The Game and the Candle Part 8

Allard drank.

CHAPTER IV

THE BOND

The habit of domination Stanief a.s.suredly had, however gracefully it were disguised. Nor was Allard, bruised with conflict, exhausted, dazed, in the mood to resist. He desired feverishly to speak; to tell his story and let Stanief, fully informed, decide whether the aid already given was to be continued further. The idea of a deception, a false belief in an injustice suffered by him, was intolerable. But Stanief smilingly imposed silence, and he yielded pa.s.sively.

The cigars burned out slowly, the tumult on sh.o.r.e died away. A quivering vibration awoke to delicate life the yacht. Stanief smoked or played with his coffee-cup, his heavy double fringe of lashes brushing his cheek; Allard leaned back in his chair, less in reverie than in utter exhaustion.

Exactly as the bells rang the hour came the metallic clank of anchor chains. The yacht shuddered under the screw, the gla.s.s and china tinkled faintly, then all settled into regularity as the engines fell into their gait and the beautiful boat moved down the river.

"And Vasili is out there in poignant distress because he can not come in 'to have the honor to report that we sail,'" remarked Stanief, breaking the long pause. "It was daringly conceived, Monsieur John, but were you not a trifle imprudent in speaking before that brilliant visitor of ours? Your voice?"

Allard aroused himself abruptly.

"Our speech back there was confined to monosyllables," he answered. "No, your Royal Highness, I think there was no risk."

Stanief did not deprecate the t.i.tle, perhaps unnoting, perhaps willing to let the other learn.

"We are on the high seas, and quite free from listeners," he said composedly. "I ask no questions, demand nothing of you, but if you indeed wish to speak of the closed episode, Monsieur John, I am ready.

After to-night we shall have other things to occupy us."

Allard leaned forward eagerly, his clear gray eyes baring to the other man all their tragedy and compelling truth.

"I want you to know, it is your right to know," he answered, with a very fierceness of pride and sorrow. "I am going to place in your power more than you have given me to-day. Hand me to those who hunt me, give me the pistol promised and the word to use it, but keep my confidence. Forgive me, I am not distrustful, only trying to show what I mean."

"I understand."

Allard looked down at the polished surface of the table, his pallor deepening if possible, then suddenly brought his eyes back to Stanief's and began to speak.

It was a very quiet story, very quietly told. It had never occurred to the Anglo-Saxon Allard to idealize his course into heroism; even mistaken heroism. Rather, he had learned to see more clearly, to condemn himself, during those long, bitter months. He bore no resentment for the punishment inflicted; simply it seemed to him that he had paid enough.

Over the weeks of suffering in the hospital, the bitterness of the public trial with its torturing dread of recognition, he pa.s.sed in a few brief words. Of Theodora he spoke only as his cousin and as Robert's betrothed; yet dimly he felt that the mute Stanief was reading all he left untold.

"There was no other way," he concluded, and the phrase was the key-note to all. "Undoubtedly it was the wrong way, but there was no other I could find, and I had to take care of them."

So far he had spoken of those he loved merely by their relationship. It was the final trust that Stanief asked by his next question:

"Will you tell me your name?"

And Allard laid his heart in the other's hand.

"John Leslie Allard," he answered.

There was an instant's pause. Stanief folded his arms on the table and spoke in his turn with no less quiet sincerity.

"Of the ethics of what you have told me, Monsieur Allard, I am perhaps not a good judge. I come from one of the world's greatest countries, where from sovereign to peasant necessity is an excuse for all things. I have seen the highest officials of the state stoop to accept systematic bribery; I have seen n.o.bles whose blood was filtered unmixed through centuries, tricking one another and the Emperor who trusted them; I have seen the commanders of the army selling for private gain the supplies which stood between their soldiers and starvation. In what you have done I confess to realizing nothing but incredible courage and self-sacrifice, possibly misdirected. But the result has been to leave you alone, as I stand alone in a different sense, so placing a bond between us. There is no one in my world to whom I could give the trust I offer you. Offer merely: I have done for you no more than you did in warning me against Dancla to-day, and you owe me nothing. You are absolutely free; will you cast your fortune with me, or shall I set you down in some one of the European ports at which we shall touch?"

Allard bent forward to lay his hand in the one so frankly extended. He remembered Stanief's name now, and remembering, comprehended many things.

"I have no one, nothing," he answered earnestly. "The purpose for which I gave all is accomplished and laid aside. Your Royal Highness, if you will let me serve you, take your purpose for my goal, your life for my empty existence, I will give you all I can."

Stanief's firm clasp closed.

"Agreed. _Soit que soit._"

And Allard repeated the promise as seriously:

"Be what may."

The whistle of a pa.s.sing tug, laboring through the mists toward Haverstraw with its train of scows, drew the corresponding blare of the yacht's siren. Involuntarily Allard started, his over-strained nerves shrinking. Stanief smiled.

"Let Rome howl, John, I may call you John, since we commenced so? Indeed I must, after giving you that name in public. You are mine now, and all America can not take you. Rest so far; it is one of our old sayings at home: 'A Stanief guards his own!'"

His own! The long loneliness s.n.a.t.c.hed the phrase greedily; worn out, Allard submitted to protection without resentment. A student of men, Stanief's eyes smiled behind their lashes as he continued more lightly:

"But now for details. You take the place of my secretary, whom I dismissed this afternoon and saw on board a train for Albany, very much against his will and very badly frightened. I have ordered his rooms prepared for you. His things are there, and I imagine you will probably find some of them you can use until your own arrive in the morning. I will send Petro to you; his ideas are confined to doing as he is told, and I shall tell him that my invitation left you no time for packing. Of course you will resume your own name."

Allard drew back aghast at such a proposition.

"My own name--"

"Why not?" Stanief demanded. "Could anything be more safe? Masquerades are always dangerous and to be avoided. John Allard's unquestioned history, his journey abroad from which he reappears as my secretary, defy all investigation, where an a.s.sumed name and past could only arouse doubt. If you were challenged now as the escaped prisoner, your safest course would be to give indignantly your own name, proving it by your Californian connections and by me. John Allard has stepped back upon his stage. Write to your brother, if you choose; pick up your old friendships. The last three years simply do not exist for you; knot the past and the future together and let the marred strand go."

The logic was unanswerable; with a quivering breath Allard took back all he had resigned for ever.

"You are right," he yielded, and bent his head to hide what flashed on his lashes.

Stanief touched the bell and rose.

"You are tired, and I have much to arrange. No doubt," the dark eyes were amusedly expressive, "Monsieur Allard is familiar enough with yachting not to be bored to-morrow. You will find Vasili a cheerful companion, Rosal also. Marzio, show monsieur his rooms and send me Petro. And tell Captain Delsar that I shall have pleasure in receiving him. Good night, John."

"Good night, your Royal Highness," was Allard's reply, but his straight eloquent glance carried its message to the other's heart.

Alone at last in the coquettish suite set apart for him--the jewel-box luxury of the yacht here manifested in azure and silver daintiness--the great reaction seized Allard. So few hours since, he was Leroy; it was hard to grasp this reality. He was weary to exhaustion, but something very near fever drove him to the round window which swung back at his touch and let the wet sweet air rush in. Leaning there, the very chaos of his thoughts left physical torpor.

Petro aroused him an hour later--and still with that curious pa.s.sivity Allard allowed himself to be cared for, measured, respectfully consulted. He even found himself ordering the old dishes for breakfast, specifying the old hour of service. And with the once familiar comfort came more restfulness.

Much later he came a second time to the round window and opened it to the rain and darkness. The April wind pa.s.sed chill fingers among the boyish curls still warm from the bath, the tiny cold drops sprinkled the throat from which the departed Dancla's silken dressing-gown fell back, but Allard felt nothing. And suddenly his head sank on his arm.

"Desmond," he breathed, "I can forgive you, now. Can you hear out there, Desmond?"

The yacht slipped on through the mist, monotonously, steadily.