in her eyes when she had heard Dicky's exclamation of indifference
toward her, I would not have dreamed that her heart held any other
emotion except that of happy enjoyment of the day. She laughed and
chatted as if she had not a care in the world, directing much of her
conversation to me. It crossed my mind that for some reason of her
own she was trying to make it appear to every one that we were on
especially friendly terms.
It was after one of Dicky's periodical trips to Jim's fire, which
Harry Underwood did not allow him to forget, and his report that the
dinner would be shortly forthcoming, that Grace Draper rose and said
carelessly: "Suppose we all have another dip before dinner; there
won't be time before we leave for a swim afterward, and the water is
too fine to miss going in once more. What do you say, Mrs. Graham?
Will you race me?"
I saw Lillian's quick little gesture of dissuasion, and through me
there crept an indefinable shrinking from going with the girl, but the
men were already chasing each other through the shallow water, and I
did not wish to humiliate my guest by refusing to go with her.
"It can hardly be called a race," I answered quietly, "for you swim so
much better than I, but I will do my best."
I followed her into the water with every appearance of enjoyment, and
exerted every ounce of my strength to try to keep up with her rush
through the waves.
I knew she was not exerting her full strength, for she is a
magnificent swimmer, but I found that I had all I could do to keep
pace with her. She seemed to be bent on showing off her skill to me,
or else she was, trying to test my nerves by teasing me.
I knew that she was able to swim under the water when she chose, but
that did not accustom me to the frequent sudden disappearances which
she made, or to her equally sudden reappearances above the surface of
the water.
She would dash on ahead of me a few yards, then her head would
disappear beneath the waves. The next thing I knew she would bob up
almost at my side. There was a fascination about this skill of hers
which gripped me. I was so engrossed in watching her that I did not
realize how far out we had gone until at one of her quick turns, I,
following her, caught a glimpse of the beach.
To my overwrought imagination it seemed miles away. I suddenly felt an
overwhelming terror of the cloudless sky, the rolling waves, even of
the girl who had brought me out so far.
I looked wildly around for her, but could not see her anywhere.
Evidently she was indulging in one of her underwater tricks. I turned
blindly toward the shore. As I did so I felt a sudden jerk, a quick
clutch at my foot, a clutch that dragged me down relentlessly.
I remembered gasping, struggling, fighting for life, with an awful
sensation of being sunk in a gulf of blackness. I fancied I heard
Lillian Underwood's voice in a piercing scream. Then I knew nothing
more.
The next thing I remember was a voice. "There, she's coming out of it.
Let me have that brandy," and then I felt a spoon inserted between my
teeth and something fiery trickled gently drop by drop in my throat.
The voice was that of Dr. Pettit.
With a gasp as the pungent liquid almost strangled me, I opened my
eyes to find that the physician's arm was supporting my shoulder and
his hand holding the spoon to my lips.
"Oh, thank God, thank God," some one groaned brokenly on the other
side of me, and I turned my eyes to meet Dicky's face bent close to
mine and working with emotion.
"She is all right now," the physician said, reassuringly. "She will
suffer far more from the shock than from any real damage by her
immersion. Get her into the tent." He turned to Mrs. Underwood and
said: "Rub her down hard, and if there are any extra wraps in the
party put them around her. Give her a stiff little dose of this." He
handed Lillian the brandy flask. "Then bring her out into the sunshine
again. She'll be all right in a little while."
Dicky picked me up in his arms as the physician spoke, as if I had
been a child, and strode with me toward the improvised tent Dr. Pettit
had indicated.
"Sweetheart, sweetheart, suppose I had lost you," he said brokenly,
and then, manlike, reproachfully even in the intensity of his emotion:
"What possessed you to go out so far? If it hadn't been for Grace
Draper being on hand when you went down, you would never have come
back. Harry and I were too far away when Lil screamed to be of any
use. But by the time we got there Miss Draper had you by the hair and
was towing you in."
My brain was too dazed to comprehend much of what Dicky was saying,
but one remark smote on my brain like a sledge hammer.
Grace Draper had saved my life! Why, if I had any memory left at all,
Grace Draper had--
Lillian came forward swiftly and placed a restraining finger on my
lips.
"You mustn't talk yet," she admonished; then to Dicky, "Run away now,
Dicky-bird, and give Mrs. Durkee and me a chance to take care of her."
Little Mrs. Durkee's sweet, anxious face was close to Lillian's. "Yes,
Dicky," she echoed, "hurry out now."
Dicky waited long enough to kiss me, a long, lingering, tender kiss
that did more to revive me than the brandy, and then went obediently
away while Mrs. Durkee and Lillian ministered to me as only tender and
efficient women can.
When I was nearly dressed again, Lillian turned to Mrs. Durkee: "Would
you mind getting a cup of coffee for this girl?" she asked. "I know
Jim and Katie have some in preparation out there."
"Of course," Mrs. Durkee returned, and fluttered away.
She had no sooner gone than Lillian gathered me in her arms with
a protecting, maternal gesture, as if I had been her own daughter
restored to her.
"Quick," she demanded fiercely, "tell me just what happened out there
when you went under. Did you get a cramp or what?"
I waited a moment before answering. The suspicion that had come to my
brain was so horrible that I did not wish to utter it even to Lillian.
"I think it must have been the undertow," I said feebly. "I felt
something like a clutch at my feet dragging me down."
Lillian's face hardened. Into her eyes came a revengeful gleam.
"Undertow!" she ejaculated, "you poor baby! Your undertow was that
Draper devil's calculating hand!"
I stared at Lillian, horrified.
"But Lillian," I protested, faintly, "how is it that they all say she
saved my life? If she really tried to drown me why didn't she let me
go?"
"Got cold feet," returned Lillian, laconically. "You see she isn't
naturally evil enough deliberately to plan to kill you. I give her
credit for that with all her devilishness, but something happened
today between her and Dicky. I don't know what it was that drove her
nearly frantic. I saw her look at you two or three times in a way that
chilled my blood. I didn't like the idea of your going out there with
her, but I didn't see any way of stopping you.
"Now, there's one thing I want you to promise me," she went on,
hurriedly. "Although I know you well enough to know it's something you
would do anyway without a promise. I don't want you to hint to anyone,
even Dicky, what you know of the Draper's attempt to put you out of
commission. It's the chance I've been looking for, the winning card I
needed so badly. I won't need to stay a week with you, my dear, as I
thought when I first planned my little campaign to get Dicky out of
the Draper's clutches. I can go home tonight if I wish to, with my
mission accomplished."
"Why, what do you mean?" I asked.
"Just this," retorted Lillian, "that I'm going to spring the nicest
little case of polite blackmail on Grace Draper before the day is over
that you ever saw.
"I shall need you when I do it, so be prepared, although you won't
need to say anything.
"But here comes Mrs. Durkee with the coffee. Do you think, after you
drink it, you'll feel strong enough to have me tackle Grace Draper?"
I shivered inwardly, but bent my head in assent. Lillian had proved
too good a friend of mine for me to go against her wishes in anything.
After I had drunk the steaming coffee, with Mrs. Durkee looking on in
smiling approval, Lillian made another request of the cheery little
woman.
"Would you mind asking Miss Draper to come here a moment?" she said
quietly. "Mrs. Graham wants to thank her, and then do hunt up that
husband of mine and tell him to rig up some sort of couch for Mrs.
Graham, so she can lie down while we have our dinner. We can all take
turns feeding her."
As Mrs. Durkee hurried out, eager to help in any way possible, Lillian
turned to me grimly.
"That will keep her out of the way while we have our seance with the
Draper. Now brace up, my dear; just nod or shake your head when I give
you the cue."
It seemed hours, although in reality it was only a moment or two
before Grace Draper parted the improvised sail curtains and stood
before us. I think she knew something of what we wished, for her face
held the grayish whiteness that had been there when she heard Dicky's
impatient words concerning her. But her head was held high, her eyes
were unflinching as she faced us.
"Miss Draper," Lillian began, her voice low and controlled, but deadly
in its icy grimness, "we won't detain you but a moment, for we are
going to get right down to brass tacks.
"I know exactly what happened out there in the surf a little while
ago. I was watching from the shore, and saw enough to make me
suspicious, and what I have learned from Mrs. Graham has confirmed my
suspicions." She glanced toward me.
"You felt a hand clutch your foot and then drag you down, did you not,
Madge?"
I nodded weakly, conscious only of the terrible burning eyes of Miss
Draper fixed upon me.
"It is a lie," Miss Draper began, fiercely, but Lillian held up her
hand in a gesture that appeared to cow the girl.
"Don't trouble either to deny or affirm it," she said icily. "There is
but one thing I wish to hear from your lips; it is the answer to this
question: Will you take the offer Mr. Underwood made you, to get you
that theatrical engagement, and, having done this, will you keep out
of Dicky Graham's way for every day of your life hereafter? I don't
mind telling you that if you do this I shall keep my mouth closed
about this thing; if you do not, I shall call the rest of the party
here now and tell them what I know."
"Mr. Graham will not believe you," the girl said through stiff lips.
Her attitude was like the final turning of an animal at bay.
"Don't fool yourself," Lillian retorted caustically. "I am Mr.
Graham's oldest friend. He would believe me almost more quickly than
he would his wife, for he might think that his wife was prejudiced
against you.
"I am not a patient woman, Miss Draper. Don't try me too far. Take
this offer, or take the consequences."
The girl stood with bent head for a long minute, as Lillian flared
out her ultimatum, then she lifted it and looked steadily into Mrs.
Underwood's eyes.
"Remember, I admit nothing," she said defiantly, "but, of course, I
accept your offer. There is nothing else for me to do in the face of
the very ingenious story which you two have concocted between you."
She turned and walked steadily out of the tent.
Her words, the blaze in her eyes, the very motion of her body, was
magnificently insolent.
"She's a wonder!" Lillian admitted, drawing a deep breath, as the girl
vanished. "I didn't think she had bravado enough to bluff it out like
that."
"And now my dear," Lillian spoke briskly, "just lean your head against
my shoulder, shut your eyes, and try to rest for a little; I know that
sand with a rain coat covering doesn't make the most comfortable couch
in the world, but I think I can hold you so that you may be able to
take a tiny nap."
What Dicky surmised concerning the events of the afternoon, I do not
know. He must have known that the girl was madly in love with him.
Something had happened to put an end to the infatuation into which he
had been slipping so rapidly.
Had he become tired of the girl's open pursuit of him? Had he guessed
to what lengths her desperation had driven her? Had the shock of my
narrow escape from drowning startled him into a fresh realization of
his love for me?
I felt too weak even to guess the solution of the riddle. All I wanted
to do was to nestle close to Dicky's side, to be taken care of and
petted like a baby.
The ride home through the sunset was a quiet one. To me it was one of
the happiest hours of my life.
Dicky, fussing over me as if I were a fragile piece of china, sat in
the most sheltered corner of the boat, and held me securely against
him, protecting me with his arm from any sudden lurch or jolt the boat
might give.
Seemingly by a tacit agreement, the others of the party left us to
ourselves. They talked in subdued tones, apparently unwilling to spoil
the wonderful beauty of the twilight ride home with much conversation.
When the boat landed, Harry Underwood, at Dicky's suggestion,
telephoned for taxis to meet the little trolley, upon which we
journeyed from the beach to Crest Haven. One of these bore the Durkees
and Grace Draper to their homes; the other was to carry Harry and
Lillian, with Dicky and me, to the old Brennan house.
Dr. Pettit, who was to take a train back to the city, came up to us
after we were seated in the taxi:
"I would advise that you go directly to bed, Mrs. Graham," he said,
with his most professional air. "You have had an unusual shock, and
rest is the one imperative thing."
I felt that common courtesy demanded that I extend an invitation to
the physician to call at our home when next he came to Marvin, but
fear of Dicky's possible displeasure tied my tongue. I could not do
anything to jeopardize the happiness so newly restored to me.
To my great surprise, however, Dicky impulsively extended his hand and
smiled upon the young physician:
"Thanks ever so much, old man," he said cordially, "for the way you
pulled the little lady through this afternoon. Don't forget to come to
see us when next you're in Marvin."
I was tucked safely into Dicky's bed, which he insisted on my sharing,
saying that he could take care of me better there than in my own room,
when he gave me the explanation of his cordiality.
"I'm not particularly stuck on that doctor chap," he said, tucking
the coverlet about me with awkward tenderness, "but I'm so thankful
tonight I just can't be sour on anybody."
"Sweetheart, sweetheart!" He put his cheek to mine. "To think how
nearly I lost you!" And my heart echoed the exclamation could not
speak aloud:
"Ah! Dicky, to think how nearly I lost YOU."
XXVIII
A DARK NIGHT AND A TROUBLED DAWN
"How many more trains are there tonight?"
Lillian Underwood's voice was sharp with anxiety. My voice reflected
worry, as I answered her query.
"Two, one at 12:30, and the last, until morning, 2 o'clock."
"Well, I suppose we might as well lie down and get some sleep. They
probably will be out on the last train."
"You don't suppose," I began, then stopped.
"That they've slipped off the water wagon?" Lillian returned grimly.
"That's just what I'm afraid of. We will know in a little while,
anyway. Harry will begin to telephone me, and keep it up until he gets
too lazy to remember the number. Come on, let's get off these clothes
and get into comfortable negligees. We probably shall have a long
night of worry before us."
I obeyed her suggestion, but I was wild with an anxiety which Lillian
did not suspect. My question, which she had finished for me, had not
meant what she had thought at all. In fact, until she spoke of it,
that possibility had not occurred to me.
It was a far different fear that was gripping me. I was afraid that
Grace Draper had failed to keep the bargain she had made with Lillian
to keep out of Dicky's way, in return for Lillian's silence concerning
the Draper girl's mad attempt to drown me during our "desert island
picnic."
Whether or not my narrow escape from death had brought Dicky to a
realization of what we meant to each other, I could not tell. At any
rate, he never had been more my royal lover than in the five days
since my accident. Indeed, since that day he had made but one trip to
the city beside this with Harry Underwood, the return from which we
were so anxiously awaiting. When the men left in the morning they had
told us not to plan dinner at home, but to be ready to accompany them
to a nearby resort for a "shore dinner," as they were coming out on
the 5 o'clock train. No wonder that at 10:30 Lillian and I were both
anxious and irritated.
Dicky's behavior toward me, since death so nearly gripped me,
certainly had given me no reason to doubt that his infatuation
for Grace Draper was at an end. But no one except myself knew how
apparently strong her hold had been on Dicky through the weeks of the
late summer, nor how ruthless her own mad passion for him was. Had she
reconsidered her bargain? Was she making one last attempt to regain
her hold upon Dicky?
The telephone suddenly rang out its insistent summons. I ran to it,
but Lillian brushed past me and took the receiver from my trembling
hand.
I sank down on the stairs and clutched the stair rail tightly with
both hands to keep from falling.
"Yes, yes, this is Lil, Harry. What's the matter?
"Seriously?
"Where are you?
"Yes, we were coming, anyway. Yes, we'll bring Miss Draper's sister.
Don't bother to meet us. We'll take a taxi straight from the station."
Staggering with terror, I caught her hand, and prevented her putting
the receiver back on its hook.
"Is Dicky dead?" I demanded.
"No, no, child," she said soothingly.
"I don't believe it," I cried, maddened at my own fear. "Call him to
the 'phone. Let me hear his voice myself, then I'll believe you."
She took the receiver out of my grip, put it back upon the hook,
and grasped my hands firmly, holding them as she would those of a
hysterical child.
"See here, Madge," she said sternly, "Dicky is very much alive, but he
is hurt slightly and needs you. We have barely time to get Mrs. Gorman
and that train. Hurry and get ready."
* * * * *
Dicky's eager eyes looked up from his white face into mine. His voice,
weak, but thrilling with the old love note, repeated my name over and
over, as if he could not say it enough.
I sank on my knees beside the bed in which Dicky lay. I realized in a
hazy sort of fashion that the room must be Harry Underwood's own bed
chamber, but I spent no time in conjecture. All my being was fused in
the one joyous certainty that Dicky was alive and in my arms, and
that I had been assured he would get well. I laid my face against
his cheek, shifted my arms so that no weight should rest against his
bandaged left shoulder, which, at my first glimpse of it, had caused
me to shudder involuntarily.
"If you only knew how awful I felt about this," Dicky murmured,
contritely, and, as I raised my eyes to look at him, his own
contracted as with pain.
"It's a fine mess I've brought you into by my carelessness this
summer, but I swear I didn't dream--"
I laid my hand on his lips.
"Don't, sweetheart," I pleaded. "It is enough for me to know that you
are safe in my arms. Nothing else in the world matters. Just rest and
get well for me."
He kissed the hand against his lips, then reached up the unbandaged
arm, and with gentle fingers pulled mine away.
"But there is one thing I must talk about," he said solemnly,
"something you must do for me, Madge, for I cannot get up from here
to see to it. It's a hard thing to ask you to do, but you are so brave
and true, I know you will understand. Tell me, is that poor girl going
to die?"
"I--I don't know, Dicky," I faltered, salving my conscience with
the thought that he must not be excited with the knowledge of Grace
Draper's true condition.
"Poor girl," he sighed. "I never dreamed she looked at things in the
light she did, but I feel guilty anyhow, responsible. She must have
the best of care, Madge, best physicians, best nurses, everything. I
must meet all expenses, even to the ones which will be necessary if
she should die."
He brought out the last words fearfully. Little drops of moisture
stood on his forehead. I saw that the shock of the girl's terrible act
had unnerved him.
Nerving myself to be as practical and matter-of-fact as possible, I
wiped the moisture from his brow with my handkerchief and patted his
cheek soothingly.
"I will attend to everything," I promised, "just as if you were able
to see to it. But you must do something for me in return; you must
promise not to talk any more and try and go to sleep."
"My own precious girl," he sighed, happily, and then drowsily--
"Kiss me!"
I pressed my lips to his. His eyes closed, and with his hand clinging
tightly to mine, he slept.
How long I knelt there I do not know. No one came near the room, but
through the closed door I could hear the hushed hurry and movement
which marks a desperate fight between life and death.
I felt numbed, bewildered. I tried to visualize what was happening
outside the room, but I could not. I felt as if Dicky and I had come
through some terrible shipwreck together and had been cast up on this
friendly piece of shore.
I knew that later I would have to face my own soul in a rigid
inquisition as to how far I had been to blame for this tragedy. I had
been married less than a year, and yet my husband was involved in a
horrible complication like this.
But my brain was too exhausted to follow that line of thought. I was
content to rest quietly on my knees by the side of Dicky's bed, with
his hand in mine and my eyes fixed on his white face with the long
lashes shadowing it.
At first I was perfectly comfortable, then after a while little
tingling pains began to run through my back and limbs.
I dared not change my position for fear of disturbing Dicky, so I
set my teeth and endured the discomfort. The sharpness of the pain
gradually wore away as the minutes went by, and was succeeded by a
distressing feeling of numbness extending all over my body.
Just as I was beginning to feel that the numbness must soon extend to
my brain, the door opened and some one came quietly in.
My back was to the door, and so careful were the footsteps crossing
the room that I could not tell who the newcomer was until I felt a
firm hand gently unclasping my nervous fingers from Dicky's. Then I
looked up into the solicitous face of Dr. Pettit.
"How is it that you have been left alone here so long?" he inquired
indignantly, yet keeping his voice to the professional low pitch of a
sick room. He put his strong, firm hands under my elbows, raised me to
my feet and supported me to a chair, for my feet were like pieces of
wood. I could hardly lift them.
"How long have you been kneeling there?" he demanded. "You would have
fainted away if you had stayed there much longer."
"I do not know," I replied faintly, "but it doesn't matter. Tell me,
is my husband all right, and how badly is he hurt?"
"He is not hurt seriously at all," the physician replied. "The bullet
went through the fleshy part of his left arm. It was a clean wound,
and he will be around again in no time."
He walked to Dicky's bed, bent over him, listened to his breathing,
straightened, and came back to me.
"He is doing splendidly," he said, "but you are not. You are on the
point of collapse from what you have undergone tonight. You must lie
down at once. If there is no one else to take care of you, I must do
it."
I felt as if I could not bear to answer him, even to raise my eyes
to meet his. I do not know how long the intense silence would have
continued. Just as I felt that I could not bear the situation any
longer, Lillian Underwood came into the room, bringing with her, as
she always does, an atmosphere of cheerful sanity.
"What is the matter?" she asked. Her tone was low and guarded, but in
it there was a note of alarm, and the same anxiety shown from her eyes
as she came swiftly toward me.
"Mrs. Graham is in danger of a nervous collapse if she does not have
rest and quiet soon," Dr. Pettit returned gravely. "Will you see that
she is put to bed at once? Mr. Graham will do very well for a while
alone, although when you have made Mrs. Graham comfortable, I wish you
would come back and sit with him."
Lillian put her strong arms around me and led me through the door into
the outer hall.
"But who is with Miss Draper?" I protested faintly, as we started down
the stairs toward the first floor.
"Her sister and one of the best trained nurses in the city," Lillian
responded. "Besides, Dr. Pettit will go immediately back to her room."
"But Dicky, there is no one with Dicky," I said, struggling feebly in
an attempt to go back up the stairs again.