Castle Craneycrow Part 19

d.i.c.key was pacing their rooms excitedly when Quentin entered. Turk stared gloomily from the open window, and there was a sort of savageness in his silent, st.u.r.dy back that bespoke volumes of restraint.

"Good Lord, Phil, everybody knows you have refused to fight the prince. The newspaper men have been here and they have tried to pump me dry. Turk says one of the men downstairs is telling everybody that you are afraid of Ravorelli. What are we going to do?" He stopped before the newcomer and there was reproach in his manner.

Quentin dejectedly threw himself into a chair and stared at the floor in silence.

"Turk!" he called at last. "I want you to carry a note to Miss Garrison, and I want you to make sure that she reads it. I don't know how the devil you are to do it, but you must. Don't bother me, d.i.c.key. I don't care a continental what the fellow downstairs says; I've got something else to think about." He threw open the lid to one of his trunks and ruthlessly grabbed up some stationery. In a minute he was at the table, writing.

"Is Kapolski dead?" asked d.i.c.key.

"I don't know and don't care. I'll explain in a minute. Sit down somewhere and don't stare, d.i.c.key--for the Lord's sake, don't stare like a scared baby." He completed the feverishly written note, sealed the envelope, and thrust it into Turk's hands. "Now, get that note to her, or don't come back to me. Be quick about it, too."

Turk was off, full of fresh wonder and the importance of his mission. Quentin took a few turns up and down the room before he remembered that he owed some sort of an explanation to his companion.

"She wouldn't see me," he said, briefly.

"What's the matter? Sick?"

"No explanation. Just wouldn't see me, that's all."

"Which means it's all off, eh? The prince got there first and spiked your guns. Well? What have you written to her?"

"That I am going to see her to-night if I have to break into the house."

"Bravely done! Good! And you'll awake in a dungeon cell to-morrow morning, clubbed to a pulp by the police. You may break into the house, but it will be just your luck to be unable to break out of jail in time for the wedding on the 16th. What you need is a guardian."

"I'm in no humor for joking, d.i.c.key."

"It won't be a joke, my boy. Now, tell me just what you wrote to her. Gad, I never knew what trouble meant until I struck Brussels.

The hot water here is scalding me to a creamy consistency."

"I simply said that she had no right to treat me as she did to-day and that she shall listen to me. I ended the note by saying I would come to her to-night, and that I would not be driven away until I had seen her."

"You can't see her if she refuses to receive you."

"But she will see me. She's fair enough to give me a chance."

"Do you want me to accompany you?"

"I intend to go alone."

"You will find Ugo there, you know. It is bound to be rather trying, Phil. Besides, you are not sure that Turk can deliver the note."

"I'd like to have Ravorelli hear everything I have to say to her, and if he's there he'll hear a few things he will not relish."

"And he'll laugh at you, too."

An hour later Turk returned. He was grinning broadly as he entered the room.

"Did you succeed?" demanded Quentin, leaping to his feet. For answer the little man daintily, gingerly dropped a small envelope into his hand.

"She says to give th' note to you an' to n.o.body else," he said, triumphantly. Quentin hesitated an instant before tearing open the envelope, the contents of which meant so much to him. As he read, the gloom lifted from his face and his figure straightened to its full height. The old light came back to his eyes.

"She says I may come, d.i.c.key. I knew she would," he exclaimed, joyously.

"When?"

"At nine to-night."

"Is that all she says?"

"Well--er--no. She says she will see me for the last time."

"Not very comforting, I should say."

"I'll risk it's being the last time. I tell you, Savage, I'm desperate. This d.a.m.nable game has gone far enough. She'll know the truth about the man she's going to marry. If she wants to marry him after what I tell her, I'll--I'll--well, I'll give it up, that's all."

"If she believes what you tell her, she won't care to marry him."

"She knows I'm not a liar, d.i.c.key, confound you."

"Possibly; but she is hardly fool enough to break with the prince unless you produce something more substantial than your own accusation. Where is your proof?"

This led to an argument that lasted until the time came for him to go to her home When he left the hotel in a cab he was thoroughly unstrung, but more determined than ever. As if by magic, there came to life the forces of the prince. While Ugo sat calmly in his apartment, his patient agents were d.o.g.g.i.ng the man he feared, d.o.g.g.i.ng him with the persistence and glee of blood-hounds. Courant and his hirelings, two of them, garbed as city watchmen, were on the Avenue Louise almost as soon as the man they were watching. By virtue of fate and the obstinacy of one d.i.c.key Savage, two of Quentin's supporters, in direct disobedience of his commands, were whirling toward the spot on which so many minds were centered. From a distance Savage and Turk saw him rush from the carriage and up the broad stone steps that led to the darkened veranda. From other points of view, Jules Courant and his men saw the same and the former knew that Turk's visit in the afternoon had resulted in the granting of an interview. No sooner had Quentin entered the house than a man was despatched swiftly to inform Prince Ugo that he had not been denied.

Mrs. Garrison met him in the hall alone. There was defiance in her manner, but he had not come thus far to be repulsed by such a trifle as her opposition. With rare cordiality he advanced and extended his hand.

"Good evening, Mrs. Garrison. I hardly expected to find you and Dorothy quite alone at this time of night." She gave him her hand involuntarily. He had a way about him and she forgot her resolve under its influence. There was no smile on her cold face, however.

"We are usually engaged at this hour, Mr. Quentin, but to-night we are at home to no one but you," she said, meaningly.

"It's very good of you. Perhaps I would better begin by ending your suspense. Dorothy refused to see me to-day and I suspect the cause.

I am here for an explanation from her because I think it is due me.

I came also to tell you that I love her and to ask her if she loves me. If she does not, I have but to retire, first apologizing for what you may call reprehensibility on my part in presuming to address her on such a matter when I know she is the promised wife of another. If she loves me, I shall have the honor to ask you for her hand, and to ask her to terminate an engagement with a man she does not love. I trust my mission here to-night is fully understood."

"It is very plain to me, Mr. Quentin, and I may be equally frank with you. It is useless."

"You will of course permit me to hear that from the one who has the right to decide," he said.

"My daughter consented to receive you only because I advised her to do so. I will not speak now of your unusual and unwarranted behavior during the past month, nor will I undertake to say how much annoyance and displeasure you have caused. She is the affianced wife of Prince Ravorelli and she marries him because she loves him. I have given you her decision." For a moment their eyes met like the clashing of swords.

"Has she commissioned you to say this to me?" he asked, his eyes penetrating like a knife.

"I am her mother, not her agent."

"Then I shall respectfully insist that she speak for herself." If a look could kill a man, hers would have been guilty of murder.

"She is coming now, Mr. Quentin. You have but a moment of doubt left. She despises you." For the first time his composure wavered, and his lips parted, as if to exclaim against such an a.s.sumption.

But Dorothy was already at the foot of the stairs, pale, cold and unfriendly. She was the personification of a tragedy queen as she paused at the foot of the stairs, her nand on the newell post, the lights from above shining directly into a face so disdainful that he could hardly believe it was hers. There was no warmth in her voice when she spoke to him, who stood immovable, speechless, before her.

"What have you to say to me, Phil?"