Part 16

"She's just telephoned. She said nothing about yesterday, or that you were here! He must have said he wasn't coming down to-day, or at least not this morning, for she tried to tease him to come. She's all dressed up--it's astonishing--I can't tell you!" She left me and immediately afterward I heard Edna's footsteps on the stairs.

For what reason she had dressed herself so extravagantly--whether from sheer wilful fancy, or a desire to tantalize me or to seduce me from my fondness of Joy--I have never decided. She wore an evening gown of gold tissue, sheer as gossamer, fold on fold, embroidered with gold threads all over the low-necked corsage. About her forehead was a garland of gold laurel leaves, beautifully modeled and tooled, interlaced with a slender string of coral beads. Her arms were bare. On her right breast was a red velvet rose, she had stockings of scarlet silk and golden slippers. It was a costume for a fancy-dress ball and had indeed been originally made for that purpose. To see her appear, now, and shine in the morning sunlight like a butterfly, was to see something as extraordinary as it was picturesque.

She came to me with all Joy's grace, and held out her hand, laughing.

"So you're here again after all, Chet," she said. "I thought I'd dress up for you. You've never seen me to advantage. How do you like it?" She turned slowly round for my benefit.

"You're an empress!" I exclaimed. "I don't deserve this honor!"

She began dancing a minuet all alone, speaking as she swirled.

"Indeed you don't! I didn't want you here yesterday, really. But now you've come down again, you'd better stay." She curtsied demurely. "But look out for the doc--tor!" She was off again in a circle. "I suppose it was Joy who invited you! I'll have to entertain Joy's guest, I suppose. There! Now sit down and talk to me."

What was behind her whimsical mood, and why she so willingly received me, I could not guess. When I had taken a seat she tapped me with her fan and said:

"You know I've always liked you, Chet, but you see the doctor thought it wasn't best for me to have you about. Really, I oughtn't to let you stay now. He'd be perfectly furious, you know. He thought you had gone up to town. You must hide, if he comes."

"Trust me for that," I said.

"So Joy wants you to come?" she continued. "I suppose you'd never come down just to see me! You must tell me about Joy. Is she nice?"

"She's lovely. Oh, you'd love her, Edna. It's a pity you can't know her. It would save so much trouble!"

"Oh, are you in love with her, then?"

"I'm very fond of her!"

She slapped her fan viciously and bit her lip. Then:

"I'm sure you like her much better than you do me, anyway--don't you?"

"I know her better than I do you, Edna, and she has always been nice to me."

"And haven't I? Didn't I dress up for you, sir?"

"I have a letter to you from her--would you like to read it?"

She held out her hand for it instantly, and I gave her the note. She glanced it over, then tore it up spitefully.

"Cat!" she exclaimed. "If I could only see her, if I could only talk to her once! I'd tell her what I thought of her! Oh, I'll give her something to forgive!" She looked about her, as if for something

## particularly Joy's upon which to vent her anger.

Just then, as luck would have it, Leah entered the room with a vase of flowers.

"Get out of here, you black hussy!" Edna cried. "Don't you see I'm busy? Your place is in the kitchen!"

Leah turned and left without a word.

"I've stood enough from that nigger," Edna said. "I'm going to get rid of her this very day."

"You said you'd keep her as long as I stayed," I interposed.

"Oh, _Joy_ asked you to plead for her, I suppose! You're only here hoping to get a chance to see _Joy_, anyway! How did you get in yesterday, anyway? What happened? I'd forgotten all about that! What did I do in the evening? I can't remember. Were you here then, with Joy?"

"You fainted away at the dinner-table----"

"So you had your evening with Joy all right? Oh, what do you care for me? Nothing! You _hate_ me, I believe!" The next moment she was crying, but, before I could assuage her, she had risen abruptly and run up-stairs.

I passed quickly into the kitchen and spoke to Leah.

"Has Uncle Jerdon gone?"

"Yes."

"Then keep out of the way as much as possible. I'm almost ready."

I went up to my own room and took the revolvers from my hand-bag and loaded them with the blank cartridges. Scarcely had I slipped the weapons into my pocket when Edna burst into the room with her arms full of dresses. She held out the pale green silk peignoir in which I had first seen Miss Fielding.

"Does Joy wear this?" she asked.

"Yes, sometimes," I answered.

"Well," she said, "she never will fascinate you in it again!" And with a single violent gesture, she ripped it from top to bottom. She took up another gown and tore that in two, also. She had begun on a third when I went up to her and stopped her hand.

"Edna, you mustn't!" I commanded.

She threw the whole heap upon the floor; and clasped her bare arms about my neck. "Oh, I hate her! I _hate_ her!" she wept. "You are in love with her, Chet, you know you are! What have I done that you should hate me so? You know how I like you--why don't you love me a little?"

"Aren't you engaged to the doctor?" I asked, letting her stay with her face near mine. It did not seem wrong--it was Joy's own face.

"Oh, I suppose I am, but what does that matter? Mayn't I like you, too? He's the only friend I have. He's helping me! He's trying to free me! What are _you_ doing? Are _you_ helping me, Chet?"

It was hard enough to answer her question. What could I say? Somehow, even now, I could not lie to her outright--not while looking deep into Joy's own eyes.

"If you had shown any mercy to Joy, if you even desired to be friends with her, I might try to save you," I said. "But after this, how can I?"

"Oh, I'll be friends with her--I'll do anything if you'll only love me, Chet! Why can't we both love you? I'll promise not to be jealous; we'll share you. If you marry her, then you'll have me, too, and I'll have you!"

She looked up at me with wistful eyes--Joy's eyes--and Joy's arms were still about me. Never had Joy clung to me so closely and tenderly. It was all I could do to put her away and answer her preposterous suggestion.

"But you're engaged to the doctor--he told me so----"

"I'll break it off with him--I won't have anything more to do with him--I'll telephone to him now!" She even started to go to her room.

I was in a tumult of emotion. How could I begin my work when she acted in this way--as I had least expected? True, I knew that probably in a moment her fickle mood would change, but I could not begin yet. I held her back.

"You know," I said, "that the doctor is plotting to get rid of Joy for ever. You know, and I know, that _that_ is the way he's been trying to help you. How can I care for you, when I know that is your purpose?" God knows I loathed myself for the hypocrisy, but I was at my wits' end.

She stopped and looked at me reproachfully. "Ah, you _are_ in love with her, then! I thought so! She's everything, and I'm nothing to you!"

She flung away again in a new rage and walked proudly, scornfully down-stairs. I followed her. Just before I caught up with her, I heard her angry voice ring out.

"Oh, you sneak! Didn't I tell you to stay in the kitchen? Take that for your impertinence, you wench!"

There was the sound of a blow and a scream. I ran in and found Leah with her face bleeding. Edna, gorgeous in her silken gown, stood lowering like a furious queen, a heavy bronze paper-weight in her hand.

"You pack out of this house immediately!" she cried, her voice strident with passion. "I've had enough of your tricks! I want you to know I'm mistress here!"

Leah appealed to me with a glance. I nodded, pointing behind Edna's back, outdoors, to the old cabin. Leah disappeared, weeping. I went up to Edna.

"Do you expect me to love you when you act in this cruel way?" I asked in a quiet tone.

She stormed up and down, striding like a leopard in a cage, swishing this way and that, her fists firmly clenched.

"Oh, she's in league with you and Joy. I know all about it! She spies on me--hides things from me--tells on me! She and you are trying your best to get rid of me--the doctor said so! You are plotting to destroy me right now!" she flashed out, turning to me, her lips quivering with excitement. "I can tell! I know! You may go, too, Mr. Castle, I'm through with you, too! Leave this house, please!"

I tried to pacify her, thinking that, distraught with the violent moods she had shown to-day, a reaction would soon come. She was almost hysterical, and I waited for the revulsion of feeling, without heeding her words. In a moment it came. It was as if an angel and a devil were contending in her for the mastery, but the angel won again.

She sat down limply in a chair that was drawn up to the secretary, and the tears came to her eyes. I saw Leah go out the front door and hurry down the lane.

"Oh, I'm so wretched!" Edna complained bitterly. "I haven't a friend--not even Doctor Copin. All he wants is my money, and all you want is Joy. Oh, Chet, let me be your friend! Let me be your friend--you may stay--I'll be good, sure I will! I'll do anything if you'll only love me and be good to me! I'll take Leah back; I'll dismiss the doctor. Why was I sent here, anyway? Nobody wants me, nobody cares for me!"

She looked up at me and held out her hand. It was the stricken deer appealing for protection to the hunters. I had never seen her so gentle and tender. It was, for the moment, as if Joy herself were pleading for her life.

As I stood there, watching her, debating what to do, her head dropped to her left hand. With her right she had taken up a pencil which lay there, and was abstractedly making marks upon the blotter--circles and crosses and zigzag scrawls. But, even as she turned to me again, her eyes softened, I saw her right hand move more regularly over the paper blotter. She was writing, and writing automatically, without looking at what she was doing. A sudden idea came to me that the writing was inspired by some subconscious, subliminal self and I must let it have free play, that I must divert her thought from that hand.

So I walked up to her and touched her head, stroking her soft, brown hair. "Poor girl!" I said; "I wish I could answer your questions; I wish I might help you. Perhaps we can think out a way. We'll talk it over and see."

Her hand was still writing, as she looked up at me and listened.

"But you must tell me all about the doctor, and what he is doing. Is he coming own here to-day?"

She leaned affectionately against my side, her hand still working unconsciously. "I don't know," she said. "He may come on the eleven o'clock train, perhaps."

This was unexpected. I had little time, then, in which to act. But now her hand had stopped, and I bent over her shoulder to look at the blotter.

She turned her face to me again and said: "Won't you please kiss me, Chet? You've never kissed me! I'm sure you've kissed Joy!"

Then, following my glance, she saw the writing for the first time. "Oh, how funny!" she cried. "I've been writing! I didn't know it. What is it, anyway?" Then she read aloud:

"'_Don't hesitate! Cut off my head and my tail! Hurry! White Cat._'

"How absurd!" she commented. "See, it isn't my handwriting at all! It isn't anything like it. But it's like--it's Joy's!" she burst out, and she jumped up, staring at me. "What does it mean?"

I had recognized the handwriting at the same instant, and was as surprised as she.

"It's Joy's!" she repeated, her voice now almost a scream. "Oh, but she is a cat! I believe she's trying to get rid of me. She wants you to kill me! Tell me, Chet, what does it mean?"

I didn't answer, for the shock of this communication bewildered me. It was like the voice of a ghost, urging me. It was Joy, calling up from Edna's subconsciousness. I was sure of it.

"It's Joy!" she cried a third time as she got the meaning, too. "She's trying to call you, through me! She loves you, and you love her. I knew it! You're trying to murder me! But I'll not let her have you! I'll kill you first!"

She stood with her little fists doubled, shaking with fury, her nostrils dilated, her cheeks gone white, her lips apart, showing the little uneven line of clenched teeth. The strap of her gown had fallen partly off, leaving one smooth, creamy shoulder bare, the golden wreath of laurel was tipped sidewise in her hair.

Then, in a quick whirlwind of passion, she snatched the silver-handled poker by the fireplace, raised it, and struck at me with all her strength. Slight as she was, and weak, ordinarily, her emotion gave her an unnatural power. The blow grazed my cheek, plowing a deep, ragged furrow through the skin. I grabbed the weapon from her, and she stood defiantly before me, blazing in all her finery.

The time had at last come to act.

*IV*

I may well say "act," for it was acting that was now necessary. I smarted from her blow, I saw in her a vicious, dangerous fury, with a devil snarling in her, but I had nothing but pity for her. How could I be angry? She was desperate, but it was the frenzy of an irresponsible spirit that urged her. And, moreover, she stood in my own bride's image, beautiful, splendid, virile. She was, in outward seeming, the woman I loved best in all the world. I had, I insist, nothing but the tenderest pity for her whom I must now, if I had the power, harry, harass, torment and destroy. But to accomplish this I had to play a part. I could show no trace of kindness or consideration. So I nerved myself and simulated rage when never was rage further from my heart.

"Oh, you would, would you!" I cried through my teeth, as villains do upon the stage. "Well, then, Miss Edna, it's time to talk honestly to you. I am in love with Joy, and I do hate you with all my heart! I would free Joy if I could, but you and the doctor are too much for us. I know what she's had to endure from him in your own person and her own, and rather than let her go through that outrage again, rather than let his lips touch hers, whether you consent or not, I'll kill you both. I can't touch her, for I love her, but I'm going to kill you, now!"

With that I drew a revolver from my pocket and took steady aim at her. Oh, I gave her time! The one thing I was afraid of, then, was that she would dare me to shoot. Luckily her nerve failed her.

She screamed and ran to the door like a deer. She screamed as she dashed up-stairs, tripping over her gown, calling wildly for Leah to come and save her. She screamed again and again as, giving her ample time to escape, I followed after her, shooting once, twice, thrice, stumbling up after her, muttering histrionic curses. There was no doubt that I had frightened her! But could I keep it up till she was literally beside herself with terror?

"Break the bone and let it heal right again!" I kept repeating to myself. But to break it--ugh! I shuddered and nerved myself again.

She had run into her room, slammed the door and locked it. I threw myself upon it and beat upon the panels with my hands. Again she screamed--the sound sickened me. I cried out that I would kill her, that there was no use in resisting, that I would break down the door. I shouted hoarsely enough, there was no need of pretending, now.

She came to the door and wailed.

"Spare me!" she cried. "Save me, Chet! You were wounded and fainting when I took you into my house. Didn't I do everything for you? How can you! How can you! What have I done?"

I fired again to stop her. I couldn't stand that reproach. Her screams broke out again. I could hear her overthrowing tables and piling them madly in front of the door.

Then her shrieks stopped suddenly, and I heard her running here and there as if searching for something. I heard drawers pulled open and emptied upon the floor, I heard chairs falling. Then there was an instant's lull.

Next, a muffled shot rang out. A bullet ripped through the panel of the door and buried itself in the mahogany wainscoting, missing my head by barely an inch. She had found her revolver--I had forgotten about that. The game was getting serious.

But now it was more necessary than ever to finish. I went down into the hall and shouted to King. He appeared at the dining-room door, his eyes as round as glass marbles, his mouth open.

"Get an ax, King, and bring it up here, quick!"

I went up again and, putting my pistol cautiously to the hole in the panel, fired another blank cartridge. My shot was immediately answered by her revolver, but the bullet went wild.

King came blundering up the stairs with the ax, showing a white mouthful of teeth. I had never thought it possible for him to show so much excitement, but he was quite wild. I took the ax and struck a heavy blow at the panel, splitting it open. Had I really wished to break down the door immediately, I would have aimed at the lock. But I wanted to draw her fire, and to torture her to the limit of suspense and fear.

She screamed again as the wood was ripped into splinters, and two more shots were fired in quick succession, only one of them going through the door. She had spent four cartridges now, and, as she held the last one, I had to act quickly so that she would have no chance to reload.

"You go down-stairs, King," I commanded. "Wait for her when she runs out. I'll chase her outdoors. She has only one shot left, so you needn't be afraid of her. I'll get that bullet, all right. Scream at her, scare her to death if you can, but don't touch her. If you do, by God, I'll kill you!"

He stole noiselessly down the stairs and disappeared. I tried another panel with the ax, but, as she was clever enough not to shoot, I reloaded my first pistol, and, taking what risk there was without thought, I seized the ax again and with one fierce blow smashed the lock to pieces. With the concussion the door fell partly in. I dropped the ax, put my shoulder to the door and swept the barricade inward, darting quickly through with my pistol raised.

[Illustration: She was handsome--terrible.]

She was handsome--terrible. Frightened as she was, she had control of herself yet, and was magnificently defiant, breathing in quick gasps with her mouth open, her bosom heaving, as if she were suffocating. Her embroidered waist was half torn off and hung away from her neck, revealing her brown-white breast, or perhaps she had torn the bodice open herself for air. Her golden wreath was gone. I saw it on the floor, trampled out of shape. Her hair had fallen over her shoulders, but its disarray was lovely. Her filmy, sparkling gown was rent and spotted from her falls.

She had taken refuge behind an overthrown table and stood with her revolver ready. Over her head was a drifting cloud of smoke, about her a wild confusion of disordered furniture. A shaft of sunlight played upon her disheveled costume. In the stable, I heard the dogs barking frantically.

So much I observed in one flash--the picture will always be with me as distinct as a photograph--but I had no time to speak, or even to think what I should do next, for, after that momentary pause, she bent forward deliberately and fired at me point-blank.

I felt a sting on my left arm where her bullet grazed, but, without stopping to find whether I was hurt or not, I fired with both pistols at once, and went forward at her. The sound of the double shot in the closed room was terrific. Her eyes, staring and fascinated, kept on me for an instant as if she were paralyzed, then she screamed again--her voice rivaled the pistol shots--and, suddenly pushing the table with all her might against me, she ran for the door. As she passed, I shot again. The din was maddening.

It was not my intention to finish with her there, though, and again I gave her a chance to escape, driving her before me. As she dashed out she brushed against a framed Madonna upon the wall and it came crashing down. She stumbled on the threshold--I thought she would never get away--and, moaning pitifully, she half ran, half fell down the stairway.

It was a dirty piece of business. I was sickened by it. But, having gone so far, I had no thought of stopping till I had accomplished my object. I gave her a moment's time, therefore, and then, leaving that horrid smoking chaos in her room, I followed her.

She had gone out the front door and turned the corner of the house, making, by some fatal impulse, for the stable. The barking of the collies had ceased, but as I got to the yard I heard it recommence in a higher and more violent key. It seemed incredible to me that she had sought refuge in the stable, but as I looked, I saw the great door rolled shut. When I came up to it, King came out of his cabin room.

King came out; but he was no longer the smiling, unctuous Celestial I had known. In that yelping, screaming clamor, I stopped to look at him in surprise.