FULFILMENT OF THE LAW
Louise Dent sank back upon her pillows as Lucy hurried from the room,
too amazed and horrified for speech by the girl's declaration of her
love for Curtis Conrad and her determination to reveal to him her
father's identity. Ill in body, distracted in mind almost to the point
of irresponsibility, her thoughts tossed about and took wild shapes in
her fevered brain. The one idea looming constantly before her was that
Bancroft was in deadly, imminent peril. Her bitter resentment against
Conrad and the hate and anger she had nursed so long in secret distorted
all her conception of his character. Now, as her thoughts pounded back
and forth through her dizzy, aching head, he seemed to her to be capable
of any monstrous deed. He would learn from Lucy the secret of her
father's identity, and then nothing would prevent him from rushing
forthwith to get his fill of bloody vengeance.
She rose and staggered to the window. Dark clouds were overspreading the
sky. It would rain soon, they would turn back from their ride, and he
would bring her home. Then he would hasten to the bank, and into Aleck's
room--and she covered her eyes as if to conceal what her mental vision
insisted on seeing. If Aleck only knew that Curtis had learned the
truth, if he could be warned in time, he might conceal himself until it
would be possible for him to go away. Leave the town he must, and go
far, far away, where there would be no fear of discovery.
She alone knew his danger. But could she tell him that she was aware of
his secret? She shrank from making him suffer that humiliation.
Furthermore, could she do it without betraying her own secret, without
laying bare the love that burned in her heart? Yet--what mattered the
rest if she could save his life and, perhaps, his future? She followed
with her eye the line of the canyon. Where were they now? The clouds
were black and lowering and a gray veil of rain hid the purple of the
distant mountains and spread an advancing blur over their slopes. If she
was to save Aleck she must go--at once.
Her loud and hurried knocking at the door of Bancroft's private office
sent to his heart the quick apprehension to which he had become an easy
prey. He sprang to his feet with his hand upon the revolver that of late
lay always ready upon his desk. Not only was it a relief to find that it
was nobody but Louise, but the very sight of her was so welcome and so
easeful to his overwrought and desperate mind that unconsciously he
addressed her by her Christian name. Her wild eyes and distraught face
alarmed him.
"Louise! What is the matter? You have come in all this rain? How wet you
are! Has anything happened?"
"No; not now; not yet! Wait, let me get my breath--I will tell you.
Aleck, how pale you are! Has anything happened to you?" In their
excitement neither of them noticed that she also used his Christian
name.
"No; nothing has happened to me--no more than usual. I am in deep
trouble, Louise."
"I know, I know," she cried, coming close to him. "I know what it is--I
have come to warn you. Curtis Conrad--"
"What about him?" Bancroft exclaimed, starting back. "What do you know
about him?"
"What you know, Aleck--that he means to kill you. He is coming here this
very afternoon--he will be here soon--he will kill you. You must hide
from him!"
He drew back as she spoke, and then turned sharply upon her. "Do you
know why? Are you another who knows?"
She moved a step aside and dropped her gaze, but her voice was tender
and compassionate as she replied, "Yes, Aleck; I know."
He looked at her with astonished eyes. "How did you find it out? How
long have you known?"
"For years," she said softly, stretching her hand impulsively toward
him. "Josephine told me when she died, so I could guard Lucy against all
knowledge of it. I have kept it as secret as the grave. Nobody has ever
had from me any suspicion of the truth. It has made no difference to me,
Aleck! I have only respected you the more, because you could begin over
again and build up a new name and a new life."
He took her hand. It was wet and cold, and he folded it in his, and as
she went on drew her closer to his side. He felt the soothing comfort
of her words and manner, but his eyes were on the floor as he muttered,
"I thought nobody knew; I thought it was hidden so well!"
The room had grown dark and darker. Outside, the rain was coming down in
gray sheets, and dazzling flashes of lightning flooded the heavens. Peal
upon peal of thunder smote their ears. She thought, "They are at home by
this time; he will be here soon." Laying her other hand upon Bancroft's
arm she hurried on, in broken, pleading speech: "Aleck, you must not
stay here! You must hide somewhere, where he cannot find you! Conrad--I
came to warn you--he knows, by this time--who you are. He will be here
soon."
"Conrad! Does he know? Are you sure?"
"Yes. They went to ride up the canyon, he and Lucy. She said she was
going to tell him. Aleck, you must not stay here! He may come any
minute!"
He dropped her hand and started back. "Lucy!" he cried, and again,
"Lucy! Does she know, too?" He sank into his chair and buried his face
in his arms. Louise stood beside him, her hand upon his shoulder, her
voice soft with loving compassion.
"I don't know how she knew, nor how long she has known. Until this
afternoon I had no idea that she, or any one, knew anything about it.
But she came to my room and told me that she was going to ride with him,
that she loved him, and that she was going to tell him who you are."
He made no answer; but she guessed by his troubled breathing with what
shame and despair he was struggling. She bent over him, her arm across
his shoulder, her cheek upon his hair. Above the pealing, echoing
thunder and the rattling boom of some sound which in their absorption
they had scarcely noted, there came into the room the sudden din of
cries and shouts and pistol shots.
"It's Conrad! He's coming!" cried Louise, running to the window, her
excited mind still dominated by the single idea. Bancroft grasped the
pistol. Looking back, she saw him point it at his own temple. Springing
to his side, she seized it with both hands, crying out, "Aleck, don't do
that! Don't give up! Give it to me!"
His grasp relaxed and she took the weapon from his hand.
"Aleck! Bancroft! Aleck!" they heard from outside, in Conrad's voice.
More words followed, but through the noise of the shouting and the
thunder and that rattling roar, now grown louder and nearer, they could
distinguish only, "your life!" A galloping horse rushed near the window,
there was a pistol shot without, and an answering shot from within.
A shriek pierced the clamor, and Bancroft cried, "That was Lucy's
voice!" By a flash of lightning which rent for an instant the gray
darkness, they saw the horse wheel into the hill street, and saw Lucy in
Conrad's arms.
The pistol dropped from Louise's hand as she cried out in a passion of
grief, "Oh, Aleck! Our little girl! Have I killed her?"
He leaned toward her with compassionate arms.
Conrad glanced over his shoulder as he wheeled his mare into the cross
street, and saw the towering wall of water at their very heels. Brown
Betty was staggering under her burden, but with shout and spur he drove
her on up the steep incline. A grinding crash mingled with the roar of
the flood, and another backward glance let him see the bank building
toppling, collapsing, embosomed in the awful avalanche of water. A great
wave rushed after them and swept Brown Betty from her feet. Had the
mare been less sturdy of spirit they would have been carried back on its
retreating current. But Conrad's persuading, encouraging calls were in
her ears and she struck out bravely, swimming against the force of the
waves that swirled about them and buffeted her with the debris they
carried. But the waters that spread up the cross street soon lost their
force, and she regained her footing. Curtis bent over Lucy, saying, "We
are safe now, sweetheart!" Blood was dripping over her garments, and she
lay white and still upon his arm.
At last they reached the door of the Bancroft home, and Curtis carried
Lucy, still unconscious, within, and went in search of Miss Dent. But
the house was deserted. Alone, he ministered to the girl's needs. He
located the injury, and found that a bullet, as to whose source and
intention he made his own secret guess, had pierced her arm, but had
left merely a flesh wound. Recovered from her swoon, he carried her
up-stairs and left her to change her wet clothing while he went in
search of blankets. Wrapped in these, with her arm bandaged, he left her
in bed while he hastened down the hill, hoping to find news of her
father and Miss Dent with which to relieve her anxiety.
The rain had ceased and the flood had passed, leaving in its wake the
wreck of a ruined town. Where the bank building had stood were tottering
walls and a shapeless heap of brick and timbers. Beneath the wreckage,
where had been the president's office, they found the bodies of Bancroft
and Louise, enfolded in each other's arms.
The sky cleared and only in the east did some low-lying clouds, still
wet and angry, give any hint of the storm which had swept over the town
and left desolation in its track. As Conrad climbed the hill to tell
Lucy of her double bereavement, in the tenderest words his love could
make possible, he faced the glories of a setting sun whose resplendent
pageant filled the sky and touched with its glowing colors the pitiful
devastation of the little valley.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
intent.