In Her Own Right

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by John Reed Scott


  XII

  I COULD TELL SOME THINGS

  When Croyden had got Parmenter's letter from the secret drawer in theescritoire, he rang the old-fashioned pull-bell for Moses. It was onlya little after nine, and, though he did not require the negro to remainin attendance until he retired, he fancied the kitchen fire still heldhim.

  And he was not mistaken. In a moment Moses appeared--his eyes heavywith the sleep from which he had been aroused.

  "Survent, marster!" he said, bowing from the doorway.

  "Moses, did you ever shoot a pistol?" Croyden asked.

  "Fur de Lawd, seh! Hit's bin so long sence I dun hit, I t'ink I'segun-shy, seh."

  "But you have done it?"

  "Yass, seh, I has don hit."

  "And you could do it again, if necessary?"

  "I speck so, seh--leas'wise, I kin try--dough I'se mons'us unsuttin,seh, mons'us unsuttin!"

  "Uncertain of what--your shooting or your hitting?"

  "My hittin', seh."

  "Well, we're all of us somewhat uncertain in that line. At least youknow enough not to point the revolver toward yourself."

  "Hi!--I sut'n'y does! seh, I sut'n'y does!" said the negro, with abroad grin.

  "There is a revolver, yonder, on the table," said Croyden, indicatingone of those they used on Greenberry Point. "It's a self-cocker--yousimply pull the trigger and the action does the rest. You understand?"

  "Yass, seh, I onderstands," said Moses.

  "Bring it here," Croyden ordered.

  Moses' fingers closed around the butt, a bit timorously, and he carriedit to his master.

  "I'll show you the action," said Croyden. "Here, is the ejector,"throwing the chamber out, "it holds six shots, you see: but you neverput a cartridge under the firing-pin, because, if anything strikes thetrigger, it's likely to be discharged."

  "Yass, seh!"

  Croyden loaded it, closed the cylinder, and passed it over to Moses,who took it with a little more assurance. He was harkening back thirtyyears, and more.

  "What do yo warn me to do, seh?" he asked.

  "I want you to sit down, here, while I'm away, and if any one tries toget in this house, to-night, you're to shoot him. I'm going over toCaptain Carrington's--I'll be back by eleven o'clock. It isn't likelyyou will be disturbed; if you are, one shot will frighten him off, evenif you don't hit him, and I'll hear the shot, and come back at once.You understand?"

  "Yass, seh!--I'm to shoot anyone what tries to get in."

  "Not exactly!" laughed Croyden. "You're to shoot anyone who tries to_break_ in. For Heaven's sake! don't shoot me, when I return, or anyone else who comes legitimately. Be sure he is an intruder, then bangaway."

  "Sut'n'y, seh! I onderstands. I'se dub'us bout hittin', but I kin bangaway right nuf. Does yo' spose any one will try to git in, seh?"

  "No, I don't!" Croyden smiled--"but you be ready for them, Moses, beready for them. It's just as well to provide against contingencies."

  "Yass, seh!" as Croyden went out and the front door closed behind him,"but dem 'tingencies is monty dang'ous t'ings to fools wid. I don'likes hit, dat's whar I don'."

  Croyden found Miss Carrington just where he had left her--a quickreturn to the sofa having been synchronous with his appearance in thehall.

  "I had a mind not to wait here," she said; "you were an inordinatelylong time, Mr. Croyden."

  "I was!" he replied, sitting down beside her. "I was, and I admitit--but it can be explained."

  "I'm listening!" she smiled.

  "Before you listen to me, listen to Robert Parmenter, deceased!" saidhe, and gave her the letter.

  "Oh, this is the letter--do you mean that I am to read it?"

  "If you please!" he answered.

  She read it through without a single word of comment--an amazing thingin a woman, who, when her curiosity is aroused, can ask more questionsto the minute than can be answered in a month. When she had finished,she turned back and read portions of it again, especially the directionas to finding the treasure, and the postscript bequests by the Duvals.

  At last, she dropped the letter in her lap and looked up at Croyden.

  "A most remarkable document!" she said. "Most extraordinary in itsordinariness, and most ordinary in its extraordinariness. And yousearched, carefully, for three weeks and found--nothing?"

  "We did," he replied. "Now, I'll tell you about it."

  "First, tell me where you obtained this letter?"

  "I found it by accident--in a secret compartment of an escritoire atClarendon," he answered.

  She nodded.

  "Now you may tell me about it?" she said, and settled back to listen.

  "This is the tale of Parmenter's treasure--and how we did _not_ findit!" he laughed.

  Then he proceeded to narrate, briefly, the details--from the finding ofthe letter to the present moment, dwelling particularly on the episodeof the theft of their wallets, the first and second coming of thethieves to the Point, their capture and subsequent release, togetherwith the occurrence of this evening, when he was approached, by thewell-dressed stranger, at Clarendon's gates.

  And, once again, marvelous to relate, Miss Carrington did notinterrupt, through the entire course of the narrative. Nor did shebreak the silence for a time after he had concluded, staringthoughtfully, the while, down into the grate, where a smouldering backlog glowed fitfully.

  "What do you intend to do, as to the treasure?" she asked, slowly.

  "Give it up!" he replied. "What else is there to do?"

  "And what about this stranger?"

  "He _must_ give it up!" laughed Croyden. "He has no recourse. In thewords of the game, popular hereabout, he is playing a bobtail!"

  "But he doesn't know it's a bobtail. He is convinced you found thetreasure," she objected.

  "Let him make whatever trouble he can, it won't bother me, in theleast."

  "He is not acting alone," she persisted. "He has confederates--they mayattack Clarendon, in an effort to capture the treasure."

  "My dear child! this is the twentieth century, not the seventeenth!" helaughed. "We don't 'stand-by to repel boarders,' these days."

  "Pirate's gold breeds pirate's ways!" she answered.

  He stared at her, in surprise.

  "Rather queer!--I've heard those same words before, in thisconnection."

  "Community of minds."

  "Is it a quotation?" he asked.

  "Possibly--though I don't recall it. Suppose you are attacked andtortured till you reveal where you've hidden the jewels?" sheinsisted.

  "I cannot suppose them so unreasonable!" he laughed, again. "However, Iput Moses on guard--with a big revolver and orders to fire at anyonemolesting the house. If we hear a fusillade we'll know it's he shootingup the neighborhood."

  "Then the same idea _did_ suggest itself to you!"

  "Only to the extent of searching for the jewels--I regarded that asvaguely possible, but there isn't the slightest danger of any one beingtortured."

  "You know best, I suppose," she said--"but you've had your warning--andpirate's gold breeds pirate's ways. You've given up all hope of findingthe treasure--abandoned jewels worth--how many dollars?"

  "Possibly half a million," he filled in.

  "Without a further search? Oh! Mr. Croyden!"

  "If you can suggest what to do--anything which hasn't been done, Ishall be only too glad to consider it."

  "You say you dug up the entire Point for a hundred yards inland?"

  "We did."

  "And dredged the Bay for a hundred yards?"

  "Yes."

  She puckered her brows in thought. He regarded her with an amusedsmile.

  "I don't see what you're to do, except to do it all over again," sheannounced--"Now, don't laugh! It may sound foolish, but many a thinghas been found on a second seeking--and this, surely, is worth asecond, or a third, or even many seekings."

  "If there were any assurance of ultimate success, it would pay to spenda lifetime hunting. The two essent
ials, however, are wanting: theextreme tip of Greenberry Point in 1720, and the beech-trees. We madethe best guess at their location. More than that, the zone ofexploration embraced every possible extreme of territory--yet, wefailed. It will make nothing for success to try again."

  "But it is somewhere!" she reflected.

  "Somewhere, in the Bay!--It's shoal water, for three or four hundredfeet around the Point, with a rock bottom. The Point itself has beeneaten into by the Bay, down to this rock. Parmenter's chest disappearedwith the land in which it was buried, and no man will find it now,except by accident."

  "It seems such a shame!" she exclaimed. "A fortune gone to waste!"

  "Without anyone having the fun of wasting it!" laughed Croyden.

  She took up Parmenter's letter again, and glanced over it. Then shehanded it back, and shook her head.

  "It's too much for my poor brain," she said. "I surrender."

  "Precisely where we landed. We gave it rather more than a fair trial,and, then, we gave it up. I'm done. When I go home, to-night, I shallreturn the letter to the escritoire where I found it, and forget it.There is no profit in speculating further."

  "You can return it to its hiding place," she reflected, "but you can'tcease wondering. Why didn't Marmaduke Duval get the treasure while thelandmarks were there? Why did he leave it for his heirs?"

  "Probably on account of old Parmenter's restriction that it be leftuntil the 'extremity of need.'"

  She nodded, in acquiescence.

  "Probably," she said, "the Duvals would regard it as a matter of honorto observe the exact terms of the bequest. Alas! Alas! that they didso!"

  "It's only because they did so, that I got a chance to search!" Croydenlaughed.

  "You mean that, otherwise, there would be no buried treasure!" sheexclaimed. "Of course!--how stupid! And with all that money, the Duvalsmight have gone away from Hampton--might have experienced otherconditions. Colonel Duval might never have met your father--you mighthave never come to Clarendon.--My goodness! Where does it end?"

  "In the realm of pure conjecture," he answered. "It is idle to theorizeon the might-have-beens, or what might-have-happened if thewhat-did-happen hadn't happened. Dismiss it, at least, for thisevening. You asked what I was doing for three weeks at Annapolis, and Ihave consumed a great while in answering--let us talk of somethingelse. What have you been doing in those three weeks?"

  "Nothing! A little Bridge, a few riding parties, some sails on the Bay,with an occasional homily by Miss Erskine, when she had me cornered,and I couldn't get away. Then is when I learned what a deep impressionyou had made!" she laughed.

  "We both were learning, it seems," he replied.

  She looked at him, inquiringly.

  "I don't quite understand," she said.

  "You made an impression, also--of course, that's to be expected, butthis impression is much more than the ordinary kind!"

  _"Merci, Monsieur_," she scoffed.

  "No, it isn't _merci_, it's a fact. And he is a mighty good fellow onwhom to make an impression."

  "You mean, Mr.--Macloud?"

  "Just so! I mean Macloud."

  "You're very safe in saying it!"

  "Wherefore?"

  "He is absent. It's not susceptible of proof."

  "You think so?"

  "Yes, I think so!"

  "I don't!"

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  "For he's coming back----"

  "To Hampton?"

  "To Hampton."

  "When?" she said, sceptically.

  "Very soon!"

  "Delightfully indefinite!" she laughed.

  "In fact, within a week."

  She laughed, again!

  "To be accurate, I expect him not later than the day-after-to-morrow."

  "I shall believe you, when I see him!" incredulously.

  "He is, I think, coming solely on your account."

  "But you're not quite sure?--oh! modest man!"

  "Naturally, he hasn't confided in me."

  "So you're confiding in me--how clever!"

  "I could tell some things----"

  "Which are fables."

  "----but I won't--they might turn your head----"

  "Which way--to the right or left?"

  "----and make you too confident and too cruel. He saw you buttwice----"

  "Once!" she corrected.

  "Once, on the street; again, when we called in the evening--but he gaveyou a name, the instant he saw you----"

  "How kind of him!"

  "He called you: 'The Symphony in Blue.'"

  "Was I in blue?" she asked.

  "You were--and looking particularly fit."

  "Was that the first time you had noticed it?" she questioned blandly.

  "Do you think so?" he returned.

  "I am asking you, sir."

  "Do I impress you as being blind?"

  "No, you most assuredly do not!" she laughed.

  He looked at her with daring eyes.

  "Yes!" she said, "I know you're intrepid--but you _won't_!"

  "Why?--why won't I?"

  "Because, it would be false to your friend. You have given me to him."

  "I have given you to him!" he exclaimed, with denying intonation.

  "Yes!--as between you two, you have renounced, in his favor."

  "I protest!"

  "At least, I so view it," with a teasingly fascinating smile.

  "I protest!" he repeated.

  "I heard you."

  "I protest!" he reiterated.

  "Don't you think that you protest over-much?" she inquired sweetly.

  "If we were two children, I'd say: 'You think you're smart, don'tyou?'"

  "And I'd retort: 'You got left, didn't you?'"

  Then they both laughed.

  "Seriously, however--do you really expect Mr. Macloud?" she asked.

  "I surely do--probably within two days; and I'm not chaffing when I saythat you're the inducement. So, be good to him--he's got more thanenough for two, I can assure you."

  "Mercenary!" she laughed.

  "No--just careful!" he answered.

  "And what number am I--the twenty-first, or thereabout?"

  "What matters it, if you're _the_ one, at present?"

  She raised her shoulders in the slightest shrug.

  "I'd sooner be the present one than all the has-beens," he insisted.

  "Opinions differ," she remarked.

  "If it will advantage any----"

  "I didn't say so," she interrupted.

  "----I can tell you----"

  "Many fables, I don't doubt!" she cut in, again.

  "----that we have been rather intimate, for a few years, and I havenever before known him to exhibit particular interest in any woman."

  "'Why don't you speak for yourself, John,'" she quoted, merrily.

  "Because, to be frank, I haven't enough for two," he answered, gayly.

  But beneath the gayety, she thought she detected the faintest note ofregret. So! there was some one!

  And, woman-like, when he had gone, she wondered about her--whether shewas dark or fair, tall or small, vivacious or reserved, flirtatious orsedate, rich or poor--and whether they loved each other--or whether itwas he, alone, who loved--or whether he had not permitted himself to becarried so far--or whether--then, she dropped asleep.

  Croyden went back to Clarendon, keeping a sharp look-out for anyoneunder the trees around the house. He found Moses in the library,evidently just aroused from slumber by the master's door key.

  "No one's bin heah, seh, 'cep de boy wid dis 'spatch," he hastened tosay.

  Croyden tore open the envelope:--It was a wire from Macloud, that hewould be down to-morrow.

  "You may go to bed, Moses."

  "Yass, seh! yass, seh!--I'se pow'ful glad yo's back, seh. Nothin' I kingit yo befo I goes?"

  "Nothing!" said Croyden. "You're a good soldier, Moses, you didn'tsleep on guard."

  "No, seh! I keps wide awake, Marster Croyden, w
ide awake all de time,seh. Survent, seh!" and, with a bow, he disappeared.

  Croyden finished his cigar, put out the light, and went slowlyupstairs--giving not a thought to the Parmenter treasure nor the man hehad met outside. His mind was busy with Elaine Cavendish--their lastnight on the moonlit piazza--the brief farewell--the lingering pressureof her fingers--the light in her eyes--the subdued pleasure, when theymet unexpectedly in Annapolis--her little ways to detain him, keep himclose to her--her instant defense of him at Mattison's scurrilousinsinuation--the officers' hop--the rhythmic throb of the melody--thescented, fluttering body held close in his arms--the lowered head--theveiled eyes--the trembling lashes--his senses steeped in the fragranceof her beauty--the temptation well-nigh irresistible--his resolutionalmost gone--trembling--trembling----

  * * * * *

  The vision passed--music ceased--the dance was ended. Sentimentvanished--reason reigned once more.

  He was a fool! a fool! to think of her, to dream of the past, even. Butit is pleasant, sometimes, to be a fool--where a beautiful woman isconcerned, and only one's self to pay the piper.

 

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