Page:Weird Tales volume 02 number 03.djvu/78

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AFTER THE STORM
77

Standing there among the bushes we could see lights gleaming from four upper windows. My blood was up.

"Some more of 'em!" I cried. "Let's creep in and nab 'em."

"All right. We'll take a look at the old man first and at the fellow you shot.”

We stole noiselessly through the open back door and into a long corridor as black as Erebus. Piloted by Bennett, we tiptoed to the living-room. "Limping Larry" was sprawled in a heap where he had fallen. It took but a glance to see that a bullet in his heart had put an end to his evil career. The Viking was struggling to free himself from his cords. Tierney spoke coolly.

"We're going upstairs to see what's wrong. Then we'll be down and give you a chance to explain yourself."

A horrid, heaving, guttural sound issued from the old man's gagged mouth.

"Sorry," said Bennett tersely. "Can't take any chances with you now. This happens to be my house."

As we groped up the back stairs, two of the steps creaked, but, although we stood stock still for several minutes, nothing happened, so we concluded we had not been heard. The halls in the second story were dark, too. The shades were lowered and we dared not use our candles.

Suddenly, Bennett gave a sort of gasp and fell head first over something on the. floor. My foot struck it about the same time and I shrank back, thinking I had run against a human body. In a trice Tierney was on his feet again, towing me along.

"That was a rug," he panted, "rolled up." And then he came to an abrupt standstill, bending toward me. "I'm going to open the door to the wing now. If we make any noise, they'll hear us."

"All right," I whispered,

Bennett slowly turned the knob and we pushed ahead. With infinite caution, we tiptoed to where a half-opened door emitted a broad belt of light and we gazed into the room.

Never, if I live a thousand years, shall I forget the picture stenciled on my vision.

Opposite us, in a four posted Colonial

bed, lay a pallid, young woman. Her limbs showed straight beneath the thin covering; her hands rested together, loosely; heavy gold braids were arranged on either side of her exquisite, bloodless profile. I have played my part, not ignobly I hope, in hand-to-hand encounters, but I confess that for an instant, as I looked at that inanimate figure, my heart ceased to beat. Suddenly, Bennett lurched heavily against me, and when I saw his distorted countenance, I thought he must have gone mad. He was as white as a corpse and choking—actually choking in an effort to speak. Finally, the words came:

"She's dead!" he murmured.

"You don't need to tell me that," I retorted.

Tierney, pulling himself together, took a stumbling step forward.

Then a startled voice arrested us: "Colonel Rogers! Is it you?"

From an embrasure at the other end of the room, a young woman in a nurse's uniform came forward. Bennett scarcely looked at her. He stood staring at the fair young form on the bed.

"Is she dead?" he asked hoarsely.

The nurse shook her head negatively. Her hand was at her left side over her heart, as if she, too, had been startled. With silent authority, she motioned us from the room and followed us into an adjacent chamber where a lamp burned in a corner.

"Now, tell me who you are and why you came?" she insisted.

It did not occur to me that the explanations should have been hers. I looked at Bennett, but as he did not appear to see me, I answered for him.

"This is Mr. Bennett Tierney, the owner of this property, and I am here in the interest of a client."

"Tell me," broke in Bennett, "will she live?"

The nurse scanned Bennett's drawn face as she answered: "She will live, but she very nearly crossed over this afternoon."

Bennett gulped. "I know it! But why did she come here? Tell me all."

"I don't know all," she returned gently, still looking at Bennett. "She never talked much, but he has told me enough."

“He?” stammered Bennett.

"Her father—Colonel Rogers. Didn't he let you in? He's downstairs trying to compose himself, poor soul."

I confess I was all at sea, but Bennett nodded.

"Go on," he said,

"Well, about all I know is that she married secretly a year ago. She was visiting in the East so that her people did not know her husband. I don't think her father has ever seen him to this day. After a short time, she and her husband had a misunderstanding—not a real quarrel. Some trivial thing in connection with this estate grew into an impossible situation. Sort of a tempest in a teapot, I suppose, which grew into a storm.

"He wanted to live here, but she didn't. So he gave her the keys to the house, telling her when she used them, he would return to her here where they'd begin again. Both were high strung and proud. Oh, very, very proud! It seems she thought he didn’t trust her, and as he wouldn't give in, and she wouldn't give in, they separated. She discovered two things, soon afterward."

"Yes—yes," entreated Bennett.

"She discovered that she adored him and—that there was to be a child."

"A child?" cried Bennett.

The woman nodded gravely. "That is why her father and I brought her here secretly a month ago. She wanted her child to be born in her husband's house, and she felt that both of them had been wrong and headstrong. We nearly lost her, but she was so brave, it almost broke my heart, and four hours ago her little son was born."

Bennett took a deep breath. He rubbed the back of one hand against his eyes and did not speak for some time. When he turned quietly to me, his voice seemed strangely unfamiliar.

"McDonald," he said huskily, "rush down to my father-in-law and release him. Do what you can for the old man. I'm going to my wife—and stay there!"

He took a few steps, then stopped. "After that, Mac, drive to the florist's in Maple Valley. Get all the flowers he has—roses, carnations, asters. Make him hurry. They must be here—all around her—when she wakens."

He crept noiselessly away, his face suffused with a vast joy. The nurse and I hurried to Colonel Rogers, who was still ineffectually struggling with the coils of rope. He accepted my explanations with almost wordless gratitude. I think he was feeling too deeply for speech.

"Scared away some prowlers the other night. Got some money out of the bank yesterday. Guess they saw me and looked through this window. You've probably saved my daughter's life. In her present condition, sir—" and he completed his meaning by a wave of his hand.

I went back to the second floor to get the key to Tierney's car which I recalled he had locked. As I waited at the door to Mrs. Tierney's room while the nurse got the key, I could not refrain from staring in.

The girl's beautiful face was still deathly pale, but I could see the lace

(Continued on page 95)