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"But Julian was pitiless. He caught me in his arms. I fought against him. I struck him as I felt his loathsome kisses. I said I would scream for help and--he laughed at me. Then--"
She stopped abruptly, leaving her confession unfinished, and, standing close to her lover, held him fascinated by the wild appeal of her eyes and the heaving of her bosom.
Suddenly Christopher's heart froze with terror. The dreaded change had come. This glorious young creature whose glances thrilled him, whose flaunted beauty maddened him, was not Penelope any more, but _the other_, Fauvette, the temptress, the wanton.
"Chris!" she stepped before him splendid in the intensity of her emotion. Her garment was disarranged, her beautiful hair spread over her white shoulders. She came close to him--closer--and clung to him.
"Why--why did you lock that door?" he asked unsteadily.
"I did not notice," she answered in pretended innocence, and he knew that she was lying. "Do you mind, dear? Do you mind being alone with me?" Then, before he could answer, she offered her lips. "My love! My husband! Kiss me!"
It was too much. He clasped her in his arms and held her. He knew his danger, but forgot everything in the deliciousness of her embraces.
"Penelope!"
She drew back in displeasure.
"No! I'm not Penelope. Look at me! Look!"
What was it the soldier read in those siren eyes--what depths of allurement--what sublime degradation?
"Fauvette!" he faltered.
"Yes, your Fauvette. Say it!"
He said it, knowing that his power of resistance was breaking. He was going to yield to her, he could not help yielding. What did the consequences matter? She was too beautiful.
Then slowly, musically, the neighboring chimes resounded.
A quarter to one!
And Christopher remembered.
G.o.d! What should he do? He straightened from her with hands clenched and eyes hardening.
In a flash she saw the change. She knew what he was thinking and pressed close to him, offering again her red lips.
"No!"
"Don't be a fool! You can save _her_, your goody-goody Penelope. It's the only way. I will leave her alone, except occasionally--I swear I will."
"No! You're lying!" It seemed as if he repeated words spoken within him.
"Lying?" Her eyes half closed over slumberous fires. "Do you think Penelope can ever love you as I can--as your Fauvette can? Share her with me or--" she panted, "or you will lose her entirely. Penelope dies tomorrow night, you know that, unless--"
Frantically she tried to encircle him with her arms, but Herrick repulsed her. Some power beyond himself was strengthening him.
"Oh!" she cried in fury, "you don't deserve to have a beautiful woman.
Very well! This is the end!" She darted to the bedroom door and unlocked it. "Come! I'll show you."
Deathly pale, she led the way into the sitting-room and, going to Christopher's coat, she drew out a small flask.
"There! This is the danger she wrote about. _I know._ Spiritual danger!
Ha! I'm going to open this. Yes, I am. You can't stop me."
"Don't! It's death!"
But already she had unscrewed a metal stopper and drawn forth a small gla.s.s vial filled with a colorless liquid.
"One step nearer, and I'll smash this on the floor!" she threatened. "If I can't have you, _she_ never shall!"
The captain faced her quietly, knowing well what was at stake.
"Penelope!"
She stamped her foot. "I'm not Penelope. I'm Fauvette. I hate Penelope.
For the last time--will you do what I want?"
"No!"
She lifted the vial.
"Stop!" came a masterful voice, and, turning, they saw Dr. Leroy standing in the outer doorway. Back of him were Seraphine and Dr. Owen.
"Give that to me."
The psychologist advanced toward her slowly, holding out his hands.
Fauvette stared at him, trembling.
"No! I'll throw it down."
His eyes blazed upon her. His outspread arms seemed to envelope her.
"You cannot throw it down! Come nearer! Give it to me!"
Like a frightened child she obeyed.
"Now go into the bedroom! Lie down! Sleep!"
Again she obeyed, turning and walking slowly to the bed; but there she paused and said with scornful deliberateness: "You can drive me out now, but I'll come back when she sleeps. I'll make her dream. d.a.m.n you!
And tomorrow night--Ha! You'll see!"
Dr. Leroy's stern gaze did not falter, but compelled Penelope to go back to the couch, where almost immediately her tragic eyes closed in slumber.
CHAPTER XVIII