The Streets of Ascalon Part 87

Something new and sinister in his eyes arrested the other's attention.

He considered the man for a few moments, then, coolly:

"I wouldn't, Ledwith."

"Why not?"

"He isn't worth it--even as company in h.e.l.l."

"Do you think I'm going to let him live on?"

"Do you care to sink to his level?"

"Sink! Can I sink any lower than I am?"

Quarren shrugged:

"Easily, if you commit murder."

"That isn't murder----"

But Quarren cut him short continuing:

"Sink lower, you ask? What have you done, anyway--except to commit this crime against yourself?"--touching him on the wrist. "I'm not aware of any other crime committed by you, Ledwith. You're clean as you stand--except for this d.a.m.nable insult and injury you offer yourself!

Can't you reason? A bullet-stung animal sometimes turns and bites itself. Is that why you are doing it?--to arouse the amus.e.m.e.nt and contempt of your hunter?"

"Quarren! By G.o.d you shall not say that to me----"

"Why not? Have you ever considered what that man must think of you to see you turn and tear at the body he has crippled?"

Ledwith's sunken eyes blazed; he straightened himself, took one menacing step forward; and Quarren laid a light, steady hand on his shoulder.

"Listen to me," he said; "has it never occurred to you that you could deal him no deeper blow than to let him see a man stand up to him, face to face, where a creature lay writhing before, biting into its own vitals?"

He smiled into the fixed eyes of the almost mindless man:

"If you say the word _I'll_ stand by you, Ledwith. If all you want to do is to punish him, murder isn't the way. What does a dead man care? Cut your own throat and the crime might haunt him--and might not. But _kill_!--Nonsense. It's all over then--except for the murderer."

He slid his hand quietly to Ledwith's arm, patted it.

"To punish him you need a doctor.... It's only a week under the new treatment. You know that, don't you? After that a few months to get back nerve and muscle and common sense."

"And then?" motioned Ledwith with dry lips.

"Then? Oh, anything that you fancy. It's according to a man's personal taste. You can take him by the neck and beat him up in public if you like--or knock him down in the club as often as he gets up. It all depends, Ledwith. Some of us maintain self-respect without violence; some of us seem to require it. It's up to you."

"Yes."

Quarren said carelessly: "If I were you, I think that I'd face the world as soon as I was physically and mentally well enough--the real world I mean, Ledwith--either here or abroad, just as I felt about it.

"A man can get over anything except the stigma of dishonesty.

And--personally I think he ought to have another chance even after that.

But men's ideas differ. As for you, what you become and show that you are, will go ultimately with the world. Beat him up if you like; but, personally, I never even wished to kick a cur. Some men kick 'em to their satisfaction; it's a matter of taste I tell you. Besides----"

He stopped short; and presently Ledwith looked up.

"Shall I say it?"

"Yes. You are kind to me, always."

"Then--Ledwith, I don't know exactly how matters stand. I can only try to put myself in your present place and imagine what I ought to do, having arrived where you have landed.... And, do you know, if I were you, and if I listened to my better self, I don't think that I'd lay a finger on Langly Sprowl."

"Why?"

"For the sake of the woman who betrayed me--and who is now betrayed in turn by the man who betrayed us both."

Ledwith said through his set teeth: "Do you think I care for her? If I nearly kill him, do you imagine I care what the public will say about her?"

"You are generous enough to care, Ledwith."

"I am not!" he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "I don't care a d.a.m.n!"

"Then why do you care whether or not he keeps his word to her and shares with her a coat of social whitewash?"

"I--she is only a little fool--alone to face the world now----"

"You're quite right, Ledwith. She ought to have another chance. First offenders are given it by law.... But even if that chance lay in his marrying her, could you better it by killing him if he won't do it? Or by battering him with a dog-whip?

"It isn't really much of a chance, considering it on a higher level than the social viewpoint. How much real rehabilitation is there for a woman who marries such a man?"

He smiled: "Because," he continued, "my viewpoint has changed. Things that once seemed important to me seem so no longer. To live cleanly and do your best in the real world is an aspiration more attractive to me than social absolution."

Ledwith remained silent for a long while, then muttered something indistinctly.

"Wait a moment," said Quarren, throwing aside his painter's blouse and pulling on his coat. "I'll ring up a taxi in a second!... You _mean_ it, Ledwith?"

The man looked at him vacantly, then nodded.

"You're on!" said Quarren, briskly unhooking the telephone.

While they were waiting Ledwith laid a shaking hand on Quarren's sleeve and clung to it. He was trembling like a leaf when they entered the cab, whimpering when they left it in front of a wide brown-stone building composed of several old-time private residences thrown together.

"Stand by me, Quarren," he whispered brokenly--"you won't go away, will you? You wouldn't leave me to face this all--all alone. You've been kind to me. I--I can do it--I can try to do it just at this moment--if you'll stay close to me--if you'll let me keep hold of you----"

"Sure thing!" said Quarren cheerfully. "I'll stay as long as you like.

Don't worry about your clothes; I'll send for plenty of linen and things for us both. You're all right, Ledwith--you've got the nerve. I----"

The door opened to his ring; a pleasant-faced nurse in white ushered them in.

"Dr. Lydon will see you in a moment," she said, singling out Ledwith at a glance.