The Coast of Chance

  XIX

  THE FACE IN THE GARDEN

  With her hand at her distressed forehead she turned, and saw, betweenthe curtains of the drawing-room, Harry, and behind him Clara, lookingout at her with faces of amazement, and she fancied, horror. Harry camestraight for her.

  "Why, you poor child, what's happened to you?"

  She gave him a look. She couldn't forget their scene in the red room,but the mixture of apprehension and real concern in his face went fartoward melting her. She might even have told him something, at least apart of the truth, but for that other standing watching her from thedrawing-room door. With Clara, there was nothing for it but to ignoreher disordered hair, her hat in her hand, her ruffle torn and trailingon the floor.

  She put on a splendid nonchalance, as if it were none of their business."Oh, I am sorry if I kept you waiting."

  It was Clara who spoke to her, past Harry's blank astonishment. "Why, wedon't mind waiting a few moments more while you dress."

  "I shan't have to dress." Such a statement Flora felt must amaze evenShima, waiting like an image on the threshold of the dining-room. But ifthese people were waiting to be amazed she felt herself equal to amazingthem to the top of their expectations.

  "Oh, but at least go up and let Marrika give you some pins," Claraprotested, hurrying forward as if fairly to drive her.

  "Thank you, no, this will do," Flora said. On one point she was quiteclear. She wasn't going to leave those two together for a moment todiscuss her plight; not till she could first get at Harry alone. Thenand there she turned to the mirror and with her combs began to catchback and smooth the disorder of her hair, seeing all the while Clara'sreflection hovering perturbed and vigilant in the background of her own.

  While her hands were busy seeming to accommodate Clara, her mind wasmarshaled to Clara's outwitting. The only thing to do was to tellnothing. Let Clara spend her time in guessing. Unless by some wildchance she had seen Kerr in the garden she couldn't come near the truthof what had happened. But what was to be done with Harry? Harry was tooclose to her to be ignored. Her attitude toward him had undergone achange. In the moment in the red room, when she had seen him break theone feeling that had held her to him, the feeling of awe and respect hadevaporated. She felt that it was quite impossible now for them to go onon the same footing; yet, as long as she kept the sapphire she mustsomehow manage to keep up an appearance of it. She must tell himsomething.

  At that dreadful dinner, where she sat a conscious frustrater of thesetwo silent ones, glancing at Harry's face, she knew that if she didn'tattack she would be attacked by him. It was here in the midst of thenoiseless passings of Shima, watching Harry's suspicious glancesflashing across the table at her strange disorder, that the ideaoccurred to her of a way out of it. She was bold enough to try a daringthrust at the mystery. If ever a hunter was to be led off on a falsescent, Harry was that one. She was amazed at the sudden, fearlessimpulse that had sprung up in her. She wasn't even afraid to say to himunder Clara's nose, "Harry, I want you to myself after dinner. Come upinto the garden study."

  He was very willing to follow her. She thought she detected in hisalacrity something more than curiosity or concern. It seemed almost asif Harry was ashamed of that scene in the red room, and anxious to makeit up with her. He even tried before they had reached the head of thestairs. "Oh, Flora--I say, Flora, I--"

  But an explanation between them was the last thing she wanted just then.She fairly ran, leaving him panting in the wake of her airy skirts.

  For the first time since the thing began Clara was left out completely.Flora knew she was even left out of a possibility of listening at thekeyhole. For the bright, tight, little room into which Harry followedher was approached by a square entry and a double door. The room itselfoverhung the garden as a ship's deck overhangs the sea. Leather booksand long red curtains were the note of it. She and Harry had often beenhere together before. Harry had made love to her here, and she had foundit pleasurable enough. But the fact that she could recall it now withdistaste made this familiar surrounding seem strange, and theythemselves strangest of all.

  He hadn't got his breath. He had hardly shut the door on them before shebegan. "Well, something has happened." She had his attention. His otherpurpose was arrested. "Oh, something extraordinary. I would have toldyou on the spot, only I thought you would rather Clara didn't know it."

  "I?" That left him staring. "What have I to do with it?"

  At this she gave him a long look. "It was through you he ever had thechance of seeing me. I mean the blue-eyed Chinaman. He has followed meall the evening. He followed me here to the very door." Flora's array offacts fell so fast, so hard, so pointed, that for a moment they held himspeechless in the middle of the room.

  Any fleeting suspicion she might have had of his complicity in theChinaman's pursuit vanished. He showed plain bewilderment. For a momenthe was more at sea than herself. The next she saw the shadow of athought so disturbing that it sharpened his ruddy face to harshness. Hestepped toward her. "What did he say to you?" He loomed directly aboveher, threatening.

  "Nothing. He didn't say anything. But I know he followed me quite tothe house, for I saw his shadow all the way down the hill."

  Harry still breathed quickly. "Where--how did he come across you?"

  She'd been prepared for that question.

  "I was driving down Sutter Street and he saw me at the carriage window."

  Harry stood tense, poised, catching everything as she tossed it off;then as if all at once he felt the full weight of the burden, "Lord!" hesaid, and let himself down heavily into a chair. It was plain in hishelpless stare that he knew exactly what it all meant. Laying her handson the high chair-arms, leaning down so that she could look into hisface, Flora made her thrust.

  "What do you think he wants?" she gently asked. It was as if she wouldcoax it out of him. His answer was correspondingly low and soft.

  "It's that damned ring."

  She heard her secret fear spoken aloud with such assurance that shewaited, certain at the next moment Harry's voice would people thesilence with all the facts that had so far escaped her. But when, aftera moment of looking before him he did speak, he went back to thebeginning, which they both knew.

  "You know he didn't want to part with it in the first place."

  "Yes, yes; but he did," Flora insisted.

  "Well," he answered quickly, "but that was before--" He caught himselfand went on with a scarcely perceptible break: "He may have had a betteroffer for it since."

  He couldn't have put it more mildly, and yet that temperate phrasebrought back to her in a flash a windy night full of raucous voices andthe great figures in the paper that had covered half a page--the rewardfor the Crew Idol. Could it be that--that sum so overwhelming to humancaution and human decency which Harry had cloaked by his grudging phrase"some better offer"? What else could he mean? And what else could theblue-eyed Chinaman mean by his strange pursuit of her?

  "Some one must have wanted it awfully," Flora tried again, keeping stepwith his mild admission.

  Harry covered her with an impressive stare. "There's something queerabout that ring," he nodded to her. He was going to tell her at last!She gazed at him in expectation, but presently she realized that nothingmore was coming. He had stopped at the beginning. She tried to urge himon.

  "Queer, what do you mean?" She was feigning surprise.

  He looked at her cautiously. "Why, you must have noticed it yourselfwhen we were at the shop. And now, to-night, his having followed you."

  She could see him hesitate, choosing his words. She knew well enough herown fear of saying too much--but, what was Harry afraid of? Did hesuspect her feeling for Kerr? Was that why he was holding back, leavingout, giving her the small, expurgated version of what he knew. She triedagain, making it plainer.

  "You think the ring is something he ought not to have had; somethingthat belongs somewhere else?"

  He looked away from her, around the room, as if to pick up
his answerfrom some of the corners. "Well, anyway, it's lucky we waited about thatsetting," he said with quick irrelevance. "If you're going to be annoyedin this way you'd better let me have it."

  Why hadn't she thought of that! It was what any man might say, afterhearing such a story as hers, yet it was the last thing she had thoughtof, and the last thing she wanted.

  "Oh, leave it with me," she quavered, "at least till you're sure!"

  "Oh, no!" He gave his head a quick, decided shake. "If something shouldcome out you wouldn't want to be mixed up in it."

  "Then why not give it back to the Chinaman?" she tried him.

  "Oh, that's ridiculous." He was in a passion. His darkening eyes, hisswelling nostrils, his aspect so out of proportion to her mild andalmost playful suggestion, frightened her. He saw it and instantly hismood dropped to mere irritation. "Oh, Flora, don't make a scene aboutit. This thing has been on my mind for days--the thought that you hadthe ring. I was afraid I had no business to let you have it in the firstplace, and what you've told me to-night has clean knocked me out. Idon't know what I'm saying. Come, let me have it; and if there'sanything queer about the business, at least we'll get it cleared up."

  But, smiling, she retreated before him.

  "Why, Flora," he argued, half laughing, but still with that dry end ofirritation in his voice, "what on earth do you want to keep the thingfor?"

  By this time she backed against the window, and faced him. "Why, it's myengagement ring."

  He looked at her. She couldn't tell whether he was readiest to laugh orrage.

  "You gave it to me for that," she pleaded. "Why shouldn't I keep it,until you give me a real reason for giving it up? If you really knowanything, why don't you tell me?" She was sure she had him there; but heburst out at last:

  "Well, for a fact, I know it is stolen!" He leaned toward her; and hisarms, still flung out with the hands open as argument had left them,seemed to her frightened eyes all ready for her, ready with his lastargument, his strength.

  Once before she had feared herself face to face with the same threat inthe eyes and body of another man, but here, her only fear was lest Harryshould get the sapphire away from her. His doing so would dash down noideal of him. It was mere physical terror that made her tremble andraise her hand to her breast. Instantly she saw how she had betrayed thesapphire again. He had taken hold of her wrist, and, twist as she might,he held it, horribly gentle.

  She pressed back against the glass until she felt it hard behind her.

  "Harry," she whispered, "if you care anything, if you ever want me foryours, you'll take your hands away." She meant it; she was sincere inthat moment, for all she shrank from him. Her body and mind would nothave been too great a price to give him for the sapphire.

  But these he seemed to set aside as trivial. These he expected as amatter of course; he was going to have that other thing, too--the thingshe had clung to as a man clings to life; and that now, parting from,she would give up not without a struggle as sharp as that with which thebody gives up breath. She wrestled. He seemed all hands. He put asideher struggles, her pleadings, as if they were thistle-down.

  Then all at once she felt his arm around her neck. She couldn't move herbody. She could only turn her head from his hot breath. For a moment heheld her, and yet another moment; and then, terrified at what thisstrange immobility might mean, she raised her eyes and saw he was notlooking at her. Though he held her fast he was not conscious of her.Straight over her head he looked, through the window and down, into thegarden. Her eyes followed. It lay beneath, the wonder of its morningaspect all blanched and dim. She saw the silhouette of rose branches inblack on the sky. She saw the flowers and bushes all one dull tone. Butin the midst of them the oval of the path shone white; and there, as inthe afternoon, standing, looking upward, was the dark figure of a man.

  Her heart gave a great leap. Just so she'd been summoned once beforethat day, but what infernal freak had fetched him back to repeat thatdangerous sally, and brought him finally into his enemy's grasp? Shetried to make a gesture to warn him, and just there Harry released her,dropped her so that she half fell upon the window-seat, and made a dashacross the room for the light. In a moment they were in darkness. In amoment, to Flora pressed against the window, the garden sprang clear,and on the formless figure below the face appeared, white in thestarlight looking up. She cried out in wonder. It was not Kerr. It wasthe blue-eyed Chinaman.

  After her haunted drive, after her escape, after Shima's search, he wasthere, still inexorably there; small, diminished by the great facade ofthe house, but looking up at it with his calm eye, surveying it,measuring its height, numbering its doors, trying its windows. Harry wasbeside her again. He was tugging frantically at the window. It resisted.She saw his hands trembling while he wrestled with it. Then it wentshrieking up and he leaned out.

  "What do you want?" he called, and, though he used no name, Flora saw heknew with whom he was speaking. The Chinaman stood immobile, lifting hisround, white face, whose mouth seemed to gape a little. Harry leaned farout and lowered his voice.

  "Go away, Joe! Don't come here; never come here!" There was a quiver inhis voice. Anger or apprehension, or both, whatever his passion was, forthe moment it overwhelmed him, and as the Chinaman stood unmoved,unmoving, at his commands, Harry turned sharp from the window and dashedout of the room. Flora heard him running, running down the stairs. Shehung there breathless, waiting to see him meet the motionless figure;but while she looked and waited that motionless figure suddenly tooklife. It moved, it turned, it flitted, it mixed with shadows, became ashadow; and then there was nothing there.

  Nothing was there when Harry burst out of the garden door and stoodstaring in the empty oval. How distracted, how violent he looked, balkedof his prey! He was stalking the garden, beating the bushes, walking upand down. All at once he stopped and raised a white baffled face to herwindow. She shrank away. _She_ was in peril of Harry now. He knew her nolonger innocent. She had held the ring against him in the face of thefact he had told her it was stolen. And he must guess her motive. Hemust suspect her now.

  In her turn she ran, up and up a twisted side stair, shortest passage toher own rooms. At least lock and key could keep her safe for the nextfew hours. After that she must think of something else.