K

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Carlotta dressed herself with unusual care--not in black this time, butin white. She coiled her yellow hair in a soft knot at the back of herhead, and she resorted to the faintest shading of rouge. She intended tobe gay, cheerful. The ride was to be a bright spot in Wilson's memory.He expected recriminations; she meant to make him happy. That was thesecret of the charm some women had for men. They went to such women toforget their troubles. She set the hour of their meeting at nine, whenthe late dusk of summer had fallen; and she met him then, smiling, afaintly perfumed white figure, slim and young, with a thrill in hervoice that was only half assumed.

  "It's very late," he complained. "Surely you are not going to be back atten."

  "I have special permission to be out late."

  "Good!" And then, recollecting their new situation: "We have a lot totalk over. It will take time."

  At the White Springs Hotel they stopped to fill the gasolene tank of thecar. Joe Drummond saw Wilson there, in the sheet-iron garage alongsideof the road. The Wilson car was in the shadow. It did not occur to Joethat the white figure in the car was not Sidney. He went rather white,and stepped out of the zone of light. The influence of Le Moyne wasstill on him, however, and he went on quietly with what he was doing.But his hands shook as he filled the radiator.

  When Wilson's car had gone on, he went automatically about hispreparations for the return trip--lifted a seat cushion to investigatehis own store of gasolene, replacing carefully the revolver he alwayscarried under the seat and packed in waste to prevent its accidentaldischarge, lighted his lamps, examined a loose brake-band.

  His coolness gratified him. He had been an ass: Le Moyne was right. He'dget away--to Cuba if he could--and start over again. He would forget theStreet and let it forget him.

  The men in the garage were talking.

  "To Schwitter's, of course," one of them grumbled. "We might as well goout of business."

  "There's no money in running a straight place. Schwitter and half adozen others are getting rich."

  "That was Wilson, the surgeon in town. He cut off my brother-in-law'sleg--charged him as much as if he had grown a new one for him. He usedto come here. Now he goes to Schwitter's, like the rest. Pretty girl hehad with him. You can bet on Wilson."

  So Max Wilson was taking Sidney to Schwitter's, making her the butt ofgarage talk! The smiles of the men were evil. Joe's hands grew cold, hishead hot. A red mist spread between him and the line of electric lights.He knew Schwitter's, and he knew Wilson.

  He flung himself into his car and threw the throttle open. The carjerked, stalled.

  "You can't start like that, son," one of the men remonstrated. "You let'er in too fast."

  "You go to hell!" Joe snarled, and made a second ineffectual effort.

  Thus adjured, the men offered neither further advice nor assistance. Theminutes went by in useless cranking--fifteen. The red mist grew heavier.Every lamp was a danger signal. But when K., growing uneasy, came outinto the yard, the engine had started at last. He was in time to see Joerun his car into the road and turn it viciously toward Schwitter's.

  Carlotta's nearness was having its calculated effect on Max Wilson. Hisspirits rose as the engine, marking perfect time, carried them along thequiet roads.

  Partly it was reaction--relief that she should be so reasonable, socomplaisant--and a sort of holiday spirit after the day's hard work.Oddly enough, and not so irrational as may appear, Sidney formed apart of the evening's happiness--that she loved him; that, back in thelecture-room, eyes and even mind on the lecturer, her heart was withhim.

  So, with Sidney the basis of his happiness, he made the most of hisevening's freedom. He sang a little in his clear tenor--even, once whenthey had slowed down at a crossing, bent over audaciously and kissedCarlotta's hand in the full glare of a passing train.

  "How reckless of you!"

  "I like to be reckless," he replied.

  His boyishness annoyed Carlotta. She did not want the situation to getout of hand. Moreover, what was so real for her was only too plainly alark for him. She began to doubt her power.

  The hopelessness of her situation was dawning on her. Even when thetouch of her beside him and the solitude of the country roads got inhis blood, and he bent toward her, she found no encouragement in hiswords:--"I am mad about you to-night."

  She took her courage in her hands:--"Then why give me up for some oneelse?"

  "That's--different."

  "Why is it different? I am a woman. I--I love you, Max. No one else willever care as I do."

  "You are in love with the Lamb!"

  "That was a trick. I'm sorry, Max. I don't care for anyone else in theworld. If you let me go I'll want to die."

  Then, as he was silent:--

  "If you'll marry me, I'll be true to you all my life. I swear it. Therewill be nobody else, ever."

  The sense, if not the words, of what he had sworn to Sidney that Sundayafternoon under the trees, on this very road! Swift shame overtookhim, that he should be here, that he had allowed Carlotta to remain inignorance of how things really stood between them.

  "I'm sorry, Carlotta. It's impossible. I'm engaged to marry some oneelse."

  "Sidney Page?"--almost a whisper.

  "Yes."

  He was ashamed at the way she took the news. If she had stormed or wept,he would have known what to do. But she sat still, not speaking.

  "You must have expected it, sooner or later."

  Still she made no reply. He thought she might faint, and looked at heranxiously. Her profile, indistinct beside him, looked white and drawn.But Carlotta was not fainting. She was making a desperate plan. If theirescapade became known, it would end things between Sidney and him. Shewas sure of that. She needed time to think it out. It must become knownwithout any apparent move on her part. If, for instance, she became ill,and was away from the hospital all night, that might answer. The thingwould be investigated, and who knew--

  The car turned in at Schwitter's road and drew up before the house.The narrow porch was filled with small tables, above which hung rows ofelectric lights enclosed in Japanese paper lanterns. Midweek, which hadfound the White Springs Hotel almost deserted, saw Schwitter's crowdedtables set out under the trees. Seeing the crowd, Wilson drove directlyto the yard and parked his machine.

  "No need of running any risk," he explained to the still figure besidehim. "We can walk back and take a table under the trees, away from thoseinfernal lanterns."

  She reeled a little as he helped her out.

  "Not sick, are you?"

  "I'm dizzy. I'm all right."

  She looked white. He felt a stab of pity for her. She leaned ratherheavily on him as they walked toward the house. The faint perfume thathad almost intoxicated him, earlier, vaguely irritated him now.

  At the rear of the house she shook off his arm and preceded him aroundthe building. She chose the end of the porch as the place in which todrop, and went down like a stone, falling back.

  There was a moderate excitement. The visitors at Schwitter's were toomuch engrossed with themselves to be much interested. She opened hereyes almost as soon as she fell--to forestall any tests; she wasshrewd enough to know that Wilson would detect her malingering veryquickly--and begged to be taken into the house. "I feel very ill," shesaid, and her white face bore her out.

  Schwitter and Bill carried her in and up the stairs to one of the newlyfurnished rooms. The little man was twittering with anxiety. He had ahorror of knockout drops and the police. They laid her on the bed, herhat beside her; and Wilson, stripping down the long sleeve of her glove,felt her pulse.

  "There's a doctor in the next town," said Schwitter. "I was going tosend for him, anyhow--my wife's not very well."

  "I'm a doctor."

  "Is it anything serious?"

  "Nothing serious."

  He closed the door behind the relieved figure of the landlord, and,going back to Carlotta, stood looking down at her.

  "What did you m
ean by doing that?"

  "Doing what?"

  "You were no more faint than I am."

  She closed her eyes.

  "I don't remember. Everything went black. The lanterns--"

  He crossed the room deliberately and went out, closing the door behindhim. He saw at once where he stood--in what danger. If she insistedthat she was ill and unable to go back, there would be a fuss. The storywould come out. Everything would be gone. Schwitter's, of all places!

  At the foot of the stairs, Schwitter pulled himself together. After all,the girl was only ill. There was nothing for the police. He looked athis watch. The doctor ought to be here by this time. It was sooner thanthey had expected. Even the nurse had not come. Tillie was alone, outin the harness-room. He looked through the crowded rooms, at theoverflowing porch with its travesty of pleasure, and he hated the wholething with a desperate hatred.

  Another car. Would they never stop coming! But perhaps it was thedoctor. A young man edged his way into the hall and confronted him.

  "Two people just arrived here. A man and a woman--in white. Where arethey?"

  It was trouble then, after all!

  "Upstairs--first bedroom to the right." His teeth chattered. Surely, asa man sowed he reaped.

  Joe went up the staircase. At the top, on the landing, he confrontedWilson. He fired at him without a word--saw him fling up his arms andfall back, striking first the wall, then the floor.

  The buzz of conversation on the porch suddenly ceased. Joe put hisrevolver in his pocket and went quietly down the stairs. The crowdparted to let him through.

  Carlotta, crouched in her room, listening, not daring to open the door,heard the sound of a car as it swung out into the road.