The Sign of the Spider

  CHAPTER XXX.

  "GOOD-BYE--MY IDEAL!"

  Johannesburg once more. The great, restless gold-town had passed throughmany changes, many booms and rumours of booms--the latter for the mostpart--since that quiet _trek_ now four years ago. Many of those who thenwere among its busiest inhabitants had departed, some to a land whencethere is no return, others to the land of their respective births. Many,who then had been on the verge of millionaires, "buzzing" their rapidlyacquired gains with a lavish magnificence which they imagined to be"princely"--were now uncertificated bankrupts, or had blown their brainsout, or had come within the meshes of the law and the walls of a convictprison; while others, who at that time lived upon hope and the "whiff ofan oiled rag," now fared sumptuously every day, and would do so untotheir lives' end. But for those who had held on to the place throughgood and evil report, since the time we last pioneered our readerthrough its dust-swept streets and arid surroundings, something of asurprise was in store. For the old order of things was reversed. Insteadof Hazon returning without his travelling companions, the latter hadreturned without Hazon.

  "Bless my soul, Stanninghame, is that you?" cried Rankin, running rightinto Laurence one morning just outside the new Exchange. "And Holmestoo? Why, you're looking uncommonly well, both of you. What have youdone with the pirate, eh?"

  "Oh, he's coming on!" replied Laurence, which in substance was correct,though it might be weeks before he came on; for, as a matter of fact,Hazon had remained behind at a certain point to collect and reduce tocash such gains as were being custodied for him--and the jointundertaking--by sundry of his blood-brethren the Arab chiefs.

  "Coming on, is he? Well, well! I think we've been libelling the pirateafter all, eh Rainsford?" as that worthy just joined them. "Here'sHazon's _trek_ come back without Hazon, instead of the other way about."

  Laurence thought how nearly it had been a case of the other way about.Had he not offered himself instead of Holmes, it would have been, for hewould have remained with the Ba-gcatya, and Hazon would have returnedalone. Of the fate of Holmes--well--he knew what that would have been.Holmes, however, did not, for the simple reason that Laurence hadrefrained from communicating a word relating to that horrible episode toeither of his associates--when, shortly after parting with Rahman benZuhdi, and the death of Lindela, he had found the two, safe and well, atthe principal town of a prominent Arab chief. And Holmes, possiblythrough ignorance of its nature or magnitude, never did fully appreciatethe sacrifice which the other had made for him.

  "What do you think?" went on Rankin, when the requisite amount ofgreeting and chaff had been exchanged, "this fellow Rainsford has goneand got married; has started out in the nursery department for all he'sworth."

  Laurence laughed.

  "Why, Rainsford, you were as stony broke as the rest of us when I left.Things looking up, eh?"

  "Of course. I told you it was a case of 'down to-day, upto-morrow'--told you at the time. And it's my belief you'd have donebetter to have remained here." Then lowering his voice; "Where's thepirate?"

  "Coming on."

  Rainsford whistled, and looked knowing.

  "What do you say?" cut in Rankin, "a drop of gin and soda wouldn't hurtus, eh?" Then while they moved round to the Exchange bar, he went on;"I've got a thing that would suit you to a hair, Stanninghame. I'd takeit up myself if I could, but I'm only an agent in the matter."

  "Shares, eh?"

  "Yes--Skinner and Sacks."

  "Dead off. See here, Rankin--you must off-load them on somebody else. IfI were next door to certain of making half a million out of it, eventhen I wouldn't touch any sort of investment connected with this place.No, not to save my immortal soul--if I've got one, which at times seemsdoubtful." And there was something in Laurence's laugh--evoked by oldtime recollections--which convinced the other that no business was to bedone in this quarter at any rate.

  There was method in the way in which Laurence had sought to dawdle awaythe morning. He had arrived late the night before, and as yet had madeno inquiries. How strange it all seemed! Surely it was but yesterdaythat he was here last. Surely he had slept, and had dreamed theportentous events which had intervened. They could not have been real.But the stones--the great diamonds--they were real enough; the metal boxtoo--the "Sign of the Spider."

  How was he thus transformed? Later in the day, as he stood on the_stoep_ knocking at the door of Mrs. Falkner's house, he was consciousthat his heart hardly beat quicker, that his pulses were as firm andeven as ever. Four years of a hard, stern schooling had done it.

  Yes, Mrs. Falkner was at home. He was ushered into the drawing room,which was empty. There was the same ever-clinging scent of roses, thesame knick-knacks, the same lounge on which they had sat together thatnight. Even the battery stamps across the kloof seemed to hammer out thesame refrain.

  The door opened. Was it Lilith herself? No, only Lilith's aunt.

  "Why, Mr. Stanninghame, I am glad to see you. But--how you havechanged!"

  "Well, yes, Mrs. Falkner. Time has knocked me about some. I can't saythe same as regards yourself, though. You haven't changed an atom."

  She laughed. "That can't be true. I'm sure I feel more and more of anold woman every day. But sit down, do, and tell me about youradventures. Have you had a successful trip?"

  "Pretty well. It has proved a more paying concern, at any rate, thanthe exhilarating occupation known as 'waiting for the boom.'"

  "I am very glad to hear that. And your friends--have you all returnedsafe and sound?"

  Laurence replied that they had. But for all his outward equability, hisimpatience was amounting to torment. Even while he talked his ears werestrained to catch the sound of a light step without. How would Lilithlook? he wondered. Would these four years have left their mark upon her?

  "And how is your niece, Miss Ormskirk?" he went on.

  "Lilith? Oh, but--by the way, she is not 'Miss Ormskirk' now. She ismarried."

  "Oh, is she? I hadn't heard. After all, one forgets how time slips by."

  That was all. It was a shock--possibly a hard one; but of late LaurenceStanninghame had been undergoing a steady training for meeting such.Mrs. Falkner--who had made the communication not without some qualm, forshe had been put very much up to the former state of things, both by hernephew, George, and certain "signs of the times," not altogether to bedissimulated, however bravely Lilith had borne herself after thatparting now so far back--felt relieved and in a measure a trifledisappointed, for, womanlike, she dearly loved romance. But the manbefore her had not turned a hair, had not even changed colour at theintelligence. It could not really matter, she decided--which was as wellfor him, but for herself disappointing.

  "Yes--she married her cousin George, my nephew. You remember him," shewent on. "I was against it for a long time; but, after all, I believe itwas the saving of him, poor fellow, he was so wildly in love with her.He was simply going to the dogs. Yes, it was the saving of him."

  "That's satisfactory, anyway," said Laurence, as though he werediscussing the fortunes of any two people whose names he had just heardfor the first time. But meanwhile his mind was inwardly avenging itselfupon its outward self-control. For vividly, and as though spoken intohis ears, there seemed to float fragments of those farewell wordsuttered there in that room: "_You have drawn my very heart and soul intoyours.... Oh, it is too bitter! Laurence, my darling--my love, my life,my ideal, good-bye--and good-bye!_"

  Well, the foolish dream had been a pleasant one while it lasted. Nay,more,--in all seriousness it had borne momentous fruit,--for no lessthan three times had that episode--yes, now it seemed a mereepisode--intervened between him and death.

  "Lilith will be so glad to see you when you are passing through; for ofcourse you will be returning home again. They have taken a bungalow atKalk Bay for the summer. I'll find you the address."

  They talked on a little longer, and then Laurence took his departure.

  As he gained the outer air once more there was that about th
e shimmer ofthe sunlight, the hum of the battery stamp, the familiarity of thesurroundings, which reminded him of that former time when he had thusstepped forth, having bidden a good-bye which was not a good-bye. Yetthe same pain did not grip around his heart now--not in its formeracuteness--rather was it now a sense of the falling away of all things.By a freak of psychology his mind reverted to poor Lindela, dying in hisarms in the steamy gloom of the equatorial forest: dying slowly, byinches, in pain; yet uttering no cry, no complaint, lest she should robhim of a few minutes more or less of sleep. That was indeed love. Still,even while making it, his sense of philosophy told him the comparisonwas not a fair one.

  Well, that was over--another chapter in his life to shut down. Now tomake the best of life. Now, with the means to taste its pleasures, withhard, firm health to enjoy them; after all, what was a mere sentimentalgrievance? Perhaps it counted for something, for all he told himself tothe contrary. Perhaps deep down there gnawed a restless craving, stifleit as he would. Who can tell?

  "The R. M. S. _Alnwick Castle_ leaves for England at 4 P. M."

  Such was the notice which, posted up in shipping office, or in the shortparagraph column of the Cape Town newspapers, met the public eye.

  It was the middle of the morning. Laurence Stanninghame, striving tokill the few hours remaining to him on African soil, was strollinglistlessly along Adderley Street. A shop window, adorned withphotographic views of local scenery and types of natives,--mostlystore-boys rigged up with shield and assegai to look warlike for theoccasion,--attracted his attention, and for a while he stood, idlygazing at these. His survey ended, he backed away from the window in aperfectly irrational and British manner on a busy thoroughfare,and--trod hard on somebody's toes. A little cry of mingled pain andresentment, then he stood--profusely apologizing.

  But with the first tones of his voice, she whom he had so awkwardly, ifunintentionally damaged, seemed to lose sight of her injuries. Her faceblanched, but not with physical pain, her lips parted in a sort of gasp,and the sweet eyes, wide and dilated, sought his in wonder--almost infear.

  "Laurence!"

  The name was hardly audible, but he heard it. And if his steelyphilosophy had stood him in good stead before, assuredly at this momenthis guard was down; as he recognized that he had last beheld this serenevision of loveliness, arrayed as now in cool white, strained to him infarewell embrace alone in the solemn night, those parted lips pressed tohis in heart-wrung pain, those sweet eyes, starry, humid with love,gazing full into his own. And now they met again, four years later--bychance--in a busy thoroughfare.

  "Pray excuse my inexcusable awkwardness; I must have hurt you," he said,as they clasped hands, and the tone was even almost formal, for heremembered they were in public.

  "You--you--have changed. I should hardly have known you but for yourvoice," she said unsteadily--for he had turned to walk up the streetwith her. "But--when did you return? I--had not heard."

  "Had you not? I called on your aunt in Johannesburg on the way through.She was telling me all about you."

  Something of relief seemed to manifest itself in Lilith's tone as sherejoined:

  "But you--are you staying here?"

  "Well, no. I have been trying to kill time until this afternoon. I amleaving by the _Alnwick Castle_."

  "Oh! By the _Alnwick Castle_?" she repeated again--and in the catch inher voice, and the quickness of utterance, he knew she was talking atrandom, for the sake of saying something, in fact.

  "Do you care to hear a little of what has befallen me since I went?" hesaid. "Then let us turn in here," as she made a mute but eager gestureof assent.

  They had gained the entrance to the oak avenue at the back of GovernmentHouse. Strolling up this, they turned into the beautiful BotanicalGardens. Nobody was about, save a gardener or two busied with theirwork.

  "What I am going to tell you is so marvellous that you will probablyrefuse to believe it," he said, after narrating the incident of the signupon the metal box which had arrested the uplifted weapons of theunsparing Ba-gcatya, and, of course, editing out all that might haverevealed the real nature of the expedition. "I have never breathed oneword of it to any living being--not even to those who were with me. Iwould rather you did not either, Lilith, because it is too strange foranybody to believe, and--for other reasons."

  She gave the required promise, and he drew forth the box. At sight ofthis relic of the past, that sweet, entrancing, if profitlesspast--Lilith could no longer quite keep herself in hand. The tearswelled forth, falling upon the metal box itself--hallowing, as it were,the sweet charm of its saving power.

  "Your love had power to save one life, you see," he went on in a cold,even voice, intended to strengthen him against himself. "But look,now--see those marks on the lid, just discernible? Now--listen."

  And Lilith did listen; and at the description of the awful rock prison,with its skeleton bones, the long hours of helpless suspense anddespair--and the final struggle in the ghastly moonlight; the strugglefor life with the appalling monster that tenanted it, her eyes dilatedwith horror, and with pallid face and gasping lips she begged him not togo on, so great a hold did the incident take upon her imagination, eventhere, in the blaze of the broad midday sunlight.

  "I have done now," he said. "Well, Lilith--you see what that token ofyour love has rescued me from. It was given as an amulet or charm, andright well has it fulfilled its purpose. But--to what end?"

  "Did you--did you come back with what you went for," she broke forth atlast, as with an effort.

  "Yes. Therein, too, you proved yourself a true prophet. And now tell mesomething about yourself."

  "Were you--angry with me when you heard what I had done, Laurence?" shesaid, raising her eyes full to his.

  "Angry? No. Why should I be? Your life is your own, though, as a rule,sacrificing ones' self to save somebody else, as your aunt rather gaveme to understand was the case here, is lamentably apt to turn out a caseof throwing away one's life with both hands. It is too much like cuttingone's own throat to save somebody else from being hanged."

  "And is that your way of wishing me well, Laurence?" she saidreproachfully.

  "No. I wish you nothing but well. It would be futile to say 'happiness,'I suppose."

  "The happiness of doing one's duty is a hard kind of happiness, afterall," she said, with a sad little smile.

  "Yes. An excellent copybook maxim, but for all purposes of reallife--bosh. Am I not in my own person a living instance to that effect?As soon as I pitched 'duty' to the dogs, why then, and only then, did Ibegin to travel in the contrary direction to those sagacious animalsmyself--which, of course, is simply appalling morality, but--it's life.Well, child, make the best of your life, and prove a shining exceptionto the dismal rule."

  "Do you remember our talk on board the dear old _Persian_? Yes, we hadso many, you were going to say; but I mean our first one, the firstserious one--that night, leaning over the side, I asked you: 'Shall Imake a success of life?' Do you remember your answer?"

  "As well as though it were yesterday. I replied that the chances werepretty even, inclining, if anything, to the negative. Well, and was Iright?"

  Lilith turned away her head. He could see that the tears were not faraway. Her lips were quivering.

  "I likewise told you you were groping after an ideal," he went on.

  "And I found it. Perhaps I had already found it when I asked thequestion. Oh, Laurence, life is all wrong, all horribly wrong and out ofjoint," she burst forth, with a passionate catch in her voice, as sheturned and faced him once more.

  "Yes, I know it is. I came to that conclusion a goodish while ago, andhave never seen any reason since to doubt its absolute accuracy."

  "All out of joint!" she repeated hopelessly. "It is as if our lives hadbeen placed opposite each other on parallel lines, and then one of thelines had been moved. Then our lives lay apart forever."

  "That's about it."

  She was not deceived. His tone was hard; to all appearances i
ndifferent.Yet not to her ear did it so ring. She knew the immensity of effort thatkept it--and what lay behind it--under control. Then she broke downentirely.

  "Laurence, my love--my doubly lost love!" she uttered through a chokingwhirlwind of sobs. "Teach me some of your strength--some of yourhardness. Then, perhaps, I can bear things better."

  "A chain is no stronger than its weakest link, remember, and perhaps youhave shown me the weak link here--that of my 'hardness.' Child, I wouldnot teach you an iota of it, if I could. It is good for me, but nowoman was ever the better for it yet. But keep yourself in hand now. Weare in a public place, although a comparatively secluded one. For yourown sake, do not give way. And for the very reason that I feared to stirup old memories, I had intended to go through without attempting to seeyou once more. Tell me one thing--would it have been better had I doneso?"

  "Better had you done so? No--no. A thousand times no--Laurence, mydarling. I shall treasure up this last hour we have spenttogether--shall treasure it as the sweetest of memories as long as lifeshall last."

  "And I shall treasure up that reply. Listen! Twice has your love stoodbetween me and death, as I have told you. Yet of the third time I havenever told you. It was the day I decided to go up-country. I had donewith life. The pistol was pressed hard against my forehead. I wasgradually trying how much more pressure the trigger would bear. A hair'sbreadth would have done it. Then it seemed that your voice was in myear. Your form stood before me. I tell you, Lilith, you saved me thatday as surely as though you had actually been within the room. I put thepistol down."

  "I did this?" wonderingly. "Why, that must have been the day I had thatawful dream."

  "It was. Hazon came in just after, and we made our plans for theexpedition. I remember telling you of it that same afternoon."

  "Why, then, if this is so, it must have been with some great purpose,"she cried, brightening up, a strange, wistful smile illumining herface. "Oh, how glad I am you have told me this, for now I can seecomfort--strength. In some mysterious way it seems as if our two liveswere intertwined, that it would ever be in my power in some dim way towatch over yours. My darling, my darling--until this moment I had notthe strength to part with you--now I have. Let me do so before it leavesme, for we have been here a very long time. I would have seen you off onboard, but that I dare not. I simply lack the strength of will to bearthat, Laurence, my dear one. We had better say good-bye here--not in thecrowded street. Then I will go--alone."

  Both had risen, and were holding each other's hands, were gazing intoeach other's eyes. Thus they stood for a moment. Nobody was in sight.Lilith lifted her lips, and they moved in a barely audible murmur.

  "Good-bye, my ideal!"

  One long, close, farewell kiss, and she was gone. And the man, as heflung himself back on the garden seat, with his eyes fixed dreamily onthe jutting end of the massive rock wall of Table Mountain towering onhigh to the cloudless blue, realized at that moment no elation such asone might feel who had found considerable wealth, and was returning fullof hard, firm health to enjoy the same. More than ever at that momentdid life seem to him all out of joint--more than ever, if possible; forhis had been one of those lives which, from the cradle to the grave,never seems to be anything else.