CHAPTER XV"OLD SWALLOWTAIL"
Josie was so astonished that she still bent over the lock, motionless,saw in hand. In the instant she made a mental review of her proceedingsand satisfied herself that she had been guilty of no professionalblunder. The inopportune appearance of Mr. Cragg must be attributed toa blind chance--to fate. So the first wave of humiliation that sweptover her receded as she gathered her wits to combat this unexpectedsituation.
Mr. Cragg stood by the table looking at her. He was very calm. Thediscovery of the girl had not aroused that violence of temper for whichthe old man was noted. Josie straightened up, slipped the saw in herpocket and faced him unflinchingly.
"Won't you sit down?" he said, pointing to a chair beside her. "I wouldlike to know why you have undertaken to rob me."
Josie sat down, her heart bounding with joy. If he mistook her for athief all was not lost and she would not have to write "finis" as yetto this important case. But she made no answer to his remark; shemerely stared at him in a dull, emotionless way that was cleverlyassumed.
"I suppose," he continued, "you have been told I am rich--a miser--andperhaps you imagine I keep my wealth in that little room, because Ihave taken pains to secure it from intrusion by prying meddlers. Isuspected you, my girl, when you came to see me the other day. Yourerrand was palpably invented. You wanted to get the lay of the room, inpreparation for this night's work. But who told you I was worthy ofbeing robbed? Was it Ingua?"
"No," came a surly reply. "She won't mention you to me."
"Very good. But the neighbors--the busy-bodies around here? Perhaps oldSol Jerrems has gossiped of my supposed hoard. Is it not so?"
Josie dropped her eyes as if confused but remained silent. The old manseemed to regard her as a curiosity, for his cold gray eyes examinedher person with the same expression with which he might have regarded acaged monkey.
"Then you do not wish to confess?"
"What's the use?" she demanded with a burst of impatience. "Haven't youcaught me at the job?"
He continued to eye her, reflectively.
"The cities breed felons," he remarked. "It is a pity so young a girlshould have chosen so dangerous and disastrous a career. It isinevitably disastrous. How did it happen that Colonel Hathaway allowedyou to impose on him?"
"I do sewing," she said doggedly.
"In order to gain entrance to a household, I suppose. But Hathaway iswealthy. Why did you not undertake to rob him, instead of me?"
"One at a time," said Josie, with a short laugh.
"Oh, I understand. You expected to make the small pick-ups and thenland the grand coup. The answer is simple, after all. But," he added,his voice growing stern and menacing for the first time, "I do notintend to be robbed, my girl. Fleece Hathaway if you can; it is none ofmy business; but you must not pry into my personal affairs or rifle mypoor rooms. Do you understand me?"
"I--I think so, sir."
"Avoid me, hereafter. Keep out of my path. The least interference fromyou, in any way, will oblige me to turn you over to the police."
"You'll let me go, now?"
He glanced at her, frowning.
"I am too much occupied to prosecute you--unless you annoy me further.Perhaps you have this night learned a lesson that will induce you toabandon such desperate, criminal ventures."
Josie stood up.
"I wish I knew how you managed to catch me," she said, with a sigh.
"You were watching my house to-night, waiting until I was safely in bedbefore coming here. I happened to leave my room for a little air, andgoing out my back door I passed around the house and stood at thecorner, in deep shade. My eyes were good enough to distinguish a formlurking under the tree by the river bank. I went in, put out my light,and returned to my former position. You watched the house and I watchedyou. You are not very clever, for all your slyness. You will never beclever enough to become a good thief--meaning a successful thief. Aftera half hour I saw you rise and take the path to the village. I followedyou. Do you understand now? God has protected the just and humbled thewicked."
That final sentence surprised the girl. Coming from his lips, itshocked her. In his former speech he had not denounced her crime, butonly her indiscretion and the folly of her attempt. Suddenly hereferred to God as his protector, asserting his personal uprightness aswarrant for Divine protection; and, singularly enough, his tone wassincere.
Josie hesitated whether to go or not, for Old Swallowtail seemed in atalkative mood and she had already discovered a new angle to hischaracter. By way of diversion she began to cry.
"I--I know I'm wicked," she sobbed; "it's wrong to steal; I know it is.But I--I--need the money, and you've got lots of it; and--and--Ithought you must be just as wicked as I am!"
His expression changed to one of grim irony.
"Yes," said he, "by common report I am guilty of every sin in thecalendar. Do you know why?"
"No; of course I don't!" she answered, softening her sobs to hear moreclearly.
"Years ago, when I was a young man, I stabbed a fellow-student in theneck--a dreadful wound--because he taunted me about my mode of dress. Iwas wearing the only clothes my eccentric father would provide me with.I am wearing the same style of costume yet, as penance for thatdastardly act--caused by an ungovernable temper with which I have beencursed from my birth. I would have entered the service of God had itnot been for that temper. I am unable to control it, except by avoidingundue contact with my fellow men. That is why. I am living here, arecluse, when I should be taking an active part in the world's work."
He spoke musingly, as if to himself more than to the girl who hung oneach word with eager interest. No one had ever told her as much of OldSwallowtail as he was now telling her of himself. She wondered why hewas so confidential. Was it because she seemed dull and stupid? Becauseshe was a stranger who was likely to decamp instantly when he let hergo? Or was the retrospective mood due to the hour and the unwontedsituation? She waited, scarce breathing lest she lose a word.
"The poor fellow whom I stabbed lived miserably for twenty yearsafterward," he went on, "and I supported him and his family during thattime, for his life had been ruined by my act. Later in life and here atthe Crossing, people saw me kill a balky horse in a wild rage, and theyhave been afraid of me ever since. Even more recently I--"
He suddenly paused, remembering where he was and to whom he wasspeaking. The girl's face was perfectly blank when he shot a shrewdglance at it. Her look seemed to relieve his embarrassment.
"However," said he in a different tone, "I am not so black as I'mpainted."
"I don't think you treat poor Ingua quite right," remarked Josie.
"Eh? Why not?"
"You neglect her; you don't give her enough to eat; she hasn't a dressfit for a ragamuffin to wear. And she's your granddaughter."
He drew in a long breath, staring hard.
"Has she been complaining?"
"Not to me," said Josie; "but she doesn't need to. Haven't I eyes?Doesn't everyone say it's a shame to treat the poor child the way youdo? My personal opinion is that you're a poor excuse for agrandfather," she added, with more spirit than she had yet exhibited.
He sat silent a long time, looking at the lamp. His face was hard; hislong, slim fingers twitched as if longing to throttle someone; but hepositively ignored Josie's presence. She believed he was struggling tosubdue what Ingua called "the devils," and would not have beensurprised had-he broken all bounds and tried to do her an injury.
"Go!" he said at last, still without looking at her. "Go, and rememberthat I will not forgive twice."
She thought it best to obey. Very softly she left the room, and as shepassed out he was still staring at the flame of the lamp andalternately clenching and unclenching his talon-like fingers.
Mary Louise in the Country Page 15