The Last Woman

by Ross Beeckman

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE AUTOMOBILE WRECK

  Thirty minutes after the happening of the incidents just related, aremarkable scene took place in Jack Gardner's smoking-room. There werepresent only the men of Sally's impromptu week-end party.

  If the friends whom Jack Gardner had made since his sojourn in theEast could have seen him at that moment, they would not haverecognized in the coldly stern, keen-eyed copper magnate, thehappy-go-lucky, devil-may-care Jack, of their acquaintance. The almosttragic occurrences of the evening had brought the real Jack Gardner tothe surface, and he was for the moment again the dauntless young minerwho had fought his way upward to the position he now held, by sheerforce of character; for it requires a whole man to lift himself fromthe pick and shovel, and the drill and fuse, to the millionairemine-owner and the person of prominence in the world such as he hadbecome. He stood beside the small table at one end of the room;Morton occupied the center of it, facing him. Grouped around them, invarious attitudes, were the others of that strange gathering. Duncanleaned idly against the mantel, and smoked his cigar withdeliberation, although his gray eyes were coldly fierce in theirexpression, and his half-smile of utter contempt for the man whooccupied the center of the scene rendered his face less handsome andattractive than usual. Malcolm Melvin was alert and attentive, fromthe end of the room opposite Gardner, and the other gentlemen of theparty occupied chairs conveniently at hand.

  It would be hard to define Richard Morton's attitude from any outwardexpression he manifested concerning it. He stood with folded arms,tall and straight, facing unflinchingly the accusing eyes of hislife-long friend, Jack Gardner. His lips were shut tightly together,and he seemed like one who awaits stoically a verdict that isinevitable.

  "Morton," said Gardner, speaking coldly and with studied deliberation,"you have been a life-long friend of mine, and, until to-night, I havelooked upon you almost as a brother; but, to-night, by your ownconfession and by your acts which have followed upon that confession,you have destroyed every atom of the friendship I have felt for you.You have made me wish that I had never known you. You have outragedevery sense of propriety, and every feeling of manhood that I thoughtyou possessed. Fortunately for us all, no one is much the worse foryour scoundrelism; I can call it by no other word. You have shownyourself to be, at heart, an unspeakable scoundrel, as undeserving ofconsideration as a coyote of the plains."

  Morton's face went white as death at these words, and his eyes blazedwith the fury of a wild animal that is being whipped while it ischained down so that it cannot show resentment. He did not speak; hemade no effort to interrupt. Gardner continued:

  "When Miss Langdon arrived here alone, in your roadster, she gave usno explanation whatever of what had happened, and, while we believedthat some unpleasant incident must have occurred, we did not press herfor the story of it. Then, you came, and without mincing your wordsyou told the whole brutal truth; and you uttered it with a spirit ofbrutality and bravado that would be unbelievable under any othercircumstances. And when, in your own self-abasement for what you haddone, you confessed to the acts of which you were guilty toward MissLangdon, you received, at Duncan's hands, the blow you so thoroughlymerited; I am frank to say to you that, if he had held his hand oneinstant longer, it would have been my fist, instead of his, thatfloored you. But that is not all. You have been a gun-fighter for somany years, out there in your own wild country, that, before you werefairly down after you received the blow, you must needs pull yourartillery, and use it. Do you realize, I wonder, how near tocommitting a murder you have been, to-night? If Miss Brunswick had notseen your act, if she had not started forward and thrown herselfbetween your weapon and its intended victim, thus frightening you sothat you sought at the last instant to withhold your fire, I tremblefor what the consequences might have been. As it happened, no one hasbeen harmed. You deflected your aim just in time to avoid a tragedy;but it is not your fault that somebody does not carry a serious woundas the consequence of your brutality. Were it not for Miss Brunswick'sact, there would be a dead man at this feast, and you would be hismurderer. But even that, horrible as it might have been, is less acrime than the other one you have confessed. You, reared in anatmosphere where all men infinitely respect woman-kind, deliberatelyoutrage every finer feeling of the one woman you have professed tolove. That, Richard Morton, is very nearly all that I have to say toyou. I have asked these gentlemen to come into the room, and to bepresent during this scene, in order that we may all bind ourselves tosecrecy concerning what has happened to-night. I can assure you thatnothing of this affair will leak out to others. I have quite finishednow. One of the servants will bring your roadster around to the door.Our acquaintance ends here."

  He turned and pressed a button in the wall behind him, and a momentlater the door opened; but it was Beatrice Brunswick who stood uponthe threshold, and not the servant who had been summoned.

  She hesitated an instant, then came forward swiftly, until she stoodbeside Morton, facing his accusers. With one swift glance, she took inthe scene by which she was surrounded, and with a woman's intuitionunderstood it. Turning partly around, she permitted one hand to restlightly upon Morton's arm, and she said to him, ignoring the others:

  "It is really too bad, Mr. Morton. I know that you did not mean it;and I am unharmed. See: the bullet did not touch me at all. It onlyfrightened me. I am sure that you were over-wrought by all that hadhappened, and I'll forgive you, even if the others do not. I am sure,too, that Patricia will forgive you, if you ask her. Come with me; Iwill take you to her."

  She tightened her grasp upon his arm and sought to draw him toward thedoor, but Jack Gardner interrupted, quickly and sharply.

  "Stop Beatrice!" he said. "Mr. Morton is about to take his departure.This is an occasion for men to deal with. Morton cannot see MissLangdon again unless she seeks him, and that I don't think she willdo."

  "I'll get her; I'll bring her here!" exclaimed Beatrice, startingtoward the door alone; but this time it was Morton's voice thatarrested her--the first time he had spoken since he entered the room.

  "Please, wait, Miss Brunswick," he said, and the quiet calmness of histone was a surprise to everyone present. It belied the expression ofhis eyes and of his set jaws. "I thank you most heartily for what youhave said, and for what you would do now. Miss Langdon won't forgiveme, nor, indeed, do I think she ought to do so. I have not attemptedto make any explanation of my conduct to these gentlemen, but to you Iwill say this: I realize the enormity of it, thoroughly, and, while Ican find no excuse for what I have done, I can offer the oneexplanation, that I was, for the moment, gone mad--locoed, we callit, in the West. If Miss Langdon will receive any message from me atall, tell her that I am sorry."

  He bowed to her with a dignity that belied his training, and, steppingpast her, opened the door, holding it so until she had passed from theroom. Then, he turned toward the others.

  "I am quite ready to go now," he said. "Gardner, if you will have mycar brought around, I shall not trouble you further."

  With another slight inclination of his head, he passed out of the roomand along the hall to the front door, where he paused at the top ofthe steps, waiting till his car should be brought to him; and no oneattempted to follow, or say another word to him.

  Standing alone at the top of the steps, while he waited for the car,Morton was presently conscious of a slight movement near him, and heturned quickly. Patricia Langdon slowly arose from one of the verandachairs, and approached him. She came quite close to him, and stopped.For a moment, both were silent; he, with hard, unrelenting eyes, whichnevertheless expressed the exquisite pain he felt; she, withtear-dimmed vision, in which pity, regret, sympathy and real likingstrove for dominant expression.

  "I couldn't let you go, Mr. Morton, without a few more words with you,and I have purposely waited here, because I thought it likely youwould come from the house alone."

  "Thank you," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

  "I am so sorry for i
t all, Mr. Morton; and I cannot help wondering ifI am to blame, in any measure. I wanted you to know that I freelyforgive you for whatever offense you have committed against me. Ithink that is all. Good-night."

  She was turning away, but he called to her, with infinite pain in hisvoice:

  "Wait; please, wait," he said. "Give me just another moment, I beseechyou."

  She turned to face him again.

  "I have been a madman to-night, Miss Langdon, and I know it," he toldher rapidly. "There is no excuse for the acts I have committed; therecan be no palliation for them. I would not have dared to ask for yourforgiveness; I can only say that I am sorry. It was not I, but amadman, who for a moment possessed me, who conducted himself so vilelytoward you. I shall go back to my ranch again. My only prayer to youis, that you will forget me, utterly."

  Patricia came a step nearer to him, reaching out her hand,tentatively, and said, in her softest tone, while tears moistened hereyes:

  "Good-bye, and God bless you."

  But Morton, ignoring her extended hand, cleared the steps of theveranda at one leap, and disappeared in the darkness, toward thegarage.

  Five minutes later, while Patricia yet remained at the top of thesteps where Morton had left her, the steam-roadster that had been soclosely related to her experiences of the night rushed past the houseand disappeared along the winding roadway toward the Cedarcrest gate.And she remained there, in a listening attitude, as long as she couldhear the droning murmur of its mechanism. When that died away in thedistance, she sighed, and turned to reenter the house; but it was onlyto find that she was no longer alone. Roderick Duncan appeared in thedoorway, and came through the entrance, to meet her.

  "Was it Morton's car that just went past the door?" he asked her.

  "Yes," she replied, shrinking away from him.

  "Did you see him, and talk with him, before he went away?" he asked,partly reaching out one hand, but instantly withdrawing it.

  "Yes," she answered again, retreating still farther from him.

  "That was like you, Patricia. I am rather sorry for the poor chap,despite what he did to you, to-night. You see, I know what it means,to be so madly in love with you that it is barely possible for one tostand or sit beside you, without crushing you in one's arms. Oh,Patricia, won't you be kind to me? Won't you forgive me, too, as Iknow, just now, you forgave that poor chap? Surely, my offense was notso great as his."

  "It has been infinitely greater," she told him, coldly; and, with headerect, but with averted face, she went past him, through the doorway.

  Down the highway, half-way between Cedarcrest and the city, was aplace where building operations were in progress; where huge rocks hadbeen blasted out to make room for intended improvements; wherederricks and stone-crushers and other machinery were idly waiting thedawn of another day, when the workmen would arrive and resume theirseveral occupations.

  Richard Morton, dashing along this highway with ever-increasing speed,utilizing the full power of his racing roadster, remembered that placealong the highway. With cold, set face and protruding chin, he sethis jaws sharply together, and wondered why his flying car would go nofaster. He did not realize that he was covering more than a mile withevery minute of time. The pace seemed slow to him, for he had suddenlydetermined what he would do. He had thought of a plan to expiate hisfollies of the night.

  At last, almost directly beneath an arc-light along the highway, hesaw, dimly, the spot where the stone was being quarried, and, as herecognized it, he laughed aloud with a sort of desperate joy, becauseof the plunge he intended to take. He threw the throttle wide open,and after another moment he saw the derrick loom before him. Withcareful deliberation, he turned the steering-wheel.

  There was a loud crash in the darkness; the roadster leaped into theair like a live thing, and turned over, end for end, twice. Then, itseemed to shoot high into the air, and fell again, in a confused heapof wreckage, among the broken stones of the quarry. Morton was thrownfrom it, like the projectile from a catapult, and he came down in acrumpled heap, somewhere among that mass of rocks; and after thatthere was silence.