XVI
AS IN A LOOKING-GLASS
Arcadia House, while it certainly stood in need of the repairer's hand,was by no means uninhabitable, a fact which spoke well for the honestyof its old-time builders. Its oak beams, fastened together withtree-nails instead of iron spikes, were still sound, and its brickwalls, unusually massive in construction, were without a crack. Mostimportant of all, the roof, shingled with the best cypress, remainedwater-tight, and so protected the interior from the ruinous effects ofmoisture. In outward appearance, however, Arcadia House had sadlydegenerated. The stucco that originally covered the outer walls hadfallen away here and there, leaving unsightly patches to vex the eye,and in many of the windows the glazing had been destroyed either whollyor in part.
Some years before Quinton Edge had taken possession of this abandonedEden. The summers in the city were usually warm, and the Doomsmen werein the habit of seeking the upper stories of the tall buildings forrelief, just as in the twentieth century people went to the mountainsfor the heated term. Quinton Edge, having accidentally discoveredArcadia House recognized its advantages as a summer residence, and hehad his own reasons for desiring the privacy that its secludedsituation afforded. He was satisfied with putting three or four of therooms into livable condition, and as for the rest it was only necessaryto repair the wall surrounding the grounds and stock the storehouseswith fuel and provisions to make of Arcadia House the proverbial castle.That it _was_ his castle was his own affair, and he had taken care thatonly the fewest possible number should be in the secret. Old Kurt and acouple of negro slave women made up the ordinary domestic staff of theestablishment, and until the advent of Esmay and Nanna, some threemonths before, Arcadia House had received no visitors. And he would be afoolish man who called upon Quinton Edge without an invitation.
Esmay, after parting from Constans, paused a moment at the side entranceof the house. She wanted to look back, but a stronger instinct forbadeit; she opened the door and passed into the hall.
It was a broad, low-ceilinged apartment, and served as a commonliving-room to the master of Arcadia House and his guests. A few embersburned on the hearth, and a solitary candle set in a wall-sconce strovewith its feeble glimmer against the full tide of silver moonshine thatpoured in through the uncurtained windows facing on the river. QuintonEdge himself was sitting at the corner of the fireplace smoking ared-clay pipe with a reed stem. He rose as Esmay entered, detaining herwith a gesture as she would have passed him.
"One moment, if you will."
The girl stopped and waited for him to continue. He considered a moment,looking her over coolly. And indeed she made an attractive picture asshe stood there, the firelight glinting redly in her tawny eyes and hercheeks incarnadined with excitement. Quinton Edge told himself that hehad made no mistake. Then he spoke:
"You have waited most patiently for me to announce my intentions. Let mesee; it is nearly three months since you came to Arcadia House?"
The girl made no reply. Alert and keeping herself well in hand, shewould force him to the first move. And Quinton Edge realized that hewould have to make it.
"It won't be any news to you that there are several people who would beglad to be informed of your whereabouts. There's Boris, for one, andyoung Ulick--we spoke of them some time ago."
"But to no purpose, sir; you remember that."
"Perfectly. Still, in three months a woman may change her mind manytimes."
"But only for her own satisfaction."
"Then it is hopeless to expect a decision from you?"
"Evidently."
"In that case it may become necessary for me to act for you."
"Oh!"
The exclamation told its own story, and the girl in her vexation bit thelip that had betrayed her. Quinton Edge smiled.
"Don't distress yourself," he said, smoothly. "I am only giving you thewarning that courtesy entitles you to receive."
Esmay reflected. Whatever his intentions concerning her, she could notbe the worse off for knowing them. So she went on, steadily:
"Since you have already decided upon my future, argument would beuseless. But perhaps I may assume that you have acted with some smallregard for my interests."
"Not the least in the world," returned Quinton Edge, and Esmay smiledinvoluntarily at frankness so unblushing. Whereupon and curiouslyenough, Quinton Edge became suddenly of a great gravity, the flippancyof his accustomed manner falling from him as a cloak drops unnoticedfrom a man's shoulders. He rose to his feet, strode to a window, andstood there for perhaps a minute looking out upon the moonlit waters ofthe Lesser river. When he turned again to the girl there were lines ofhardness about his mouth that she had never noticed before. Yet, inspeaking, his voice was soft, almost hesitating.
"Why should I tell you of these things, and then again why not? We areboth children of the Doomsmen, and the matter concerns us nearly. Notequally, of course, but listen and draw your own conclusions."
"There are clouds in the political sky, and our little ship of state isin danger of going upon the rocks, coincident with the death of DomGillian, its old-time helmsman. And that contingency in the naturalcourse of events cannot be long delayed.
"Now there are two nominal heirs--Boris and Ulick. Each deems himselfthe chosen successor to his great-grandfather, and each is incompetentto play the part. In the past the reins of power have been held by theman who stands between them. I am that third man."
"As everybody knows now."
"No; and for the simple reason that there are few to care who rules solong as the figure-head remains a presentable one. But let me continue.
"Dom Gillian will formally nominate one of his grandsons as his heir. Itmakes no difference whether Boris or Ulick succeeds--the outcome must bethe same. Both have personal followings, and that of the disappointedone will form a minority insignificant in numerical strength, butcapable of being kneaded by strong hands into a compact mass."
"A revolution, then?"
"By no means. I accept the situation as it is and simply turn it to myown advantage--as third man. This makes it necessary that thedisappointed one should become my absolute property. Now I hold theprice that he will demand for the surrender of his rights andfreedom--nothing less than yourself."
"I shall not affect to be surprised," said the girl, coolly. "But areyou quite sure that I am valued at so high a figure? It would bemortifying for you to go into the market and find that your currency haddepreciated on your hands."
"I am not afraid," he answered. "The passion with Boris and Ulick alikeis genuine enough, albeit of somewhat different sort. As you care forneither, it should be a matter of indifference whose property youbecome."
The blood burned redly under the girl's brown skin. "No one but a womancould know how unforgivable is that insult," she said. Then, with asuddenly conceived appeal to the man himself:
"But why a bargain at all? You have the strength, the courage, thebrains--why chaffer when you have but to strike once to win all? Youstand between Boris and Ulick; crush them both in a single embrace andtake their birthright of power."
"Bah!" said the Doomsman, contemptuously. "Do you think that the merepossession of the wolf-skin is the object of the hunt? It is the gamethat amuses me and not the final distribution of the stakes. The game, Isay, and it happens to suit my humor to play it in this particular way.You are simply a piece on the board, and I may win with you or lose withyou, or conclude to throw you back in the box without playing you atall--just as it pleases me."
"The means are at least nobler than the end," retorted the girl. "Alofty ambition, truly, to stand behind a screen and pull the strings ofa puppet, who in turn lords it over a handful of rick burners and cattlereivers. Even my uncle Hugolin, Councillor Primus of Croye, cuts abetter figure when, clad in his state robe of silver-fox fur, hepresides over his parliament of shopkeepers."
"Granted," returned Quinton Edge, "but one and all dance together when Ichoose to pipe. Is it such a contemptible thing to r
ule a small world,if, indeed, it be the world? I take all that there is to be taken. CouldAlexander or Caesar do more?"
"I am beginning to comprehend," she said, slowly. "An ambition thatconfessedly overleaps all bounds is at least not an ignoble one."
He turned and searched her eyes.
"You will play the game with me?"
"No."
"Yet a moment ago you were considering it--the possibility, I mean."
"For the moment--yes. After three months of Arcadia House dulnessalmost any amusement would seem worth while. But, frankly speaking, itis the nature of the risk that appalls me. I cannot afford to lose mystake nor even to adventure it."
"To speak plainly?"
"Well, then, you contribute to the common capital but one thing--yourbrains. Later on, if the play goes against us, you may have to throw onthe table your liberty, and, in the last extremity, your life. But thatis the utmost limit of your losses. I, on the contrary, must contributemyself to the hazard, and no man understands what that means to awoman."
"How long is it since the woman has understood?" he asked, mockingly,but Esmay was silent.
"Well, then, if I cannot have you with me I want you actively againstme--the more balls in the air, the better sport for the juggler. And atleast we understand each other."
"There is just the one question--perhaps an obvious one."
"Yes."
"Boris or Ulick? For of course you know which of them is to be the oldDom's heir."
"I do."
"I am to be informed of my purchaser's name--after the bargaining isover? And only then?"
"Since you choose to put it in that way--yes."
Neither chose to break the silence that fell between them, and Esmay,catching up her skirt, turned to go.
"Good-night," she said, but Quinton Edge did not answer. Apparently hehad forgotten her very existence; he sat with feet out-stretched to thefire, his eyes fixed upon the curl of blue smoke that hung above hispipe bowl.
Esmay went up to the room on the second floor which she shared with hersister. Nanna was already in bed and asleep, but she started up as Esmayentered, like a dog that has been listening in its dreams for itsmaster's footsteps. "Are you coming to bed?" she asked, drowsily, andfell back among the pillows without even waiting for the answer.
Esmay, unconscious of the cold, remained seated at the window lookingout upon the river, her mind busy with the ultimatum which had just beenpresented to it. That it was an ultimatum, she could not doubt; QuintonEdge had been in deadly earnest in confronting her with her fate--adouble-faced one, as she thought, with a little shiver. She could notavoid seeing it, no matter which way she turned.
A waning moon in a clouding sky. Even as she looked the two faces seemedto start out from the uncertain shadows--Boris, the Butcher--involuntarily,she shrank back from the window--never that!
Ulick? Yes, she had been fond of Ulick; they had been comrades andfriends for so long as she could remember. But Ulick in this newlight--ah, that was different again. Strangely enough she found herselfcontemplating this last possibility even more fearfully than she had thefirst. If the "Butcher" but laid a finger upon her, surely her arm wasstrong enough to drive the dagger home. But if it were Ulick, what couldshe do but turn the weapon against her own breast.
Plan and counterplan, and the argument invariably came back to where itbegan--she must call upon Constans for the aid which he had promised toplace at her disposal. Hardly two hours had passed since they had madethe compact, and now she was come to ask for its fulfilment. What wouldhe think of her? How interpret a precipitancy so foreign to the coolassurance of her bearing in the garden? She frowned; the instinct thaturges a woman to any folly short of the supreme blunder of unveilingherself to masculine eyes took possession of her. But only for a moment,for again the imminence of the peril in which she stood broke over herlike a wave. There was but one thing to do; the signal must be set thisvery night. The returning expedition from the south might even now beencamped at the High Bridge, and if Constans could help her at all itmust be at once.
Without waiting to parley further with herself, Esmay went to the dooropening into the hall and looked out. The hour must be close uponmidnight; the house was quiet and dark.
A piece of white cloth had been the signal agreed upon, and a flutteringhandkerchief should answer the purpose well enough without being tooconspicuous to alien eyes. Nanna still slept, and Esmay, slipping intothe hallway, stood listening for a moment. Then she went on boldly; themoon was still high, and she would not need a light.
It had been arranged that the signal should be displayed from thesouthwestern window of the cupola crowning the main roof. But the stairsto the third story and attic were in a wing; to reach them she musttraverse a long corridor which led past the apartments occupied byQuinton Edge. Esmay noticed a gleam of yellow light upon the thresholdof his half-closed door as she passed it on winged feet, but there wasnothing extraordinary in that--it often burned there throughout theentire night. But he was talking to somebody; she could hear distinctlythe opposition of the two voices. Who could it be? for none of theservants ever entered these rooms, and she had never known of anystranger being invited thither. She stopped and listened for a moment ortwo. But she could make out nothing distinctly, and then she flushedhotly to think that she had been tempted to eavesdropping. Let her besatisfied in knowing that Quinton Edge was in his room and busilyengaged; at least, he would not disturb her.
The upper stories of the house had not been occupied for many years, andit took all the girl's courage to carry her through the shadow-hauntedgarret and up the ladder leading to the cupola proper. But sheaccomplished the task of putting the signal-cloth in position, and,still shaking with cold and excitement, began to retrace her steps.
At the entrance to Quinton Edge's room she stopped again, not out ofcuriosity, but as though yielding to the pressure of an invisible hand.The door still stood ajar, but there was no sound of voices. Again itwas the invisible hand that seemed to draw the door away, permitting thegirl to look within. An empty room, save for the figure that sat at thetable, his head buried in his hands, the whole attitude one of intenseweariness and dejection. Even as she stood there he looked up, and shesaw his face mirrored in the glass that hung suspended from the oppositewall. It was Quinton Edge's face, indisputably; but could she ever haveimagined that such capacity of pain lay behind the mask she knew sowell? The dark eyes seemed to seize and hold her fast; then she realizedthat they saw nothing beyond their own mirrored reflection. Again thehead sank forward into the hollowed hands, and only the slow heave ofthe shoulders made certain that it was a living man who sat there in thesilence.
Noiselessly closing the door, Esmay regained her room and, all clothedas she was, crept into bed. Nanna stirred sleepily and put out aprotecting arm. How blessed the comfort of that strong, warm clasp!