The Rose in the Ring Part 44

"You would better a thousand times shoot yourself than to bring that black shadow into her life," said David. "Suicide is bad enough but--ugh!" He shuddered.

"Look here, Jenison, I might have been a good man if it hadn't been for Bob Grand. I always would have been a showman, I reckon, but I'd have been fairly self-respecting. Today, instead of being what I am, I'd still have the love of my wife, the respect of my girl, and--oh, well, you can't understand. You all are against me--and have been for years.

I don't blame you--not a bit of it. I deserve it. Grand deliberately set out to ruin me--to pull me down. You know why. We won't go into that. I happen to know he afterwards paid her a lot of money for her interest in the business. When she tells me it was a square transaction I'll believe it, but not before."

He paced the floor, his hands in his coat pockets, his brows drawn down in a thoughtful scowl.

"You can stop me, I suppose, by having me locked up--but you can't keep me there forever. I'll get out some time. I don't say I'm going to shoot Bob Grand. I want you all to bear witness to this statement: whatever I do to him will be with these two hands. See 'em? Don't they look competent? He didn't use weapons on me, and I'm not going to use 'em on him. It's just a case of who has the best hands in this little game."

"Why, man, it would be cowardly in you to put your strength against his. You could crush him," groaned David.

Braddock smiled, almost joyously. "Won't it be a pretty sight? My hands on that fat neck of his! Ha!"

"And the 'angman's rope on that neck of yours," put in Joey, wiping his moist forehead.

"That's not the point," said Thomas Braddock.

He picked up his hat, which he had cast upon a chair, and, without another word to either of them--no word of thanks to Ruby, no word of appreciation to David, no word of grat.i.tude to Joey--he strode out into the hall, through the door and down the steps.

They sat still looking at each other for a long time.

"He can't do it to-day," said Joey in hushed tones. "The man's still out o' town."

CHAPTER IV

THE DELIVERY OF A TELEGRAM

On David's return to the hotel he found a hastily scrawled note from Artful d.i.c.k Cronk. He had remained at the Noakes' until mid-afternoon, discussing the sinister att.i.tude of Thomas Braddock. Joey stubbornly maintained that it was worse than useless to have the man locked up; it would merely delay the consummation of his purpose, and it would add fuel to the fierce flames that already were consuming his brain. He was for temporizing methods, attended by shrewd efforts to keep the enemies apart. It was his opinion that Braddock would listen to reason before many days. Certainly there could be no immediate danger with Grand out of the city. Jenison at last came to his way of thinking, although not without a twinge of misgiving. He had no respect, no sympathy for Braddock. It was his firm opinion that the man had in no way reformed; that he was as bad, if not worse, than ever, for now he was himself and not crazed by drink.

d.i.c.k's note bore the disturbing news that Colonel Grand had returned to town, and that Mrs. Braddock was expected the following day. Ernie had obtained this information through the friendly Portman servant, who (to quote d.i.c.k) affected the hunchback's society because he believed that the "touching of a hump would bring good luck!" Old Mr. Portman, it was given out, was on his way to his summer place in the Adirondacks, Naturally he would be accompanied by his daughter and Christine. They were due to arrive at four o'clock, and expected to remain in town for ten days before going up to the cool hills. The closing sentences of the pickpocket's note were quaintly satirical: "Brad says he can't afford to be seen in my company. You know how politely he would say it, don't you? He says he can't take chances now. But I staked him to a bed for to-night and I told him I'd give him grub money. It seemed to tender him up a bit. He's hanging round with Ernie to-day and I'm going to see him to-night. Did I tell you that Ernie has a little apartment all to himself over on Fourth Avenue? He's some elegant. Of course, it won't do for me to be seen around his shack much. I might accidentally give the place a bad name, see? Well, I'll close, but will write again to-morrow. d.i.c.k. P. S. They come in on the Pennsylvania."

David spent a miserable night. He was obsessed by the fear that Braddock would seek out Grand that very night, and that it would all be over in the morning. At breakfast he scanned the newspapers closely, half expecting to find the dreaded head-lines. As the morning wore away his spirits lifted. He had made up his mind to go to the railway station. From an obscure corner he would see her without being seen. It was his whim to see her first in this manner, to stare to his soul's content, to compare her in the flesh to the glorious picture his brain had painted. He made no doubt that she would far surpa.s.s the portrait in his mind: did not Ruby say she was ravishingly beautiful? His heart leaped fiercely to the project in hand; more than once he found himself growing faint with the intensity of yearning and impatience.

He took Joey and Ruby to luncheon at Delmonico's. All through the meal he was busy picturing to himself the girl who was whirling northward, nearer and nearer to him with each minute of time. She would be tall and slender and shapely. His mind's eye traveled backward. Her hair would be brown--But, even as he constructed her to please his eager imagination, he quailed before the spectre of doubt: was the heart of the girl of fifteen unchanged in the woman of twenty?

Ruby was glibly telling him of the young men who paid court to the granddaughter of old Mr. Portman. Both she and Joey found rich enjoyment in the fact that these sprigs of gentility knew nothing of the circus-riding epoch in Christine's life; they wondered what the effect would be when the truth came out. Joey ventured the opinion that "the devil would be to pay," and Ruby added the prophecy that "they would drop her like a hot poker." Strange to say, David found considerable satisfaction in these dolorous predictions.

He caught the ferry soon after luncheon, and was in the station on the other side of the river long before the train was due.

Buying a newspaper, he took a seat in a far corner of the concourse. He read but little and that without understanding. His mind was quite fully occupied in peering over the top of the sheet in the direction of the sheds. Finally he became convinced, by certain psychic processes of the mind, that some one was staring at him. He looked about in all directions. At last his eyes rested on a squat, misshapen figure far over by the ferry entrance.

He had no difficulty in recognizing Ernie Cronk. His presence there was disquieting in more than one sense. d.i.c.k had said that Braddock was "hanging 'round" with his brother. This, of itself, was sufficient to create alarm in David's mind. He searched the scurrying throng for a glimpse of the drab, sinister figure of Christine's father, all the while conscious that Ernie Cronk's baleful gaze was upon him. The beady eyes seemed to penetrate shifting obstructions, never changing, never wavering.

David considered briefly, and then decided to consult the cripple. As he made his way over to him he noted that Ernie was flashily dressed, almost to the point of grotesqueness. One might have forgiven the vivid checked suit on the person of a buoyant barber, but it was grewsome in its present occupation. Its gaudy, insistent cheapness leaped out at the observer with much the same appeal for favor that one imputes to the garments of a clown. One might have read the envy in Ernie's soul as his eyes swept the tall, straight, simply clad Southerner who approached. He stood his ground defiantly, however; there was no smile of friendliness on his thin lips.

"h.e.l.lo, Ernie," said David. Ernie's arms were folded across his breast.

As he gave no sign of unfolding them, David did not proffer his hand.

"You don't have to speak to me if you don't want to," muttered Ernie, his eyes snapping.

"Where is Braddock?" asked the other, imperturbably.

The rat-like eyes glittered with a cunning smile. "Don't ask me. Got you worried, eh?"

"We are trying to keep him from hurting Christine, that's all," said David tactfully.

"He ain't going to do that," said Ernie quickly. A shadow of anxiety crept into his face, however. "He's after Grand."

"Just the same, we are afraid. Is he here?"

"No. He's asleep at my place, if that'll do you any good. I'm not going to turn against her father, which is more than the rest of you can say.

You can tell her, if you want to, that I'm still his friend." It was plain to be seen that he was adopting this pitiful policy as a means of gaining the attention of the otherwise unapproachable Christine. "He was up all night--_looking!_"

"For Grand?"

"I didn't ask," leered the hunchback. Suddenly his eyes flew wide open.

He was staring past Jenison. "Say! Speaking of angels, look behind you."

David turned. Not twenty feet away stood Colonel Grand, twirling a light walking-stick and surveying the throng with disinterested eyes.

He had seen and ignored Ernie, but had failed to recognize the young man whose back was toward him.

David experienced a sickening sense of disappointment. His heart sank like lead. Grand's presence in the station could have but one meaning.

A great wave of revulsion swept through the Virginian. He forgot the antic.i.p.ated joy of the moment before in contemplation of this significant proof of an understanding.

His lips were dry. He moistened them. Ernie, observing the movement, concluded that he was muttering something to himself.

"Say it to his face, why don't you?" he recommended sarcastically.

Before David could interpose, the hunchback called out to Colonel Grand. The latter turned quickly. For a moment he stared intently at the face of the tall young man. Suddenly light broke in upon him.

"Why, it's Jenison," he exclaimed, and advanced, an amiable smile on his lips. David ignored the hand that he extended; he could only stare, as if fascinated, at the puffy face of the speaker.

Grand had altered but little in appearance during the five years that had pa.s.sed. He seemed to have grown no older, nor was he less repulsive to look upon. As of old, he was carefully, even immaculately dressed.

Ernie Cronk moved away. They might have heard him chuckling softly to himself.

"Let me see, it's five years, isn't it?" went on the Colonel suavely.

He did not appear to resent David's omission. "You've changed considerably. The mustache improves you, I think."

His voice was as oily as ever, his eyes and his nose as sheep-like.

Something arose in David's throat, bringing a certain hoa.r.s.eness to his voice.

"Time has not affected you, Colonel," he retorted.

"So they tell me," said the other. "Are you waiting to meet some one?"

"Yes," said David, and nothing more.

The Colonel twirled his stick. "My daughter is arriving by the four-twenty," he announced. "Beastly old station, this. What a G.o.dsend a destructive fire would prove if it took it from one end to the other."