From the Valley of the Missing Part 38

At this, Fledra turned upon him. He had never felt a pair of eyes affect him as did hers. How winsomely sweet she was! It came over him in a flash that he had not dealt quite justly with her; so he smiled again and held out his hands.

During the morning Fledra crept ghostlike about the house. She strained her eyes, now at one window and then at another, for the first glimpse of Lon. The luncheon hour came and pa.s.sed, and still the thieves gave no sign of coming. Horace had returned from his office early in the afternoon, and was smoking a cigar in the library, when suddenly a loud peal of the doorbell roused him. Fledra, too, heard it distinctly. She was sitting beside Floyd; but had not dared to breathe their danger to him. Her cheeks paled at the sound, and she rested silent until presently summoned to the drawing-room.

"What's the matter?" asked her brother.

"Nothin', Fluke, lay down, and if ye hear anyone talkin' keep still.

Somebody's coming."

"Somebody comes every day," answered Floyd. "That ain't nothin'. What ye doin', Flea?"

She was standing at the door with her ear to the keyhole. She heard the servant pa.s.s her, heard the door open, and Lon's voice asking for Mr.

Sh.e.l.lington. Then she slid back to Flukey, trembling from head to foot.

"Ye're sick, Dear," said the boy. "Get off this bed, s.n.a.t.c.het! Lay down here by me, Flea and rest."

The girl dropped down beside him and closed her eyes with a groan. Floyd placed his thin hand upon her, and Fledra remained silent, until she was summoned to the drawing-room.

"Who wanted me?" Horace asked the question of the mystified servant.

"I didn't catch the name, Sir. I didn't understand it. He's a dreadful-looking man."

Horace rose, put down his cigar, and walked into the hall.

Lon Cronk was waiting with a shabby cap in his hand. He bowed awkwardly to Sh.e.l.lington, and essayed to speak; but Horace interrupted:

"Do you wish to see me?"

"Yep," answered Lon, glancing sullenly over the young lawyer. "I've come for my brats."

"Your what?"

"My kids, Flea and Flukey Cronk."

Horace felt something clutch at his heart. Fledra's radiant face rose before his mental vision, and he swallowed hard, as he thought of her relation to the brutal fellow before him.

"Walk in here, please," he said.

Then he bade the servant call his sister.

Miss Sh.e.l.lington obeyed the summons so quickly that her brother was indicating a chair for the squatter as she walked in. At sight of the uncouth stranger she glanced about her in dismay.

"Ann," said Horace, "this is the father--of--"

Ann's expression snapped off his statement. She knew what he would say without his finishing. She remembered the stories of terrible beatings, and the story of Fledra's fear of a wicked man who wanted her for his woman. The boy's words came back to her plainly. "And he weren't goin'

to marry her nuther, Mister, and that's the truth." Nevertheless, she stepped forward, throwing a look from her brother to the squatter.

"But he can't have them--of course, he can't have them!"

Lon had come with a determination to take the twins peaceably if he could; he would fight if he had to. He had purposely applied to Sh.e.l.lington in his home, fearing that he might meet Governor Vandecar in Horace's office. As long as everyone thought the children his, he could hold to the point that they had to go back with him. He would make no compromise for money with the protectors of his children; for he had rather have their bodies to torment than be the richest man in the state. He had not yet avenged that woman dead and gone so many years back. At thought of her, he rose to his feet and smiled at Ann with twitching lips.

"Ye said, Ma'm, that I couldn't have my brats. I say that I will have 'em. I'm goin' to take 'em today. Do ye hear?"

"He can't have them, Horace. Oh! you can't say yes to him!"

Horace's mind turned back to Fledra, and he mentally blessed the opportunity he had to protect her.

"I don't think, Mr. Cronk, that you will take your children," he said, "even granted that they are yours. I'm not sure of that yet."

Lon's brown face yellowed. Had they discovered the secret that he had kept all the dark, revengeful years?

Horace's next words banished that fear: "I shall have to have you identified by one of them before I should even, consider your statement."

Cronk smiled in relief; and Ann shuddered, as she thought of Flukey's frail body in the man's thick, twisting fingers.

"That be easy enough to do. Jest call the gal--or the boy."

"The boy is too ill to get up," said Ann huskily; "and I beg of you to go away and leave them with us. You don't care for them--you know you don't."

"Who said as how I don't care for my own brats?"

"The little girl told me the night she came here that you hated her, and also that you abused them."

"I'll fix her for that!" muttered Lon.

"I don't believe you'll touch her while she is with me," said Horace hotly. "I shall send for the girl, and, if you are their father, then--"

"They can't go!" cried Ann.

"I haven't said that they could go, Ann. I was just going to say to Mr.

Cronk that if they wanted to go of course we couldn't keep them.

Otherwise, there is a remedy for him." Horace leaned over toward the squatter and threw out his next words angrily, "There's the law, Mr.

Cronk! Ann, please call Fledra."

The girl responded with the weight of the world on her. Had some arrangements been made for her and Floyd between Horace and Lon? She knew that Ann was there, and that Mr. Sh.e.l.lington had been talking with the squatter long enough to decide what should be done. She walked slowly to the door, her head spinning with anxiety and fear. For one single moment she paused on the threshold, then stepped within.

Drop by drop, the color went from her cheeks, leaving them waxen white.

She threw the squatter an unbending opposing glance.

"Did you come for Fluke and me, Pappy Lon?" she stammered.

Her lips trembled perceptibly; but she went forward, and, taking Ann's hand in hers, stood facing Cronk.

Lon looked her over from head to foot. First, his gaze took in the pretty dark head; then it traveled slowly downward, until for an instant his fierce eyes rested on her small feet.