"Has Uncle Jerdon gone?"
"Yes."
"Then keep out of the way as much as possible. I'm almost ready."
I went up to my own room and took the revolvers from my hand-bag and
loaded them with the blank cartridges. Scarcely had I slipped the
weapons into my pocket when Edna burst into the room with her arms full
of dresses. She held out the pale green silk peignoir in which I had
first seen Miss Fielding.
"Does Joy wear this?" she asked.
"Yes, sometimes," I answered.
"Well," she said, "she never will fascinate you in it again!" And with
a single violent gesture, she ripped it from top to bottom. She took up
another gown and tore that in two, also. She had begun on a third when
I went up to her and stopped her hand.
"Edna, you mustn't!" I commanded.
She threw the whole heap upon the floor; and clasped her bare arms about
my neck. "Oh, I hate her! I _hate_ her!" she wept. "You are in love
with her, Chet, you know you are! What have I done that you should hate
me so? You know how I like you--why don't you love me a little?"
"Aren't you engaged to the doctor?" I asked, letting her stay with her
face near mine. It did not seem wrong--it was Joy's own face.
"Oh, I suppose I am, but what does that matter? Mayn't I like you, too?
He's the only friend I have. He's helping me! He's trying to free me!
What are _you_ doing? Are _you_ helping me, Chet?"
It was hard enough to answer her question. What could I say? Somehow,
even now, I could not lie to her outright--not while looking deep into
Joy's own eyes.
"If you had shown any mercy to Joy, if you even desired to be friends
with her, I might try to save you," I said. "But after this, how can
I?"
"Oh, I'll be friends with her--I'll do anything if you'll only love me,
Chet! Why can't we both love you? I'll promise not to be jealous;
we'll share you. If you marry her, then you'll have me, too, and I'll
have you!"
She looked up at me with wistful eyes--Joy's eyes--and Joy's arms were
still about me. Never had Joy clung to me so closely and tenderly. It
was all I could do to put her away and answer her preposterous
suggestion.
"But you're engaged to the doctor--he told me so----"
"I'll break it off with him--I won't have anything more to do with
him--I'll telephone to him now!" She even started to go to her room.
I was in a tumult of emotion. How could I begin my work when she acted
in this way--as I had least expected? True, I knew that probably in a
moment her fickle mood would change, but I could not begin yet. I held
her back.
"You know," I said, "that the doctor is plotting to get rid of Joy for
ever. You know, and I know, that _that_ is the way he's been trying to
help you. How can I care for you, when I know that is your purpose?"
God knows I loathed myself for the hypocrisy, but I was at my wits' end.
She stopped and looked at me reproachfully. "Ah, you _are_ in love with
her, then! I thought so! She's everything, and I'm nothing to you!"
She flung away again in a new rage and walked proudly, scornfully
down-stairs. I followed her. Just before I caught up with her, I heard
her angry voice ring out.
"Oh, you sneak! Didn't I tell you to stay in the kitchen? Take that
for your impertinence, you wench!"
There was the sound of a blow and a scream. I ran in and found Leah
with her face bleeding. Edna, gorgeous in her silken gown, stood
lowering like a furious queen, a heavy bronze paper-weight in her hand.
"You pack out of this house immediately!" she cried, her voice strident
with passion. "I've had enough of your tricks! I want you to know I'm
mistress here!"
Leah appealed to me with a glance. I nodded, pointing behind Edna's
back, outdoors, to the old cabin. Leah disappeared, weeping. I went up
to Edna.
"Do you expect me to love you when you act in this cruel way?" I asked
in a quiet tone.
She stormed up and down, striding like a leopard in a cage, swishing
this way and that, her fists firmly clenched.
"Oh, she's in league with you and Joy. I know all about it! She spies
on me--hides things from me--tells on me! She and you are trying your
best to get rid of me--the doctor said so! You are plotting to destroy
me right now!" she flashed out, turning to me, her lips quivering with
excitement. "I can tell! I know! You may go, too, Mr. Castle, I'm
through with you, too! Leave this house, please!"
I tried to pacify her, thinking that, distraught with the violent moods
she had shown to-day, a reaction would soon come. She was almost
hysterical, and I waited for the revulsion of feeling, without heeding
her words. In a moment it came. It was as if an angel and a devil were
contending in her for the mastery, but the angel won again.
She sat down limply in a chair that was drawn up to the secretary, and
the tears came to her eyes. I saw Leah go out the front door and hurry
down the lane.
"Oh, I'm so wretched!" Edna complained bitterly. "I haven't a
friend--not even Doctor Copin. All he wants is my money, and all you
want is Joy. Oh, Chet, let me be your friend! Let me be your
friend--you may stay--I'll be good, sure I will! I'll do anything if
you'll only love me and be good to me! I'll take Leah back; I'll
dismiss the doctor. Why was I sent here, anyway? Nobody wants me,
nobody cares for me!"
She looked up at me and held out her hand. It was the stricken deer
appealing for protection to the hunters. I had never seen her so gentle
and tender. It was, for the moment, as if Joy herself were pleading for
her life.
As I stood there, watching her, debating what to do, her head dropped to
her left hand. With her right she had taken up a pencil which lay
there, and was abstractedly making marks upon the blotter--circles and
crosses and zigzag scrawls. But, even as she turned to me again, her
eyes softened, I saw her right hand move more regularly over the paper
blotter. She was writing, and writing automatically, without looking at
what she was doing. A sudden idea came to me that the writing was
inspired by some subconscious, subliminal self and I must let it have
free play, that I must divert her thought from that hand.
So I walked up to her and touched her head, stroking her soft, brown
hair. "Poor girl!" I said; "I wish I could answer your questions; I
wish I might help you. Perhaps we can think out a way. We'll talk it
over and see."
Her hand was still writing, as she looked up at me and listened.
"But you must tell me all about the doctor, and what he is doing. Is he
coming own here to-day?"
She leaned affectionately against my side, her hand still working
unconsciously. "I don't know," she said. "He may come on the eleven
o'clock train, perhaps."
This was unexpected. I had little time, then, in which to act. But now
her hand had stopped, and I bent over her shoulder to look at the
blotter.
She turned her face to me again and said: "Won't you please kiss me,
Chet? You've never kissed me! I'm sure you've kissed Joy!"
Then, following my glance, she saw the writing for the first time. "Oh,
how funny!" she cried. "I've been writing! I didn't know it. What is
it, anyway?" Then she read aloud:
"'_Don't hesitate! Cut off my head and my tail! Hurry! White Cat._'
"How absurd!" she commented. "See, it isn't my handwriting at all! It
isn't anything like it. But it's like--it's Joy's!" she burst out, and
she jumped up, staring at me. "What does it mean?"
I had recognized the handwriting at the same instant, and was as
surprised as she.
"It's Joy's!" she repeated, her voice now almost a scream. "Oh, but she
is a cat! I believe she's trying to get rid of me. She wants you to
kill me! Tell me, Chet, what does it mean?"
I didn't answer, for the shock of this communication bewildered me. It
was like the voice of a ghost, urging me. It was Joy, calling up from
Edna's subconsciousness. I was sure of it.
"It's Joy!" she cried a third time as she got the meaning, too. "She's
trying to call you, through me! She loves you, and you love her. I
knew it! You're trying to murder me! But I'll not let her have you!
I'll kill you first!"
She stood with her little fists doubled, shaking with fury, her nostrils
dilated, her cheeks gone white, her lips apart, showing the little
uneven line of clenched teeth. The strap of her gown had fallen partly
off, leaving one smooth, creamy shoulder bare, the golden wreath of
laurel was tipped sidewise in her hair.
Then, in a quick whirlwind of passion, she snatched the silver-handled
poker by the fireplace, raised it, and struck at me with all her
strength. Slight as she was, and weak, ordinarily, her emotion gave her
an unnatural power. The blow grazed my cheek, plowing a deep, ragged
furrow through the skin. I grabbed the weapon from her, and she stood
defiantly before me, blazing in all her finery.
The time had at last come to act.
*IV*
I may well say "act," for it was acting that was now necessary. I
smarted from her blow, I saw in her a vicious, dangerous fury, with a
devil snarling in her, but I had nothing but pity for her. How could I
be angry? She was desperate, but it was the frenzy of an irresponsible
spirit that urged her. And, moreover, she stood in my own bride's
image, beautiful, splendid, virile. She was, in outward seeming, the
woman I loved best in all the world. I had, I insist, nothing but the
tenderest pity for her whom I must now, if I had the power, harry,
harass, torment and destroy. But to accomplish this I had to play a
part. I could show no trace of kindness or consideration. So I nerved
myself and simulated rage when never was rage further from my heart.
"Oh, you would, would you!" I cried through my teeth, as villains do
upon the stage. "Well, then, Miss Edna, it's time to talk honestly to
you. I am in love with Joy, and I do hate you with all my heart! I
would free Joy if I could, but you and the doctor are too much for us.
I know what she's had to endure from him in your own person and her own,
and rather than let her go through that outrage again, rather than let
his lips touch hers, whether you consent or not, I'll kill you both. I
can't touch her, for I love her, but I'm going to kill you, now!"
With that I drew a revolver from my pocket and took steady aim at her.
Oh, I gave her time! The one thing I was afraid of, then, was that she
would dare me to shoot. Luckily her nerve failed her.
She screamed and ran to the door like a deer. She screamed as she
dashed up-stairs, tripping over her gown, calling wildly for Leah to
come and save her. She screamed again and again as, giving her ample
time to escape, I followed after her, shooting once, twice, thrice,
stumbling up after her, muttering histrionic curses. There was no doubt
that I had frightened her! But could I keep it up till she was
literally beside herself with terror?
"Break the bone and let it heal right again!" I kept repeating to
myself. But to break it--ugh! I shuddered and nerved myself again.
She had run into her room, slammed the door and locked it. I threw
myself upon it and beat upon the panels with my hands. Again she
screamed--the sound sickened me. I cried out that I would kill her, that
there was no use in resisting, that I would break down the door. I
shouted hoarsely enough, there was no need of pretending, now.
She came to the door and wailed.
"Spare me!" she cried. "Save me, Chet! You were wounded and fainting
when I took you into my house. Didn't I do everything for you? How can
you! How can you! What have I done?"
I fired again to stop her. I couldn't stand that reproach. Her screams
broke out again. I could hear her overthrowing tables and piling them
madly in front of the door.
Then her shrieks stopped suddenly, and I heard her running here and
there as if searching for something. I heard drawers pulled open and
emptied upon the floor, I heard chairs falling. Then there was an
instant's lull.
Next, a muffled shot rang out. A bullet ripped through the panel of the
door and buried itself in the mahogany wainscoting, missing my head by
barely an inch. She had found her revolver--I had forgotten about that.
The game was getting serious.
But now it was more necessary than ever to finish. I went down into the
hall and shouted to King. He appeared at the dining-room door, his eyes
as round as glass marbles, his mouth open.
"Get an ax, King, and bring it up here, quick!"
I went up again and, putting my pistol cautiously to the hole in the
panel, fired another blank cartridge. My shot was immediately answered
by her revolver, but the bullet went wild.
King came blundering up the stairs with the ax, showing a white mouthful
of teeth. I had never thought it possible for him to show so much
excitement, but he was quite wild. I took the ax and struck a heavy
blow at the panel, splitting it open. Had I really wished to break down
the door immediately, I would have aimed at the lock. But I wanted to
draw her fire, and to torture her to the limit of suspense and fear.
She screamed again as the wood was ripped into splinters, and two more
shots were fired in quick succession, only one of them going through the
door. She had spent four cartridges now, and, as she held the last one,
I had to act quickly so that she would have no chance to reload.
"You go down-stairs, King," I commanded. "Wait for her when she runs
out. I'll chase her outdoors. She has only one shot left, so you
needn't be afraid of her. I'll get that bullet, all right. Scream at
her, scare her to death if you can, but don't touch her. If you do, by
God, I'll kill you!"
He stole noiselessly down the stairs and disappeared. I tried another
panel with the ax, but, as she was clever enough not to shoot, I
reloaded my first pistol, and, taking what risk there was without
thought, I seized the ax again and with one fierce blow smashed the lock
to pieces. With the concussion the door fell partly in. I dropped the
ax, put my shoulder to the door and swept the barricade inward, darting
quickly through with my pistol raised.
[Illustration: She was handsome--terrible.]
She was handsome--terrible. Frightened as she was, she had control of
herself yet, and was magnificently defiant, breathing in quick gasps
with her mouth open, her bosom heaving, as if she were suffocating. Her
embroidered waist was half torn off and hung away from her neck,
revealing her brown-white breast, or perhaps she had torn the bodice
open herself for air. Her golden wreath was gone. I saw it on the
floor, trampled out of shape. Her hair had fallen over her shoulders,
but its disarray was lovely. Her filmy, sparkling gown was rent and
spotted from her falls.
She had taken refuge behind an overthrown table and stood with her
revolver ready. Over her head was a drifting cloud of smoke, about her a
wild confusion of disordered furniture. A shaft of sunlight played upon
her disheveled costume. In the stable, I heard the dogs barking
frantically.
So much I observed in one flash--the picture will always be with me as
distinct as a photograph--but I had no time to speak, or even to think
what I should do next, for, after that momentary pause, she bent forward
deliberately and fired at me point-blank.
I felt a sting on my left arm where her bullet grazed, but, without
stopping to find whether I was hurt or not, I fired with both pistols at
once, and went forward at her. The sound of the double shot in the
closed room was terrific. Her eyes, staring and fascinated, kept on me
for an instant as if she were paralyzed, then she screamed again--her
voice rivaled the pistol shots--and, suddenly pushing the table with all
her might against me, she ran for the door. As she passed, I shot
again. The din was maddening.
It was not my intention to finish with her there, though, and again I
gave her a chance to escape, driving her before me. As she dashed out
she brushed against a framed Madonna upon the wall and it came crashing
down. She stumbled on the threshold--I thought she would never get
away--and, moaning pitifully, she half ran, half fell down the stairway.
It was a dirty piece of business. I was sickened by it. But, having
gone so far, I had no thought of stopping till I had accomplished my
object. I gave her a moment's time, therefore, and then, leaving that
horrid smoking chaos in her room, I followed her.
She had gone out the front door and turned the corner of the house,
making, by some fatal impulse, for the stable. The barking of the
collies had ceased, but as I got to the yard I heard it recommence in a
higher and more violent key. It seemed incredible to me that she had
sought refuge in the stable, but as I looked, I saw the great door
rolled shut. When I came up to it, King came out of his cabin room.
King came out; but he was no longer the smiling, unctuous Celestial I
had known. In that yelping, screaming clamor, I stopped to look at him
in surprise.
He had fastened the mask upon his head and held the cymbals in one hand.
With the other he dragged a package of fire-crackers six feet long,
braided together in quadruple rows--there were as many there as in a
hundred of the common Fourth-of-July packages. It was such an equipment
as the Chinese use for their New Year's Day celebrations.
Before I could speak to him he had thrown the string into an empty
barrel and had lighted the fuse. Immediately there was an uproar like a
regiment of infantry firing at will. As soon as this was started, he
took up his cymbals and began capering about, clanging them. The
barking of the dogs rose frantically.
Surely, if anything could increase her excitement, this grotesque
accession would, and I prepared for the last scene. The uproar inside
now rivaled King's racket; Edna was screaming for help, and instantly it
occurred to me that the dogs, who had always hated her, might be now
upon her, and, if I did not act quickly, would tear her to pieces.
I tried the big door; it was held by something inside. Smashing in a
window, sash, glass and all, with my naked fists, I climbed in and went
through the harness-room to the carriage shed.
There she stood, now disarrayed to a shocking state, her shining golden
skirt ripped half off, her bosom bare, her hair streaming. She was
driven into a corner and was held there at bay by three snapping,
yelping dogs. She had caught up a carriage whip and was slashing away
so savagely that the collies dared not close with her, but I could see
that it was only a question of a few minutes before she would collapse.
It was my Joy in face and form, remember! It was her face that was
distorted with terror, her form that was draped in glittering rags, it
was her voice that rose, shriek on shriek, above the din, till my blood
ran cold. It was her voice that screamed to me for help before she was
torn to pieces. Its terror will be with me always.
"Oh, help me! Help me!" she cried.
But I steeled myself for the _coup de grace_. "Break the bone," I
muttered, "and let it heal again!"
So I staggered to the great door, slipped the hasp and let in King,
prancing, beating his cymbals, droning some savage chant. The sun shone
full upon him, glinted on the brass cymbals and illuminated the red and
white and black of his atrocious mask. He danced up to her, nearer and
nearer. I watched her, spellbound.
Then, as I looked, I saw her face change. Her whip hand dropped, her
staring eyes closed. She clutched at her naked breast, tottered and
fell headlong, striking her forehead against a carriage wheel as she
went down like a golden wave dashing on the shore. I sprang to catch
her, just too late. But the next instant I was down on the floor beside
her, beating the collies back, protecting her from their teeth by my own
body. Even as I did so they drew off, stopped their fierce snarling and
lay down, panting, to watch me quietly. How my hopes rose at this! How
eagerly I waited for the prostrate form to revive. Outside, the last of
the fire-crackers popped at intervals in the smoking barrel.
"Get some water!" I cried to King.
He threw off his mask, and dropped his cymbals with a clanging clash and
was off through the big door.
The next moment I looked up from the pale scarred face on the floor, to
see Doctor Copin standing at the entrance. Leah, wide-eyed, staring,
was behind him.
"What in hell's the matter?" he demanded, and he looked in astonishment
at the scene, at the flaccid body in its magnificent disarray, at me
holding her passionately in my arms.
I watched her face for the first sign of life, and did not answer him.
His presence mattered little, now, in my agonized suspense.
"For God's sake, Castle, what does this mean? Are you all mad? What
has happened? What the devil are you doing here, anyway? Let me see to
Miss Fielding, please."
I attempted to hold him off with one hand, but he seized me roughly
before I was able to resist, and threw me to one side. He dropped to
his knees, looked at the face and felt for the pulse. I took my
revolver from my pocket and pointed it at him.
"You take your hand off her, or I'll make you!" I cried.
Quick as a flash he turned and looked at me bravely. "Shoot if you
dare!" he said. "This is my day, and this is my Miss Fielding. I take no
orders from you, sir. It's my duty as a physician to revive her.
She'll send you packing herself, when she comes to."
I was, after all, so fearful of her condition by this time, that I was
glad to take advantage of his skill. It would soon be settled one way
or the other, at any rate. So I said:
"All right, then, if she asks me to go, I will. But we'll wait and
see."
And so we stood, facing each other, for a tense moment, then turned to
her again. King came running in with a basin of water. Leah took it,
stooped down and began to sprinkle the pale face.
At that moment I saw Minnehaha look up, and crawl, whimpering, to her
mistress' side. Chevalier and John O'Groat followed her. Joy's eyes
opened. I sprang to lift her up.
"Edna!" the doctor cried.
"Joy!" I called, myself.
Life came flooding into her face, and I knew intuitively that it was
Joy--Joy illumined, now, in some secret way, by the knowledge of our
victory.
"Chester!" She smiled wanly up at me. "Chester, send him away! I want
to be alone with you! I have something to tell you!"
"Miss Fielding!" the doctor exclaimed, "I must see you a moment first."
She turned to him and a wave of crimson swept over her cheek.
"I beg your pardon, doctor, I'm no longer Miss Fielding. I'm Mrs.
Castle, and I beg you to leave immediately!"
Then, still holding my hand close in hers, she looked up at Leah and
drew her down beside us.
"Oh, Leah, dear, we've won! _We've won!_"