The Crimson Gardenia and Other Tales of Adventure
suddenly different. I--I think I am in love with you, my little cousin."
She flung out her hand to check him, crying: "No, no! I could never love
you!"
Her voice was uncertain, and he imprisoned her outstretched palm. Then,
with his free hand, he removed her mask. She made no resistance, she did
not even draw away from him. His heart leaped wildly at the face he saw;
for it was more perfect even than he had imagined. The eyes were deep
brown, the skin was smooth and olive-hued, the lips were red and pouting
with embarrassment. She met his hungry gaze with a flaming blush of
defiance; then she smiled pathetically, and without further delay he
drew her to him and kissed her once, twice, again and again, until she
lay, spent and shaken, in his arms. After a time, she said, wonderingly:
"What miracle is this? I have always hated you; I--hate you now when I
think of the evil you have done. I shall continue to hate you."
"I hardly believe that."
"It is very sad that this has come to pass; it means nothing but
unhappiness."
"How so?"
"Can you ask? You--a refugee, with a price upon your head!" She
shuddered and buried her face against his shoulder. "Why have you made
me love you?"
"It was fate, my little witch. If you will trust me, all will come out
right in the end. But there is a great deal here that I don't
understand. For instance, how came you two to be in want?"
"Surely you know as well as I."
"I do not."
"But I wrote--"
"Letters go astray. Tell me."
"There is little to tell. We hardly know ourselves, except that we
trusted in our good cousin Alfred, as you trusted. He is a snake!" She
clutched Roland fiercely by the folds of his domino. "Oh! It is too bad
that I did not know you sooner, Emile! I would have saved you from those
evil men; for I am very wise. But now you must suffer the punishment for
your crime; and I must suffer also. It is hardly just, is it?"
"Suppose I told you--er--I am innocent?"
"Please!" One rosy palm closed his lips. "You must never lie to me, even
to promote my happiness. No! When a woman loves, she loves blindly,
without reason, regardless of her lover's unworthiness. You have brought
misery to me as you brought it to--her. Perhaps you, too, will suffer,
as a punishment."
"And why have you devoted yourself to my mother?" he inquired.
"I love her. I am alone in the world. We are poor together. Cousin
Alfred has my money, too, you understand."
Van Dam was tempted, as upon several former occasions, to tell her the
truth, but a sudden idea occurred to him--an idea so inspiring, so
brilliant, that it brought an exclamation to his lips.
"Wait here for a moment," he said, and, leaving her, he stole into the
library. With an eye upon the sleeping figure, he knelt before the safe
and turned the knob. It opened noiselessly; and the sight of the
close-packed cash-drawer filled him with a tremendous merriment. It was
exhilarating, it was God-like to be endowed with the power of
restitution and retribution. He greatly enjoyed the feel of the crisp
new bank-notes as he emptied the compartment and assembled the packages
into a bundle. He was amazed at the amount represented. There must have
been twenty thousand dollars, all in those smooth, unsoiled ten-dollar
bills. Evidently the old miser preferred lock and key to a banker's
vagaries. Naughty Alfred, to rob widows and orphans! Well, he had been
warned of the danger of robbery. Van Dam predicted apoplexy for the
owner when he discovered his loss.
The girl was waiting where he had left her, but when she discovered the
nature of the gift he bore, she drew back in amazement.
"Come! Come!" he said. "It belongs to you and--Félice."
"But--_Mon Dieu!_"
"I have prospered. A lucky speculation--a gift from the gods, as it
were! You need have no hesitation in accepting it, for it is yours. And
no one can take it from you, not even Cousin Alfred."
She was still protesting, when they heard the mother call.
"This money--another miracle!" Madelon exclaimed. "It is wonderful! I
feel that I am dreaming. But come! We have overstayed; we may be
discovered at any moment."
He took her in his arms again and whispered his adoration. "I am coming
to find you, Madelon. I have the power to work miracles, you see."
"No, no! If you care for me, you must guard yourself. Perhaps after many
years--perhaps when you have shown yourself worthy, and the world has
forgotten--then--" She shivered at thought of the weary wait ahead of
her; her lips quivered pathetically.
There were many things he wished to ask her; the hunger to retain her in
his arms was almost unbearable. But now that she had been reawakened to
the perils of their situation she allowed him no opportunity. She tore
her lips reluctantly from his; she held him off in an agony of pleading,
and when the mother's voice sounded a second time they returned hand in
hand to the study.
There followed a touching farewell as the blind woman clung shakingly to
the gentle impostor, praying for his safety, imploring him piteously to
be a good man and to walk in the shadow of righteousness. Then came a
lingering, heart-breaking caress, and once more the three were at the
front door.
Van Dam seized the girl's fingers and kissed them, while the look in his
eyes brought tears to hers. Then they were gone; and he stood alone in
the hall of the house he had robbed.
He remained motionless for a time, lost in a blissful intoxication. Was
this strange, new-born delirium--love? It must be, it could be, nothing
else. It was quite amazing, utterly bewildering. He had never dreamed of
anything at all like it. He felt a desire to cry aloud the news of this
marvel; he was melting with pain and gladness; something inside him was
singing gloriously. At thought of Madelon's deep, wide eyes, of her
tender lips, dewy with the birth of passion, his muscles swelled and the
whole world seemed to applaud. But it was so new--so unbelievable! The
swift rush of this afternoon's events had left him in a dizzy whirl. An
hour ago he had been deaf, dumb, and blind, but he had suddenly regained
his every sense. He was no longer _blasé_; he was awake with yearnings
and appreciations. Madelon had taught him the greatest secret of the
universe. Madelon--But who the devil was Madelon?
Van Dam brought himself abruptly out of his reverie. There had been
enough mystery for one day. Now for the solution of this puzzle. Back
yonder, gagged and bound, was a cringing human rat who knew everything
Van Dam desired to know, and who would talk, if forced to do so. Roly
decided to have the inmost details of this affair, if it became
necessary to roast the soles of Cousin Alfred's feet over a slow fire in
order to loosen his tongue. Time had flown, but there was a little
margin left.
He hurried down the hall, flung open the door behind which his captive
lay, then recoiled, with mouth agape. The closet was empty!
"Alfred!" he called. "Alfred!" But his voice echoed lonesomely through
the empty rooms. Not a sound broke the silence. There on the floor lay
the handkerchief and the two tasseled curtain cords. He felt a chill of
apprehension, for unseen eyes were observing him, he was certain. With
that vindictive little ruffian at large, the situation altered; each
door might hide a menace, each moment add to his peril.
The thought of that rifled safe, and the consequences of discovery,
convinced Van Dam that this was no place for a respectable New York
society man, so he clapped on his mask and darted down the hall toward
the rear of the house.
Past the pantry and into the kitchen he fled, his precipitate haste
nearly causing him to collide with another masked figure that had just
entered from the garden. Instinctively the two men recoiled. Van Dam saw
that the stranger wore a black domino like his own, and that a white
gardenia was pinned over his heart--it was a twin to the flower that
reposed upon his own breast.
"Emile!" he exclaimed.
With a start the new-comer swept his mask downward, and simultaneously
he conjured an automatic revolver from some place of concealment. The
face that he exposed was not pleasant to look upon, for it was coarsened
by dissipation, and the eyes were both violent and furtive. Underneath
his heavy, passionate features, however, lay a marked resemblance to the
blind mother who had just left.
"Yes. I am Emile," he panted; then, with a snarl, he raised his weapon
until it bore upon Van Dam's breast. "And you are one of the gang, eh?"
"Here! Don't point that confounded thing at me. It might go off." Roly
brushed the mask from his own face, explaining, "I'm not one of the
gang; I'm a friend."
Emile eyed him intently before lowering his weapon. "I never saw you
before."
"Of course not. But--come. We've both got to get out of here."
"Indeed! I came to see my cousin Alfred. It is a little call I promised
him."
"I know everything; and, believe me, you have no time to lose."
"How do you come to know so much?" demanded Emile, suspiciously. "And
what is that?" With the muzzle of his weapon he indicated the waxen
white flower upon Roly's domino.
"There's no time to explain everything--but I know why you are here. The
old man has gone--"
"Gone! Bah! That is a lie. I have followed him all through the city.
I've been to his office, and they told me he was here. I've a little
matter to settle with him. It will only take a moment."
"I tell you he's gone."
"Who the devil are you, anyhow? I have no friends."
"I am Madelon's fiancé," Van Dam said, boldly.
"Another lie! She has no fiancé." The speaker's face darkened. "If she
marries any one, it shall be me."
An unfamiliar pang smote Van Dam suddenly, but he disregarded it.
"Don't be a fool," he insisted. "I know why you came here, but you're
too late. Your mother and Madelon were here, too, a moment ago--"
"Here?" exclaimed the youth, incredulously.
"Yes! Alfred heard you were in the city and he planned to ambush you; I
tied him up and threw him into a closet. Then I robbed his safe and gave
the money to Madelon and your mother."
Emile's face was a study at this amazing intelligence.
"When I came to look for the old fellow, a moment ago, I found he'd
escaped. I don't know where he has gone. That's why we'd better cut and
run for it, before he sets up an alarm."
"Run!" Emile shook his head. "I have been running--with the Black Wolf
at my heels. I thought they had me cornered more than once. They're
after me now, the whole pack."
"Do they know you're here?"
"I dare say; they were right behind me." He cursed violently. "And to
think that I missed Cousin Alfred, after all!"
"You had no business in the city. You must get out again."
"It's too late now. Why, it's nearly six o'clock. I could never get away
before it's time for masks off."
"Nevertheless, you must try," Van Dam said, decisively. "If you stay
here, you're lost. We'll climb the fence at the rear of the next yard
and slip out through the stable way."
Emile pondered for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that. It's a chance,
but you can't go with me. I sha'n't allow it."
"Nonsense!"
"You don't know the Wolf! If I were seen it would mean the death of both
of us."
"Very well, then, I'll leave by the front way. Now go!"
Van Dam half shoved the young man toward the door.
"Thanks," murmured the fugitive. "You seem to be the right sort. If I
live, I sha'n't forget." The next instant he was gone.
Roly watched him race across the yard, squeeze through the hedge; then,
an instant later, saw his form as he mounted the fence to the wagon
inclosure where the Spider had gone to his destruction earlier in the
afternoon. It was a risky route to safety, he reflected, but, in view of