And his lips set even harder than before. Was it fear because of her?
"They may have seen me enter, but they won't know who it was. You have
the note from me?"
"Yes."
"It's a lie! It's a ruse. I was forced to write it to save you! For
they're planning to murder you. Oh, my dear!"
"Hush! Hush! Murder?"
"I've been nearly hysterical all day and all the night. But. thank
heaven, I'm here to warn you in time! You mustn't go. You mustn't go!"
"Who is it?"
He had drawn his chair closer: he had taken her hands, and she noted
that his own were icy cold, but steady as a rock. Their pressure soothed
her infinitely.
"Joe Rix, the Pedlar, Harry Masters. They'll be at the shack at ten
o'clock, but not I!"
"Murder, but a very clumsy scheme. Three men leave town and commit a
murder and then expect to go undetected? Not even in the mountain
desert!"
"But you don't understand, you don't understand! They're wise as foxes.
They'll take no risk. They don't even leave town together or travel by
the same routes. Harry Masters starts first. He rides out at eight
o'clock in the morning and takes the north trail. He rides down the
gulch and winds out of it and strikes for the shack at the ford. At half
past eight the Pedlar starts. He goes past Sandy's place and then over
the trail through the marsh. You know it?"
"Yes."
"Last of all, Joe Rix starts at nine o'clock. Half an hour between
them."
"How does he go to the shack?"
"By the south trail. He takes the ridge of the hills. But they'll all be
at the shack long before you and they'll shoot you down from a distance
as you come up to it. Plain murder, but even for cowardly murder they
daren't face you except three to one."
He was thoughtful.
"Suppose they were to be met on the way?"
"You're mad to think of it!"
"But if they fail this time they'll try again. They must be taught a
lesson."
"Three men? Oh, my dear, my dear! Promise!"
"Very well. I shall do nothing rash. And I shall never forget that
you've come to tell me this and been in peril, Nell, for if they found
you had come to me--"
"The Pedlar would cut my throat. I know him!"
"Ah! But now you must go. I'll take you down the hill, dear."
"No, no! It's much easier to get back alone. My face will be covered.
But there's no way you could be disguised. You have a way of
walking--good night--and God bless you!"
She was in his arms, straining him to her; and then she slipped out the
door.
And sure enough, there was the colonel in his chair not fifty feet away
with a girl pushing him. The moonlight was too dim for Nelly Lebrun to
make out the face of Lou Macon, but even the light which escaped through
the filter of clouds was enough to set her golden hair glowing. The
color was not apparent, but its luster was soft silver in the night.
There was a murmur of the colonel's voice as Nelly came out of the
cabin.
And then, from the girl, a low cry.
It brought the blood to the cheeks of Nelly as she hurried down the
hill, for she recognized the pain that was in it; and it occurred to her
that if the girl was in love with Jack Landis she was strangely
interested in Donnegan also.
The thought came so sharply home to her that she paused abruptly on the
way down the hill. After all, this Macon girl would be a very strange
sort if she were not impressed by the little red-headed man, with his
gentle voice and his fiery ways, and his easy way of making himself a
brilliant spectacle whenever he appeared in public. And Nelly
remembered, also, with the keen suspicion of a woman in love how weakly
Donnegan had responded to her embrace this night. How absent-mindedly
his arms had held her, and how numbly they had fallen away when she
turned at the door.
But she shook her head and made the suspicion shudder its way out of
her. Lou Macon, she decided, was just the sort of girl who would think
Jack Landis an ideal. Besides, she had never had an opportunity to see
Donnegan in his full glory at Milligan's. And as for Donnegan? He was
wearied out; his nerves relaxed; and for the deeds with which he had
startled The Corner and won her own heart he was now paying the penalty
in the shape of ruined nerves. Pity again swelled in her heart, and a
consuming hatred for the three murderers who lived in her father's
house.
And when she reached her room again her heart was filled with a singing
happiness and a glorious knowledge that she had saved the man she loved.
And Donnegan himself?
He had seen Lou and her father: he had heard that low cry of pain; and
now he sat bowed again over his table, his face in his hands and a
raging devil in his heart.
41
There was one complication which Nelly Lebrun might have foreseen after
her pretended change of heart and her simulated confession to Joe Rix
that she still loved the lionlike Lord Nick. But strangely enough she
did not think of this phase: and even when her father the next morning
approached her in the hall and tapping her arm whispered: "Good girl!
Nick has just heard and he's hunting for you now!" Even then the full
meaning did not come home to her. It was not until she saw the great
form of Lord Nick stalking swiftly down the hall that she knew. He came
with a glory in his face which the last day had graven with unfamiliar
lines; and when he saw her he threw up his hand so that it almost
brushed the ceiling, and cried out.
What could she do? Try to push him away; to explain?
There was nothing to be done. She had to submit when he swept her into
his arms.
"Rix has told me. Rix has told me. Ah, Nell, you little fox!"
"Told you what, Nick?"
Was he, too, a party to the murderous plan?
But he allowed himself to be pushed away.
"I've gone through something in the last few days. Why did you do it,
girl?"
She saw suddenly that she must continue to play her part.
"Some day I'll tell you why it was that I gave you up so easily, Nell.
You thought I was afraid of Donnegan?" He ground his teeth and turned
pale at the thought. "But that wasn't it. Some day I can tell you. But
after this, the first man who comes between us--Donnegan or any
other--I'll turn him into powder--under my heel!"
He ground it into the floor as he spoke. She decided that she would see
how much he knew.
"It will never be Donnegan, at least," she said. "He's done for today.
And I'm almost sorry for him in spite of all that he's done."
He became suddenly grave.
"What are you saying, Nell?"
"Why, Joe told you, didn't he? They've drawn Donnegan out of town, and
now they're lying in wait for him. Yes, they must have him, by this
time. It's ten o'clock!"
A strangely tense exclamation broke from Lord Nick. "They've gone for
Donnegan?"
"Yes. Are you angry?"
The big man staggered; one would have said that he had been stunned with
a blow.
"Garry!" he whispered.
"What are you saying?"
"Nell," he muttered hoarsely, "did you know about it?"
"But I did it for you, Nick. I knew you hated--"
"No, no! Don't say it!" He added bitterly, after a moment. "This is for
my sins."
And then, to her: "But you knew about it and didn't warn him? You hated
him all the time you were laughing with him and smiling at him? Oh,
Nell! What a merciless witch of a woman you are! For the rest of
them--I'll wait till they come back!"
"What are you going to do, Nick?"
"I told them I'd pay the man who killed Donnegan--with lead. Did the
fools think I didn't mean it?"
Truly, no matter what shadow had passed over the big man, he was the
lion again, and Nell shrank from him.
"We'll wait for them," he said. "We'll wait for them here."
And they sat down together in the room. She attempted to speak once in a
shaken voice, but he silenced her with a gesture, and after that she sat
and watched in quiet the singular play of varying expressions across his
face. Grief, rage, tenderness, murderous hate--they followed like a
puppet play.
What was Donnegan to him? And then there was a tremor of fear. Would the
three suspect when they reached the shack by the ford and no Donnegan
came to them? The moments stole on. Then the soft beat of a galloping
horse in the sand. The horse stopped. Presently they saw Joe Rix and
Harry Masters pass in front of the window. And they looked as though a
cyclone had caught them up, juggled them a dizzy distance in the air,
and then flung them down carelessly upon bruising rocks. Their hats were
gone; and the clothes of burly Harry Masters were literally torn from
his back. Joe Rix was evidently far more terribly hurt, for he leaned on
the arm of Masters and they came on together, staggering.
"They've done the business!" exclaimed Lord Nick. "And now, curse them,
I'll do theirs!"
But the girl could not speak. A black haze crossed before her eyes. Had
Donnegan gone out madly to fight the three men in spite of her warning?
The door opened. They stood in the doorway, and if they had seemed a
horrible sight passing the window, they were a deadly picture at close
range. And opposite them stood Lord Nick; in spite of their wounds there
was murder in his face and his revolver was out.
"You've met him? You've met Donnegan?" he asked angrily.
Masters literally carried Joe Rix to a chair and placed him in it. He
had been shot through both shoulders, and though tight bandages had
stanched the wound he was still in agony. Then Masters raised his head.
"We've met him," he said.
"What happened?"
But Masters, in spite of the naked gun in the hand of Lord Nick, was
looking straight at Nelly Lebrun.
"We fought him."
"Then say your prayers, Masters."
"Say prayers for the Pedlar, you fool," said Masters bitterly. "He's
dead, and Donnegan's still living!"
There was a faint cry from Nelly Lebrun. She sank into her chair again.
"We've been double-crossed," said Masters, still looking at the girl. "I
was going down the gulch the way we planned. I come to the narrow place
where the cliffs almost touch, and right off the wall above me drops a
wildcat. I thought it was a cat at first. And then I found it was
Donnegan.
"The way he hit me from above knocked me off the horse. Then we hit the
ground. I started for my gun; he got it out of my hand; I pulled my
knife. He got that away, too. His fingers work with steel springs and
act like a cat's claws. Then we fought barehanded. He didn't say a word.
But kept snarling in his throat. Always like a cat. And his face was
devilish. Made me sick inside. Pretty soon he dived under my arms. Got
me up in the air. I came down on my head.
"Of course I went out cold. When I came to there was still a mist in
front of my eyes and this lump on the back of my head. He'd figured that
my head was cracked and that I was dead. That's the only reason he left
me. Later I climbed on my hoss and fed him the spur.
"But I was too late. I took the straight cut for the ford, and when I
got there I found that Donnegan had been there before me. Joe Rix was
lyin' on the floor. When he got to the shack Donnegan was waitin' for
him. They went for their guns and Donnegan beat him to it. The hound
didn't shoot to kill. He plugged him through both shoulders, and left
him lyin' helpless. But I got a couple of bandages on him and saved him.
"Then we cut back for home and crossed the marsh. And there we found the
Pedlar.
"Too late to help him. Maybe Donnegan knew that the Pedlar was something
of a flash with a gun himself, and he didn't take any chances. He'd met
him face to face the same way he met Joe Rix and killed him. Shot him
clean between the eyes. Think of shooting for the head with a snap shot!
That's what he done and Joe didn't have time to think twice after that
slug hit him. His gun wasn't even fired, he was beat so bad on the draw.
"So Joe and me come back home. And we come full of questions!"
"Let me tell you something," muttered Lord Nick, putting up the weapon
which he had kept exposed during all of the recital. "You've got what
was coming to you. If Donnegan hadn't cleaned up on you, you'd have had
to talk turkey with me. Understand?"
"Wait a minute," protested Harry Masters.
And Joe Rix, almost too far gone for speech, set his teeth over a groan
and cast a look of hatred at the girl.
"Wait a minute, chief. There's one thing we all got to get straight.
Somebody had tipped off Donnegan about our whole plan. Was it the Pedlar
or Rix or me? I guess good sense'll tell a man that it wasn't none of
us, eh? Then who was it? The only other person that knew about the
plan--Nell--Nell, the crooked witch--and it's her that murdered the
Pedlar--curse her!"
He thrust out his bulky arm as he spoke.
"Her that lied her way into our confidence with a lot of talk about you,
Nick. Then what did she do? She goes runnin' to the gent that she said
she hated. Don't you see her play? She makes fools of us--she makes a
fool out of you!"
She dared not meet the glance of Lord Nick. Even now she might have
acted out her part and filled in with lies, but she was totally
unnerved.
"Get Rix to bed," was all he said, and he did not even glance at Nelly
Lebrun.
Masters glowered at him, and then silently obeyed, lifting Joe as a
helpless bulk, for the fat man was nearly fainting with pain. Not until
they had gone and he had closed the door after them and upon the murmurs
of the servants in the hall did Lord Nick turn to Nelly.
"Is it true?" he asked shortly.
Between relief and terror her mind was whirling.
"Is what true?"
"You haven't even sense enough to lie, Nell, eh? It's all true, then?
And last night, after you'd wormed it out of Joe, you went to Donnegan?"
She could only stare miserably at him.
"And that was why you pushed me away when I kissed you a little while
ago?"
Once more she was dumb. But she was beginning to be afraid. Not for
herself, but for Donnegan.
"Nell, I told you I'd never let another man come between us again. I
meant it. I know you're treacherous now; but that doesn't keep me from
wanting you. It's Donnegan again--Donnegan still? Nell, you've killed
him. As sure as if your own finger pulled the trigger when I shoot him.
He's a dead one, and you've done it!"
If words would only come! But her throat was stiff and cold and aching.
She could not speak.
"You've done more than kill him," said Lord Nick. "You've put a curse on
me as well. And afterward I'm going to even up with you. You hear me?
Nell, when I shoot Donnegan I'm doing a thing worse than if he was a
girl--or a baby. You can't understand that; I don't want you to know.
But some time when you're happy again and you're through grieving for
Donnegan, I'll tell you the truth and make your heart black for the rest
of your life."
Still words would not come. She strove to cling to him and stop him, but
he cast her away with a single gesture and strode out the door.
42
There was no crowd to block the hill at this second meeting of Donnegan
and Lord Nick. There was a blank stretch of brown hillside with the wind
whispering stealthily through the dead grass when Lord Nick thrust open
the door of Donnegan's shack and entered.
The little man had just finished shaving and was getting back into his
coat while George carried out the basin of water. And Donnegan, as he
buttoned the coat, was nodding slightly to the rhythm of a song which
came from the cabin of the colonel near by. It was a clear, high music,
and though the voice was light it carried the sound far. Donnegan looked
up to Lord Nick; but still he kept the beat of the music.
He seemed even more fragile this morning than ever before. Yet Lord Nick
was fresh from the sight of the torn bodies of the two fighting men whom
this fellow had struck and left for dead, or dying, as he thought.
"Dismiss your servant," said Lord Nick.
"George, you may go out."
"And keep him out."
"Don't come back until I call for you."
Big George disappeared into the kitchen and the outside door was closed.
Yet even with all the doors closed the singing of Lou Macon kept running
through the cabin in a sweet and continuous thread.
What made the ball so fine?
Robin Adair!
What made the assembly shine?
Robin Adair!
And no matter what Lord Nick could say, it seemed that with half his
mind Donnegan was listening to the song of the girl.
"First," said the big man, "I've broken my word."
Donnegan waved his hand and dismissed the charge. He pointed to a chair,
but Lord Nick paid no heed.
"I've broken my word," he went on. "I promised that I'd give you a clear
road to win over Nelly Lebrun. I gave you the road and you've won her,
but now I'm taking her back!"
"Ah, Henry," said Donnegan, and a flash of eagerness came in his eyes.
"You're a thousand times welcome to her."
Lord Nick quivered.
"Do you mean it?"
"Henry, don't you see that I was only playing for a purpose all the
time? And if you've opened the eyes of Nelly to the fact that you truly
love her and I've been only acting out of a heartless sham--why, I'm
glad of it--I rejoice, Henry, I swear I do!"
He came forward, smiling, and held out his hand; Lord Nick struck it
down, and Donnegan shrank back, holding his wrist tight in the fingers
of his other hand.
"Is it possible?" murmured Henry Reardon. "Is it possible that she loves
a man who despises her?"
"Not that! If any other man said this to me, I'd call for an explanation
of his meaning, Henry. No, no! I honor and respect her, I tell you. By
heaven, Nick, she has a thread of pure, generous gold in her nature!"
"Ah?"
"She has saved my life no longer ago than this morning."
"It's perfect," said Lord Nick. And he writhed under a torment. "I am
discarded for the sake of a man who despises her!"
Donnegan, frowning with thought, watched his older brother. And still
the thin singing entered the room, that matchless old melody of "Robin
Adair;" the day shall never come when that song does not go straight
from heart to heart. But because Donnegan still listened to it, Lord
Nick felt that he was contemptuously received, and a fresh spur was
driven into his tender pride.
"Donnegan!" he said sharply.
Donnegan raised his hand slowly.
"Do you call me by that name?"
"Aye. You've ceased to be a brother. There's no blood tie between us
now, as I warned you before."
Donnegan, very white, moved back toward the wall and rested his
shoulders lightly against it, as though he needed the support. He made
no answer.
"I warned you not to cross me again." exclaimed Lord Nick.
"I have not."
"Donnegan, you've murdered my men!"
"Murder? I've met them fairly. Not murder, Henry."
"Leave out that name, I say!"
"If you wish," said Donnegan very faintly.
The sight of his resistlessness seemed to madden Lord Nick. He made one
of his huge strides and came to the center of the room and dominated all
that was in it, including his brother.
"You murdered my men," repeated Lord Nick. "You turned my girl against
me with your lying love-making and turned her into a spy. You made her
set the trap and then you saw that it was worked. You showed her how she
could wind me around her finger again."
"Will you let me speak?"
"Aye, but be short."
"I swear to you, Henry, that I've never influenced her to act against
you; except to win her away for just one little time, and she will
return to you again. It is only a fancy that makes her interested in me.
Look at us! How could any woman in her senses prefer me?"
"Are you done?"
"No, no! I have more to say: I have a thousand things!"
"I shall not hear them"
"Henry, there is a black devil in your face. Beware of it."
"Who put it there?"
"It was not I."
"What power then?"
"Something over which I have no control."
"Are you trying to mystify me?"
"Listen!" And as Donnegan raised his hand, the singing poured clear and
small into the room.
"That is the power," said Donnegan.
"You're talking gibberish'" exclaimed the other pettishly.
"I suppose I shouldn't expect you to understand."
"On the other hand, what I have to say is short and to the point. A
child could comprehend it. You've stolen the girl. I tried to let her
go. I can't. I have to have her. Willing or unwilling she has to belong
to me, Donnegan."
"If you wish, I shall promise that I shall never see her again or speak
to her."
"You fool' Won't she find you out? Do you think I could trust you? Only
in one place--underground."
Donnegan had clasped his hands upon his breast and his eyes were wide.
"What is it you mean, Henry?"
"I'll trust you--dead!"
"Henry!"
"That name means nothing to me I've forgotten it. The worlds has
forgotten it."
"Henry, I implore you to keep cool--to give me five minutes for talk--"
"No, not one. I know your cunning tongue!"
"For the sake of the days when you loved me, my brother. For the sake of
the days when you used to wheel my chair and be kind to me."
"You're wasting your time. You're torturing us both for nothing.
Donnegan, my will is a rock. It won't change."
And drawing closer his right hand gripped his gun and the trembling
passion of the gunfighter set him shuddering.
"You're armed, Garry. Go for your gun!"
"No, no!"
"Then I'll give you cause to fight."
And as he spoke, he drew back his massive arm and with his open hand
smote Donnegan heavily across the face. The weight of that blow crushed
the little man against the wall.
"Your gun!" cried Lord Nick, swaying from side to side as the passion
choked him.
Donnegan fell upon his knees and raised his arms.
"God have mercy on me, and on yourself!"
At that the blackness cleared slowly on the face of the big man; he
thrust his revolver into the holster.
"This time," he said, "there's no death. But sooner or later we meet,
Donnegan, and then, I swear by all that lives, I'll shoot you
down--without mercy--like a mad dog. You've robbed me; you've hounded
me: you've killed my men: you've taken the heart of the woman I love.
And now nothing can save you from the end."
He turned on his heel and left the room.
And Donnegan remained kneeling, holding a stained handkerchief to his
face.
All at once his strength seemed to desert him like a tree chopped at the
root, and he wilted down against the wall with closed eyes.
But the music still came out of the throat and the heart of Lou, and it
entered the room and came into the ears of Donnegan. He became aware
that there was a strength beyond himself which had sustained him, and
then he knew it had been the singing of Lou from first to last which had
kept the murder out of his own heart and restrained the hand of Lord
Nick.
Perhaps of all Donnegan's life, this was the first moment of true
humility.
43
One thing was now clear. He must not remain in The Corner unless he was
prepared for Lord Nick again: and in a third meeting guns must be drawn.
From that greater sin he shrank, and prepared to leave. His order to
George made the big man's eyes widen, but George had long since passed
the point where he cared to question the decision of his master. He
began to build the packs.
As for Donnegan, he could see that there was little to be won by
remaining. That would save Landis to Lou Macon, to be sure, but after
all, he was beginning to wonder if it were not better to let the big
fellow go back to his own kind--Lebrun and the rest. For if it needed
compulsion to keep him with Lou now, might it not be the same story
hereafter?
Indeed, Donnegan began to feel that all his labor in The Corner had been
running on a treadmill. It had all been grouped about the main purpose,
which was to keep Landis with the girl. To do that now he must be
prepared to face Nick again; and to face Nick meant the bringing of the
guilt of fratricide upon the head of one of them. There only remained
flight. He saw at last that he had been fighting blindly from the
first. He had won a girl whom he did not love--though doubtless her
liking was only the most fickle fancy. And she for whom he would have
died he had taught to hate him. It was a grim summing up. Donnegan
walked the room whistling softly to himself as he checked up his
accounts.
One thing at least he had done; he had taken the joy out of his life
forever.
And here, answering a rap at the door, he opened it upon Lou Macon. She
wore a dress of some very soft material. It was a pale blue--faded, no
doubt--but the color blended exquisitely with her hair and with the
flush of her face. It came to Donnegan that it was an unnecessary
cruelty of chance that made him see the girl lovelier than he had ever
seen her before at the very moment when he was surrendering the last
shadow of a claim upon her.
And it hurt him, also, to see the freshness of her face, the clear eyes;
and to hear her smooth, untroubled voice. She had lived untouched by
anything save the sunshine in The Corner.
Her glance flicked across his face and then fluttered down, and her
color increased guiltily.
"I have come to ask you a favor," she said.
"Step in," said Donnegan, recovering his poise at length.
At this, she looked past him, and her eyes widened a little. There was
an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders, as though the very thought of
entering this cabin horrified her. And Donnegan had to bear that look as
well.
"I'll stay here; I haven't much to say. It's a small thing."
"Large or small," said Donnegan eagerly. "Tell me!"
"My father has asked me to take a letter for him down to the town and
mail it. I--I understand that it would be dangerous for me to go alone.
Will you walk with me?"
And Donnegan turned cold. Go down into The Corner? Where by five chances
out of ten he must meet his brother in the street?
"I can do better still," he said, smiling. "I'll have George take the
letter down for you."
"Thank you. But you see, father would not trust it to anyone save me. I
asked him; he was very firm about it."
"Tush! I would trust George with my life."
"Yes, yes It is not what I wish--but my father rarely changes his
mind."
Perspiration beaded the forehead of Donnegan. Was there no way to evade
this easy request?
"You see," he faltered, "I should be glad to go--"
She raised her eyes slowly.
"But I am terribly busy this morning."
She did not answer, but half of her color left her face.
"Upon my word of honor there is no danger to a woman in the town."
"But some of the ruffians of Lord Nick--"
"If they dared to even raise their voices at you, they would hear from
him in a manner that they would never forget."
"Then you don't wish to go?"
She was very pale now; and to Donnegan it was more terrible than the gun
in the hand of Lord Nick. Even if she thought he was slighting her why
should she take it so mortally to heart? For Donnegan, who saw all
things, was blind to read the face of this girl.
"It doesn't really matter," she murmured and turned away.
A gentle motion, but it wrenched the heart of Donnegan. He was instantly
before her.
"Wait here a moment. I'll be ready to go down immediately."
"No. I can't take you from your--work."
What work did she assign to him in her imagination? Endless planning of
deviltry no doubt.
"I shall go with you," said Donnegan. "At first--I didn't dream it could
be so important. Let me get my hat."
He left her and leaped back into the cabin.
"I am going down into The Corner for a moment," he said over his
shoulder to George, as he took his belt down from the wall.
The big man strode to the wall and took his hat from a nail.
"I shall not need you, George."
But George merely grinned, and his big teeth flashed at the master. And
in the second place he took up a gun from the drawer and offered it to
Donnegan.
"The gun in that holster ain't loaded," he said.
Donnegan considered him soberly.
"I know it. There'll be no need for a loaded gun."
But once more George grinned. All at once Donnegan turned pale.
"You dog," he whispered. "Did you listen at the door when Nick was
here?"
"Me?" murmured George. "No, I just been thinking."
And so it was that while Donnegan went down the hill with Lou Macon,
carrying an empty-chambered revolver, George followed at a distance of a
few paces, and he carried a loaded weapon unknown to Donnegan.
It was the dull time of the day in The Corner. There were very few
people in the single street, and though most of them turned to look at
the little man and the girl who walked beside him, not one of them
either smiled or whispered.
"You see?" said Donnegan. "You would have been perfectly safe--even from
Lord Nick's ruffians. That was one of his men we passed back there."
"Yes. I'm safe with you," said the girl.
And when she looked up to him, the blood of Donnegan turned to fire.
Out of a shop door before them came a girl with a parcel under her arm.
She wore a gay, semi-masculine outfit, bright-colored, jaunty, and she
walked with a lilt toward them. It was Nelly Lebrun. And as she passed
them. Donnegan lifted his hat ceremoniously high. She nodded to him with
a smile, but the smile aimed wan and small in an instant. There was a
quick widening and then a narrowing of her eyes, and Donnegan knew that
she had judged Lou Macon as only one girl can judge another who is
lovelier.
He glanced at Lou to see if she had noticed, and he saw her raise her
head and go on with her glance proudly straight before her; but her face
was very pale, and Donnegan knew that she had guessed everything that
was true and far more than the truth. Her tone at the door of the post
office was ice.
"I think you are right, Mr. Donnegan. There's no danger. And if you have
anything else to do, I can get back home easily enough."
"I'll wait for you," murmured Donnegan sadly, and he stood as the door
of the little building with bowed head.
And then a murmur came down the street. How small it was, and how
sinister! It consisted of exclamations begun, and then broken sharply
off. A swirl of people divided as a cloud of dust divides before a blast
of wind, and through them came the gigantic figure of Lord Nick!
On he came, a gorgeous figure, a veritable king of men. He carried his
hat in his hand and his red hair flamed, and he walked with great
strides. Donnegan glanced behind him. The way was clear. If he turned,
Lord Nick would not pursue him, he knew.
But to flee even from his brother was more than he could do; for the
woman he loved would know of it and could never understand.
He touched the holster that held his empty gun--and waited!
An eternity between every step of Lord Nick. Others seemed to have
sensed the meaning of this silent scene. People seemed to stand frozen
in the midst of gestures. Or was that because Donnegan's own thoughts
were traveling at such lightning speed that the rest of the world seemed
standing still? What kept Lou Macon? If she were with him, not even Lord
Nick in his madness would force on a gunplay in the presence of a woman,
no doubt.
Lord Nick was suddenly close; he had paused; his voice rang over the
street and struck upon Donnegan's ear as sounds come under water.
"Donnegan!"
"Aye!" called Donnegan softly.
"It's the time!"
"Aye," said Donnegan.
Then a huge body leaped before him; it was big George. And as he sprang
his gun went up with his hand in a line of light. The two reports came
close together as finger taps on a table, and big George, completing his
spring, lurched face downward into the sand.
Dead? Not yet. All his faith and selflessness were nerving the big man.
And Donnegan stood behind him, unarmed!
He reared himself upon his knees--an imposing bulk, even then, and fired
again. But his hand was trembling, and the bullet shattered a sign above
the head of Lord Nick. He, in his turn, it seemed to Donnegan that the
motion was slow, twitched up the muzzle of his weapon and fired once
more from his hip. And big George lurched back on the sand, with his
face upturned to Donnegan. He would have spoken, but a burst of blood
choked him; yet his eyes fixed and glazed, he mustered his last
strength and offered his revolver to Donnegan.
But Donnegan let the hand fall limp to the ground. There were voices
about him; steps running; but all that he clearly saw was Lord Nick with
his feet braced, and his head high.
"Donnegan! Your gun!"
"Aye," said Donnegan.
"Take it then!"
But in the crisis, automatically Donnegan flipped his useless revolver
out of its holster and into his hand. At the same instant the gun from
Nick's hand seemed to blaze in his eyes. He was struck a crushing blow
in his chest. He sank upon his knees: another blow struck his head, and
Donnegan collapsed on the body of big George.
44
An ancient drunkard in the second story of one of the stores across the
street had roused himself at the sound of the shots and now he dragged
himself to the window and began to scream: "Murder! Murder!" over and
over, and even The Corner shuddered at the sound of his voice.
Lord Nick, his revolver still in his hand, stalked through the film of
people who now swirled about him, eager to see the dead. There was no
call for the law to make its appearance, and the representatives of the
law were wisely dilatory in The Corner.
He stood over the two motionless figures with a stony face.
"You saw it, boys," he said. "You know what I've borne from this fellow.
The big man pulled his gun first on me. I shot in self-defense. As
for--the other--it was a square fight."
"Square fight," someone answered. "You both went for your irons at the
same time. Pretty work, Nick."
It was a solid phalanx of men which had collected around the moveless
bodies as swiftly as mercury sinks through water. Yet none of them
touched either Donnegan or George. And then the solid group dissolved at
one side. It was the moan of a woman which had scattered it, and a
yellow-haired girl slipped through them. She glanced once, in horror, at
the mute faces of the men, and then there was a wail as she threw
herself on the body of Donnegan. Somewhere she found the strength of a
man to lift him and place him face upward on the sand, the gun trailing
limply in his hand. And then she lay, half crouched over him, her face
pressed to his heart--listening--listening for the stir of life.
Shootings were common in The Corner; the daily mortality ran high; but
there had never been aftermaths like this one. Men looked at one
another, and then at Lord Nick. A bright spot of color had come in his
cheeks, but his face was as hard as ever.
"Get her away from him," someone murmured.
And then another man cried out, stooped, wrenched the gun from the limp
hand of Donnegan and opened the cylinder. He spun it: daylight was
glittering through the empty cylinder.
At this the man stiffened, and with a low bow which would have done
credit to a drawing-room, he presented the weapon butt first to Lord
Nick.
"Here's something the sheriff will want to see," he said, "but maybe
you'll be interested, too."
But Lord Nick, with the gun in his hand, stared at it dumbly, turned the
empty cylinder. And the full horror crept slowly on his mind. He had not
killed his brother, he had murdered him. As his eyes cleared, he caught
the glitter of the eyes which surrounded him.
And then Lou Macon was on her knees with her hands clasped at her breast
and her face glorious.
"Help!" she was crying. "Help me. He's not dead, but he's dying unless
you help me!"
Then Lord Nick cast away his own revolver and the empty gun of Donnegan.
They heard him shout: "Garry!" and saw him stride forward.
Instantly men pressed between, hard-jawed men who meant business. It was
a cordon he would have to fight his way through: but he dissolved it
with a word.
"You fools! He's my brother!"
And then he was on his knees opposite Lou Macon.
"You?" she had stammered in horror.
"His brother, girl."
And ten minutes later, when the bandages had been wound, there was a
strange sight of Lord Nick striding up the street with his victim in his
arms. How lightly he walked; and he was talking to the calm, pale face
which rested in the hollow of his shoulder.
"He will live? He will live?" Lou Macon was pleading as she hurried at
the side of Lord Nick.
"God willing, he shall live!"
It was three hours before Donnegan opened his eyes. It was three days
before he recovered his senses, and looking aside toward the door he saw
a brilliant shaft of sunlight falling into the room. In the midst of it
sat Lou Macon. She had fallen asleep in her great weariness now that the
crisis was over. Behind her, standing, his great arms folded, stood the
indomitable figure of Lord Nick.
Donnegan saw and wondered greatly. Then he closed his eyes dreamily.
"Hush," said Donnegan to himself, as if afraid that what he saw was all
a dream. "I'm in heaven, or if I'm not, it's still mighty good to be
alive."