Chapter Twenty-three
_Caroline takes Command_
Ruth left the gaming house of Frederic Fernand entirely convinced thatshe must do as John Mark had told her--work for him as she had neverworked before. The determination made her go home to Beekman Place asfast as a taxicab would whirl her along.
It was not until she had climbed to Caroline Smith's room and opened thedoor that her determination faltered. For there she saw the girl lyingon her bed weeping. And it seemed to the poor, bewildered brain of RuthTolliver, as if the form of Ronicky Doone, passionate and eager asbefore, stood at her side and begged her again to send Caroline Smithacross the street to a lifelong happiness, and she could do it. ThoughMark had ordered the girl to be confined to her room until furthercommands were given on the subject, no one in the house would think ofquestioning Ruth Tolliver, if she took the girl downstairs to the streetand told her to go on her way.
She closed the door softly and, going to the bed, touched the shoulderof Caroline. The poor girl sat up slowly and turned a stained andswollen face to Ruth. If there was much to be pitied there was somethingto be laughed at, also. Ruth could not forbear smiling. But Caroline wasclutching at her hands.
"He's changed his mind?" she asked eagerly. "He's sent you to tell methat he's changed his mind, Ruth? Oh, you've persuaded him to it--likean angel--I know you have!"
Ruth Tolliver freed herself from the reaching hands, moistened the endof a towel in the bathroom and began to remove the traces of tears fromthe face of Caroline Smith. That face was no longer flushed, but growingpale with excitement and hope.
"It's true?" she kept asking. "It is true, Ruth?"
"Do you love him as much as that?"
"More than I can tell you--so much more!"
"Try to tell me then, dear."
Talking of her love affair began to brighten the other girl, and now shemanaged a wan smile. "His letters were very bad. But, between the lines,I could read so much real manhood, such simple honesty, such a heart,such a will to trust! Ruth, are you laughing at me?"
"No, no, far from that! It's a thrilling thing to hear, my dear."
For she was remembering that in another man there might be found thesesame qualities. Not so much simplicity, perhaps, but to make up for it,a great fire of will and driving energy.
"But I didn't actually know that I was in love. Even when I made thetrip West and wrote to him to meet the train on my return--even then Iwas only guessing. When he didn't appear at the station I went cold andmade up my mind that I would never think of him again."
"But when you saw him in the street, here?"
"John Mark had prepared me and hardened me against that meeting, and Iwas afraid even to think for myself. But, when Ronicky Doone--blesshim!--talked to me in your room, I knew what Bill Gregg must be, sincehe had a friend who would venture as much for him as Ronicky Doone did.It all came over me in a flash. I did love him--I did, indeed!"
"Yes, yes," whispered Ruth Tolliver, nodding and smiling faintly. "Iremember how he stood there and talked to you. He was like a man onfire. No wonder that a spark caught in you, Caroline. He--he's a--veryfine-looking fellow, don't you think, Caroline?"
"Bill Gregg? Yes, indeed."
"I mean Ronicky."
"Of course! Very handsome!"
There was something in the voice of Caroline that made Ruth look downsharply to her face, but the girl was clever enough to mask herexcitement and delight.
"Afterward, when you think over what he has said, it isn't a great deal,but at the moment he seems to know a great deal--about what's going oninside one, don't you think, Caroline?"
These continual appeals for advice, appeals from the infallible RuthTolliver, set the heart of Caroline beating. There was most certainlysomething in the wind.
"I think he does," agreed Caroline, masking her eyes. "He has a way,when he looks at you, of making you feel that he isn't thinking ofanything else in the world but you."
"Does he have that same effect on every one?" asked Ruth. She added,after a moment of thought, "Yes, I suppose it's just a habit of his. Iwish I knew."
"Why?" queried Caroline, unable to refrain from the stinging littlequestion.
"Oh, for no good reason--just that he's an odd character. In my work,you know, one has to study character. Ronicky Doone is a different sortof man, don't you think?"
"Very different, dear."
Then a great inspiration came to Caroline. Ruth was a key which, sheknew, could unlock nearly any door in the house of John Mark.
"Do you know what we are going to do?" she asked gravely, rising.
"Well?"
"We're going to open that door together, and we're going down thestairs--together."
"Together? But we--Don't you know John Mark has given orders--"
"That I'm not to leave the room. What difference does that make? Theywon't dare stop us if you are with me, leading the way."
"Caroline, are you mad? When I come back--"
"You're not coming back."
"Not coming back!"
"No, you're going on with me!"
She took Ruth by the arms and turned her until the light struck into hereyes. Ruth Tolliver, aghast at this sudden strength in one who hadalways been a meek follower, obeyed without resistance.
"But where?" she demanded.
"Where I'm going."
"What?"
"To Ronicky Doone, my dear. Don't you see?"
The insistence bewildered Ruth Tolliver. She felt herself drivenirresistibly forward, with or without her own will.
"Caroline," she protested, trying feebly to free herself from thecommanding hands and eyes of her companion, "are you quite mad? Go tohim? Why should I? How can I?"
"Not as I'm going to Bill Gregg, with my heart in my hands, but to askRonicky Doone--bless him!--to take you away somewhere, so that you canbegin a new life. Isn't that simple?"
"Ask charity of a stranger?"
"You know he isn't a stranger, and you know it isn't charity. He'll behappy. He's the kind that's happy when he's being of use to others?"
"Yes," answered Ruth Tolliver, "of course he is."
"And you'd trust him?"
"To the end of the world. But to leave--"
"Ruth, you've kept cobwebs before your eyes so long that you don't seewhat's happening around you. John Mark hypnotizes you. He makes youthink that the whole world is bad, that we are simply making capital outof our crimes. As a matter of fact, the cold truth is that he has mademe a thief, Ruth, and he has made you something almost as bad--agambler!"
The follower had become the leader, and she was urging Ruth Tolliverslowly to the door. Ruth was protesting--she could not throw herself onthe kindness of Ronicky Doone--it could not be done. It would beliterally throwing herself at his head. But here the door opened, andshe allowed herself to be led out into the hall. They had not made morethan half a dozen steps down its dim length when the guard hurriedtoward them.
"Talk to him," whispered Caroline Smith. "He's come to stop me, andyou're the only person who can make him let me pass on!"
The guard hurriedly came up to them. "Sorry," he said. "Got an ideayou're going downstairs, Miss Smith."
"Yes," she said faintly.
The fellow grinned. "Not yet. You'll stay up here till the chief givesthe word. And I got to ask you to step back into your room, and stepquick." His voice grew harsh, and he came closer. "He told me straight,you're not to come out."
Caroline had shrunk back, and she was on the verge of turning when thearm of Ruth was passed strongly around her shoulders and stayed her.
"She's going with me," she told John Mark's bulldog. "Does that make adifference to you?"
He ducked his head and grinned feebly in his anxiety. "Sure it makes adifference. You go where you want, any time you want, but this--"
"I say she's going with me, and I'm responsible for her."
She urged Caroline forward, and the latter made a step, only to findthat she was di
rectly confronted by the guard.
"I got my orders," he said desperately to Ruth.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked hotly.
"I know who you are," he answered, "and, believe me, I would not startbothering you none, but I got to keep this lady back. I got the orders."
"They're old orders," insisted Ruth Tolliver, "and they have beenchanged."
"Not to my knowing," replied the other, less certain in his manner.
Ruth seized the critical moment to say: "Walk on, Caroline. If he blocksyour way--" She did not need to finish the sentence, for, as Carolinestarted on, the guard slunk sullenly to one side of the corridor.
"It ain't my doings," he said. "But they got two bosses in this joint,and one of them is a girl. How can a gent have any idea which way heought to step in a pinch? Go on, Miss Smith, but you'll be answeredfor!"
They hardly heard the last of these words, as they turned down thestairway, hurrying, but not fast enough to excite the suspicion of theman behind them.
"Oh, Ruth," whispered Caroline Smith. "Oh, Ruth!"
"It was close," said Ruth Tolliver, "but we're through. And, now thatI'm about to leave it, I realize how I've hated this life all theseyears. I'll never stop thanking you for waking me up to it, Caroline."
They reached the floor of the lower hall, and a strange thought came toRuth. She had hurried home to execute the bidding of John Mark. She hadleft it, obeying the bidding of Ronicky Doone.
They scurried to the front door. As they opened it the sharp gust ofnight air blew in on them, and they heard the sound of a man running upthe steps. In a moment the dim hall light showed on the slender form andthe pale face of John Mark standing before them.
Caroline felt the start of Ruth Tolliver. For her part she was on theverge of collapse, but a strong pressure from the hand of her companiontold her that she had an ally in the time of need.
"Tut tut!" Mark was saying, "what's this? How did Caroline get out ofher room--and with you, Ruth?"
"It's idiotic to keep her locked up there all day and all night, inweather like this," said Ruth, with a perfect calm that restoredCaroline's courage almost to the normal. "When I talked to her thisevening I made up my mind that I'd take her out for a walk."
"Well," replied John Mark, "that might not be so bad. Let's step insideand talk it over for a moment."
They retreated, and he entered and clicked the door behind him. "Themain question is, where do you intend to walk?"
"Just in the street below the house."
"Which might not lead you across to the house on the other side?"
"Certainly not! I shall be with her."
"But suppose both of you go into that house, and I lose two birdsinstead of one? What of that, my clever Ruth?"
She knew at once, by something in his voice rather than his words, thathe had managed to learn the tenor of the talk in Caroline's room. Sheasked bluntly: "What are you guessing at?"
"Nothing. I only speak of what I know. No single pair of ears is enoughfor a busy man. I have to hire help, and I get it. Very effective help,too, don't you agree?"
"Eavesdropping!" exclaimed Ruth bitterly. "Well--it's true, John Mark.You sent me to steal her from her lover, and I've tried to steal her forhim in the end. Do you know why? Because she was able to show me what ahappy love might mean to a woman. She showed me that, and she showed mehow much courage love had given her. So I began to guess a good manythings, and, among the rest, I came to the conclusion that I could nevertruly love you, John Mark.
"I've spoken quickly," she went on at last. "It isn't that I have fearedyou all the time--I haven't been playing a part, John, on my word.Only--tonight I learned something new. Do you see?"
"Heaven be praised," said John Mark, "that we all have the power oflearning new things, now and again. I congratulate you. Am I to supposethat Caroline was your teacher?"
He turned from her and faced Caroline Smith, and, though he smiled onher, there was a quality in the smile that shriveled her very soul withfear. No matter what he might say or do this evening to establishhimself in the better graces of the girl he was losing, his malice wasnot dead. That she knew.
"She was my teacher," answered Ruth steadily, "because she showed me,John, what a marvelous thing it is to be free. You understand that allthe years I have been with you I have never been free?"
"Not free?" he asked, the first touch of emotion showing in his voice."Not free, my dear? Was there ever the least wish of yours since youwere a child that I did not gratify? Not one, Ruth; not one, surely, ofwhich I am conscious!"
"Because I had no wishes," she answered slowly, "that were not suggestedby something that you liked or disliked. You were the starting point ofall that I desired. I was almost afraid to think until I became surethat you approved of my thinking."
"That was long ago," he said gravely. "Since those old days I see youhave changed greatly."
"Because of the education you gave me," she answered.
"Yes, yes, that was the great mistake. I begin to see. Heaven, one mightsay, gave you to me. I felt that I must improve on the gift of Heavenbefore I accepted you. There was my fault. For that I must pay the greatpenalty. Kismet! And now, what is it you wish?"
"To leave at once."
"A little harsh, but necessary, if you will it. There is the door, freeto you. The change of identity of which I spoke to you is easilyarranged. I have only to take you to the bank and that is settled. Isthere anything else?"
"Only one thing--and that is not much."
"Very good."
"You have given so much," she ran on eagerly, "that you will give onething more--out of the goodness of that really big heart of yours, John,dear!"
He winced under that pleasantly tender word.
And she said: "I want to take Caroline with me--to freedom and the manshe loves. That is really all!"
The lean fingers of John Mark drummed on the back of the chair, while hesmiled down on her, an inexplicable expression on his face.
"Only that?" he asked. "My dear, how strange you women really are! Afterall these years of study I should have thought that you would, at least,have partially comprehended me. I see that is not to be. But try tounderstand that I divide with a nice distinction the affairs ofsentiment and the affairs of business. There is only one element in myworld of sentiment--that is you. Therefore, ask what you want and takeit for yourself; but for Caroline, that is an entirely different matter.No, Ruth, you may take what you will for yourself, but for her, for anyother living soul, not a penny, not a cent will I give. Can youcomprehend it? Is it clear? As for giving her freedom, nothing underHeaven could persuade me to it!"