XXX
Clancy was afraid--like every one else--of the forces of law and order.She was afraid of that menacing thing which we call "society." To feelthat society has turned against one, and is hunting one down--that isthe most terrible fear of all. Clancy had undergone that fear during thepast week. Panic had time and again assailed her.
But the panic that gripped her now was different. It was the fear ofbodily injury. And, because Clancy had real courage, the color came backinto her cheeks as swiftly as it had departed. More swiftly, because,with returning courage, came anger.
Clancy was not a snob; she would never be one. Yet there is a feeling,born of legitimate pride, that makes one consciously superior to others.Clancy held herself highly. A moment ago, she had been dreaming,triumphantly, of a man immeasurably superior in all ways to these twomen who detained her. That this man should anticipate seeing her--andshe knew that he did--raised her in her own self-esteem. That these twomen here dared stop her progress, for any reason whatsoever, loweredher.
She was decent. These two men were not. Yet one of them held her horse'shead, and the other hand was stretched out toward her. They dared, bydeed and verbal implication, to threaten her. Her pride, just and wellfounded, though based on no record of material achievement, would havemade her brave, even though she had lacked real courage. Although, as amatter of fact, it is hard to conceive of real courage in a characterthat has no pride.
Carey's left hand was closing over her right forearm. With the edge ofher right hand, Clancy struck the contaminating touch away. She was ahealthy girl. Hours of tobogganing to-day had not exhausted her. Theblow had vigor behind it. Carey's hand dropped away from her. With herleft hand, Clancy jerked the reins taut. A blow of the whip would havemade Garland relinquish his grasp of the animal. But Clancy did notdeliver it then.
No man, save Beiner, had ever really frightened her. And it had not beenfear of hurt that had animated her sudden resistance toward thetheatrical agent; it had been dread of contamination. She had been bornand bred in the country. In Zenith, the kerosene street-lamps were notlighted on nights when the moon was full. Sometimes it rained, and thenthe town was dark. Yet Clancy had never been afraid to walk home from aneighbor's house.
So now, indignant, and growing more indignant with each passing second,she made no move toward flight. Instead, she asked the immemorialquestion of the woman whose pride is outraged.
"How dare you?" she demanded.
Carey stared at her. He rubbed his forearm where the hard edge of herpalm had descended upon it. His forehead, Clancy could vaguely discern,in the light that the snow reflected from a pale moon, was wrinkled, asthough with worry.
"Some wallop you have!" he said. "No need of getting mad, is there?"
Had Clancy been standing, she would have stamped her foot.
"'Mad?' What do you mean by stopping me?" she cried.
"'Mean?'" Behind his blond mustache the weakness of Carey's mouth waspatent. "'Mean?' Why--" He drew himself up with sudden dignity. "Anyreason," he asked, "why I shouldn't stop and speak to a friend of mywife's?"
Suddenly Clancy wished that she had lashed Garland with the whip, struckthe horse with it, and fled away. She realized that Carey was drunk. Hewas worse than drunk; he was poisoned by alcohol. The eyes that finallymet hers were not the eyes of a drunkard temporarily debauched; theywere the eyes of a maniac.
Her impulse to indignation died away. She knew that she must temporize,must outwit the man who stood so close to where she sat. For sherealized that she was in as great danger as probably she would ever beagain.
Danger dulls the mind of the coward. It quickens the wit of the brave.The most consummate actress would have envied Clancy the laugh that rangas merrily true as though Carey, in a ballroom, had reminded her oftheir acquaintance and had begged a dance.
"Why, it's _you_, Mr. Carey! How silly of me!"
Carey stepped back a trifle. His hat swung down in his right hand, andhe bowed, exaggeratedly.
"'Course it is. Didn't you know me?"
Clancy laughed again.
"Why should I? I never expected to find you walking along a road likethis."
"Why shouldn't you?" Carey's voice was suddenly suspicious. "Y' knew Iwas coming up here, didn't you?"
"Why, no," Clancy assured him. "You see Dutchess County doesn't meananything to me. Mrs. Carey said that you were going to Dutchess County,but that might as well have been Idaho for all it meant to me. Where isMrs. Carey?" he asked.
"Oh, she's all right. Nev' min' about her." He swayed a trifle, andseized the edge of the sleigh for support. "Point is"--and he broughthis face nearer to hers, staring at her with inflamed eyes--"what areyou doin' up here if you didn't know I was here?"
"Visiting the Walbroughs," said Clancy. She pretended to ignore histone.
"Huh! Tell me somethin' I don't know," said Carey. "Don't you suppose Iknow _that_? Ain't Sam and I been watchin' you tobogganing with that fatold Walbrough dame all afternoon?"
"Why didn't you join us?" asked Clancy.
"Join you? Join you?" Carey's eyes attempted cunning; they succeeded incrossing. "Thass just _it_! Didn't want to join you. Didn't want you tosus--suspect--" His hand shook the sleigh. "You come right now and tellme what you doin' here?"
"Why, I've told you!" said Clancy.
"Yes; you've _told_ me," said Carey scornfully. "But that doesn't meanthat I believe you. Where you going now?"
"To the railroad station," Clancy answered.
"What for?" demanded Carey.
Clancy's muscles tightened; she sat bolt upright. No _grande dame_'stones could have been icier.
"You are impertinent, Mr. Carey."
"'Impertinent!'" cried Carey. "I asked you a question; answer it!"
"To meet Mr. Vandervent," Clancy told him. She could have bitten hertongue for the error of her judgment.
Carey's hand let go of the side of the seat. He stepped uncertainly backa pace.
"What's he doing up here? What you meeting him for? D'ye hear that,Garland?" he cried.
The elevator-man of the Heberworth Building still stood at the horse'shead. He was smoking a cigarette now, and Clancy could see his craftyeyes as he sucked his breath inward and the tip of the cigarette glowed.
"Ain't that what I been tellin' you?" he retorted. "Didn't Spofford gointo your house yesterday and stay there with her an hour or so? Wasn'tI watchin' outside? And ain't he laid off her? Didn't he tell me to keepmy trap closed about seein' her go to Beiner's office? Ain't he workin'hand in glove with her?"
Carey wheeled toward Clancy.
"You hear that?" he demanded shrilly. "And still you try to fool me. Youthink I killed Beiner, and--" His voice ceased. He licked his lips amoment. When he spoke again, there was infinite cunning in his tone.
"You don't think anything foolish like that, now, do you?" He came alittle closer to the sleigh. His left hand groped, almost blindly, itseemed to Clancy, for the edge of the seat again. "Why, even if Morrisand I did have a little row, any one that knows me knows I'm a gentlemanand wouldn't kill him for a little thing like his saying he----"
"Lay off what he said and you said," came the snarling voice of Garland."Stick to what you intended saying."
"Don't use that tone, Garland," snapped Carey. "Don't you forget,either, that I'm a--I'm a--gentleman. I don't want any gutter-scumdicta--dictating to me." He spoke again to Clancy. "You're a friend ofmy wife," he said. "Just wanted to tell you, in friendly way, thatfriend of my wife don't mean a single thing to me. I want to be friendlywith every one, but any one tries to put anything over on me going toget theirs. 'Member that!"
"Aw, get down to cases!" snarled Garland. There was something strange inthe voice of the man at the horse's head. There was a snarling quaver init that was not like the drunken menace of Carey.
Suddenly Clancy knew; she had never met a drug fiend in her life--andyet she knew. Also, she knew that what Don Carey, even maniacally drunk,might not think of doing, the u
ndersized elevator-man from theHeberworth Building would not hesitate to attempt.
Common sense told her that these two men had stopped her only for apurpose. They had watched her to-day. They knew that she was on her wayto meet Philip Vandervent. They were reading into that meetingverification of their suspicions.
And they were suspicious, because--she knew why. Carey had killedBeiner. Garland knew of the crime. Garland had blackmailed Carey;Garland feared that exposure of Carey would also expose himself ascognizant of the crime. So they were crazed, one from drink, the otherfrom some more evil cause. No thought of risk would deter them. It wasincredible that they would attack her, and yet----
"Now, listen, lady," came the voice of Garland: "We don't mean no harmto you. Get me?"
Incredibly, crazed though the man's voice was, Clancy believed him.
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"We just want a little time, Carey and me. We want you to promise tokeep your mouth shut for a week or so; that's all. Your word'll be goodwith us."
Again Clancy believed him. But now she was able to reason. She believedGarland, because he meant what he said. But--would he mean what he saidfive minutes from now? And, then, it didn't matter to her whether or notthe man would mean it five years from now. He was attempting to dictateto her, Clancy Deane, who was on her way to meet Philip Vandervent, shewho had received flowers from Philip Vandervent only yesterday.
Vandervent was a gentleman. Would he temporize? Would he give a promisethat in honor he should not give?
Where there had been only suspicion, there was now certainty. She _knew_that Don Carey had killed Morris Beiner. On some remote day, she wouldponder on the queer ways of fate, on the strange coincidences that makefor what we call "inevitability." With, so far as she knew, no evidenceagainst him, Don Carey had convicted himself.
He was a murderer. By all possible implication, Carey had confessed, andGarland had corroborated the confession. And they asked her to becomeparty to a murder!
She would never again be as angry as she was now. It seemed to herinflamed senses that they were insulting not merely herself butVandervent also. They were suggesting that she was venal, capable ofputting bodily safety above honesty. And, in belittling her, theybelittled the man who had, of all the women in the world, selected her.For now, in the stress of the moment, it was as though Vandervent'sflowers had been a proposal. She fought not merely for herself, but, bysome queer quirk of reasoning, for the man that she loved.
Her left hand held whip and reins. She dropped the reins, she rose toher feet and lashed savagely at Garland's head. She heard him scream asthe knotted leather cut across his face. She saw him stagger back,relinquishing his hold of the bridle. She turned. Carey's two handssought for her; his face was but a yard away, and into it she drove thebutt of the whip. He, too, reeled back.
Her hand went above her head and the lash descended, swishingly, uponthe side of the horse. There was a jerk forward that sat her heavilydown upon the seat. A sidewise twist, as the animal leaped ahead, almostthrew her out of the sleigh. She gripped at the dashboard and managed toright herself. And then the sleigh went round a bend in the road.
The snow was piled on the left-hand side. The horse, urged into thefirst display of spirits that, probably, he had shown in years, bore tothe left. The left runner shot into the air. Clancy picked herself outof a snow-drift on the right-hand side as the horse and sleigh careenedround another turn.
For a moment, she was too bewildered to move. Then she heard behind herthe curses of the two men. She heard them plunging along the heavyroadway, calling to each other to make haste.
She was not panicky. Before her was a narrow roadway, branching awayfrom the main highway. Up it she ran, as swiftly as her heavily-shodfeet--she wore overshoes that Mrs. Hebron had pressed upon her--couldcarry her over the rough track.
Round a corner she glimpsed lights. A house stood before her. She racedtoward it, her pace slackening as a backward glance assured her thatGarland and Carey must be pursuing the empty sleigh, for they certainlywere not following her.
But the horse might stop at any moment. He was an aged animal, probablytired of his freedom already. Then the two men would turn, would findher tracks leading up this road. She refused to consider what mighthappen then. One thing only she knew--that she had justified herself byrefusing to treat with them. It was an amazingly triumphant heart thatshe held within her bosom. She felt strangely proud of herself.
Across a wide veranda she made her way. She rang a door-bell, visibleunder the veranda-light. She heard footsteps. Now she breathed easily.She was safe. Carey and Garland, even though they discovered her tracks,would hardly follow her into this house.
Then the door opened and she stood face to face with Sophie Carey.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Mrs. Carey held out her hand.
"Why, Miss Deane!" she gasped.
Perfunctorily Clancy took the extended fingers. She stepped inside.
"Lock the door!" she ordered.
Sophie Carey stared at her. Mechanically she obeyed. She stared at herguest.
"Why--why--what's wrong?" she demanded. Her voice shook, and her eyeswere frightened.
Clancy's eyes clouded. She wanted to weep. Not because of any dangerthat had menaced her--that might still menace her--not because of anyphysical reaction. But Sophie Carey had befriended her, and Sophie Careywas in the shadow of disgrace. And she, Clancy Deane, _must_ tell theauthorities.
"Your husband----" she began.
Mrs. Carey's face hardened. Into her eyes came a flame.
"He--he's dared to----"
There was a step on the veranda outside. Before Clancy could interfere,Sophie had strode by her and thrown open the door. Through the entrancecame Carey, his bloodshot eyes roving. In his hand he held a revolver.