Black Jack Part 44

The smile wavered and went out, but still the dull eyes of Elizabeth were steady enough. Though perhaps that dullness was from pain. And Kate, waiting eagerly, was chagrined to see that she had not broken through to any softness of emotion. One sign of grief and trembling was all she wanted before she made her appeal; but there was no weakness in Elizabeth Cornish, it seemed.

"You see I am listening," she said gravely and almost gently. "Although I am really not well. And I hardly see the point of this long recital of crimes. It was because I foresaw what he would become that I sent him away."

"Miss Cornish, why'd you take him in in the first place?"

"It's a long story," said Elizabeth.

"I'm a pretty good listener," said Kate.

Elizabeth Cornish looked away, as though she hesitated to touch on the subject, or as though it were too unimportant to be referred to at length.

"In brief, I saw from a hotel window Black Jack, his father, shot down in the street; heard about the infant son he left, and adopted the child--on a bet with my brother. To see if blood would tell or if I could make him a fine man."

She paused.

"My brother won the bet!"

And her smile was a wonderful thing, so perfectly did it mask her pain.

"And, of course, I sent Terry away. I have forgotten him, really. Just a bad experiment."

Kate Pollard flushed.

"You'll never forget him," she said firmly. "You think of him every day!"

The elder woman started and looked sharply at her visitor. Then she dismissed the idea with a shrug.

"That's absurd. Why should I think of him?"

There is a spirit of prophecy in most women, old or young; and especially they have a way of looking through the flesh of their kind and seeing the heart. Kate Pollard came a little closer to her hostess.

"You saw Black Jack die in the street," she queried, "fighting for his life?"

Elizabeth dreamed into the vague distance.

"Riding down the street with his hair blowing--long black hair, you know," she reminisced. "And holding the crowd back as one would hold back a crowd of curs. Then--he was shot from the side by a man in concealment.

That was how he fell!"

"I knew," murmured the girl, nodding. "Miss Cornish, I know now why you took in Terry."

"Ah?"

"Not because of a bet--but because you--you loved Black Jack Hollis!"

It brought an indrawn gasp from Elizabeth. Rather of horror than surprise. But the girl went on steadily:

"I know. You saw him with his hair blowing, fighting his way--he rode into your heart. I know, I tell you! Maybe you've never guessed it all these years. But has a single day gone when you haven't thought of the picture?"

The scornful, indignant denial died on the lips of Elizabeth Cornish. She stared at Kate as though she were seeing a ghost.

"Not one day!" cried Kate. "And so you took in Terry, and you raised him and loved him--not for a bet, but because he was Black Jack's son!"

Elizabeth Cornish had grown paler than before. "I mustn't listen to such talk," she said.

"Ah," cried the girl, "don't you see that I have a right to talk? Because I love him also, and I know that you love him, too."

Elizabeth Cornish came to her feet, and there was a faint flush in her cheeks.

"You love Terry? Ah, I see. And he has sent you!"

"He'd die sooner than send me to you."

"And yet--you came?"

"Don't you see?" pleaded Kate. "He's in a corner. He's about to go--bad!"

"Miss Pollard, how do you know these things?"

"Because I'm the daughter of the leader of the gang!"

She said it without shame, proudly.

"I've tried to keep him from the life he intends leading," said Kate. "I can't turn him. He laughs at me. I'm nothing to him, you see? And he loves the new life. He loves the freedom. Besides, he thinks that there's no hope. That he has to be what his father was before him. Do you know why he thinks that? Because you turned him out. You thought he would turn bad. And he respects you. He still turns to you. Ah, if you could hear him speak of you! He loves you still!"

Elizabeth Cornish dropped back into her chair, grown suddenly weak, and Kate fell on her knees beside her.

"Don't you see," she said softly, "that no strength can turn Terry back now? He's done nothing wrong. He shot down the man who killed his father.

He has killed another man who was a professional bully and mankiller. And he's broken into a bank and taken money from a man who deserved to lose it--a wolf of a man everybody hates. He's done nothing really wrong yet, but he will before long. Just because he's stronger than other men. And he doesn't know his strength. And he's fine, Miss Cornish. Isn't he always gentle and--"

"Hush!" said Elizabeth Cornish.

"He's just a boy; you can't bend him with strength, but you can win him with love."

"What," gasped Elizabeth, "do you want me to do?"

"Bring him back. Bring him back, Miss Cornish!"

Elizabeth Cornish was trembling.

"But I--if you can't influence him, how can I? You with your beautiful-- you are very beautiful, dear child. Ah, very lovely!"

She barely touched the bright hair.

"He doesn't even think of me," said the girl sadly. "But I have no shame.

I have let you know everything. It isn't for me. It's for Terry, Miss Cornish. And you'll come? You'll come as quickly as you can? You'll come to my father's house? You'll ask Terry to come back? One word will do it!

And I'll hurry back and--keep him there till you come. G.o.d give me strength! I'll keep him till you come!"

Outside the door, his ear pressed to the crack, Vance Cornish did not wait to hear more. He knew the answer of Elizabeth before she spoke. And all his high-built schemes he saw topple about his ears. Grief had been breaking the heart of his sister, he knew. Grief had been bringing her close to the grave. With Terry back, she would regain ten years of life.

With Terry back, the old life would begin again.