Hope discovered very little difficulty in duplicating the outer garments
Keith reported Miss Maclaire as wearing. The colors, indeed, were
not exactly the same, yet this difference was not sufficient to be
noticeable at night by the eyes of a man who had no reason to suspect
deceit. The girl was in a flutter of nervous excitement as she hastened
about the room, donning her few requirements of masquerade, yet Keith
noted with appreciation that she became perceptibly cooler as the moment
of departure approached. With cheeks aflame and eyes sparkling, yet
speaking with a voice revealing no falter, she pressed his arm and
declared herself prepared for the ordeal. The face under the shadow
of the mantilla was so arch and piquant, Keith could not disguise his
admiration.
“Am I Christie Maclaire?” she asked laughingly.
“Sufficiently so to fool our friend,” he returned, “but I am ready to
swear that lady never looked so charming.”
“A compliment, and spoken as though you really meant it.”
“Have I not been honest enough with you in the past, to be credited with
honesty now?” he protested, a little hurt by the bantering tone.
“Of course you have; I merely talk lightly to keep my courage up. You
can have no idea how afraid I am.”
“Then you are truly an actress, for you appear the picture of enjoyment.
But we must go, or Hawley will be there before us, and thus spoil all
our plans.”
They passed out through the office together, seeing no one familiar to
either, Hope keeping her face partially concealed. The east side of the
street was less frequented than the other, having fewer saloons along
its way, and they chose its darkness. As they advanced, the long
habit of frontier life caused Keith to glance behind before they had
progressed a block, and he was thus made aware that they were being
followed. Conversing lightly, and without a word to alarm the girl, he
yet managed to observe every movement of the dimly outlined figure which
advanced with them, timing every motion to theirs. Long before they
crossed the street to the Trocadero he was convinced there was no
mistake--the fellow, whoever he might be, was trailing them. Keith
smiled grimly to himself, resolving that, as soon as he had left the
lady, he would teach the spy a lesson not soon to be forgotten.
They barely entered the outer circle of the Trocadero lights, noting
a group of men thronging about the doors, and hearing the sound of the
band within, and then turned swiftly down the narrow dark alley-way
leading toward the stage entrance. Keith, having been there before,
advanced confidently, but Hope, her heart beating wildly, clung to his
arm, scarcely venturing a word in reply to his whispered assurances.
Fortunately they encountered no one, and Keith, feeling cautiously in
the dark, easily succeeded in locating the opening to the vestibule.
Listening intently he became convinced that no one occupied the little
shed. He had intended to remain with the girl until the time came for
her to emerge, but the remembrance of that figure dogging them all the
way from the hotel now caused a change of plan. He held her hand closely
clasped in his.
“Now, Hope, I am going to leave you,” he whispered, “and your own wit
will have to carry you through. I know you will play your part all
right, and it will be mine to wait for Christie, and give her some
explanation of why Hawley failed to meet her as he promised. It will
never do for her to suspect, until you time to learn all possible. You
are not afraid?”
“Yes, I am,” clinging to him, “but--but I am going through it just the
same.”
“The truest kind of courage, my girl. Now slip inside, but hold the door
ajar. Hawley will certainly be here within ten minutes, and you must
join him at once, or else the other might appear. You can judge as to
its being him even in this darkness. Good-bye.”
The longing to clasp her in his arms, to speak the language of his
heart, was almost overwhelming, yet the memory of that figure slinking
along behind them, and the brief time before Hawley's probable
appearance, for he would leave the theatre at the conclusion of Miss
Maclaire's act, restrained all demonstration. This was a moment for
action, not for words of love; no delay should hazard the success of
their undertaking. He heard the slight creak of the door as the girl
slipped within the concealment of the vestibule, and then he glided away
through the darkness with the stealthy silence of an Indian. There was
no one in the alley-way, which was narrow and easily explored, but the
glow from the front windows plainly revealed the shadow of a man near
the entrance, and Keith slipped up toward him, hugging the side of the
building for concealment, prepared to resort to harsh measures. As he
reached out, gripping the astonished loiterer by the collar, the two
stared at one another in surprise, and the gripping hand as instantly
released its hold.
“You, Fairbain! What the devil does this mean? What are you spying on us
for?”
Clearly taken aback, yet not greatly disturbed, his eyes showing
pugnacious and his jaw set, the Doctor rubbed his throat where Keith's
knuckles had left a red welt.
“Damn you, I think I'm the one to ask for an explanation,” he growled.
“She said she was not going with you, and now you are around here
together at this hour. I had a right to know whether I was being played
with like that.”
“But, man, that was not Miss Maclaire I was with; it was Hope Waite.
Come back here under the tent flap while I explain.”
Fearful of the coming of Hawley he fairly dragged the portly figure of
the bewildered Doctor with him, striving, by quickly spoken words, to
make him comprehend the situation. Knowing previously something of the
issues involved, it was not difficult to make Fairbain grasp the meaning
of this present movement, yet his sympathies were at once enlisted upon
the side of Miss Christie. He'd be damned if he would have any part in
such a scheme--if she had a right to the money he'd help her get it--it
was a cowardly trick, and he'd fight if necessary, to keep her from
becoming a victim. His voice rose, his arms brandishing violently, his
sentences snapping like rifle shots. Keith angered, and fearful of
a discovery which would leave Hope exposed, realized the futility of
discussion and turned to physical force. Grasping the gesticulating man
with both hands, he flung him backward and dragged him into the empty
tent, kneeling on him as he throttled him to the earth.
“Now, Doctor, you listen to me,” he said sternly, “I'm through arguing.
I hate to treat you like this, for you are my friend, but I'll not stand
for interference here. Do you get that, you old fool? Lie still until I
get through! I respect your feelings toward Miss Maclaire. She is a good
girl, and I hope to heaven you get her if you want her. But you never
will if you permit this affair to go on. Yes, I know what I am talking
about. In all that Hope and I do we are serving you and Christie,--our
only fight is with 'Black Bart' Hawley. Stop being a bullet-headed old
fool, Fairbain, and understand this thing. Lie still, I tell you, and
hear me out! Hawley is a liar, a thief, and a swindler. There is a
swindle in this thing somewhere, and he hopes to pull out a big sum of
money from it. He is merely using Christie to pull his own chestnuts out
of the fire. She is innocent; we realize that, but this fellow is
going to ruin the girl unless we succeed in exposing him. He's not only
involving her in his criminal conspiracy, but he's making love to her;
he's teaching her to love him. That's part of his scheme, no doubt, for
then she will be so much easier handled. I tell you, Fairbain, your only
chance to ever win the interest of Christie Maclaire is to help us down
this fellow Hawley. Yes, you can sit up; I reckon you're beginning to
see clearer, ain't you?”
Keith drew aside the flap of the tent to glance without, the light
falling on Fairbain's face as he struggled to a sitting posture. He
had had a new thought driven into him, yet failed to entirely grasp its
significance.
“But, Jack,” he asked, still half angry, “how about the girl? Hasn't she
any right to this money?”
“I don't know,” honestly, “we don't any of us know, but whatever she has
the right to she is going to get. You can bet on that, old man. We're
bucking Hawley not Christie Maclaire--get that into your head. He
hasn't any right, that's certain, for he murdered and stole to get the
papers--be quiet! Here the fellow comes now!”
They peered out together through the convenient tent flap, Fairbain
scarcely less interested than the other, already dimly comprehending
that his truly dangerous rival was the gambler, and that he could best
serve the lady by helping to prove to her the real character of that
individual. He was still blindly groping in the haze, yet out of Keith's
sharp, stinging words there had come to him a guiding light. The latter
gripped his arm in restraint.
“Easy, old man, easy--let him pass.”
Hawley turned into the alley whistling, evidently well pleased with the
situation and anticipating other delights awaiting his coming. The glow
of the Trocadero's lights served, an instant, to reveal his face, shaded
by the broad brim of his hat, and then he vanished into the dark. Keith
leaning far out, yet keeping well within the shadows, heard the faint
creak of the vestibule door and the soft murmur of distant voices.
Then he drew back suddenly, his hand again grasping Fairbain. Two
figures--those of a man and woman--emerged into the dim light, and as
quickly disappeared. Apparently her hand was upon his arm, and he was
bending down so as to gain a glimpse of the face partially concealed
by the folds of the mantilla. Only a word or two reached them, a little
laugh, and the woman's voice:
“Why, of course I hurried; you said you had something of such importance
to tell me.”
“Fairbain,” spoke Keith, his lips almost at the ear of the other. “That
was Hope, all right, and she has got him going already. Now, man, will
you help us out?”
“I? How?”
“Go back there, and meet Miss Maclaire. I don't care where you take
her--lunch, anywhere; only keep her from the hotel as long as possible.
You can do it far better than I, for she will not suspect you of any
interest in this affair. Tell her any lie you can think up on account of
Hawley's absence. Good Lord, old man, can't you see this is your chance;
go in and win.”
Fairbain struggled to his feet, still a bit dazed and uncertain, yet
tempted by the opportunity.
“You're perfectly sure, Keith, this isn't anything that will hurt the
girl?”
“Sure! Of course I am. It's just Hawley I'm gunning after. For God's
sake, haven't you got that clear yet?”
“I--I reckon I'm an old fool, Jack,” admitted the Doctor regretfully,
“and when an old fool is in love he hasn't got any sense left. Anyhow
I'll do what you want me to now. Where are you going?”
“To watch those others. There is no knowing what play Hawley might try
to pull off, and I want to keep within gun-shot of him. Hurry up, man;
that vestibule door creaked just then.”
He shoved him down the dark alley, and dodged back himself across the
front of the tent out into the street. There was a crowd of men in front
of the Trocadero, but the couple he sought were nowhere in sight.