked to the door, and she allowed him to open it. Then with clenched hands she tottered after him. He was going to kill Bobbie and herself. Somehow within her tortured being she was glad. Morse waited and looked back, asking her a question silently.
She made no response, however, but cast her eyes upon the blind boy sitting dejectedly upon the floor, one arm around Happy Pete.
“Jinnie,” said Bobbie, rolling his eyes, “I was afraid you were goin’ to stay in there all day.”314
“Come here, boy,” ordered Morse. “Get up and come here.”
Bobbie turned his delicate, serious face in the direction of the voice.
“I don’t want to,” he gulped, shaking his head. “I don’t like you, Mister Black Man. I can’t get up anyway, my heart hurts too much!”
Still the girl stood with the vision of Theodore King before her.
“I won’t write it, I won’t,” she droned to herself insistently.
Morse sprang forward and grasped the child.
“Get up,” he hissed.
Bobbie scrambled up because he was made to. He uttered a frightened, terrified cry.
Then, “Jinnie!” he gasped.
Jinnie saw Morse shake the slender little body and drop into a chair, dragging the child forward. Bobbie could no longer speak. The dazed girl knew the little heart was beating in its very worst terror. She couldn’t bear the sight and closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them, Morse’s hand was raised above the boy’s golden head, but she caught it in hers before it descended.
“I’ll do it,” she managed to whisper. “Look! Look! You’ve killed him.”
In another moment she had Bobbie in her arms, his face pressed against her breast.
“Get out of here!” she said, deathly white, to Morse. “I’ll do it, come back to-morrow.”
And Morse was glad to escape.
After Jinnie brought Bobbie to his senses and he lay like a crumpled leaf on the divan, she took up the hated letter. She sat down to read it once more.
It was short, concise, and to the point.315
“Mr. King:
“I made a mistake in ever thinking I cared for you. I have some one else now I love better, and expect to be very happy with him.
“Jinnie Grandoken.”
The next morning when Morse came jauntily in, she handed him the copy of it without a word. He only said to her:
“You’d have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d done this in the first place. You won’t bother me long now. Mr. King is home and almost well.” Then he smiled, showing his white, even teeth. “He’ll be glad to receive this letter.”
“Get out,” Jinnie gritted. “Get out before I—I kill you!”
Two days later Molly Merriweather was in the seventh heaven of bliss. As Morse had said, Theodore was home, looking more like himself. With her heart in her mouth, the woman entered his sitting room with Jinnie’s letter. Jordan had had it mailed to King from Binghamton.
“I’ve brought you a letter, Theodore,” smiled Molly nervously.
He extended his hand, and upon recognizing the handwriting, turned deadly white.
“I’d like to be alone,” said he without looking up.
When he sent for her a little while later, and she sat opposite him, he said:
“I’d rather not speak of—of—Miss Grandoken again. Will you give me a drink, Molly?” And the woman noted the hurt look in his eyes.
316CHAPTER XLVI“BUST ’EM OUT”
“Jinnie, ain’t we ever goin’ back to Peggy?” Bobbie asked one day, his eyes rolling upward. His small face was seamed with questioning anxiety.
The girl drew him to her lap.
How many times Jinnie had asked that question of herself! How she longed for Paradise Road, with its row of shacks, Peggy and the baby! Bobby knew how she felt by the way she squeezed his hand.
“Ain’t we?” he asked again.
“Some time,” answered Jinnie limply.
“Did the black man say we could go, Jinnie?” the boy demanded.
Jinnie patted his head comfortingly.
“I hope he’ll take us home soon,” she remarked, trying to put full assurance into her tones.
Bobbie zigzagged back to the divan, drew himself upon it, and Jinnie knew by his abstracted manner that he was turning the matter over in his busy little brain.
Two hours later, when Jordan Morse came in, the child was still sitting in the same position, and the man beckoned the girl into the other room.
“Grandoken’s trial is to start this afternoon within an hour,” he informed her. “You’ll be here to-day and to-morrow. You see the court won’t be long in proving the cobbler’s guilt.”317
If he had expected her to cry, he was mistaken. She was past crying, seemingly having shed all of her tears.
“He didn’t do it,” she averred stubbornly. “I know he didn’t.”
In justice to Lafe, she always reiterated this.
Morse gave a sinister laugh.
“What you know or don’t know won’t matter,” he responded, and looking at the angry, beautiful face, he ejaculated, “Thank God for that!”
Jinnie turned her back, but he requested her sharply to look at him.
“Have you told the boy where I’m going to take you?” he demanded, when she was eyeing him disdainfully.
“No.”
“I never knew a woman before who could hold her tongue,” he commented in sarcasm.
Jinnie didn’t heed the compliment.
“When he asks you questions, what do you tell him?”
“That you will come for us soon.”
“I will, all right.”
Jinnie went nearer him.
“Where are you going to take him?”
Morse shrugged his shoulders.
“You’ll know in time,” said he.
How ominous his words were, and how his eyes narrowed as he looked at her! She was thoroughly afraid of that tone in his voice. Her own fate she was sure of, but Bobbie—desperation filled her soul. She would beg Morse to let him go back to Peggy.
Lifting clasped hands, she walked very close to him.
“You’re going to have all my money,” she said with emphasis. “I’ve done everything I can, and I’ll make Bobbie promise not to say a word to any one if you’ll take him to Mrs. Grandoken.”318
Morse shook his head.
“Too dangerous,” he replied, and he went out without a glance at the blind boy on the divan.
Once more alone with Bobbie, Jinnie sat down to think. How could she rescue him from this awful position? How get him back to Peggy? Somehow she felt that if she could be sure the little boy was safe, she could go away to the place Morse had described with at least a little relief. That day Lafe’s accusers were to try him before a jury––. She had almost lost hope for the cobbler—he was lame, had no friends, and was a Jew, one of the hated race. She knew how the people of Bellaire despised the Jews. For Peggy she didn’t worry so much. Jordan Morse had given his solemn promise that, if Lafe died in the electric chair—and she died to the world—he would be of financial assistance to Peggy.
She sat studying Bobbie attentively. The child’s face was pathetically white and she could see the quick palpitation of his heart under his jacket.
“I heard what the black man said, Jinnie,” Bobbie blurted presently, sinking in a little heap. “I mean when he had you in the other room a little while ago. You was beggin’ him to help me; wasn’t you, Jinnie?”
Jinnie went to him quickly and gathered him into her arms.
“Bobbie,” she implored, “you must never let him know, never, never, that you heard him talking. He might hurt you worse than he has.”
Bobbie flashed his eyes questioningly in evident terror.
“What’d he hurt me more for? I ain’t done nothin’ to him.”
“I guess because he’s bad, dear,” said Jinnie sadly.
“Then if he’s bad, why do you stay here?” He clung to her tremulously. “Take me away, Jinnie!”319
“I can’t!” lamented Jinnie. “I’ve told you, Bobbie, the door’s locked.”
She could lovingly deceive him no longer.
How the little body trembled! How the fluttering hands sought her aid in vain!
“My stars’re all gone, Jinnie,” sobbed Bobbie. “My beautiful stars! I can’t see any of ’em if I try. I’m awful ’fraid, honey dear. It’s so dark.”
Jinnie tightened her arms about him, racking her brain for soothing words.
“But Lafe’s God is above the dark, Bobbie,” she whispered reverently. “We’ve got to believe it, dearie! God is back up there ... just up there.”
She took his slender forefinger and pointed upward.
“How does God look, Jinnie? Just how does he look?”
“I’ve never seen him,” admitted the girl, “but I think, Bobbie, I think he looks like Lafe. I know he smiles like him anyway.”
“I’m glad,” sighed the boy. “Then He’ll help us, won’t He? Lafe would if he could. If you say He will, He will, Jinnie!”
Five tense minutes passed in silence. Then: “Sure we couldn’t get out of the window, dearie?” asked Bobbie.
“They’re locked, too,” answered the girl, low-toned.
“I’d bust ’em out,” volunteered the boy, with sudden enthusiasm.
“But there’s a deep gorge in front of every one, honey,” replied Jinnie sadly.
Yet Bobbie’s words—“bust ’em out”—took hold of her grippingly, and the thought of leaving that unbearable place was like a tonic to the frantic girl. She crossed the room rapidly and examined the window panes. But even if she could break them, as Bobbie suggested, the water below would receive their bodies, and death would follow.320If it were a street, she might manage. Yet the sight of the flowing water, the dark depths between the ragged rocks, did not send Bobbie’s words, “bust ’em out,” from her mind. If they fell together, the boy would never be tortured any more. To-morrow Jordan Morse would be in the courtroom all day. To-morrow––God, dear God! She seemed to hear Lafe’s monotone, “There’s always to-morrow, Jinnie.”
She was called upon to think, to act alone in a tragic way. Of course she would be killed if she jumped into the deep gorge with the child and Happy Pete. She tried to think, to plan, but after the manner of all believing sufferers, could only pray.
Bobbie need fear no evil! “Angels have been given charge over him, and Bobbie shall not want,” Jinnie whispered, her mind spinning around like a child’s top. A sudden faith boomed at the portals of her soul. What was the use of asking help for Bobbie if she didn’t have faith in an answer?
To-day would bring forth a plan for to-morrow. To-morrow Bobbie would be saved from Jordan Morse. To-morrow would end his terror in the gorge house. To-morrow—she would be eighteen years old!
“Bobbie,” she entreated, going to the child swiftly, “Bobbie, do you remember any prayers Lafe taught you?”
The child bobbed his head.
“Sure,” he concurred. “‘Now I lay me’ and ‘Our Father which art in Heaven.’... I know them, Jinnie.”
“Then sit upon the divan again and say them over and over, and pray for Lafe, and that you’ll get out of here and be happy. You mustn’t tell Mr. Morse if he comes, but I’m going to try to get you out of the window.”321
As she stood in the gathering gloom and peered into the water below, Jinnie could hear the child lisping his small petitions.
At that moment a new faith came for herself. Lafe’s angels would save her, too, from Jordan Morse’s revenge.
At ten-thirty the next morning Morse came. With trepidation Jinnie heard him open the door. He was extremely nervous and stayed only a few moments.
“I’ve got to be in court at eleven,” he explained, “and I’ll come for you both about ten this evening. Be ready, you and the boy, and remember what I told you!”
When they were alone once more, she sat down beside the blind child and placed her arm around him.
“Bobbie, will you do exactly what I tell you?”
“Sure,” responded Bobbie, cheerfully. “Are we goin’ home?”
Without answering him, Jinnie said:
“Then take Happy Pete and don’t move until I get back. Just pray and pray and pray! That’s all.”
Happy Pete snuggled his head under Bobbie’s arm and they both sat very still. The boy scarcely dared to breathe, he was so anxious to please his Jinnie.
The farthest window in the inner room door seemed to be the best one to attack. If Morse surprised her, it would be easier to cover up her work. With a frantic prayer on her lips, she took off her shoe and gave the pane of glass one large, resounding blow. It cracked in two, splinters not only flying into the room, but tumbling into the gorge below. Then she hastily hammered away every particle of glass from the frame, and, shoving her shoulders through, looked out and down. The very air seemed filled with angels. They could and would save her and Bobbie even in the water—even if they were within the suction of the falls there, some distance below and322beyond. Then her eyes swept over the side of the building, and she discovered a stone ledge wide enough for a human being to crawl along. Would she dare try it with her loved ones? She distinctly remembered seeing a painter’s paraphernalia in the front, and they might be there still! The more she thought, the greater grew her hope, and with this growing hope came a larger faith. At least she’d find what was at the end of the building away off there to the east.
To-day, yes, now!... She couldn’t wait, for her uncle was coming to-night. It must be now, this minute. She went back to Bobbie.
“I’m going to try it, darling,” she told him, kissing his cheek. “Sit right here until I get back. Hang to Petey. He might follow me.”
Then cautiously she dragged her body through the hole in the window, and began to crawl along the stone ledge. The roar of the water on the rocks below made her dizzy. But over and over did she cry into God’s ever listening ear:
“He has given—he has given his angels—angels charge over thee.”
Jinnie reached the corner of the building, and looked out over the city. The ledge extended around the other side of the building, and she turned the corner and went slowly onward. At the south end she stopped still, glancing about.
Only one thing of any value was in the range of her vision. The two long ropes she had seen long before were still hanging from the roof and fastened securely to a large plank almost on the ground. It brought to Jinnie’s mind what Lafe had told her,—of Jimmie Malligan who had been killed, and of how he himself had lost his legs.
Could she, by means of the rope, save the three precious323things back in that awful room—Bobbie, Happy Pete, and her fiddle?
To be once more under God’s sun with the blue above gave her new strength. Then she turned and crawled slowly back.
At the corner she grew faint-hearted. It must have been the gorge below that made her breath come in catching sobs. But on and on she went until through the window she could see Bobbie with Happy Pete asleep in his arms. The child was still muttering over his little prayers, his blind eyes rolling in bewildered anxiety.
Jinnie was very white when she sat down beside him. Putting her face close to his, she brushed his cheek lovingly.
“Bobbie,” she said, touching his hair with her lips, “how much do you love Jinnie?”
“More’n all the world,” replied Bobbie without hesitation.
“Then if you love methatmuch, you’ll do just what I tell you.”
“Yes,” Bobbie assured her under his breath.
Jinnie took a towel—she couldn’t find a rope—and strapped the violin to Bobbie’s back.
“I’ve got to take my fiddle with me, dearie,” she explained, “and I can’t carry it because I’ve got you. You can’t carry it because you’ve got to hold Happy Pete.... Now, then, come on!”
Jinnie drew the reluctant, trembling child to his feet and permitted him to feel around the window-sash; she also held him tightly while he measured the stone ledge with his fingers.
“I’m awful ’fraid,” he moaned, drooping.
Jinnie feared he was going to have another fainting spell. To ward it off, she said firmly:324
“Bobbie, you want to see Lafe, don’t you?”
“S’awful much,” groaned Bobbie.
“Then don’t hold your breath.” She saw him stagger, and grasping him, cried out “Breathe, Bobbie, breathe! We’re going to Peggy.”
Bobbie began to breathe naturally, and a beatific smile touched the corners of his lips.
“I got so many stars to-day, Jinnie,” he quavered, “one slipped right down my throat.”
“But you mustn’t be scared again, Bobbie! If we stay, the black man’ll come back and shake you again and take us to some place that’ll make us both sick. You just keep on praying, and I will, too.... Now, then, I’m going out, and when I say, ‘Ready,’ you crawl after me.”
“What’s that noise?” shivered Bobbie, clutching Happy Pete.
“It’s water,” answered Jinnie, “water in the gorge.”
Bobbie’s teeth chattered. “Do we have to jump in it?”
“No, I’m going to take you down a rope.”
With that she crawled through the hole, and when once on the stone ledge, she put her hand in on the boy’s head.
“Lift up your leg and hang tight to Petey,” she shuddered, and the blind boy did as he was bidden, and Jinnie pulled him, with the dog and fiddle, through the opening. She put him on his knees in front of her with her arms tightly about him.
“Jinnie, Jinnie!” moaned Bobbie. “My heart’s jumpin’ out of my mouth!”
Jinnie pressed her teeth together with all her might and main, shivering so in terror that she almost lost the strength of her arms.
“Don’t think about your heart,” she implored, “and don’t shake so! Just think that you’re going to Lafe and Peg.”325
Then they began their long, perilous journey to the corner of the building. It must have taken twenty minutes. Jinnie had no means by which to mark the time. She only knew how difficult it was to keep the blind child moving, with the water below bellowing its stormy way down the rock-hill to the lake. Happy Pete gave a weird little cry now and then. But on and on they went, and at the corner Jinnie spoke:
“Bobbie, we’ve got to turn here. Let your body go just as I shove it.”
Limp was no word for Bobbie’s body. He was dreadfully tired. His heart thumped under Jinnie’s arms like a battering-ram.
“Bobbie, don’t breathe that way, don’t!” she entreated.
“I can’t help it, honey! my side hurts,” he whispered. “But I’ll go where you take me, Jinnie dear.”
The girl turned him carefully around the sharp ledge corner, and they went on again. Her arms seemed almost paralyzed, but they clung to the child ahead, and the child ahead clung to the little dog, who hung very straight and inert in front of his body.
When they reached the south corner, Jinnie explained their next move to Bobbie in this way:
“Now listen,” she told him. “You get on my back with your legs under my arms, hang to me like dear life, and keep Happy Pete between us. Don’t hurt him if you can help it.”
They were within touch of one of the dangling ropes and far below Jinnie saw the swaying plank to which it was fastened. Once on that board, she could get to the ground.
Then she continued: “Now while I lean over, you get on my back.”
As she guided his slender hands, she felt them cold326within her own, but in obedience to her command, Bobbie put his legs about her, one arm around her neck, and with the other held Happy Pete.
“We won’t fall, will we, Jinnie?” quavered the boy.
“No,” said Jinnie, helping to settle him on her back.
Then she crawled closer to the rope, took up her skirt and placed it about the rough hemp. She was afraid to use her bare hands. The rope might cut and burn them so dreadfully that she’d have to let go. With a wild inward prayer, she swung off into the air, with the boy, the dog and the fiddle on her back, and began her downward slide. She counted the windows as they passed, one, two, three, and then four. Only a little distance more before she would be upon firm ground. As her feet touched the plank, she glanced into the street and in that awful moment saw Jordan Morse crossing the corner diagonally, within but a few yards of where she stood, terrified.