The Crimson Gardenia and Other Tales of Adventure. Rex Beach
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the front door close. Then he endeavored to piece out some theory as to the cause of this situation, but the more he considered the clues in his possession the more bewildered he became. One thing only stood out with alarming certainty—his cousin Madelon had gone to fetch a woman who loved him. So long as the adventure had concerned him only with the masked girl herself he had been eager to continue it. Now that it threatened to involve a second woman, he decided it was time to go.
She would return and find him gone. It would be a disappointment, perhaps, but not so great as his own at parting from her and leaving this mystery unsolved. He was somewhat proud of his exploits thus far, for in an hour's time he had met and bested two of his enemies and had changed a maiden's heart. No mean accomplishment for an idler! But why did she feel that she ought to despise him? Why had she risked so much for a man beloved by another? Why, under these circumstances, had she welcomed his advances and promised him a sight of her face—a kiss, perhaps? Above all, who were the Black Wolf, the Spider, and Cousin Alfred? He gave up puzzling over the affair and determined to get out of this stranger's house without delay.
It was evident that Cousin Alfred was a person of substance, for the study was furnished in rich old Santo Domingo mahogany, blood-red and flaming where the light struck it; the books were bound in uniform levant; the paintings were valuable; the bric-à-brac in irreproachable taste. An inlaid ivory humidor was filled with coronas at exactly the right degree of moisture. He removed the ground-glass stopper from an etched decanter and sniffed of the contents. The aroma brought a smile to his face, and, reflecting that the owner had robbed him, he took time to pour out a drink and to light a fragrant cigar. All gentlemanly housebreakers did the like, he reflected. Then he yielded to a whimsical notion and fumbled in his pocket, thinking to leave the price of his refreshments on the tray.
Midway in this purpose he paused. The breath hung in his throat, the hair at the back of his neck seemed to rise. He had heard no one enter the house, there had been no faintest stir since Madelon had left, he detected no sound whatever, and yet he was positive that eyes were boring into his back—that he was no longer alone. It was ridiculous, and yet—A gentle cough sounded behind him!
With a swift gesture he settled his mask back in place and, whirling around, beheld the most evil-appearing human being he had ever seen. The man was little and stooped and undersized, all but his head, which was unusually large. His face was fleshless and covered with a tight skin of unusual pallor. He was bowing at Van Dam, but his smile was mocking and his eyes glittered malignantly.
"Good day, Monsieur Black Wolf," said the stranger, harshly. "Making yourself at home with my wines, as usual, eh?"
Van Dam felt the cold sweat leap out upon his body; he cursed the deliberation that had betrayed him. With an assumption of indifference he mumbled something and waved his cigar carelessly.
"How often must I tell you to come here only at night?" snarled the old man. "Already the police are suspicious. Fortunately, it is carnival day—I dare say no one suspected you in that disguise."
The speaker deposited his hat upon the table with a sour glance; then, when his caller said nothing, he snapped:
"Well, well? What is it?"
Van Dam was at a loss for words; he was panic-stricken; but swift upon his consternation came a reckless determination to take advantage of the old gentleman's first mistake and to try to brazen the matter through. There was nothing to be gained by explanation; no one would believe his story. He spoke out boldly.
"The Wolf is hurt, and the Spider, I think, has his neck very neatly broken. I came to tell you that your cousin Emile is in the city."
The effect of these words was amazing, electric. Cousin Alfred turned a corpselike green; he froze in his tracks; his eyes rolled in their sockets.
"Emile! Here!" His teeth chattered, he plucked at his collar as if he were strangling. "Then—you? Who are you?"
Roly shrugged. "I am one of the others. I was sent to warn you." He recognized now the character of the old fellow's emotion. It was cowardice, terror, but of such utter foulness as to be disgusting.
Evidently this Emile, whoever he was, had a reputation. Roly multiplied his host's discomfiture by adding:
"Yes; he struck down the Wolf in the street; then dropped the Spider on his head from the top of a staircase."
"God help us!" stammered Cousin Alfred. "He will take me next! Oh, he has threatened me—" He cast a frightened glance over his shoulder, as if expecting the sanguinary Emile to appear at any moment. Then he began to whine: "I know him, I know him. And the servants gone! I—I am an old man; he would like nothing better than to find me alone. But how—how dared he come? Wait! It was Félice. Ho! I'll wager she sent for him; and he would not refuse, the scoundrel!" The speaker's lips were wet and loose, his gaze was very evil as he mumbled along.
Félice must be the other girl, the one for whom Madelon had gone, Roly decided. In view of Alfred's evident hatred, it did not seem right to allow Madelon to bring the other girl without some warning. One glance at those working features convinced the young man that such a meeting would be dangerous; and yet he was quite at a loss how to prevent it. His host was running on.
"It was only yesterday that she appealed to me, she and Madelon, and all the time they knew he was coming." He ground his teeth. "I have been a fool to spare them so long."
"This Félice," Van Dam ventured, groping blindly for some clue, "your cousin Emile is fond of her, I judge."
"Damnation! He would pass through fire for her. And she would sacrifice her soul for him." Alfred poured himself a drink with shaking hand. The glass rattled against the decanter; he spilled the wine over his waistcoat as he gulped it.
"So they planned to catch me napping, eh? But we shall see. Yes, yes! We shall see." After a moment, during which he pulled himself together, he continued: "You shall remain here with me. When he comes we shall afford him a surprise." He slid open a drawer in the big desk and took from it a revolver, at which Roly exclaimed:
"I say—whatever makes you think he'll come here?"
"Oh, he will come! There is no doubt of it. He has promised me that much. Those were his last words—"
"Er—why don't you clear out? You don't have to stay and see him."
But the old man's eyes were red and vindictive as he shook his head. "You don't understand. So long as he lives we are none of us safe, not even you. Besides, he would return again; he hangs upon me like a leech. I—I dream about him."
"Well, what are you going to do?"
"If I—if I should kill him, the law would say nothing. I could kill him very easily and nothing would be said. You understand?" Cousin Alfred's lips were watery; little drops of moisture gleamed upon his sallow face; he eyed the pistol with a shrinking fascination. "I—I—" He fell to trembling weakly, as his first desperation cooled.
Van Dam watched him curiously. He looked up, at length, to meet Roly's gaze. His own eyes were wavering; his face was distorted with mingled fear and eagerness. He stretched his neck, as if he already felt on it the fingers of his cousin Emile. When Van Dam did not offer to help him he whined: "He has always intended to even up the score; but I am an old man. My hand is unsteady. Perhaps you—It would be worth something to escape those dreams! I could afford to pay well, as you know. You are a strong man. You have no nerves; your hand is sure—" The old villain's expression was crafty; he was gnawed by a fierce desire that he was loath to put into words.
"You mean you'd like to have me make away with him?" queried Van Dam, as if in a dream.
"Yes, yes! The law would say nothing."
"How so? It's not so easy to kill a man and—"
"But the reward—two thousand dollars! You would get that. I will double it. Eh? Come now, is it a bargain?" The speaker was trembling, but when he received no answer he went on: "I will take the blame upon myself. I will say that I did it; and you will get the money—four thousand dollars. Let us