The Silent Barrier
would stay at Roseg, he said, to make certain that everything possible
was done for the unfortunate climber. Indeed, when his beloved was
lost to sight down the winding road that leads to the main valley of
the Engadine, he accompanied the men who went to the Mortel. Halfway
they met Pietro and Bartelommeo carrying Bower on an improvised
stretcher, ice axes and a blanket.
By this time, under the stimulus of wine and warmth, Bower had
regained his senses. He recognized Spencer, and tried to speak; but
the American told him that even the least excitement must be avoided.
Once the hotel was reached, and they were waiting for the doctor,
Bower could not be restrained.
"It was you who rescued me?" he said feebly.
"I, and two Italian guides. We saw the accident from the other side of
the Roseg glacier."
"Yes. Stampa pointed you out to me. I could not believe my eyes. I
watched you till the thought came that Stampa had befooled me. Then he
pushed me off the rock where we were standing. I broke my leg in the
fall; but he held me there on the rope and taunted me. Great God! how
I suffered!"
"You really ought not to talk about it," said Spencer soothingly.
"Why not? He brought me there to kill me, he said. The cunning old fox
told me that I would find Helen in the Mortel hut, and offered to take
me to her by a short cut over Corvatsch. And I believed him! I was
mad, I suppose. We did the Marmore ascent by the light of the stars.
Do you realize what that means? It is a hard climb for experts in
broad daylight. But I meant to beat you, Spencer. Stampa vowed you
were in St. Moritz. And again I believed him! Think of it--I was
hoodwinked by an old peasant."
"Hush! Try and forget things till your broken limb is fixed."
"What does it matter? Confound it! you've won; so let me tell my
story. I must have lost my senses when I saw you and Helen leaving the
glacier with two strange guides. I forgot all else in my rage. I stood
there, frozen, bewitched. Stampa was watching me all the time, and the
instant I turned to revile him he threw me off my balance with a
thrust of his ax. 'Now you are going to die, Marcus Bauer!' he said,
grinning at me with a lunatic's joy. He even gloated over the
unexpected injury I received in falling. My groans and cries were so
pleasing to him that he did not cut the rope at once as he meant to
do, but kept me dangling there, listening to his reproaches. Then the
stones fell, and pinned him to the ledge; but not one touched me, and
I hauled myself up, broken leg and all, till I crawled on to the big
rock that rested on his body. You found me there, eh?"
"Yes."
"Well, I wish you luck. I meant to snatch Helen from you, even at the
twelfth hour; but Stampa over-reached me. That mock marriage of his
contriving had more power than I counted on. Curse it! how these
crushed bones are beginning to ache! Give me some brandy. I want to
drink Helen's health, and my own, and yours, damn you! See that you
treat her well and make her life happy! She is worthy of all your
love, and I suppose she loves you, whereas I might have striven for
years to win her affection and then failed in the end."
Late that night Spencer arrived at the Maloja. Helen was waiting for
him, as he had telephoned the hour he might be expected. Rumor had
brought the news of Stampa's death and Bower's accident. Then she
understood why her lover had sent her away so quickly. She was
troubled all day, blaming herself as the unconscious cause of so much
misery. Spencer saw that the full truth alone would dispel her self
reproach. So he told her everything, even showing her Millicent's
letter and a telegram received from Mackenzie, in which the editor of
"The Firefly" put it quite plainly that the proprietor of the magazine
had forbidden him (Mackenzie) from taking any steps whatever with
regard to Helen's return to England without definite instructions.
The more she learned of the amazing web of intrigue and
misunderstanding that surrounded her movements since she left the
Embankment Hotel after that memorable luncheon with Millicent, the
less inclined she was to deny Spencer's theory that Fate had brought
them together.
"I cleared out of Colorado as though a tarantula had bitten me," he
said. "I traveled five thousand miles to London, saw you, fooled
myself into the belief that I was intended by Providence to play the
part of a heavy uncle, and kept up that notion during another
thousand-mile trip to this delightful country. Then you began to reach
out for me, Helen----"
"I did nothing of the kind!" she protested.
"Oh, yes, you did,--just grabbed me good and hard,--and when Bower
showed up I stacked my chips on the table and sat down to the game.
What am I talking about? I don't know. Kiss me good night, sweetheart,
and don't you give a red cent who's looking. For once in a way, I
don't mind admitting that I'm tired--all in. I could sleep on a row of
porcupines."
* * * * *
Stampa was buried in the grave that held his daughter's remains.
Spencer purchased the space for a suitable monument, and the
inscription does not fail to record the fact that one of the men who
first conquered the Matterhorn had paid tribute to the mountains by
meeting his death on Corvatsch.
The American went many times to visit Bower at the Roseg inn. He found
his erstwhile rival resigned to the vagaries of fortune. The doctors
summoned from St. Moritz deemed his case so serious that they brought
a specialist from Paris, and the great surgeon announced that the
millionaire's leg would be saved; but there must remain a permanent
stiffness.
"I know what that means," said Bower, with a wry smile. "It is a
legacy from Stampa. That is really rather funny, considering that the
joke is against myself. By the way, did I tell you I gave Millicent
Jaques a check for five thousand pounds to stop her tongue?"
"I guessed the check, but couldn't guess the amount."
"She wrote last week, threatening all sorts of terrible things because
I withheld payment. You will remember that when you and I placed on
record our mutual opinion of each other, we agreed at any rate that it
was a mean thing on her part to give away our poor Helen to the
harpies in the hotel. So I telegraphed at once to my bankers, and Miss
Millicent didn't make good, as you would put it. Now she promises to
'expose' me. Humorous, isn't it?"
"I think you ought to marry her," said Spencer, with that immobile
look of his.
"Perhaps I may, one of these days. But first she must learn to behave
herself. A nice girl, Millicent. She would look decorative, sitting
beside an invalid in a carriage. Yes, I'll think of it. Meanwhile, I
shall chaff her about the five thousand and see how she takes it."
Millicent behaved. Helen saw that she did.
On a day in September, after a wedding that was attended by as many
people as could be crowded into the little English church at Maloja,
Mr. and Mrs. Charles K. Spencer drove over the pass and down the Vale
of Bregaglia en route to Como, Milan, and Venice. At the wedding
breakfast, when Mrs. de la Vere officiated as hostess, the Rev. Philip
Hare amused the guests by stating that he had taken pains to discover
what the initial "K" represented in his American friend's name.
"His second name is Knox," said the vicar, "and I understand that he
is a direct descendant of a famous Scottish divine known to history as
a very stubborn person. Well, it has been said by a gentleman present
that Mr. Spencer has a backbone of cast steel, so the 'K' is fully
accounted for, while the singular affinity of steel of any variety for
a magnet gives a ready explanation of the admirable union which has
resulted from the chance that brought the bride and bridegroom under
the same roof."
Everybody said that Hare was much happier on such occasions than in
the pulpit, and even the Wragg girls were heard to admit that Helen
looked positively charming.
So it is clear that many hatchets were blunted in Maloja, which is as
it should ever be in such a fairyland, and that Helen, looking back at
the mighty chain of the Alps from the deck of a steamer on Lake Como,
had no reason to regret the day when first she crossed that solemn
barrier.
THE END
TITLES SELECTED FROM
GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
=HIS HOUR.= By Elinor Glyn. Illustrated.
A beautiful blonde Englishwoman visits Russia, and is violently made
love to by a young Russian aristocrat. A most unique situation
complicates the romance.
=THE GAMBLERS.= By Charles Klein and Arthur Hornblow. Illustrated by
C. E. Chambers.
A big, vital treatment of a present day situation wherein men play for
big financial stakes and women flourish on the profits--or repudiate
the methods.
=CHEERFUL AMERICANS.= By Charles Battell Loomis. Illustrated by
Florence Scovel Shinn and others.
A good, wholesome, laughable presentation of some Americans at home
and abroad, on their vacations and during their hours of relaxation.
=THE WOMAN OF THE WORLD.= By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Clever, original presentations of present day social problems and the
best solutions of them. A book every girl and woman should possess.
=THE LIGHT THAT LURES.= By Percy Brebner. Illustrated. Handsomely
colored wrapper.
A young Southerner who loved Lafayette, goes to France to aid him
during the days of terror, and is lured in a certain direction by the
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=THE RAMRODDERS.= By Holman Day. Frontispiece by Harold Matthews
Brett.
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The Prodigal Judge
By VAUGHAN KESTER
This great novel--probably the most popular book in this country
to-day--is as human as a story from the pen of that great master of
"immortal laughter and immortal tears," Charles Dickens.
The Prodigal Judge is a shabby outcast, a tavern hanger-on, a genial
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Clinging to the Judge closer than a brother, is Solomon
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Hannibal, a boy about whose parentage nothing is known until the end
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The Judge will be a fixed star in the firmament of fictional
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finest examples of American literary craftsmanship.
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors;
otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's
words and intent.
2. In the advertising pages at the end of this book, titles were
typeset as underlined; this has been indicated by = preceding and
following the title.