The Way of the Strong Part 43

The leader drew near the open French window and paused listening. He could hear voices; a man's and a woman's, and for a moment, wondered that the window had been left open.

Then the thought was quickly followed up by others of a very different nature, while his ears strained to catch the words pa.s.sing beyond the drawn curtains. But the sound was m.u.f.fled, and though the temptation to draw nearer was great he resisted it. He was waiting--waiting for something, and the strain upon his patience was very great.

Then suddenly, faint and m.u.f.fled, he heard the silvery ringing of a telephone bell. He breathed a sigh as of relief, and, signing to his companion to remain where he was, moved cautiously forward until he stood within the opening of the window.

Now he could plainly hear the woman's voice at the telephone. It was sharp, a little bit unnatural, but it was plainly recognizable and familiar, and, at the sound of it, the man's teeth shut with a vicious snap.

"A letter, did you say? Oh! Yes, I heard you pa.s.s. I was busy with some work.... Oh you must see me tonight?... Oh.... Imperative I act on his instructions to-morrow morning.... I see.... Well, if it's so important I'll come along to your office.... No, don't come to me.... I'll be with you in a moment.... You won't keep me more than a few minutes?...

All right.... It's no trouble."

The waiting man heard the receiver being hung up in its place. Then the woman began speaking rapidly to her companion.

"Oh, Frank, what a nuisance," she cried, in unmistakable annoyance.

"It's Angus Moraine. He's had a letter from Alec. It's full of important instructions which he wants me to act on to-morrow morning, so I've got to get them to-night. He says he saw a light in the library when he pa.s.sed and was relieved to find I was still up. It is a bother, dear, just when I wanted to be with you. Still, he says he won't keep me more than a few minutes. Just think of it, he had intended to come and see me. Suppose he had."

The man's answer came at once.

"If he had the game would have been up all right."

The woman laughed.

"Yes. But he isn't coming. And to make sure I must hurry. Now don't you go dear. It's going to be such a long time before I see you again. I want to make the most of this opportunity. You wait here. I'll be back directly."

"What if any one comes?" The question came sharply from the man--and the eavesdropper's lips pursed grimly.

"No one will come," said the woman promptly.

"But suppose----?"

"Well, if you should hear any one coming, if you should hear anything that alarms your sensitive soul, why, then you have the money, and all my love, take them both, and go the way you came. In the meantime, in case----"

The man at the window writhed as he heard the distinct sound of a kiss.

The control he was exercising was strained to its limits. The next moment the rustle of skirts, and, at last, the closing of a door, told him all he had been waiting for.

Suddenly he drew the curtains apart and closed them sharply behind him.

CHAPTER XVIII

A MAN'S HONOR

"Well?"

The monosyllabic challenge bit through the silence of the room. It was hard, cruel, and full of unmistakable menace.

The man at the desk leaped from his seat and faced about, glaring in the direction whence the voice had proceeded.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Man Leaped from His Seat and Faced About]

He faced the accusing figure of Alexander Hendrie with a desperate, hunted look in his widening eyes, and, curiously, in the horror of the moment, amid the turmoil of alarm that filled his heart and brain, he found himself surveying the intruder with a closeness of observation only to be expected in moments of perfect tranquility.

His eyes caught the man's mane of hair, slightly graying at the temples. He noted the cold gleam of the gray eyes leveled straight at his. He realized the meaning of the harsh, tightly compressed mouth, and the gripping muscles of the wide, bull-dog jaw. There was a peculiar hunch to the man's broad shoulders, which suggested nothing so much as an animal crouching to spring. All these things he saw, and read, and he knew that a merciless fury was raging behind the calm mask of this husband of his mother.

In a flash his own nerve steadied, and a desperate calmness succeeded the first shock of horror.

"Well?" he retorted, and moistened his parching lips.

To an on-looker, undisturbed by the tension of the moment, a curious realization must inevitably have occurred. It was the extraordinary likeness existing between these two. The older man displayed the maturity of his years in his increasing bulk, but the likeness was scarcely lessened by it. There was the same hair, the same cast of feature. The younger man's eyes were blue and his height was greater, but the breadth of shoulder, the bone and muscle were similar.

Yet neither of them realized the likeness. All their thought was eaten up by a growing antagonism, antagonism in one that was well-nigh murderous, and in the other, simply that of a man, who finds himself pre-judged, found guilty and sentenced for some crime of which he is wholly ignorant and innocent.

Hendrie caught at the retort with lessening restraint. He pointed at the open safe and the bundle of notes which Frank still clutched in his hand.

"Red-handed," he said. Then as the incredulous youth made a movement of protest, the other's hand slipped round to his hip pocket with a movement not to be mistaken. "Don't move," he said quickly.

Hendrie's command had instant effect. Frank stood quite still. Then his appalled amazement found sudden and violent expression.

"Good G.o.d!" he cried. "What do you mean? Do you take me for--a low-down thief?"

Hendrie's eyes never once relaxed their cruel stare.

"What are you then?"

Frank glanced at the open safe, and his horrified eyes came back to the pile of notes he was still grasping.

"You mean----" he began. Then indignation overcame every other feeling.

"This money was----"

Again he broke off, and this time a cold sweat broke out upon his forehead. Only just in time did he realize what the admission he was about to make would entail. Suddenly he beheld the hideous trap gaping to ensnare him.

To say that his mother, this man's wife, had given him the money, that her hand had unlocked the safe, that he and she had been in that room together, would be to betray her secret and yield up to the last man in the world whom she wished should learn it, the story of--her shame.

His throat had dried up suddenly, and an awful sickness pervaded his stomach. His imagination became fired. What could he do? The possibility of such a situation had never entered his head. He was helpless. Explanation was denied him. He could only stand there, a convicted felon, caught, as Hendrie had so mercilessly declared, "red-handed." Not for one moment did he dream of taking the other course. To betray his mother, the woman who had devoted her life to him, it was out of the question. His nature was incapable of such a thing. Cost him what it might--even life itself--her honor was safe with him.

As the realization of his terrible position came to him, a fresh anxiety grew; an anxiety that was wholly unselfish. He dreaded lest she should return. He knew her goodness, her generosity. That painful secret she had hugged to herself for all these long years would be promptly yielded up to save him. He prayed that her return to the room might be delayed until--until----

He looked into the merciless eyes of his accuser whose harsh voice broke the silence--

"You were going to say it was given you. Go on."

But Frank had no answer. A dogged silence seemed to be the only thing possible, and Hendrie was left to do the talking.

"You were going to say that that money had been given you by some one--my wife?" He laughed without mirth. "Guess you'd best finish your story. Shall I send for my wife to corroborate it? How'd you fancy that? I'd think a thief would have a better yarn than that. The money was given you!"

The man's sarcasm goaded his victim beyond endurance, and dogged silence gave way before it.