Chapter Twenty-two
_Mark Makes a Move_
Passing hurriedly out of the cloakroom, a little later, Ruth metSimonds, the lieutenant of Frederic Fernand, in the passage. He was aratfaced little man, with a furtive smile. Not an unpleasant smile, butit was continually coming and going, as if he wished earnestly to winthe favor of the men before him, but greatly doubted his ability to doso. Ruth Tolliver, knowing his genius for the cards, knowing his coldand unscrupulous soul, detested him heartily.
When she saw his eyes flicker up and down the hall she hesitated.Obviously he wished to speak with her, and obviously he did not wish tobe seen in the act. As she paused he stepped to her, his face suddenlyset with determination.
"Watch John Mark," he whispered. "Don't trust him. He suspectseverything!"
"What? Everything about what?" she asked.
Simonds gazed at her for a moment with a singular expression. There wereconjoined cynicism, admiration, doubt, and fear in his glance. But,instead of speaking again, he bowed and slipped away into the open hall.
She heard him call, and she heard Fernand's oily voice make answer. Andat that she shivered.
What had Simonds guessed? How, under heaven, did he know where she hadgone when she left the gaming house? Or did he know? Had he not merelyguessed? Perhaps he had been set on by Fernand or Mark to entangle andconfuse her?
There remained, out of all this confusion of guesswork, a grim feelingthat Simonds did indeed know, and that, for the first time in his life,perhaps, he was doing an unbought, a purely generous thing.
She remembered, now, how often Simonds had followed her with his eyes,how often his face had lighted when she spoke even casually to him. Yes,there might be a reason for Simonds' generosity. But that implied thathe knew fairly well what John Mark himself half guessed. The thoughtthat she was under the suspicion of Mark himself was terrible to her.
She drew a long breath and advanced courageously into the gaming rooms.
The first thing she saw was Fernand hurrying a late comer toward thetables, laughing and chatting as he went. She shuddered at the sight ofhim. It was strange that he, who had, a moment before, in the verycellar of that house, been working to bring about the death of two men,should now be immaculate, self-possessed.
A step farther and she saw John Mark sitting at a console table, withhis back to the room and a cup of tea before him. That was, in fact, hisfavorite drink at all hours of the day or night. To see Fernand was badenough, but to see the master mind of all the evil that passed aroundher was too much. The girl inwardly thanked Heaven that his back wasturned and started to pass him as softly as possible.
"Just a minute, Ruth," he called, as she was almost at the door of theroom.
For a moment there was a frantic impulse in her to bolt like a foolishchild afraid of the dark. In the next apartment were light and warmthand eager faces and smiles and laughter, and here, behind her, was thevery spirit of darkness calling her back. After an imperceptiblehesitation she turned.
Mark had not turned in his chair, but it was easy to discover how he hadknown of her passing. A small oval mirror, fixed against the wall beforehim, had shown her image. How much had it betrayed, she wondered, of herguiltily stealthy pace? She went to him and found that he was leisurelyand openly examining her in the glass, as she approached, his chinresting on one hand, his thin face perfectly calm, his eyes hazy withcontent. It was a habit of his to regard her like a picture, but she hadnever become used to it; she was always disconcerted by it, as she wasat this moment.
He rose, of course, when she was beside him, and asked her to sit down.
"But I've hardly touched a card," she said. "This isn't veryprofessional, you know, wasting a whole evening."
She was astonished to see him flush to the roots of his hair. His voiceshook. "Sit down, please."
She obeyed, positively inert with surprise.
"Do you think I keep you at this detestable business because I want themoney?" he asked. "Dear Heaven! Ruth, is that what you think of me?"Fortunately, before she could answer, he went on: "No, no, no! I havewanted to make you a free and independent being, my dear, and that iswhy I have put you through the most dangerous and exacting school in theworld. You understand?"
"I think I do," she replied falteringly.
"But not entirely. Let me pour you some tea? No?"
He sighed, as he blew forth the smoke of a cigarette. "But you don'tunderstand entirely," he continued, "and you must. Go back to the olddays, when you knew nothing of the world but me. Can you remember?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Then you certainly recall a time when, if I had simply givendirections, you would have been mine, Ruth. I could have married you themoment you became a woman. Is that true?" "Yes," she whispered, "that isperfectly true." The coldness that passed over her taught her for thefirst time how truly she dreaded that marriage which had been postponed,but which inevitably hung over her head.
"But I didn't want such a wife," continued John Mark. "You would havebeen an undeveloped child, really; you would never have grown up. Nomatter what they say, something about a woman is cut off at the rootwhen she marries. Certainly, if she had not been free before, she is aslave if she marries a man with a strong will. And I have a strong will,Ruth--very strong!"
"Very strong, John," she whispered again. He smiled faintly, as if therewere less of what he wanted in that second use of the name. He went on:"So you see, I faced a problem. I must and would marry you. There wasnever any other woman born who was meant for me. So much so good. But,if I married you before you were wise enough to know me, you would havebecome a slave, shrinking from me, yielding to me, incapable of lovingme. No, I wanted a free and independent creature as my wife; I wanted apartnership, you see. Put you into the world, then, and let you see menand women? No, I could not do that in the ordinary way. I have had toshow you the hard and bad side of life, because I am, in many ways, ahard and bad man myself!"
He said it, almost literally, through his teeth. His face was fierce,defying her--his eyes were wistful, entreating her not to agree withhim. Such a sudden rush of pity for the man swept over her that she putout her hand and pressed his. He looked down at her hand for a moment,and she felt his fingers trembling under that gentle pressure.
"I understand more now," she said slowly, "than I have ever understoodbefore. But I'll never understand entirely."
"A thing that's understood entirely is despised," he said, with acareless sweep of his hand. "A thing that is understood is not feared. Iwish to be feared, not to make people cower, but to make them know whenI come, and when I go. Even love is nothing without a seasoning of fear.For instance"--he flushed as the torrent of his speech swept him into acommittal of himself--"I am afraid of you, dear girl. Do you know what Ihave done with the money you've won?"
"Tell me," she said curiously, and, at the same time, she glanced inwonder, as a servant passed softly across the little room. Was it notstranger than words could tell that such a man as John Mark should besitting in this almost public place and pouring his soul out into theear of a girl?
"I shall tell you," said Mark, his voice softening. "I have contributedhalf of it to charity."
Her lips, compressed with doubt, parted in wonder. "Charity!" sheexclaimed.
"And the other half," he went on, "I deposited in a bank to the creditof a fictitious personality. That fictitious personality is, in fleshand blood, Ruth Tolliver with a new name. You understand? I have only tohand you the bank book with the list of deposits, and you can step outof this Tolliver personality and appear in a new part of the world asanother being. Do you see what it means? If, at the last, you find youcannot marry me, my dear, you are provided for. Not out of my charity,which would be bitter to you, but out of your own earnings. And, lestyou should be horrified at the thought of living on your earnings at thegaming table, I have thrown bread on the waters, dear Ruth. For everydollar you have in the bank you have given another to charity, and both,I hope, h
ave borne interest for you!"
His smile faded a little, as she murmured, with her glance going pasthim: "Then I am free? Free, John?"
"Whenever you wish!"
"Not that I ever shall wish, but to know that I am not chained, that isthe wonderful thing." She looked directly at him again: "I never dreamedthere was so much fineness in you, John Mark, I never dreamed it, but Ishould have!"
"Now I have been winning Caroline to the game," he went on, "and she isbeginning to love it. In another year, or six months, trust me to havecompletely filled her with the fever. But now enters the mischief-makerin the piece, a stranger, an ignorant outsider. This incredible manarrives and, in a few days, having miraculously run Caroline to earth,goes on and brings Caroline face to face with her lover, teaches JerrySmith that I am his worst enemy, gets enough money to pay off his debtto me, and convinces him that I can never use my knowledge of his crimeto jail him, because I don't dare bring the police too close to my ownrather explosive record."
"I saw them both here!" said the girl. She wondered how much he guessed,and she saw his keen eyes probe her with a glance. But heringenuousness, if it did not disarm him, at least dulled the edge of hissuspicions.
"He was here, and the trap was laid here, and he slipped through it. Gotaway through a certain room which Fernand would give a million to keepsecret. At any rate the fellow has shown that he is slippery and has asting, too. He sent a bullet a fraction of an inch past Fernand's head,at one point in the little story.
"In short, the price is too high. What I want is to secure CarolineSmith from the inside. I want you to go to her, to persuade her to goaway with you on a trip. Take her to the Bermudas, or to Havana--anyplace you please. The moment the Westerner thinks his lady is runningaway from him of her own volition he'll throw up his hands and curse hisluck and go home. They have that sort of pride on the other side of theRockies. Will you go back tonight, right now, and persuade Caroline togo with you?"
She bowed her head under the shock of it. Ronicky Doone had begged herto send Caroline Smith to meet her lover. Now the counterattackfollowed.
"Do you think she'd listen?"
"Yes, tell her that the one thing that will save the head of Bill Greggis for her to go away, otherwise I'll wipe the fool off the map. Betterstill, tell her that Gregg of his own free will has left New York andgiven up the chase. Tell her you want to console her with a trip. She'llbe sad and glad and flattered, all in the same moment, and go along withyou without a word. Will you try, Ruth?"
"I suppose you would have Bill Gregg removed--if he continued anuisance?"
"Not a shadow of a doubt. Will you do your best?"
She rose. "Yes," said the girl. Then she managed to smile at him. "Ofcourse I'll do my best. I'll go back right now."
He took her arm to the door of the room. "Thank Heaven," he said, "thatI have one person in whom I can trust without question--one who needs nobribing or rewards, but works to please me. Good-by, my dear."
He watched her down the hall and then turned and went through room afterroom to the rear of the house. There he rapped on a door in a peculiarmanner. It was opened at once, and Harry Morgan appeared before him.
"A rush job, Harry," he said. "A little shadowing."
Harry jerked his cap lower over his eyes. "Gimme the smell of the trail,I'm ready," he said.
"Ruth Tolliver has just left the house. Follow her. She'll probably gohome. She'll probably talk with Caroline Smith. Find a way of listening.If you hear anything that seems wrong to you--anything about Carolineleaving the house alone, for instance, telephone to me at once. Now goand work, as you never worked for me before."