"No fear of failure now—no fear of failure now!"
The words danced before her eyes in living, piercing flame of scorching fire. "No fear of failure now!" and her heart just awakened to the fact that she loved this man whom she had hounded to destruction. "No fear of failure now!" What was that small, weak blundering affection she had borne Olney Winthrop compared with this maddening, anguished passion that was tearing her very soul to despair? What was that frail, misunderstood liking, that sympathy that was almost pity, to this swirling, eddying tumult of adoration that filled her breast to bursting?
And Stolliker had assured her, with a note of triumph in the words which not even the electric transmission had had power to destroy, that there was "no fear of failure now."
She had told herself in those first days that she hated him; but now she understood it all, cruelly, bitterly—understood that she had deceived herselfbecause she had heard those hateful words of Jessica's about her birth; had heard his light laugh, and that it was a scorching, searing jealousy that had tormented her—nothing else. And now she was punished—punished!
If she had but allowed herself to acknowledge the love that Heaven had sent her, she might have saved him the crime that he had committed; and, oh, pitiful God, how well she understood that, too, now! She had loved him from the beginning—from the beginning! No other love had ever for an instant occupied her heart. And this was her punishment!
It was she who had fixed the crime upon him; she who had set the blood-hound of the law upon his track; she who had paid thousands of dollars for his conviction! And now it was too late to undo that which she had done—too late to withdraw that evidence which she would have walked blind and barefoot over the whole world to destroy.
And God had sent this bitter grief, this awful despair upon her because she had presumed to take His authority in her own erring, human hands. It was but just; and she loved him—she loved him!
She acknowledged it with a ghastly delight that brought sickening anguish to her very soul. She loved this murderer!
But what was she that she should judge him? Surely she had been punished enough for sitting in judgment.
And now, what should she do?
Let him go to the ruin and death to which she had betrayed him? Lift no finger to prevent the crisis which she had wrought?
The thought maddened her.
The telegram was clutched between her fingers. Never pausing to consider, she turned and fled from the room down the hall to Jessica's door. She tore at the knob and flung it open.
Jessica was alone, fastening her white negligee atthe throat. She turned, but was not kept long in suspense by her visitor.
"For the love of God, look—look!" Carlita cried, as she thrust the telegram before the eyes of her supposed friend.
And taking it calmly from the shaking hand, Jessica read it aloud:
"'Everything ready to leave the moment papers arrive. No fear of failure now.'
"Well," she exclaimed, making no attempt to conceal her smile of triumph, "surely you could desire no more?"
"Desire no more!" repeated Carlita, hoarsely. "You don't understand; you can't—you can't! For God's sake, think for me! This must be stopped at once—at once!"
"Are you mad?" demanded Jessica, coldly. "What are you talking of?"
"Of this hideous crime that I have brought about!" gasped Carlita. "Those papers must never reach him—reach Stolliker. It must be prevented at the cost of my very life, if needs be! We must give up everything to purchase silence from Meriaz. Oh, Jessica, for the love of Heaven, help me!"
"Help you defend a murderer? Help you protect a criminal?"
"Don't—don't! You don't understand, I tell you. It was I who drove him to it—I who should be punished, if punishment must come to any one! He loved me. I did not know the meaning of the word then, but I know now—my God, so cruelly well! Jessica, listen, and then comprehend all my humiliation, if you can. I—I, who was the betrothed wife of Olney Winthrop—I, who swore that infamous oath to the dead—I, who have mercilessly hounded a fellow-creature to the very jaws of perdition, love him so well that I would take his crime upon my own shoulders—yes, upon my own soul, and stand inthe presence of God, stained and branded, to save him! I am ready to stand your contempt, your loathing, if you will but help me! Pity me—oh, merciful God, pity me!"
She had fallen upon her knees at Jessica's feet, her head bowed in her hands, her suffering too deep for tears. But the woman witness did not offer to touch her; she stepped back and folded her hands coldly.
"You are too late," she said, with rigid cruelty. "The papers will be in Stolliker's hands early tomorrow morning."
A cry of horror left Carlita's lips.
"Tomorrow!" she groaned. "Tomorrow! It can't be true—it can't be true!"
"It is," replied Jessica, in that hard, pitiless tone. "And even if it were not, what would there be for you to do? When Meriaz made the affidavit purchased by you, the testimony went into the hands of the law. Do you think the law will wilfully see a murderer go unpunished because you—love him? You must abide the consequences of your own act. You have bought the proof of his guilt, you have practically brought him face to face with the hangman's noose, and it is too late for you to withdraw from the position you have taken. You said you would see the play through to the bitter end, and there is no course left for you but to do it."
"But I did not understand!" Carlita groaned. "I did not know!"
"Did not know that this guilty passion lurked in your breast? Did not know you had fallen in love with the murderer of one lover? Verily, it is worthy reason!"
"Do you think I mind your contempt? The very lash brings some ray of comfort to my soul. Go on! I know now I deserve it all. Say everything, only find some means to help me."
"There is no help—none earthly and I would notif I could. I am not aiding and abetting criminals. I have fallen in love with no branded Cain. If you can save those papers from reaching their destination, and then close the mouth of Manuel Meriaz for all time to come, you may hope to save this scoundrel lover, but until you do his fate must lie in the hands of an outraged law."
But Carlita seemed not to have heard the latter part of the sentence at all. Her hands had suddenly dropped from before her face, and into the despairing eyes there leaped a ray of hope that irradiated her whole countenance. She appeared for a moment to be thinking deeply; then arose without a word, and was hurrying toward the door, when Jessica started forward and caught her by the wrist.
"Where are you going?" she demanded, huskily, her excitement showing itself in her usually clear voice.
"To him!" cried Carlita, passionately. "To him—to tell him the whole foul story of my contemptible sin—to warn him of his danger and beseech him to fly!"
Jessica laughed—the hatefulest sound, perhaps, that had ever issued from those handsome lips. She dropped Carlita's wrist, and placed her back nonchalantly against the door.
"Do you think that I will let you go?" she demanded, coldly, calmly. "Do you think that I shall let you leave this room?"
"You would not prevent me? What revenge have you to win?"
A crimson flame seemed to lick out from the brown eyes, and a dull red glow flashed into the oval cheeks. She stretched her arms across the door and bent her head toward her victim.
"What revenge have I to win?" she repeated, allowing all the hatred of her nature full expression. "What revenge have I to win? Listen and you shall hear. Before you came into our lives, he—LeithPierrepont—loved me. But for you I should have been his wife. I loved him. Pouf! what do you know of love? What is your paltry, pitiful affection for him compared to what mine has been? But he turned from me to you—overlooked my love for your toleration—passed me by, forsook me, and I determined that he should pay for it with the last drop of blood in his body! I hated you both, and from the very first I have seen how it would be. Did you think I did not know of your love for him? Do you think I should have left you so long alone, had it not been to allow it to grow until you should suffer all that I had in store for you? Did you think I meant that you should rob me of everything that made life worth living, and then escape my vengeance? You do not know me!"
A sneering sound like a laugh left her lips—hard, cold—sending the blood tingling through Carlita's veins with stinging rapidity. She had drawn herself up, all the Mexican fire of her nature aroused and in action. The pleading anguish had all vanished, and only stern command remained.
"Stand aside!" she exclaimed in a voice as clear and ringing as it had been hoarse and supplicating before.
"Where are you going?" asked Jessica, imitating the tone.
"To Leith Pierrepont," answered Carlita, ignoring subterfuge.
Again Jessica laughed.
"You must be mad!" she replied. "Do you think I will be robbed of my revenge in the eleventh hour?"
"Let me pass!" Carlita commanded again, going a step toward her.
"Never!"
For one dramatic moment the two determined women faced each other, and then began a physical struggle for mastery.
There was not a sound, not a cry until they both tripped over a small embroidered footstool and fell, Carlita's head striking the sharp edge of a table.
Jessica arose at once, panting, flushed, but Carlita lay there, still as death, her face upturned, but expressionless.
With fiendish hatred Jessica looked down upon her, even touched her with the toe of her slipper, but there was no movement to show that it had been felt.
Calmly, deliberately, Jessica regarded herself in the mirror, saw that her gown was in order, then walked to her mother's door, and throwing it open, said with cool distinctness:
"You'd better come into my room for a moment. Carlita tripped over a stool and has hurt herself."
"How is Miss de Barryos?"
Manuel Meriaz was standing facing Mrs. Chalmers who had risen to greet him, endeavoring to conceal her expression of repugnance, and succeeding poorly, a smile upon his coarse lips which was far from attractive, though he endeavored to make his voice gentle, even human.
"All right again, I fancy," replied Mrs. Chalmers, wearily.
"Still a prisoner?"
She made a gesture of deprecation.
"Jessica seems to have gone mad these last few days," she answered. "She must realize how impossible it is for this to go on longer, but she will listen to no reason, hear no argument. She will confide nothing to me, but is like a wild creature if I attempt to speak to her."
"Let her alone," advised Meriaz, indifferently."Stolliker will be here tomorrow, and it will all come to an end quickly enough then."
"Stolliker here tomorrow? Who told you?"
"Jessica."
"Then she has talked to you?"
"No; nothing further than that. He telegraphed from Washington yesterday that he would stop off in New York while the Mexican officer, with an interpreter from the office here, would go on to Albany for the signature of the governor to those papers. By tomorrow night, or the next at furthest their bird will be landed, and then I fancy Jessica will let your beautiful ward take her own course."
"Shall you return to Mexico with them?"
"Certainly. That is necessary in order to pocket the rest of the money."
Mrs. Chalmers could not quite control the sigh of relief that bubbled through her lips in spite of effort.
Meriaz smiled.
"You will go with me, Louise?"
"I?" she stammered.
"Yes. You have always told me that it was a question of money that kept us apart. With the start I shall have when this trial is over I should have to be a poor financier indeed, if I could not make my fortune."
"But you will—wait until you have made it?
"Ah, no! You will give me the encouragement of your presence."
She looked up at him helplessly, like a bird under the influence of a serpent, and saw the expression of his countenance. It was almost diabolical in its fiendish intent.
She shrank backward, and he sat down opposite her.
"My dear Louise," he said slowly "you and I have played at this game long enough. There was a time when I was fool enough to believe in you.There was a time when you led me on, inducing me to do your bidding, let that be what it might, merely for a word in recompense, flung at me like a bone to a starving dog; but I have learned something different now. I am grateful to you for my education. No one to look at me would believe that there was a time when I was a gentleman, when people called me handsome, when I was a dashing man of the world, who might have captured the richest senorita in all Mexico. You are responsible that I did not, my dear Louise. I loved you then, and there is nothing under heaven that you might have commanded which I would not do. You knew your power, and you used it. Well, Louise, the tables have turned. I don't love you now. Perhaps I have grown too old to love. Perhaps I have forgotten how; but I know my power over you now, and I mean to use it."
"What are you going—to do?" she stammered, hoarsely.
He leaned toward her, fixing her with his beady eyes, and answered calmly:
"Marry you—and give my daughter her honest name!"
"For God's sake, hush!" she exclaimed, springing up and glancing about her in alarm.
He put his hand upon her arm, and forced her gently into her seat again.
"Any one would think I had proposed a crime," he said, quietly, "from your frightened tone and exclamation. I don't call it a very bitter revenge, do you, that I propose to make you my wife? I don't call it a great hardship, that for the first time in all your life you will be able to face yourself and the world as a legal wife, bearing the name of a husband that is willing to claim you before all the world!"
"What do—you mean?" she gasped, her voice almost uncontrollable in its tremulousness.
"Don't imagine that you can deceive me!" he exclaimed, contemptuously. "I am quite aware that Bertram Chalmers was a myth. I know your life, Louise, year by year, day by day, almost hour by hour, from the time you were a school-girl, and even before. There is not an incident that I could not repeat to you with such exactitude as to be almost startling. I doubt if you could recite it so well yourself. But there are only a few years with which I have to do. You were young, beautiful, when you came to Mexico, where your little one was born. It was in your way, poor little morsel, and you abandoned it. What did you care whether it was brought up in the hut of a peon, or left to die in the sun-scorched swamps? I saw you then and loved you, in spite of your heartlessness, for we know little of sin in Mexico. It is only love that affects us. I was the only person about that attracted you then, and you yielded to me your smiles for the time, only, as I afterward discovered, to make me your tool, to force me to do that which you could not do yourself. I became your dupe, your accomplice at cards—no matter what. I do not regret a single sin that I ever committed for you, a single folly. If you had loved me, you would have found that I knew better than most men how to be a devoted slave, but you didn't. And after a time you returned to America. What became of your abandoned little one? I know, Louise!"
"You—know?"
"Yes."
"She lives?"
"It can't be that you are interested after all these years!" he cried, mockingly. "Yes, she lives."
"Where? For Heaven's sake, tell me!
"In Mexico, known as—my daughter. Ah! you see I loved you better even than you thought. She has grown to be a beautiful woman, but not like her mother. Your hair in those days was dark, Louise,though your eyes were blue. Her eyes are dark. Her hair black as night. Brought up in that tropical climate, she possesses all the attributes of a Mexican, even to the hot, ungovernable temper—tender and impulsive as a child under love's direction, but a fury, a very fiend, when opposition comes. She wants to know her mother, Louise."
"You—you have—told her?" the dry, stiff lips questioned.
"Everything! She even knows the secret of Jessica's birth, the—"
"Ah!"
"Did you think I did not know that?" he questioned calmly in answer to her little, inarticulate cry of horror. "I thought I told you that everything was an open page to me? Shall I tell you what it was I told her, Louise?"
No answer came, only the anguish in the burning eyes. He went on pitilessly:
"I told her that Jessica is—my daughter. Great God, woman! did you really think you could deceive me? Did you really believe I did not know? I have only bided my time, waiting, waiting, because, as you said neither of us had a sou with which to bless ourselves. With all your swindling and lying and cheating you did not make enough even for your own support, and I had nothing to add to it to speak of. But now things are different. I shall have a start. It will enable me to work the mines, which are of great promise, and I want my daughter to bear her proper name."
"You mean to tell Jessica this story?"
Meriaz shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
"You are an expert at manufacturing stories. If you can invent one that will deceive her and still induce her to do my will, I shall have no objection to you telling it. Otherwise, she must know the truth."
"Have you no mercy?" moaned the woman, wringing her hands together helplessly.
"What mercy had you upon me? What mercy had you upon that poor little helpless child whom you abandoned? Why is it that it is always the person who has done most harm in the world that is always crying out for mercy? Did you think you should be allowed to go through the world scot-free, you who have worked so much harm, you who have driven so many men to desperation, and broken the hearts of countless wives? I am not taunting you with your sins; why should I? Heaven knows I have no stones to cast; but when my time comes I shall face my punishment with as much indifference as I have committed crime. And, after all, what is it that I am offering you? Is it so great a shame to be the wife of any man, you who have borne no name that was justly yours since you wilfully dropped the one your father gave you? Louise, when will you be my wife?"
"You must give me time!" she groaned.
He bowed.
"I have already given you twenty years in which to consider it," he returned, lightly. "I suppose another day will make no difference. I give you, then, until tomorrow, when Stolliker returns. I go as a member of that party, remember, and you must accompany me. We shall be a happy family; you united to your long-neglected child, I to my daughter whom I have allowed you to keep during all these years. I shall expect your answer when Stolliker returns to take his prisoner."
Carlita was seated beside the window in her own apartment, her hands folded listlessly over thefolds of her white negligee gown, her head resting against the back of her chair as if she suffered from physical as well as mental exhaustion.
She seemed to have grown old in those few days. There were heavy lines about her mouth, and under her eyes dark circles that gave her a curious expression of dumb anguish. She had lost in flesh, until her cheeks appeared hollow and gaunt.
She glanced up when the door opened suddenly; but there was neither wonder nor interest in the look—scarcely even intelligence.
It was Jessica who had entered, and behind her was Edmond Stolliker, the detective. Miss Chalmers went forward and leaned indolently against the corner of the dressing-table, looking coldly at Carlita; but Stolliker stopped short, scarcely believing his patroness to be the same beautiful girl who had engaged him upon a murder case so short a time before.
He was too good a detective, however, to allow his surprise long expression, but listened with interest while Jessica said:
"Carlita, this is Mr. Stolliker, your detective. I told him that you were ill, but he insisted upon seeing you, or delivering his message to no one. Tell him he may speak out plainly in my presence."
The last sentence was almost a command and Stolliker saw the white, almost transparent hands drawn closer together in the lap, the colorless face showing a dawning interest, a strange light creeping into the leaden eye.
"Miss de Barryos," he exclaimed, taking a step toward her and stooping suddenly, "I very greatly regret that you are ill!"
"It is nothing," she returned, no trace of the old musical voice noticeable in the hoarse, expressionless tones.
"I am sure what I have to tell you will aid inyour recovery. Everything that you most desired has been accomplished. Even before the papers arrived bringing the affidavit of Manuel Meriaz, I had an officer prepared to start at once, the only thing required being the signature to our requests for extradition. We stopped over in Washington and secured the consent of the Secretary of State; then I returned here at once, while Carpano, the Mexican officer, with one of the interpreters from our office, went on to Albany for the signature of the governor. I expect him to return this evening. We shall make our arrest as quickly as possible after the papers are in my possession. Presumably, therefore, it will take place tonight, as Pierrepont will be most liable to be found in his rooms at that time, and we want no error now that we have succeeded so far."
Carlita did not speak. But for that curious, dull light in her eyes, Stolliker might have doubted that she heard him at all. He waited for a moment, then continued:
"With your permission, I will wait upon you tomorrow morning, after he is in custody, to make a full and complete report before we return to Mexico with our prisoner and Manuel Meriaz, the witness who is of such vital value to us."
She merely inclined her head ever so slightly; and feeling more uncomfortable than he had ever done under the most trying of circumstances, Stolliker glanced toward Jessica.
He observed the smile of triumph and contempt which she could not conceal.
"I think that is all, Miss Chalmers," he said, carelessly.
She led the way from the room; and as they were passing through the hall, Stolliker caught sight of Ahbel, his niece. He made a quick deft sign to her, which she answered simply by a glance.
"You say this arrest will be made tonight?" Jessica questioned, before he left her.
"I think so."
"At what hour? You need not be afraid to trust me. I am absolutely in the confidence of Miss de Barryos. She and I have sent the telegrams to you together, and translated yours in return. I know the development of this case step by step. Manuel Meriaz was an old friend of my father."
Stolliker bowed.
"It will be impossible for me to say the exact hour that the arrest will be made," he returned. "The train from Albany is due about nine o'clock. Good-afternoon, Miss Chalmers."
He left by the front door, but two minutes later was admitted noiselessly by the servants' entrance.
"What's up?" he asked of Ahbel, when they were secure from interruption.
"I don't know," she returned. "I can't make out."
"Then you are a poor assistant for a detective. How long has Miss de Barryos been ill?"
"Only a few days."
"What caused it?"
"She tripped over a stool in leaving Miss Chalmers' room and hurt her head. She was unconscious for so long that the doctor feared concussion of the brain; but she seems to have avoided that extremity, though she is not in the least like herself. There are times when I think she has lost her mind. She rarely ever speaks, but sits by the window doing nothing, apparently not even thinking."
"Humph!" muttered Stolliker, remembering the suddenly dawning interest in the sunken eyes.
"How long has this been going on?"
"It was a week ago yesterday that the accident happened."
"She and Miss Chalmers were great friends?"
"Yes; but what struck us all as strange was that Miss Chalmers did not go near her when the accident happened, nor for two days afterward, though it occurred in her room."
"Humph! Does Pierrepont come here now?"
"He has been here every day to inquire for Miss de Barryos, most days twice."
"Who sees him?"
"Miss Chalmers."
Stolliker lifted his eyebrows slightly.
"How long does he remain?"
"Not long. He has seemed dreadfully depressed since Miss de Barryos' illness."
"Is there anything else?"
"I don't think so."
"The whole case strikes me as a very singular one," said Stolliker, musing. "My own opinion is that we shall have another one to ferret out as soon as Pierrepont is safely off our hands. I want you to help me, Ahbel. You think you can?"
"I can try."
"Keep your eyes on Miss Chalmers and notify me of everything she does. If she enters Miss de Barryos' room, be sure you hear the conversation that takes place, and send me a detailed account of it at once. I'll have Tommy Ferris opposite. If you want him put that scarlet geranium in the window and he will come at once. If there is anything that you can do for Miss de Barryos, be sure you do it. My opinion is that she is a prisoner in her own room."
"A prisoner?"
"Yes. Now that I have suggested the idea, is there anything you can remember that would confirm the suspicion?"
"Yes, there is, but I should not have thought of it. Unless Miss Chalmers is in her room the nurse never leaves, not for a single moment. She even sleeps there at night and watches me when I am inthe room like a cat would watch a mouse. She even refused to allow me to go in at all for a time."
"Ah! I thought so. Bide your time, and if you get a chance, go in there when Miss de Barryos is alone. You might manufacture some excuse for getting the woman out for a moment. My own opinion is that Miss de Barryos is suffering from some terrible mental trouble, and this apparent apathy is simply feigned to carry some point she has in view. You must help to discover whether I am right, or whether her accident and the worry over this case has caused the dreadful change in her. Remember, I depend upon you."
"I will do what is possible, for her sake, I know she was in some terrible trouble; but the night of the accident she seemed in better spirits than for a long time."
Stolliker did not wait to hear more, but slipped out of the house as noiselessly as he had entered, only pausing to whisper one sentence into his niece's ear:
"Be sure you inform me of everything Miss Chalmers does."
She smiled without reply and closed the door upon him, then went slowly upstairs, wondering how she was to obey his injunction and what there would be to report. It was her first experience in detective work, and she was naturally excited.
Jessica stood alone in her room reading a note which a messenger had just left. The hand that held it trembled slightly, and she walked nearer to the window to read, although the light was still good, as it was not late.
"My Dear Jessica"—she read—"I will be unable to call this afternoon, on account of a matter of grave importance, but shall be most anxious about Carlita. You are so good to me—have been so good during all this distressing illness of hers—that I am sure you will not think it too much trouble to send me a line concerning her condition, which will reach me upon my return at eight o'clock this evening. Please let it arrive as near that hour as you can, so that I may receive the latest news, and know if any change has taken place. Yours gratefully and affectionately,"Leith Pierrepont."
"My Dear Jessica"—she read—"I will be unable to call this afternoon, on account of a matter of grave importance, but shall be most anxious about Carlita. You are so good to me—have been so good during all this distressing illness of hers—that I am sure you will not think it too much trouble to send me a line concerning her condition, which will reach me upon my return at eight o'clock this evening. Please let it arrive as near that hour as you can, so that I may receive the latest news, and know if any change has taken place. Yours gratefully and affectionately,
"Leith Pierrepont."
She read it through the second time, then crushed it in her hand, smiling grimly.
"Eight o'clock," she mused. "And Stolliker said the train from Albany arrived about nine, with the Mexican officer on board. I wonder if you would have written in a hand so firm if you had been aware of the sword that hangs above your head, my dear Leith? I wonder if the consuming tenderness of this great affection will receive a shock when you hear the truth tonight? How little we know in the morning the climax of the day!"
During all the remaining hours of the afternoon she sat quite still, thinking, thinking, planning, only once going to Carlita's room, but returning to her own when she saw that all there was as it had been. She even locked the door upon her mother, and would allow no entrance. She denied her maid admission, but going to the door, exclaimed:
"A cup of tea—that is all. But strong, strong—strong, mind you!"
She took it with her own hands, locked the door, drank it without either sugar, cream, or even lemon, and then with steady hand began to dress herself.
She had never been so careful in the arrangement of her hair, never so particular in the selectionof her costume, never so dissatisfied with herself when the operation was completed.
It was a street-gown she had donned, but not the tailor-made which she ordinarily wore on such occasions. It was a little French thing in tan and cerise, with a tiny violet bonnet that sat jauntily upon her well-poised head, and to one less exacting than herself had never appeared to better advantage. She was really more than beautiful, more than fascinating as she turned from the mirror and looked at the clock.
"A quarter to eight," she muttered. "I shall be waiting for you when you arrive, my dear Leith, instead of the note you expect."
She drew on her gloves, and then alone and unattended left the house.
She had not ordered her carriage, but when she reached the corner called one and gave the address to the coachman. She dismissed him at the door of Leith's apartment. The hall-boy looked at her curiously when she requested to be directed to Leith's apartments, but showed her there without a word, and Leith's valet admitted her to his presence.
"Mr. Pierrepont is at home," he answered in reply to her question. "He came in not five minutes ago."
Leith turned and came swiftly toward her when he saw who it was that had entered, taking both her hands in his and pressing them softly, as some of the color brought by the cutting March wind receded from his cheeks.
"What is it?" he asked swiftly. "Something must have happened to bring you. Carlita! How is she?"
A little curl of scorn flashed over Jessica's lips. Carlita! Always Carlita! She was risking her reputation in coming to him, yet his first thought was of Carlita!
She paused to draw off her gloves before replying,he watching her breathlessly. He placed a chair for her, but she motioned him aside and stood leaning against the mantel-shelf, as she had often seen him do in happier times. When she spoke, there was a repressed, nervous hoarseness in her tone that gave a sort of uncanny earnestness to her words.
"I have not come about Carlita," she said, "save incidentally. It is something connected with—you, with your own vital interests, that has tempted me to brave the censure of the world—to risk my reputation."
Leith smiled.
"It is not quite so bad as that," he said, soothingly. "My reputation is not so dreadful that your own is compromised by coming to my rooms."
"There isn't time to stand on trifles," she interrupted, dropping her arm from the mantel and going a step nearer to him. "Moments are precious, and yet I find it very difficult to say that which I must. You are standing in the most deadly peril! At any moment it may be too late to save yourself—and I have come to warn you!"
"What can you mean?" asked Leith, the smile fading.
"You are accused of the murder of Olney Winthrop!"
"I? Are you mad?"
"Heaven knows I wish I were, but it is too infamously true. Even now the detective, with an officer from Mexico, are here to arrest you and return you there. And the woman whom you have loved, the woman you would have made your wife, the woman in whose pretended illness you have shown such interest, is the person who has hatched the plot, who has bought your conviction, who has won the contempt and loathing of all men by promising to become your wife in order to betray you to the gallows!"
She had gone up to him and was looking up into his eyes, which had become glassy and blood-shot, but after a moment's awful pause he turned from her with a little gesture of disbelief.
"Good God!" he muttered. "To accuse—her—of that!"
"It is true! I swear to you it is true!" cried Jessica, desperately. "It was she who accused you to the detective whom she sent to discover proof of your crime. She told him that you loved her, that you had killed your best friend in order that you might steal his promised wife from him. She sent Edmond Stolliker there, had the body of Olney Winthrop exhumed, and discovered that you had lied, that he had not been shot, but had been suffocated in a mine!"
Pierrepont groaned.
She paused just long enough to allow her words full force, then continued rapidly:
"She detained you by her side by every means at her avail until Stolliker should obtain such proof as was necessary for your conviction, and while he was there seeking it, paying thousands of dollars for it if necessary, for she had put her entire fortune at his command, Manuel Meriaz came here. You remember the evening at our house? You and he left the drawing-room together. She left the poker-table and followed. She listened to your conversation from behind a portière that screens the library from an anteroom, and the following day she sent for Meriaz. She purchased from him a story, bought it with gold, of how you had gone for a walk with Olney, and when you were in a lonely and deserted place, you had pushed him down the old Donato Mine, where he was suffocated with the gases before any one could go to his assistance. She had him make affidavit to this, and sent it to Stolliker in Mexico. On this story he has obtained papers of extradition, and will arrest you tonight."
"And Carlita has done this?"
"She has."
"But less than a week ago she offered five thousand dollars to the man who would save my life!"
"It was in order that she might not lose her cherished revenge at the last hour. She promised to be your wife to keep you here. She loathes you with all the fierce hatred of her Mexican nature."
Pierrepont groaned. There were so many things that he remembered in that moment. Her desire that their engagement should not be announced, her cry to him: "Can't you see that I am only doing it to betray you to ruin and death?" Was not that confirmation of what Jessica had said? He groaned again.
"And she believes me guilty of this crime!" he cried, covering his suffering face with his hands. "She believes that I killed Olney, and in this dastardly way!"
His back was toward Jessica. She crept up to him, and before he was aware of her intention her arms were about him, those shining, seductive arms that she knew so well how to use.
"Ah, Leith," she murmured, softly, "if she had really loved you, she would have known you never did it; but the toils are about you so strong that Hercules himself could not break them. There is but one way, dear, and that lies in my power. I can save you, Leith. I have thought day and night since all the details of this sickening story came to me, and I have found the way. I—oh, Leith, you will forgive me in an hour like this, will you not?—I love you! So well, that not even your indifference has had power to kill that love! I would go through life your too willing slave but to be permitted to love you, to be near you, to serve you. You have thought me hard and cold and cruel sometimes; reckless, too, and careless of what I did, but it has only been because of this indifference of yourswhich has been killing me! Look in my face and read the truth, Leith! See! I have lost all shame, all fear! It is swallowed up in my great love. I can save you, dear, and I will, and all I ask in return is that you let me love you. I do not even ask for yours in return, now, because I know when you have seen the depth and strength of my devotion, it will come in time! Leith—darling—will you let me save you?"
"Save me from what?" he questioned, stonily.
"From the cruel death that she has prepared for you! From the shame and humiliation she would heap upon you! I tell you she has bought your conviction with her gold!"
"And what is it that you propose to have me do?" he asked, his voice hard and cold as iron.
"Fly with me!" she exclaimed, breathlessly. "Only until such time as this story can be proved in all its falsity. Show her that you do not care. Show her that she has not hurt you with this foul lie that she has concocted. Leith, come with me!"
He laughed aloud, his mouth rigid and drawn while the grewsome sound escaped, and loosened her fingers from his neck.
"No!" he cried, heavily. "I will await the officers she has sent here. I will stand the trial she has prepared."
"But there will be no possibility of escape for you. I tell you that, innocent or guilty, there will be no possibility of escape!"
"Then I will die upon the gallows!"
"Leith, you must be mad! Is the thought of life with me so hard to bear? Is death at her hands preferable to life and love at mine?"
"Yes," he cried savagely, fiercely, "it is! If she has purchased my ruin, she shall have it. If she wishes me to stand trial for this crime I will do it!"
"For God's sake, listen to reason!" Jessica panted."You can't know what you are doing. You can't realize what those people are."
"Do you think I would fly from a crime I never committed?"
"But they will give you no opportunity to prove your innocence. They will lock you up in one of their awful prisons, from which there will be no escape but death. What care have they for life? What is a soul to them? If they would kill you for a coat, they would betray you to the gallows for less than a hundred dollars. For the love of Heaven, listen to reason! Hark! There is a ring at the bell. It must be Stolliker and the officer. Leith, the last moment is here! Think quick, and answer me! Will you let me save you?"
"No!"
"Oh, Leith, Leith I love you! It is life with me or death for her and without her. Listen: they are in the hall. For God's sake, come!"
He did not speak. His face was white and set as marble. His lips were compressed to a straight line; his eyes burned fiercely. He threw his arm about her and led her quickly to a side door. She thought he had yielded to her entreaties, but he thrust her inside the room without even a murmured word of thanks for her effort to save him, closed the door and turned the key in the lock, then faced the other door through which his visitor must enter.
Already it had been flung open.
"Carlita!"
The name escaped him in a hoarse, gasping cry as she staggered across the room toward him, her frail strength almost exhausted in her effort to reach him. She would have fallen there at his feet, butthat he caught her in his arms, and as he would have placed her in a chair she caught the lapels of his coat and held herself close to him by the very strength of despair.
"No!" she gasped. "Give me courage by the strength of your touch to tell my awful story. If you turn from me I shall die before it is finished, and then all will be lost! I told you that I was betraying you to ruin and death, but you would not believe me, would not listen. Great God, Leith, it was so hideously true! Do you know what I have done? Will you despise me, when you have heard, as I despise myself?"
He looked down at her. Knowing what he knew, he still could not keep his arms from supporting her. Knowing what he knew, he could force his lips to say no word of blame.
"Let me hide my face while I tell you!" she cried, concealing it in his bosom. "I have betrayed you! I have sought your ruin! I discovered that you had killed Olney Winthrop—see? I can say it without so much as a shiver now—and I have put you in the hands of the law with every chain of the ghastly story complete. They are coming even now to arrest you. There is not a moment to lose. You must go at once!"
He held her back from him and strove to look at her downcast face.
"Why have you come here to tell me this?" he asked hoarsely. "Now that you have about accomplished your revenge, why do you warn me of the danger?"
It never occurred to her to wonder at his apparent knowledge of it all. She only cried out in an agony of remorse:
"Why, don't you understand without my telling you? Don't you see it all? I love you! Surely you know that. Surely you have read it from the beginning, even when I was so hideously unconscious.I have loved you from the first, best of all, and I love you now as it never seemed possible that any human thing could love. I would give my life, my very soul itself to undo this awful thing that I have done!"
"And yet you believe me guilty of this crime?"
"What right have I to judge you?" she cried, feverishly, endeavoring to remove her face from his gaze. "What do I know of your temptation? Oh, just God, it is that which has cursed me! I shut my eyes to the sweetest sentiment He ever put into a human soul, and set myself up to usurp His authority—to avenge! This is my punishment. See, Leith, I do not endeavor to conceal my face. I do not try to hide my shame. If you go to the gallows, I go too, for the crime is half mine. I have striven not to lose my reason during these last few, awful days when I was kept a prisoner in my own room, from which I have only now escaped in order that I might know all that was taking place, in order that I might die with you!"
"Wait, Carlita! You are speaking so wildly that I don't quite follow you. You say—"
"There isn't time!" she gasped. "There isn't time! They may be here at any moment, and you must make your escape before they come. I will find some means of throwing them off the track—of preventing their following you until your escape is assured. But you must go at once—at once!"
He looked at her curiously, a strange expression crossing his face.
"With you?" he asked.
"I will follow you, if you wish it!" she cried, desperately. "You can find some means of communicating with me—of letting me know where you are—and I swear I will come to you when you send."
"Believing me to be a—murderer?"
She shivered.
"We will never mention that between us," shegroaned. "We will begin a new life—a new life in a new country—and forget. Oh, Leith, there is no more time! For God's sake—for my sake—go!"
He smiled and kissed her.
For some reason the ghastly whiteness had disappeared from his countenance. He held her very closely in his arms, observing that she did not shrink from the embrace. He lifted her face so that her lips rested close to his own, as he said gently:
"How great must be the strength of love when innocence does not turn away appalled at guilt. Darling, suppose I should tell you that I do not fear the coming of these men? Suppose I should tell you that I do not fear the investigation of all the world, because I am innocent of the crime with which I have been charged—because I was not even by when Olney was pushed into the Donato Mine?"
She staggered back from him, her face growing whiter, more sunken than it had been before. She did not touch him then, but as he would have taken her again in his arms, motioned him back, passing her hands across her eyes to clear her vision.
"I thought to spare you and—and him," Leith cried swiftly, hurrying through the tale, because he saw how she was suffering; "but I have realized now that nothing under heaven will justify a lie. That was my sin, Carlita; but nothing beyond that, I swear to you. Half an hour ago I would have scorned to justify myself in your eyes, but such love as yours does not come into the lives of many men. Listen, darling. Even in those old days when you scorned me, I loved you so well that I wished to spare you any pain that it lay in my power to save you from. I knew your pure white innocence and the suffering it would entail upon you to discover that the lover you had chosen in preference to me was not the man you had pictured him. Carlita, a woman's idea of a man—particularly a young girl'sbrought up in the untarnished school you were—and a man's idea of a man are not the same. You demand purity of him as he demands it of you, and while Olney was my friend—while I loved him like a brother—I wished to save you from a knowledge of—his past. Two years ago, when Olney was in Mexico he met a girl with whom he thought he fell in love. She was a hot-blooded Mexican, who loved him in return, but with a sort of savage ferocity. She was the daughter of Manuel Meriaz. When Olney left Mexico there was some kind of an understanding between them—a relationship with which I would not offend your pure ears. But Olney forgot her in a short time. When he went back to Mexico, I believe he had ceased to remember her very existence; but she had not forgotten him. She and her father were at the mines. She reminded Olney of his old promise to marry her. She even pleaded with him to keep his word. She loved him fondly, and—well Carlita, he should have made good his broken troth, because there was a—a little infant in Mexico—a tiny dead child, upon whose tomb there was no name."
"Great God!"
"Olney could not be brought to see the justice in her claim, because he loved you, and one day, after a violent scene, in which she besought him to make good the old promise, for their dead baby's sake, there, under the desolation of the forsaken mine, where she had summoned him for a rendezvous, she pushed him to his death. I swear to you that I do not believe she meant to kill him, and so, in pity for her blighted life, I tried to save her from the punishment of her crime—to save him from the shame of public infamy, and you from the bitter knowledge of it all. Manuel Meriaz knew this story. He cared little enough, Heaven knows, for the disgrace of the poor girl, so long as he could gain money through it, and so I bought his silence,which he had discovered was of value to me because of my affection for Olney and my love for you. Carlita, before God, this is all the truth!"
They were both so interested that they had not heard the opening of the front door again, nor the low-spoken words in the hall, for Carlita had fallen upon her knees at the feet of the man she loved.
"Father in heaven, the punishment is greater than I can bear!" she was crying aloud, in her agony. "Innocent! Innocent, and I have—"
But already she was in his arms, the wild words hushed by his passionate kisses.
"Darling," he whispered, "my full forgiveness is measured by the magnitude of your love. I should have told you—I should have trusted you."
And then, as he lifted his head, he saw two men standing already inside the door—Stolliker and the Mexican officer in uniform.
In all his experience as a detective, it is doubtful if Edmond Stolliker was ever so surprised as at the tableau that faced him as he entered Leith Pierrepont's room.
He stood there dumb, stunned, too bewildered to speak, and it was Leith himself who came to his assistance.
He put Carlita aside, gently placing her in a chair, where she sat rigidly upright, her eyes fixed upon the two men helplessly, hopelessly, in spite of her belief now in Leith's innocence, her hands clasped tightly, then he stepped forward.
"Gentlemen," he exclaimed, proudly, though as nonchalantly as he had ever spoken in his life, his handsome head flung up, not defiantly, but inviting examination, "I know why you have come here;have just heard it from the lips of this young lady—my affianced wife, and I am ready to go with you. It would be useless for me to assert my innocence of this infamous charge to you, as I know you are compelled to do that which your commanding officers have instructed you to do, but I hope there will be no scene about the arrest whatever. I will accompany you quietly wherever you desire, only stipulating that I be granted a few minutes' conversation with Miss de Barryos, in your presence if needs be, though I confess I should prefer not."
It gave Stolliker time, and he managed to catch his breath.
"It is not at all necessary, sir," he said, recovering from his half-dazed stupidity. "The fact is, that Carpano has just received a telegram from his chief which makes it unnecessary for you to return with us to Mexico at all."
"What!"
Carlita had sprung to her feet, a tide of crimson color surging through her cheeks, brow and throat, a wild light had sprung to her eyes, and the exclamation was little more than a hoarse cry of gladness wrung through her white, tortured lips.
Leith stepped quickly forward and placed his arm about her for much required support. Stolliker smiled.
"The fact is, sir," he continued, "the telegram announced that a search of the Donato Mine revealed a scrap of paper which Mr. Winthrop had torn from a note-book before the gases of the mine overcame him, upon which he had written something to the effect that he had fallen there purely by accident, and that no one was responsible but his own carelessness. But it seems from the meager details we have been able to gain so far, that when the contents of the scrap of paper became known, Senorita Meriaz fell into violent hysteria, claiming that he had written it to screen her, for she hadpushed him there to his death, intending to kill him. She testified to the statement, before witnesses, and then—it may be that her heart broke, poor girl, for the telegram contains the further information that she died less than an hour afterward."
For all the fact that Carlita's arms were about his neck, in spite of the presence of those two supposedly unsympathetic men, and that Carlita's tears were flowing freely in wildest happiness, a shadow of regret lay in Leith's grave eyes.
"It is the happiest fate that could have overtaken her," he said, gently. "Heaven knows I am sorry for her, and would have shielded her had the power been left me, but her own misery was too great to be borne. And now may I ask how it happened that you came to tell me this?"
"It seems rather a peculiar story to me, sir," Stolliker answered, "understanding as little of it as I do, but you or Miss de Barryos may be able to supply all that I can not tell. When I went this morning to call upon Miss de Barryos, the manner of my reception and the fact that I was denied admission into her presence until I had declined to take a report at all, aroused my suspicions. Then when I was conducted to her apartment, Miss Chalmers remained there refusing to allow me a moment alone with my patroness. I was forced to tell the details of the situation to her, she apparently being as familiar with the history of the case as I was, perhaps more so. I observed that while Miss de Barryos was evidently listening intently to all that I was saying, she was suppressing all evidence of it, therefore betraying to me the fact that she did not wish Miss Chalmers to share her feeling upon the subject, and further, that she was evidently striving to appear more ill than she really was, though Heaven knows it was bad enough. I concluded, therefore, that her quiet was the result of acting in the presence of Miss Chalmers."
"Which it was!" cried Carlita, earnestly, turning toward him again.
"I therefore concluded that, as I had been denied admission and then permitted to see her under Miss Chalmers' espionage, that Miss de Barryos was kept a prisoner."
"A prisoner!" cried Leith, a flash in his gray eyes that was dangerous.
"It is quite true!" exclaimed Carlita, excitedly.
"It does not take a detective long to jump at a conclusion under those circumstances," said Stolliker, with a smile. "I then questioned my niece, Ahbel, who is Miss de Barryos' maid, and had my suspicions confirmed. I instructed her that she was to closely watch Miss Chalmers, and report to me, through a medium which I named to her, any movement made by Miss Chalmers. Before that, however, Miss Chalmers insisted upon knowing what time the train from Albany would arrive, and what time the arrest would be made. As I did not trust her, naturally I did not tell the exact truth. At ten minutes before eight I was notified that Miss Chalmers had left the house. At eight, I knew that she had entered this one."
"This one!" gasped Carlita. "Jessica has been here?"
"Yes," answered Leith. "I will tell you everything in a moment. Go on, Mr. Stolliker. Your story interests me."
"I had instructed my niece, Ahbel, that she was to induce the nurse to leave Miss de Barryos alone with her for a moment, using any means that lay in her power, and this injunction also she carried out. She had Miss Chalmers' own maid summon her, then when Miss de Barryos was alone, Ahbel went into the room. Miss de Barryos knows the rest. She told her maid that it was a matter of life and death that she should leave the house at once, and instructed by me, that Miss de Barryos was tocarry out any wish she might express, Ahbel quickly threw a dress over her negligee, and—Perhaps you can tell the sequel of the story better than I can, Mr. Pierrepont," exclaimed the detective, with a merry twinkle in his penetrating eye. "At all events, when this telegram was received, I knew where to find her, though I confess I thought she had come for the purpose of thwarting some scheme of Miss Chalmers', and I wanted no harm to befall her."
Leith extended his hand, and with cordial warmth the detective took it.
"I thank you!" he exclaimed in the old way that charmed men and women alike. "You might have worked great harm to me, but you did it in her interest. You have been her friend, and I can harbor nothing against you after that, even if I would. She has had few enough of them, poor child."
"I am glad to have served her, and still more glad that I have been saved the unhappiness which this cruel mistake would have given me if it had gone further. If I may be permitted to congratulate you both, sir, I will retire. May I have a few minutes' conversation with you in the morning? There is the treachery of Meriaz to be considered. Perjury is no light offense in this country, particularly when a foreigner plots against the life of a United States citizen."
"Very well. In the morning at ten. It will give us both time to think the matter over. If you will have the kindness to send Miss de Barryos' maid here with a satchel containing the requisites of a lady's toilet you will add to the favor you have already done."
"It will give me pleasure," returned Stolliker, shaking the hand Carlita extended.
Then he and the Mexican officer, who had been a silent and non-comprehensive witness of the scene, left the room together.
Leith opened his arms and Carlita flew into them.
"My darling," he whispered, "the clouds lasted but a few moments with me, and yet I seem to have suffered for years. What must not all this cruel time have cost you? Sweet one, believing me a murderer, how is it possible that you could have loved me?"
"Don't ask me!" she cried, shivering in his embrace. "Don't ask me. How is it possible that you could love me after all my treachery? I accepted you, held you near me, allowed you even to kiss my lips, in order that I might betray you to the gallows. Was it not the kiss of Judas?"
"The kiss that weakened through love," he answered, drawing her even closer. "Ah, darling, in spite of all, even the treachery you aver, you could have offered me no greater proof of your love than you have done tonight. Do you think that I can ever forget that you would have sacrificed all the years of your life in order to bring forgetfulness to a murderer? Do you think I can forget that you would have shared my exile, with the promise that no word of unfaith should ever escape you? The Good Book says: 'Greater love hath no man than this, that he give his life for his friend.' But that was more than life, Carlita. It was hope and honor and life as well. What suffering would I not have endured to know you love me like this?"
She allowed him to soothe her and kiss her trembling lips to quiet, murmuring as he did so:
"Thank God you did not die the night you saved the child from drowning before I had obtained your forgiveness. I should have gone mad through grief and remorse if I had heard this story too late."
"Then you really offered that five thousand for my life in order that you might have me punished, as you thought I deserved?"
"No! Upon my soul, no! I was not so bad as that. It was the first time I had fully realized thestrength and breadth of my love for you. It was the first time I knew that all my whole being was infolded in yours, and it was for my own life I offered the reward, as well as yours. It was not of vengeance that I thought then, but only love—only love!"
"My darling!" he murmured, tenderly. "Then it was not all truth she told."
"She? Who?"
"Jessica."
"She is here?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
With his arm about her, he crossed the room, turned the key in the lock, and threw open the door, behind which Jessica stood.