Quill's Window Part 27

Then I may tell you."

"You are trembling, dear. I wish you would let me make your excuses to him when he comes. Don't see him tonight. Let me tell him--"

Alix turned squarely and faced her. There was a hara.s.sed, haunted expression in her eyes,--and yet there was defiance.

"I stayed away five days," she said huskily. "For five days I kept away from him. Then I--I gave up. I couldn't stand it any longer.

I had to come home. Now, you have the truth. I just simply HAD to see him, Aunt Nancy,--I just HAD to."

"Then,--then it IS a spell," cried the other, dismay in her voice.

"You are not yourself, Alix. This is not you who say these things."

"Oh, yes, it is!" cried the girl recklessly. "I wanted to come home. I wanted to see him. I don't love him, but I wanted to be with him. I don't trust him, but here I am. Now you have it all!

I want to see him!"

Mrs. Strong was looking past her. She stared hard at the window in the far end of the room, her eyes narrowed, her chin thrust slightly forward. Then suddenly she clutched the girl's arm, her eyes now widespread with alarm.

"Look!" she whispered shrilly, pointing.

The flush faded from Alix's face; the reckless, defiant light left her eyes, and in its place came fear.

II

Plainly outlined in the window was the face of a masked man. A narrow black mask, through which a pair of eyes gleamed brightly.

The exposed lower portion of the face, save for the heavily bearded upper lip, was ghastly white. Brief as this glimpse was, they were able to see that he wore a cap, pulled well down over his forehead.

For a few seconds the two women stood as if petrified, their eyes wide and staring, their hearts cold, their tongues paralyzed. They were gazing straight into his s.h.i.+ning eyes. Suddenly he turned his head for a quick, startled glance over his shoulder. The next instant he was gone, vanis.h.i.+ng in the blackness that hung behind him like the magician's curtain in a theatre. They heard rapid footsteps on the veranda, the crash of a chair overturned, then a loud shout, and again the sound of flying footsteps across the brick-paved terrace. Another shout, and still another, farther away.

"Quick!" screamed Alix, the first to recover her voice. "The telephone! Call the drug store. Bill Foss is there."

She ran swiftly out into the hall.

"Come back!" cried Mrs. Strong. "What are you doing? Don't open that door! He's got a pistol, Alix!"

Even as she spoke, the report of a pistol shot came to their ears.

As Alix stopped short, her hand outstretched to clutch the door k.n.o.b, a second report came.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" she cried. "He has killed Courtney! He has shot Courtney!"

By this time, her companion had reached her side. She dragged her back from the door.

"Killed Courtney? What's the matter with you? Why do you say he has killed--"

"Don't you see--can't you understand? It was Courtney who surprised him. That's why he ran. He shot,--oh, let go of me! Let go of me, I say!"

"I'll do nothing of the sort," cried Mrs. Strong. "Do you want to get shot? Come away from this door!"

A door slammed against the wall at the back of the house. Some one came running through the dining-room. First the cook, then the little waitress, dashed into the hall.

"Wha-what is it? What's the matter?" shouted the former. "What was that shootin'--"

"Where is Stevens?" demanded Mrs. Strong, as she fairly pushed Alix into the living-room. "Call him! Isn't he out there in--"

"He went out,--half hour ago,--out," stuttered the waitress. "Who's been--what's happened to Miss Alix?"

"Nothing! Go and yell for Ed! Thieves! On the porch. Don't stand there, Hilda. Go out back and scream!"

"Oh, my G.o.d! Ed's killed! He's been shot! My husband's been shot!"

It was the cook who sent this lamentation to the very roof of the house.

Mrs. Strong whispered fiercely in Alix's ear: "That's it! Ed is the one who surprised him. Courtney nothing! Now, you stay here! I'll telephone. Don't you dare go outside, Alix Crown. A stray bullet--"

Far away sounded the third shot, m.u.f.fled by distance and the shriek of the wind....

Mrs. Strong was off somewhere trying to telephone. Shrill voices, out back, were screaming. Alix stood alone in the middle of the long room, staring at the window in which the sinister face had appeared. She had not moved in what seemed to be an age. A strange, incredible thing was creeping through her mind,--a thought that was not a part of her, something that seemed to shape itself outside of her brain and force its way in to crowd out the fear and anxiety that had gripped her but a few short moments before.

What would it mean to her if Courtney Thane were dead out there in the night?

It was not the question but the answer that fixed itself in her mind. She was unconscious of the one, but vividly aware of the other. His death would mean--emanc.i.p.ation! For one brief instant she actually LONGED for the word that he was dead! The reaction was swift, overwhelming.

"G.o.d!" she gasped, shutting her eyes and clenching her hands in an ecstasy of revulsion. "What a beast,--what a horrible beast I am!

What a coward!"

Her knees trembled; an icy perspiration seemed to start out all over her body. She had wished him dead! She had grasped at THAT as the solution! Her heart had leaped joyously! It was as if some great weight suddenly had been lifted from it. Now she was numb with horror. What devilish power had taken possession of her in that brief, soul-destroying instant? She shuddered. She was afraid to open her eyes. She reached out with her hand for the support of the table. She had longed for some one to come and tell her that he was dead!

Some one was pounding on the outer door. She had a dim, vague impression that this pounding had been going on for some time.

A sort of paralysis benumbed her sensibilities. Her eyes were now wide open, staring. Had her wish come true? Was some, one come to tell her that her horrible wish had come true? Suddenly the fetters fell away. She rushed frantically to the door and turned the k.n.o.b.

The driving wind flung it open with a force that almost swept her off her feet.

Thane stood on the threshold, hatless, panting. The light from the hall, falling upon his face, revealed a long red stain that ran from temple to chin. As she drew back, alarmed, he staggered into the hall, limping painfully, and pushed the door shut behind him.

"Oh!" she gasped.

He shot a swift, searching glance down the hall and into the living-room.

Then he held out his arms to her. She was gazing spell-bound into his eager, s.h.i.+ning eyes. He waited. She came to him as if drawn by some overpowering magnet. His arms closed about her....She was crushed against his body, she seemed a part of him. His arms were like smothering coils that pressed the life out of her; his hungry lips were fastened upon hers, hot and l.u.s.tful.

Presently she began to struggle. Shame,--a vast, sickening shame,--possessed her. She was conscious of the wild, increasing l.u.s.t that mastered him. She tried to tear herself from contact with his body, as from something base, unclean, revolting. His kisses held her. She was powerless to resist the pa.s.sion that swept over her. Once more she surrendered,--and then came the shame, the overwhelming shame. She was debased, defiled! She put her hand to his face and pushed frantically to release herself from those consuming, unholy lips.

Suddenly he freed her, and sprang back, panting but triumphant.

She heard him whisper, hoa.r.s.ely, rapturously:

"G.o.d!"

Some one was coming. He had caught the sound of footsteps,--somewhere.

Alix sank breathless, rigid, almost fainting, upon the hall-seat.

"Darling!" he whispered pa.s.sionately. She half arose, caught once more by the irresistible spell that had first swept her into his embrace. He shook his head. Then she heard him speak. He was looking past her.

"I'm all right, Mrs. Strong. Don't mind me. Telephone for help."