The Ragged Edge - Harold MacGrath (best books under 200 pages TXT) 📗

toward the stairs, and met the restraining hand of McClintock.

"Steady, old top! What are you going to do?"

"The damned scoundrel!"

"I told you that child was opal."

"She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. Marriage! ... without the least conception of the physical and moral responsibilities! It's a crime, Mac!"

"But what can you do?" McClintock turned to the manager. "'It was all perfectly legal?

"My word for it. The Reverend Henry Dolby performed the cermony, and his wife and daughter were witnesses."

"When you heard what was going on, why didn't you send for me?"

"I didn't know it was going on. I heard only after it was all over."

"If he could stand on two feet, I'd break every bone in his worthless body!"

McClintock said soothingly: "But that wouldn't nullify the marriage, old boy. I know. Thing's upset you a bit. Go easy."

"But, Mac . . . !"

"I understand," interrupted McClintock. Then, in a whisper: "But there's no reason why the whole hotel should."

The doctor relaxed. "I've got to see him; but I'll be reasonable. I've got to know why. And what will they do, and where will they go?"

"With me-the both of them. So far as I'm concerned, nothing could please me more. A married man!-the kind I've never been able to lure down there! But keep your temper in check. Don't lay it all to the boy. The girl is in it as deeply as he is. I'll wait for you down here."

When the doctor entered the bedroom and looked into the faces of the culprits, he laughed brokenly. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear.

Ruth came to him directly. "You are angry?"

"Very. You don't realize what you have done."

"My courage gave out. The thought of going back!-the thought of the unknown out there!-" with a tragic gesture toward the east. "I couldn't go on!"

"You'll need something more than courage now. But no more of that. What is done cannot be undone. I want to talk to Mr. Spurlock. Will you leave us for a few minutes?"

"You are not going to be harsh?"

"I wish to talk about the future."

"Very well."

She departed reluctantly. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient.

"Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. This did not affect Spurlock. "Your name is Spurlock?"

"It is."

"Why did you use the name of Taber?"

"To keep my real name out of the mess I expected to make of myself over here."

"That's frank enough," the doctor admitted astonishedly. So far the boy's mind was clear. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense-love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. The world is known to you. I can see that you were somebody, in another day. But this child! ... It's a damnable business!"

"I shall defend her and protect her with every drop of blood in my body!" replied the Flagellant.

The intensity of the eyes and the defiant tone bewildered the doctor, who found his well-constructed jeremiad without a platform. So he was forced to shift and proceed at another angle, forgetting his promise to McClintock to be temperate.

"When I went through your trunk that first night, I discovered an envelope filled with manuscripts. Later, at the bottom of that envelope I found a letter."

"To be opened in case of my death," added Spurlock. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. "Here, take this and get the letter and open and read it. Would you tell her ... now?" his eyes flaming with mockery.


CHAPTER XVIII


The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. He was a just man, and he did not care to start any thunder which was not based upon fairness. He had no wish to go foraging in Spurlock's trunk. He had already shown the covering envelope and its instructions to Ruth, and she had ignored or misunderstood the warning. The boy was right. Ruth could not be told now. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this!

He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation-his own interest in Ruth. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation-the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened-the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous.

He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. He dropped the key on the counterpane.

"If I could only make you realize what you have done," he said, lamely.

"I know exactly what I have done," replied Spurlock. "She is my lawful wife."

"I should have opened that letter in the beginning," said the doctor. "But I happen to be an honest man myself. Had you died, I should have fully obeyed the instructions on that envelope. You will make her suffer."

"For every hurt she has, I shall have two. I did not lay any traps for her. I asked her to marry me, and she consented."

"Ah, yes; that's all very well. But when she learns that you are a fugitive from justice...."

"What proof have you that I am?"-was the return bolt.

"A knowledge of the ways of men. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now. But God will punish you for what you have done this day."

"As for that, I don't say. But I shall take care of Ruth, work for her and fight for her." A prophecy which was to be fulfilled in a singular way. "Given a chance, I can make bread and butter. I'm no mollycoddle. I have only one question to ask you."

"And what might that be?"

"Will McClintock take us both?"

"You took that chance. There has never been a white woman at McClintock's."

He paused, and not without malice. He was human. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.

"You begin to have doubts, eh? A handful of money between you, and nothing else. There are only a few jobs over here for a man of your type; and even these are more or less hopeless if you haven't trained mechanical ability." Then he became merciful. "But McClintock agrees to take you both-because he's as big a fool as I am. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in. You will be under the eye of the best friend I have; and if you do not treat that child for what she is-an innocent angel-I promise to hunt you across the wide world and kill you with bare hands."

Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. "And on my part, I shall not lift a hand to defend myself."

"I wish I could have foreseen."

"That is to say, you wish you had let me die?"

"That was the thought."

This frankness rather subdued Spurlock. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. "Perhaps that would have been best."

"But what, in God's name, possessed you? You have already wrecked your own life and now you've wrecked hers. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. I am a physician first, which gives the man in me a secondary part. You have just passed through rather a severe physical struggle; just as previously to your collapse you had gone through some terrific mental strain. Your mind is still subtly sick. The man in me would like to break every bone in your body, but the physician understands that you don't actually realize what you have done. But in a little while you will awake; and if there is a spark of manhood in you, you will be horrified at this day's work."

Spurlock closed his eyes. Expiation. He felt the first sting of the whip. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation.

"If you two loved each other," went on the doctor, "there would be something to stand on-a reason why for this madness. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you...!"

"Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twenty-four hours a day to think in, alone?... Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. I will tell you this much, because you have been kind. It is true that I do not love Ruth; but I swear to you, before the God of my fathers, that she shall never know it!"

"I'll be getting along." The doctor ran his fingers through his hair, despairingly. "A hell of a muddle! But all the talk in the world can't undo it. I'll put you aboard The Tigress to-morrow after sundown. But remember my warning, and play the game!"

Spurlock closed his eyes again. The doctor turned quickly and made for the door, which he opened and shut gently because he was assured that Ruth was listening across the hall for any sign of violence. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart.

Opals. He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men.

Marriage!-and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly-and bitterly. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.

There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress : outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. The flush deck was without wells. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty.

The dining saloon was done in mahogany and sandalwood, with eight cabins, four to port and four to starboard. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. From the centre of the ceiling