Jason Part 36

"He's here, I think," said Ste. Marie. "I saw him a few days ago."

The man on the wall had found two notes of a hundred francs each, and he dropped them down to Ste. Marie's hands. Also he gave him a small revolver which he had in his pocket, one of the little automatic weapons such as Olga Nilssen had brought to the rue du Faubourg St. Honore.

Afterward he glanced up and said:

"Two people are coming out of the house. I shall have to go. At two to-night, then--and at this spot. We shall be on time."

He drew back out of sight, and the other man heard the cedar-tree shake slightly as he went down it to the ground. Then Ste. Marie turned and walked quickly back to the place where Mlle. O'Hara had left him. His heart was leaping with joy and exultation, for now at last he thought that the end was in sight--the end he had so long labored and hoped for.

He knew that his face must be flushed and his eyes bright, and he made a strong effort to crush down these tokens of his triumph--to make his bearing seem natural and easy. He might have spared himself the pains.

Young Arthur Benham and Coira O'Hara came together down under the trees from the house. They walked swiftly, and the boy was a step in advance, his face white with excitement and anger. He began to speak while he was still some distance away. He cried out, in his strident young voice:

"What the devil is all this silly nonsense about old Charlie and lies and misunderstandings and--and all that guff?" he demanded. "What the devil is it? D'you think I'm a fool? D'you think I'm a kid? Well, I'm not!"

He came close to Ste. Marie, staring at him with an angry scowl, but his scowl twitched and wavered and his hands shook a little beside him and his breath came irregularly. He was frightened.

"There is no nonsense," said Ste. Marie. "There is no nonsense in all this whole sorry business. But there has been a great deal of misunderstanding and a great many lies and not a little cruelty. It's time you knew the truth at last." He turned his eyes to where Coira O'Hara stood near-by. "How much have you told him?" he asked.

And the girl said: "I told him everything, or almost. But I had to say it very quickly, and--he wouldn't believe me. I think you'd best tell him again."

The boy gave a short, contemptuous laugh.

"Well, I don't want to hear it," said he.

He was looking toward the girl. He said:

"This fellow may be able to hypnotize you, all right, but not Willie.

Little Willie's wise to guys like him."

And swinging about to Ste. Marie, he cried:

"Forget it! For-get it! I don't want to listen to your little song to-day. Ah, you make me sick! You'd try to make me turn on old Charlie, would you? Why, old Charlie's the only real friend I've got in the world. Old Charlie has always stood up for me against the whole bunch of them. Forget it, George! I'm wise to your graft."

Ste. Marie frowned, for his temper was never of the most patient, and the youth's sneering tone annoyed him. Truth to tell, the tone was about all he understood, for the strange words were incomprehensible.

"Look here, Benham," he said, sharply, "you and I have never met, I believe, but we have a good many friends in common, and I think we know something about each other. Have you ever heard anything about me which would give you the right to suspect me of any dishonesty of any sort?

Have you?"

"Oh, slush!" said the boy. "Anybody'll be dishonest if it's worth his while."

"That happens to be untrue," Ste. Marie remarked, "and as you grow older you will know it. Leaving my honesty out of the question if you like, I have the honor to tell you that I am, perhaps not quite formally, engaged to your sister, and it is on her account, for her sake, that I am here. You will hardly presume, I take it, to question your sister's motive in wanting you to return home? Incidentally, your grandfather is so overcome by grief over your absence that he is expected to die at any time. Come," said he, "I have said enough to convince you that you must listen to me. Believe what you please, but listen to me for five minutes. After that I have small doubt of what you will do."

The boy looked nervously from Ste. Marie to Mlle. O'Hara and back again.

He thrust his unsteady hands into his pockets, but withdrew them after a moment and clasped them together behind him.

"I tell you," he burst out, at last--"I tell you, it's no good your trying to knock old Charlie to me. I won't stand for it. Old Charlie's my best friend, and I'd believe him before I'd believe anybody in the world. You've got a knife out for old Charlie, that's what's the matter with you."

"And your sister?" suggested Ste. Marie. "Your mother? You'd hardly know your mother if you could see her to-day. It has pretty nearly killed her."

"Ah, they're all--they're all against me!" the lad cried. "They've always stood together against me. Helen, too!"

"You wouldn't think they were against you if you could just see them once now," said Ste. Marie.

And Arthur Benham gave a sort of shamefaced sob, saying:

"Ah, cut it out! Cut it out! Go on, then, and talk, if you want to, _I_ don't care. I don't have to listen. Talk, if you're pining for it."

And Ste. Marie, as briefly as he could, told him the truth of the whole affair from the beginning, as he had told it to Coira O'Hara. Only he laid special stress upon Charles Stewart's present expectations from the new will, and he a.s.sured the boy that no doc.u.ment his grandfather might have asked him to sign could have given away his rights in his father's fortune, since he was a minor and had no legal right to sign away anything at all even if he wished to.

"If you will look back as calmly and carefully as you can," he said, "you will find that you didn't begin to suspect your grandfather of anything wrong until you had talked with Captain Stewart. It was your uncle's explanation of the thing that made you do that. Well, remember what he had at stake--I suppose it is a matter of several millions of francs. And he needs them. His affairs are in a bad way."

He told also about the pretended search which Captain Stewart had so long maintained, and of how he had tried to mislead the other searchers whose motives were honest.

"It has been a gigantic gamble, my friend," he said, at the last. "A gigantic and desperate gamble to get the money that should be yours. You can end it by the mere trouble of climbing over that wall yonder and taking the Clamart tram back to Paris. As easily as that you can end it--and, if I am not mistaken, you can at the same time save an old man's life--prolong it at the very least." He took a step forward. "I beg you to go!" he said, very earnestly. "You know the whole truth now.

You must see what danger you have been and are in. You must know that I am telling you the truth. I beg you to go back to Paris."

And from where she stood, a little aside, Coira O'Hara said: "I beg you, too, Arthur. Go back to them."

The boy dropped down upon a tree-stump which was near and covered his face with his hands. The two who watched him could see that he was trembling violently. Over him their eyes met and they questioned each other with a mute and anxious gravity:

"What will he do?" For everything was in Arthur Benham's weak hands now.

For a little time, which seemed hours to all who were there, the lad sat still, hiding his face, but suddenly he sprang to his feet, and once more stood staring into Ste. Marie's quiet eyes. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" he cried, and his voice ran up high and shrill and wavered and broke. "How do I know that? You'd tell just as smooth a story if--if you were lying--if you'd been sent here to get me back to--to what old Charlie said they wanted me for."

"You have only to go back to them and make sure," said Ste. Marie. "They can't harm you or take anything from you. If they persuaded you to sign anything--which they will not do--it would be valueless to them, because you're a minor. You know that as well as I do. Go and make sure. Or wait! Wait!" He gave a little sharp laugh of excitement. "Is Captain Stewart in the house?" he demanded. "Call him out here. That's better still. Bring your uncle here to face me without telling him what it's for, without giving him time to make up a story. Then we shall see. Send for him."

"He's not here," said the boy "He went away an hour ago. I don't know whether he'll be back to-night or not." Young Arthur stared at the elder man, breathing hard. "Good G.o.d!" he said, in a whisper, "if--old Charlie is rotten, who in this world isn't? I--don't know what to believe."

Abruptly he turned with a sort of snarl upon Coira O'Hara. "Have you been in this game, too?" he cried out. "I suppose you and your precious father and old Charlie cooked it up together. What? You've been having a fine, low-comedy time laughing yourselves to death at me, haven't you?

Oh, Lord, what a gang!"

Ste. Marie caught the boy by the shoulder and spun him round. "That will do!" he said, sternly. "You have been a fool; don't make it worse by being a coward and a cad. Mlle. O'Hara knew no more of the truth than you knew. Your uncle lied to you all." But the girl came and touched his arm.

She said: "Don't be hard with him. He is bewildered and nervous, and he doesn't know what he is saying. Think how sudden it has been for him.

Don't be hard with him, M. Ste. Marie."

Ste. Marie dropped his hand, and the lad backed a few steps away. His face was crimson. After a moment he said: "I'm sorry, Coira. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean it. I beg your pardon. I'm about half dippy, I guess. I--don't know what to believe or what to think or what to do." He remained staring at her a little while in silence, and presently his eyes sharpened. He cried out: "If I should go back there--mind you, I say 'if'--d'you know what they'd do? Well, I'll tell you. They'd begin to talk at me one at a time. They'd get me in a corner and cry over me, and say I was young and didn't know my mind, and that I owed them something for all that's happened, and not to bring their gray hairs in sorrow to the grave--and the long and short of it would be that they'd make me give you up." He wheeled upon Ste. Marie. "That's what they'd do!" he said, and his voice began to rise again shrilly. "They're three to one, and they know they can talk me into anything. _You_ know it, too!" He shook his head. "I won't go back!" he cried, wildly. "That's what will happen if I do. I don't want granddad's money. He can give it to old Charlie or to a gendarme if he wants to. I'm going to have enough of my own. I won't go back, and that's all there is of it. You may be telling the truth or you may not, but I won't go."

Ste. Marie started to speak, but the girl checked him. She moved closer to where Arthur Benham stood, and she said: "If your love for me, Arthur, is worth having, it is worth fighting for. If it is so weak that your family can persuade you out of it, then--I don't want it at all, for it would never last. Arthur, you must go back to them. I want you to go."

"I won't!" the boy cried. "I won't go! I tell you they could talk me out of anything. You don't know 'em. I do. I can't stand against them. I won't go, and that settles it. Besides, I'm not so sure that this fellow's telling the truth. I've known old Charlie a lot longer than I have him."

Coira O'Hara turned a despairing face over her shoulder toward Ste.

Marie. "Leave me alone with him," she begged. "Perhaps I can win him over. Leave us alone for a little while."

Ste. Marie hesitated, and in the end went away and left the two together. He went farther down the park to the rond point, and crossed it to the familiar stone bench at the west side. He sat down there to wait. He was anxious and alarmed over this new obstacle, for he had the wit to see that it was a very important one. It was quite conceivable that the boy, but half-convinced, half-yielding before, would balk altogether when he realized, as evidently he did realize, what returning home might mean to him--the loss of the girl he hoped to marry.

Ste. Marie was sufficiently wise in worldly matters to know that the boy's fear was not unfounded. He could imagine the family in the rue de l'Universite taking exactly the view young Arthur said they would take toward an alliance with the daughter of a notorious Irish adventurer.

Ste. Marie's cheeks burned hotly with anger when the words said themselves in his brain, but he knew that there could be no doubt of the Benhams' and even of old David Stewart's view of the affair. They would oppose the marriage with all their strength.