Forging the Blades: A Tale of the Zulu Rebellion

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

  REVELATION.

  A curious change had come over Denham soon after Harry Stride's visit.He seemed to have grown grave and rather silent. Even his interest incollecting seemed to flag. If Ben Halse noticed it he held his tongue.Verna noticed it, and resolved not to hold hers.

  Her opportunity came. They had climbed to the resting-place which hadbeen the goal of their ride that first day: that great natural window inthe rock tooth which overlooked such a magnificent sweep of wilderness;in fact, this point had become rather a favourite objective in theirmany expeditions _a deux_. Here was her chance, here alone, beyondevery possibility of interruption; here, alone together, the world faraway. But before she could begin he said--

  "I have something to tell you."

  The girl's face went white, and something like a gasp escaped her. Likelightning there flashed through her brain the one and only possiblethought. He was going to tell her he had made a mistake, or that therewas some impediment and they must part. Her love for him had reachedsuch a height of passionate adoration that where he was concerned shehad no pride left.

  He gazed at her in blank amazement. Then she was clasped tight in hisembrace.

  "For God's sake don't look like that," he said. "My darling one, whatis it?"

  "Are you going to tell me there is something that must part us?" shemanaged to gasp out.

  "Good God, no!" he answered vehemently. "At least," he added, sadlydoubtful, "that depends on yourself."

  The colour came back to her face and her eyes lit up, sweetly,radiantly.

  "Depends on myself," she repeated. "Why, in that case nothing in theworld can part us--nothing!"

  "Are you sure?"

  "Nothing. Nothing," she reiterated. "Alaric, my darling, you have notbeen yourself of late. There is something on your mind, and that iswhat you are going to tell me now. Am I right?"

  He nodded. Then, after a pause--

  "Tell me again, Verna. Is there anything that could separate us,anything I may have done--not against yourself, mind!--in this wideworld that could cause you to shrink from me? Is there? Think it out."

  "Why, of course not," she answered, boldly serene now that the wholequestion lay in her own hands, almost laughing, in fact, althoughknowing full well she was on the verge of something tragic.

  "But--what if I have killed a man?"

  "What if you have killed twenty men? Some people have, and they bragabout it."

  He looked hard at her.

  "Yes; but what if I have--what the law calls--committed murder?"

  Now she looked hard at him, then shook her head.

  "You have not murdered _me_--nor father."

  There spake the natural woman in Verna Halse. He had not injured her orhers, consequently who ever this man had injured it was nothing to her.In all probability he was justified in so doing, certainly was, in thatin her eyes he could do no wrong.

  "But do you quite understand, Verna?" he said gently. "I am in dangerof--of the rope."

  "Are you? Well, we shall make it our particular business to see thatthat danger passes off. Why, there are places about here where youcould hide for years. Listen, Alaric"--suddenly waxing grave, while apassion of tenderness came into her voice--"You saw fit, goodness knowswhy, to love me. Do you think, then, I am going to shrink from youbecause you are in a difficulty? I am only an ignorant sort of girl,but I have seen something of one side of life, at any rate, and thepower does not exist--law or anything else--that shall take you from me.But, tell me all about it."

  "I will, Verna. You remember the first time we came to this spot, and Iwas telling you things? I said there was one thing I hadn't told you,but that I might some day. This was it."

  She nodded.

  "You remember, too, on that occasion, my saying what a splendid thing itwas to feel quite easy in one's mind, and that I had not always beenable to by any means?"

  "Yes."

  She was gravely attentive now. Her quick mind, not at ease itself, wasrapidly piecing two and two together; wherefore his next remark causedher little if any surprise.

  "That beastly thing young Stride sprung upon us the other day was anexact likeness of the man, only, of course, it exaggerated hisvillainous expression. He's dead now; but what I suffered at thatblackmailer's hands--good God! Verna; when I think of it I could wishhe might come to life so that I could kill him over again."

  Then a new experience came to Verna. This man, so stronglyself-possessed, upon whom an easy dignity sat so well, had suddenlybecome a different being. His eyes glowed and his features were set.He seemed completely to have lost sight of her and her presence for thetime being; to be "reconstituting" the tragedy of horror and revenge.This was a side of him--a tigerish side--of which she had never dreamed,but she did not shrink from it, not one atom. She put forth a hand intohis, and the touch calmed him.

  "Tell me, Alaric," she said. "Why did you kill him? I dare say hedeserved it. In fact, judging from that villainous-looking face he musthave."

  He looked at her in some amazement. The cool, matter-of-fact tones inwhich she discussed what to most women would have come as a verydisquieting shock, astonished him a good bit.

  "Love," he said in an uneven voice, placing the cool, shapely handsround his neck and against his face, "I place my life within those dearhands. I will tell you the whole thing."

  Then he told her how the dead man had systematically blackmailed him forsome years past, acting on the knowledge of a former business secret,which if divulged would not merely have spelt ruin, but worse; atransaction into which he had been led by others, in the days of hiscomparative inexperience. Then he told her of the tragedy on the riverbank in the Makanya forest; told her minutely, omitting no detail. Shelistened intently, breathlessly.

  "When I rode away from that spot," he concluded, "it was with anunspeakable load lifted from my mind, a load that had weighed upon itfor years. Everything was favourable. We had not been seen together,for we entered the country by different ways, and our meeting wasentirely a chance one. He had found out somehow that I was bound forEzulwini, and had started to catch me there, in order to squeeze outsome more blackmail. He had missed his way and had wandered to where wemet. I had not missed mine, for I had mapped out a way through all thatwild part. When we did meet the first idea that flashed through my mindwas that now and here was a chance such as I should never get again.Everything was favourable--the wild loneliness of the spot, seldom ifever travelled, and the fact that we had not been seen together. Iwould force him to sign a declaration which should put it out of hispower for ever to harm me. But he flatly refused, and the rest youknow. It was only afterwards that it occurred to me that the sequel wasthe best that could have come about, for the declaration, beingunwitnessed, would probably have been worth nothing at all. I must havebeen a bit off my head, or that would have occurred to me at the first.Now, Verna, why don't you shrink from me?"

  "Shrink from you?" and the clasp of her hand tightened on his. "Itwould take a great deal more than this to make me even begin to think ofdoing that. In fact, I can't see anything so very dreadful about it atall. A blackmailer is the most pestilent vermin on earth, andshooting's too good for him. Let me think. Ah! He tried to shoot you,you said?"

  "He certainly would have if I'd given him the slightest chance. Still,there's no getting over the fact that I fully intended to shoot him inthe event of his persistently refusing to sign that paper."

  "And he deserved it. Moreover, didn't you try to get him out of thewater?"

  "Yes. I couldn't stand seeing even him finished off in such a beastlymanner. Afterwards it occurred to me that it was the best possiblething that could have happened in that it would destroy all trace. Youunderstand?"

  "Perfectly. But now, if the worst came to the worst, couldn't you makeit out a case of self-defence?"

  "A very poor plea," he answered, with a gloomy shake of the head,"especially
under all the circumstances. Besides, no end of thingswould be raked up and a motive established. But nothing more would havebeen heard of the affair if that infernal Stride hadn't picked up thesaddle. Then, when he heard I had come through the Makanya just aboutthat time, he put two and two together. He more than hinted as much oneevening in the club before them all. Before them all, mind! Of courseI made some joke about it, but as sure as we are sitting here, Verna, Icould see that two, at any rate, more than half believed there might besomething in it. Those two were James and Hallam."

  Verna's brows knitted. She did not like this feature in the case.

  "Do you know why Stride is so vindictive in the matter, Verna?" he said,after giving her an account of his interview with the young prospectorand the latter's threats.

  "I think I can guess." Then she fell to thinking whether she could notturn Stride's weakness for herself to account. But it was too late, sherecognised. He had set the ball rolling--at first all innocently, itwas true--but it had now rolled too far.

  "Who did you first meet after you had left the river?" she asked.

  "I struck a small kraal, and, incidentally, the people were none toocivil. But it was a long way from the spot where it happened."

  Not even to her could he break his word of honour pledged to thestrange, sinister-looking fellow-countryman who had shown himhospitality, to respect to the uttermost the latter's secrecy.

  Verna thought for a moment. Then she said--

  "Alaric, do you remember the time that we killed the _indhlondhlo_, downin the forest, Mandevu's sudden appearance?"

  "Yes," eagerly. "What then?"

  "Do you remember his reference to your power of snake-charming, not oncebut twice?"

  "Good God! I should think so. I thought it strange at the time."

  "Well, could he--or anybody--have witnessed the whole affair?"

  "N-no," he answered thoughtfully. "I don't see how any natives couldhave been concealed within sight or even earshot. The horses would havewinded them and have got restive, whereas they were perfectly quiet."

  "I can't make out that part of it at all," said Verna. "I must think.He knew about that other snake-charming incident. I could see that.The question is--if he knew, how did he know? Some one must have seenit, and if they saw the one thing they'd have seen the other."

  "Yes; they must have. Verna, I have an instinct," he went on somewhatgloomily, "a sure and certain instinct that this net will close roundme. Everything in life looked too bright since I succeeded in riddingmyself of this incubus, and, then I found _you_. After that everythingwas positively radiant. Of course it couldn't last."

  "But it can last, and it shall. Dear one, you said just now that youwere placing your life in my hands, and that precious life I shall guardwith a jealous care. I have means of hearing things from outside whichyou would hardly believe, and shall set them working at once. No, itwould take a great deal more to part us now--Do you remember the day wefirst met," she broke off, "and they were talking of this very affair inthe hotel? Well, I volunteered the remark that you had just comethrough the Makanya, but nobody heard. They were all talking at once,but I didn't repeat it. Some instinct warned me not to."

  "Ah, that first day! We little thought what we were going to be to eachother then."

  Verna shook her head. "I'm by no means so sure of that," she said.

  "No more am I, now I come to think of it."

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  After this Denham threw off his depression as though by magic. As thedays went by and no news came from outside, he was almost dazzled in thesunshine of happiness that flooded his heart. He had dreaded the effectof the revelation upon Verna, and now that he had made it, so far fromher love for him lessening it had, if possible, deepened tenfold.

  Then fell the bolt from the clear sky.