"Don't worry--whoever it is, Stevens is sending them away!"
"I hope so," sighed Miriam, "for I can't see any one--I won't see any
one, unless--Oh, Laurie, Laurie," she cried out, "why don't you come
home!"
Suddenly Shirley fell back from the door; it was being stealthily pushed
open.
"Oh," she gasped, "it's only Stevens! How you frightened me!"
Stevens stood in the door at attention, looking neither to the right nor
to the left, but straight over the heads of the women. He drew a long
intake of breath, then he spoke the name:--
"_Mr. Challoner._"
And hardly were the words out of his mouth than he was thrust aside, and
there stood in his place a spare, gaunt, tottering figure--a man
dishevelled, soiled, exhausted--James Lawrence Challoner had come home!
At the sound of the name the young wife's face turned pale, and for a
moment words failed her. Then all of a sudden she sprang to her feet and
rushed to him, crying in an ecstasy of joy:--
"Laurie, Laurie, you've come home to me at last!" And throwing her arms
around his neck, she kissed him many times, laughing hysterically and
crying the while: "You've come back to me!" And once more the freshness
of youth, joy and hope were in her voice.
But Challoner, still standing just within the entrance of the room, did
not heed her; he cast her off with a frantic sweep of the arm.
"Keep away--keep away from me!" he cried. "I'm tired, dog-tired--I've
got to sleep, sleep."
Painful as was the scene, Shirley was keenly alive to what his presence
there might mean.
"Stevens," she called, pointing to a window, "pull that curtain down. I
pulled it up after _they_ went; pull it down."
Challoner now turned upon her.
"Leave the curtain alone, I tell you," he said, "I don't care if it is
up. I don't care about you either--nor you," looking at his wife. "I
don't know you. I must have sleep--sleep--sleep."
Deep down in her soul Shirley knew that she should not hear all this,
and she would have fled if she had not promised Miriam not to leave her.
Suddenly she wheeled upon Stevens as if she and not Miriam were the
mistress of the house, exclaiming peremptorily:--
"Stevens, leave the room!"
Stevens obeyed her as he would his mistress, and left the room post
haste.
Miriam now went over to the girl.
"You're not going to leave me!" she exclaimed, clinging to her. "You and
Laurie are the only friends I have--you must stay here with Laurie and
me."
Shirley saw the agony in her face and patted her affectionately as she
promised:--
"There, there, Miriam, dear, of course I shall stay." And Miriam, at
once reassured, darted back to her husband, and cried:--
"Laurie, dear," kissing him and pushing the hair back from his forehead,
"so tired--so tired."
But Challoner, a wolf now and not a man, jerked away from her, and
answered:--
"I came home, didn't I? Well, then, I must have sleep, sleep, I tell
you, sleep." And tottering over to a dainty silken covered sofa, he
threw himself upon it with a deep sigh, saying as though to himself:
"Sleep--I must have sleep."
Spellbound, Miriam watched him for a moment, then following him to the
sofa, she went down on her knees and drew him to her in a close embrace.
"Everything's all right now that you've come back," she told him in
soothing tones. "And, dear, you'll forgive me for quarrelling with
you--I'm so sorry, yes, I am, Laurie," kissing him on the lips, the
face, the forehead. "Say you'll forgive me, Laurie, dear?"
His answer was a snore. Challoner lay supinely where he had thrown
himself, sleeping as does the beast that has crept back to his lair
after days of hunting by the man pack.
"Miriam," the whispered name came from Shirley, "you and I, dear, must
now think of things. We must not forget that Murgatroyd and his men have
only just left. We must not let him lie here; it was lucky they searched
the house when they did...."
Miriam waved the other back.
"No," she objected strenuously, "he must sleep; we must let him alone."
"No, no, Miriam," persisted Shirley, putting great emphasis on the
words, "we ought to tell him what kind of evidence is against him. He
ought to know that. If we didn't warn him in time, he'd never forgive
us--he'd never forgive you. He's a man...."
"Perhaps you're right, Shirley--you seem to be always right. Yes, I
suppose he ought to know." Gently Miriam shook him, rocked him to and
fro upon the sofa, as some fond mother might wake a drowsy, growing boy
on a lazy summer morn.
"Lawrence," she cried softly in his ear, "wake up! Wake up, dear, wake
up!"
For an instant Challoner stirred. Presently there came in guttural
tones:--
"Yes, yes, that's all right...." But he slept, and kept on sleeping.
"I can hardly realise that Laurie is back," murmured Miriam, happily.
Unconscious of the other's words, she remained kneeling at the side of
the dainty sofa with its far from dainty burden, her arm still about the
neck of the man who slept upon it.
"Yes, yes," returned the girl, "but don't you think we had better warn
him? He must not be found----"
The other laughed joyously, trying lovingly to smooth out his tangled
hair. After a moment she answered absently:--
"They'll find him now, I suppose; but I don't care--I've got him back."
She turned and kissed him once again. "My Laurie," she murmured in his
ear. Somehow she thought he heard and was glad to hear.
The girl stooped down and caught her by the shoulder.
"But, Miriam," she expostulated, "we must take no chances--we ought to
wake him."
Miriam looked up at the girl helplessly.
"You must not stop, Miriam," insisted Shirley, "we must wake him----"
At that instant as they stood clustered about the sleeping thing, the
bell once more broke out in feeble clamour. They clung to each other in
abject fear.
"The bell!" chorused the women, and stood frozen, silent. They heard
Stevens toiling up the stairs; waited; watched the door; finally they
saw him enter. Neither of the women spoke, but gazed at him
questioningly.
Stevens met their gaze with frightened eyes. At last he found his voice.
"It's the prosecutor's men again, Madam. They've come to----"
"Stevens," interrupted Shirley, "surely you didn't tell them that----"
"Not one word, Miss Bloodgood. But they said they saw him----"
Shirley groaned and pointed to the sofa; Mrs. Challoner rose to her feet
and stood before it as if to hide the man upon it.
"You left them outside, Stevens?" Miriam was calm and apparently in full
control of herself now.
"One of them--the other forced his way in and sent after the
prosecutor."
There was a tap at the door, and the maid, quivering with fear,
excitement and indignation, entered, bursting forth with:--
"There's a man coming upstairs, Madam--but I stopped him. He said he'd
wait out there on the landing to see you--said he knew Mr. Challoner was
in the house and he was going to arrest him."
Challoner continued to sleep noisily.
"Oh, dear, there's nothing to be done, I suppose, but to let the man
in." Mrs. Challoner was speaking to Shirley now; and then without
waiting for a reply she ordered Foster to show the man up, adding: "I
hope he'll wait until Laurie wakes."
Instantly Miriam crossed to the sofa and once more rested her soft, warm
face on his, hoping that he could feel the love that she bore for him,
then she shook him somewhat roughly.
"Laurie, dear, you must wake up." And then like a flash the thought of
resistance crossed her mind. She sprang up with a cry, rushed past
Shirley, past Stevens, reached the door, closed it, fumbled for an
instant, and finding the key locked it tight.
"No, no," she muttered, "they shan't take him--I won't let them--he
belongs to me!"
In a frenzy she piled up the light chairs and tables, and pushed them
against the door to form a barricade, crying the while to Stevens: "Help
me, quick! We've got to keep them out! We must not let them in, must
not...."
Shirley went over to her and caught her in her arms, whispering while
she affectionately rested her head on Miriam's shoulder:--
"Don't, dear, don't! We can't help it, don't you see? There's no other
way out of it but to let the men come in."
"Of course we can't help it," after a moment Miriam said resignedly, and
proceeded to pull the chairs and tables away that she had so vigorously
piled up. "Yes, yes, let them in," and wearily fell into a chair.
Stevens unlocked the door, and Mixley entered the room, McGrath
following soon after.
"There's no help for it, ma'am," they spoke as one man.
At the sight of them Miriam rushed back to her husband and shook him
slightly, speaking his name softly. Then she turned plaintively to the
men:--
"If you would only let him sleep--just a little while longer," she said
falteringly.
"You must leave him to us, ma'am," spoke up Mixley; and pointing to the
far corner of the room, added: "Will you take that chair, there, please?
Don't be afraid, ladies," he went on, glancing at Shirley; "we won't
hurt the gentleman, see if we do."
And suddenly, together, the men bodily lifted Challoner from the sofa
and as suddenly dropped him back again.
At this use of physical force Miriam covered her face with her hands and
cried:--
"Don't do that--please don't...."
They desisted, but for quite another reason.
"There's a hump here that we'd best attend to," said Mixley to the other
detective, meaningly, running his hand over the outline of Challoner's
clothing. "He may not be so sound asleep as he seems to be."
At this juncture Shirley motioned to Stevens to leave the room; the next
instant revealed a revolver which they took from Challoner's hip-pocket.
"Is the thing loaded?" queried McGrath. Together they examined it; then
simultaneously they glanced in the direction of the women.
"Ma'am--ladies," said Mixley, crossing the room, "we're fair people, and
Prosecutor Murgatroyd is fair. You seen us take this here firearm from
Mr. Challoner just now, didn't you?"
Miriam and Shirley nodded in acknowledgment. Challoner dropped back into
his former position and continued to snore.
Mixley came closer to them and requested that they take a good look at
it.
"Don't give it to me," cried Shirley, eluding the outstretched hand and
its contents.
"Give it to me," said Miriam, unhesitatingly.
McGrath crowded up.
"You see that there's five chambers loaded, don't you, Mrs. Challoner?"
Mrs. Challoner turned the revolver upside down and looked at it
helplessly.
"Five chambers loaded?" she asked innocently, unsuspectingly.
"Here," broke in Mixley, "let me show you." And he counted slowly: "One,
two, three, four, five--all full, see?"
"Yes, five chambers," Mrs. Challoner agreed.
There was a pause in which Mixley looked meaningly at McGrath; then he
said:--
"And one chamber empty?"
"Oh, yes," she acknowledged almost eagerly, as he placed his finger on
it, "there's surely one chamber empty--I see it now."