Kennedy Square Part 8

St. George, who was boiling with indignation and disgust, but still cool and himself, pushed his way into the middle of the group.

"Not a word, Harry," he whispered in low, frigid tones. "This can be settled in another way." Then in his kindest voice, so loud that all could hear--"Teackle, will you and Mr. Willits please meet me in the colonel's den--that, perhaps, is the best place after all to straighten out these tangles. I'll join you there as soon as I have Miss Kate safely settled." He bent over her: "Kate, dear, perhaps you had better sit alongside of Mrs. Rutter until I can get these young fellows cooled off"--and in a still lower key--"you behaved admirably, my girl--admirably. I'm proud of you. Mr. Willits has had too much to drink--that is what is the matter with him, but it will be all over in a minute--and, Harry, my boy, suppose you help me look up Teackle," and he laid his hand with an authoritative pressure on the boy's arm.

The colonel had by this time reached the group and stood trying to catch the cue. He had heard the closing sentence of St. George's instructions, but he had missed the provocation, although he had seen Harry's uplifted fist.

"What's the matter, St. George?" he inquired nervously.

"Just a little misunderstanding, Talbot, as to who was to dance with our precious Kate," St. George answered with a laugh, as he gripped Harry's arm the tighter. "She is such a darling that it is as much as I can do to keep these young Romeos from running each other through the body, they are so madly in love with her. I am thinking of making off with her myself as the only way to keep the peace. Yes, you dear girl, I'll come back. Hold the music up for a little while, Talbot, until I can straighten them all out," and with his arm still tight through Harry's, the two walked the length of the room and closed the far door behind them.

Kate looked after them and her heart sank all the lower. She knew the feeling between the two men, and she knew Harry's hot, ungovernable temper--the temper of the Rutters. Patient as he often was, and tender-hearted as he could be, there flashed into his eyes now and then something that frightened her--something that recalled an incident in the history of his house. He had learned from his gentle mother to forgive affronts to himself; she had seen him do it many times, overlooking what another man would have resented, but an affront to herself or any other woman was a different matter: that he would never forgive. She knew, too, that he had just cause to be offended, for in all her life no one had ever been so rude to her. That she herself was partly to blame only intensified her anxiety. Willits loved her, for he had told her so, not once, but several times, although she had answered him only with laughter. She should have been honest and not played the coquette: and yet, although the fault was partly her own, never had she been more astonished than at his outburst. In all her acquaintance with him he had never lost his temper. Harry, of course, would lay it to Willits's lack of breeding--to the taint in his blood. But she knew better--it was the insanity produced by drink, combined with his jealousy of Harry, which had caused the gross outrage. If she had only told Willits herself of her betrothal and not waited to surprise him before the a.s.sembled guests, it would have been fairer and spared every one this scene.

All these thoughts coursed through her mind as with head still proudly erect she crossed the room on the colonel's arm, to a seat beside her future mother-in-law, who had noticed nothing, and to whom not a syllable of the affair would have been mentioned, all such matters being invariably concealed from the dear lady.

Old Mrs. Cheston, however, was more alert; not only had she caught the anger in Harry's eyes, but she had followed the flight of the torn card as its pieces fell to the floor. She had once been present at a reception given by a prime minister when a similar fracas had occurred.

Then it was a lady's glove and not a dancing-card which was thrown in a rival's face, and it was a rapier that flashed and not a clenched fist.

"What was the matter over there, Talbot?" she demanded, speaking from behind her fan when the colonel came within hearing.

"Nothing! Some little disagreement about who should lead the Virginia reel with Kate. I have stopped the music until they fix it up."

"Don't talk nonsense, Talbot Rutter, not to me. There was bad blood over there--you better look after them. There'll be trouble if you don't."

The colonel tucked the edge of a rebellious ruffle inside his embroidered waistcoat and with a quiet laugh said: "St. George is attending to them."

"St. George is as big a fool as you are about such things. Go, I tell you, and see what they are doing in there with the door shut."

"But, my dear Mrs. Cheston," echoed her host with a deprecating wave of his hand--"my Harry would no more attack a man under his own roof than you would cut off your right hand. He's not born that way--none of us are."

"You talk like a perfect idiot, Talbot!" she retorted angrily. "You seem to have forgotten everything you knew. These young fellows here are so many tinder boxes. There will be trouble I tell you--go out there and find out what is going on," she reiterated, her voice increasing in intensity. "They've had time enough to fix up a dozen Virginia reels--and besides, Kate is waiting, and they know it. Look! there's some one coming out--it's that young Teackle. Call him over here and find out!"

The doctor, who had halted at the door, was now scrutinizing the faces of the guests as if in search of some one. Then he moved swiftly to the far side of the room, touched Mark Gilbert, Harry's most intimate friend, on the shoulder, and the two left the floor.

Kate sat silent, a fixed smile on her face that ill concealed her anxiety. She had heard every word of the talk between Mrs. Cheston and the colonel, but she did not share the old lady's alarm as to any actual conflict. She would trust Uncle George to avoid that. But what kept Harry? Why leave her thus abruptly and send no word back? In her dilemma she leaned forward and touched the colonel's arm.

"You don't think anything is the matter, dear colonel, do you?"

"With whom, Kate?"

"Between Harry and Mr. Willits. Harry might resent it--he was very angry." Her lips were quivering, her eyes strained. She could hide her anxiety from her immediate companions, but the colonel was Harry's father.

The colonel turned quickly: "Resent it here! under his own roof, and the man his guest? That is one thing, my dear, a Rutter never violates, no matter what the provocation. I have made a special exception in Mr. Willits's favor to-night and Harry knows it. It was at your dear father's request that I invited the young fellow. And then again, I hear the most delightful things about his own father, who though a plain man is of great service to his county--one of Mr. Clay's warmest adherents.

All this, you see, makes it all the more inc.u.mbent that both my son and myself should treat him with the utmost consideration, and, as I have said, Harry understands this perfectly. You don't know my boy; I would disown him, Kate, if he laid a hand on Mr. Willits--and so should you."

CHAPTER V

When Dr. Teackle shut the door of the ballroom upon himself and Mark Gilbert the two did not tarry long in the colonel's den, which was still occupied by half a dozen of the older men, who were being beguiled by a relay of hot terrapin that Alec had just served. On the contrary, they continued on past the serving tables, past old Cobden Dorsey, who was steeped to the eyes in Santa Cruz rum punch; past John Purviance, and Gatch.e.l.l and Murdoch, smacking their lips over the colonel's Madeira, dived through a door leading first to a dark pa.s.sage, mounted to a short flight of steps leading to another dark pa.s.sage, and so on through a second door until they reached a small room level with the ground. This was the colonel's business office, where he conducted the affairs of the estate--a room remote from the great house and never entered except on the colonel's special invitation and only then when business of importance necessitated its use.

That business of the very highest importance--not in any way connected with the colonel, though of the very gravest moment--was being enacted here to-night, could be seen the instant Teackle, with Gilbert at his heels, threw open the door. St. George and Harry were in one corner--Harry backed against the wall. The boy was pale, but perfectly calm and silent. On his face was the look of a man who had a duty to perform and who intended to go through with it come what might. On the opposite side of the room stood Willits with two young men, his most intimate friends. They had followed him out of the ballroom to learn the cause of his sudden outburst, and so far had only heard Willits's side of the affair. He was now perfectly sober and seemed to feel his position, but he showed no fear. On the desk lay a mahogany case containing the colonel's duelling pistols. Harry had taken them from his father's closet as he pa.s.sed through the colonel's den.

St. George turned to the young doctor. His face was calm and thoughtful, and he seemed to realize fully the gravity of the situation.

"It's no use, Teackle," St. George said with an expressive lift of his fingers. "I have done everything a man could, but there is only one way out of it. I have tried my best to save Kate from every unhappiness to-night, but this is something much more important than woman's tears, and that is her lover's honor."

"You mean to tell me, Uncle George, that you can't stop this!" Teackle whispered with some heat, his eyes strained, his lips twitching. Here he faced Harry. "You sha'n't go on with this affair, I tell you, Harry.

What will Kate say? Do you think she wants you murdered for a foolish thing like this!--and that's about what will happen."

The boy made no reply, except to shake his head. He knew what Kate would say--knew what she would do, and knew what she would command him to do, could she have heard Willits's continued insults in this very room but a moment before while St. George was trying to make him apologize to his host and so end the disgraceful incident.

"Then I'll go and bring in the colonel and see what he can do!" burst out Teackle, starting for the door. "It's an outrage that--"

"You'll stay here, Teackle," commanded St. George--"right where you stand! This is no place for a father. Harry is of age."

"But what an ending to a night like this!"

"I know it--horrible!--frightful!--but I would rather see the boy lying dead at my feet than not defend the woman he loves." This came in a decisive tone, as if he had long since made up his mind to this phase of the situation.

"But Langdon is Harry's guest," Teackle pleaded, dropping his voice still lower to escape being heard by the group at the opposite end of the room--"and he is still under his roof. It is never done--it is against the code. Besides"--and his voice became a whisper--"Harry never levelled a pistol at a man in his life, and this is not Langdon's first meeting. We can fix it in the morning. I tell you we must fix it."

Harry, who had been listening quietly, reached across the table, picked up the case of pistols, handed it to Gilbert, whom he had chosen as his second, and in a calm, clear, staccato tone--each word a bullet rammed home--said:

"No--Teackle, there will be no delay until to-morrow. Mr. Willits has forfeited every claim to being my guest and I will fight him here and now. I could never look Kate in the face, nor would she ever speak to me again, if I took any other course. You forget that he virtually told Kate she lied," and he gazed steadily at Willits as if waiting for the effect of his shot.

St. George's eyes kindled. There was the ring of a man in the boy's words. He had seen the same look on the elder Rutter's face in a similar situation twenty years before. As a last resort he walked toward where Willits stood conferring with his second.

"I ask you once more, Mr. Willits"--he spoke in his most courteous tones (Willits's pluck had greatly raised him in his estimation)--"to apologize like a man and a gentleman. There is no question in my mind that you have insulted your host in his own house and been discourteous to the woman he expects to marry, and that the amende honorable should come from you. I am twice your age and have had many experiences of this kind, and I would neither ask you to do a dishonorable thing nor would I permit you to do it if I could prevent it. Make a square, manly apology to Harry."

Willits gazed at him with a certain ill-concealed contempt on his face.

He was at the time loosening the white silk scarf about his throat in preparation for the expected encounter. He evidently did not believe a word of that part of the statement which referred to Harry's engagement.

If Kate had been engaged to Harry she would have told him so.

"You are only wasting your time, Mr. Temple," he answered with an impatient lift of his chin as he stripped his coat from his broad shoulders. "You have just said there is only one way to settle this--I am ready--so are my friends. You will please meet me outside--there is plenty of firelight under the trees, and the sooner we get through this the better. The apology should not come from me, and will not. Come, gentlemen," and he stepped out into the now drizzling night, the glare of the torches falling on his determined face and white shirt as he strode down the path followed by his seconds.

Seven gentlemen hurriedly gathered together, one a doctor and another in full possession of a mahogany case containing two duelling pistols with their accompanying ammunition, G. D. gun caps, powder-horn, swabs and rammers, and it past eleven o'clock at night, would have excited but little interest to the average darky--especially one unaccustomed to the portents and outcomes of such proceedings.

Not so Alec, who had absorbed the situation at a glance. He had accompanied his master on two such occasions--one at Bladensburg and the other on a neighboring estate, when the same suggestive tokens had been visible, except that those fights took place at daybreak, and after every requirement of the code had been complied with, instead of under the flare of smoking pine torches and within a step of the contestant's front door. He had, besides, a most intimate knowledge of the contents of the mahogany case, it being part of his duty to see that these defenders of the honor of all the Rutters--and they had been in frequent use--were kept constantly oiled and cleaned. He had even cast some bullets the month before under the colonel's direction. That he was present to-night was entirely due to the fact that having made a short cut to the kitchen door in order to hurry some dishes, he had by the merest chance, and at the precise psychological moment, run b.u.mp up against the warlike party just before they had reached the duelling ground. This was a well-lighted path but a stone's throw from the porch, and sufficiently hidden by shrubbery to be out of sight of the ballroom windows.

The next moment the old man was in full cry to the house. He had heard the beginning of the trouble while he was carrying out St. George's orders regarding the two half-emptied bowls of punch and understood exactly what was going to happen, and why.

"Got de colonel's pistols!" he choked as he sped along the gravel walk toward the front door the quicker to reach the ballroom--"and Ma.r.s.e Harry nothin' but a baby! Gor-a-Mighty! Gor-a-Mighty!" Had they all been grown-ups he might not have minded--but his "Ma.r.s.e Harry," the child he brought up, his idol--his chum!--"Fo' Gawd, dey sha'n't kill 'im--dey sha'n't!--DEY SHA'N'T!!"

He had reached the porch now, swung back the door, and with a sudden spring--it was wonderful how quick he moved--had dashed into the ballroom, now a maze of whirling figures--a polka having struck up to keep everybody occupied until the reel was finally made up.

"Ma.r.s.e Talbot!--Ma.r.s.e Talbot!" All domestic training was cast aside, not a moment could be lost--"All on ye!--dey's murder outside--somebody go git de colonel!--Oh, Gawd!--somebody git 'im quick!"