by Rex Beach
XXVI
THE CRASH
Kirk had no further chance of speaking with his wife, for after thedance she was whisked away, leaving him nothing but the memory of anadoring, blissful glance as she passed. With Runnels and Cortlandt andthe rest, he was driven to the Hotel Central, where they found a veryattractive table set in a private dining-room. It was a lively party,and Kirk's secret elation enabled him to play the part of host withunforced geniality. The others joined him in a hearty effort to showtheir guest the high regard in which they held him, and if Cortlandtdid not enjoy himself, it was entirely his own fault.
Toward Kirk, however, he preserved a peculiar attitude, which only theyoung man's self-absorption prevented him from noticing. If he had beenless jubilant, he must have felt the unnatural aloofness of the otherman's bearing; but even had he done so, he would doubtless haveattributed it to Cortlandt's well-recognized frigidity.
At the propitious moment, Runnels, who had reluctantly agreed to sharethe social responsibility, made a little speech, explaining that he andhis boys had been sensible from the first of their guest's interest inthem, and were deeply grateful for it. They were all working together,he said, and what helped one helped another. They had banded together,and now tendered him a token of their regard in a form which he couldpreserve.
"It's a little late," he smiled, "in view of the rumor that has beengoing round within the last day or so, but, no matter what happens toany one of us in the readjustment of our department, we appreciate thehelp you have given us collectively."
He handed a handsome loving-cup to Cortlandt, who thanked himappropriately, then waited courteously for the party to break up. ButAnthony rose, saying:
"I simply have to say a word on my own account, fellows, for I owe Mr.Cortlandt more than any of you."
The object of these remarks shot a swift, questioning glance from hisstony eyes, and raised a hand as if to check him. But Kirk ran onunheeding:
"I want to thank him before all of you for what he has done for mepersonally. When I landed in Panama I was a rotter. I'd never worked,and never intended to; I rather despised people who did. I representedthe unearned increment. I was broke and friendless, and what ideas Ihad were all wrong. This is something you don't know, perhaps, but nosooner had I landed than I got into trouble of the worst sort, and Mr.Cortlandt got me out. He was my bail-bond; he put me up at his hotel;gave me clothes, and paid my way until I got started. I was a stranger,mind you, but he's been just like one of my own people, and if I eversucceed in doing anything really worth while, it will be due to thestart he gave me."
Though the words were commonplace enough, they carried a sinceremessage, and Cortlandt saw by the faces about him that the others werepleased. His own gaunt features turned more sallow than ever. Thememory of what he had heard on the porch of his own house a fewafternoons ago, of what he had seen at other times, of his wife'stelltale behavior on this very evening, swept over him, fanning anewthe sullen emotions he had cherished all these months. How far wouldthis fellow dare to go, he wondered? What motive inspired him thus topose before his friends, and openly goad his victim under the cloak ofmodesty and gratitude? Was he enhancing his triumph by jeering at thehusband of whom he had made a fool? He dropped his eyes to hide thefury in them.
"I want to give you a little remembrance of my own." Anthony wasspeaking directly to him. "It isn't much, but it means a good deal tome, and I hope it will have some sort of personal association for you,Mr. Cortlandt." He drew from his pocket a plush case and took from it avery handsome thin Swiss watch with the letters "S. C." artfullyenamelled upon the back. Runnels, who knew the local shops, wonderedhow it had been procured in Panama. The others openly expressed theiradmiration.
Cortlandt accepted the gift mechanically; then, as it touched hisflesh, a sudden color mounted to his cheeks, only to recede, leavingthem bloodless again. He stared at it uncertainly, then looked up andran his eyes slowly around the table. They came to rest at last uponthe broad frame of the giver, crowned with its handsome, sun-tannedface and close-cropped shock of yellow hair. Anthony was all that hewas not--the very embodiment of youth, vigor, and confidence, while hewas prematurely aged, worn, and impotent.
They noted how ill he appeared, as if he had suffered from a junglefever, how his well-cut evening clothes refused to conceal the fraillines of his figure, and how the hollows in his cheeks added to hisage. But for the first time since they had known him they saw that hiseyes were alive and burning dully.
"I really didn't expect this," he began, slowly, as he rose. "Anthonyexaggerates; he is too kind. But since he has chosen to publicly callattention to our relations, I will confess that what he tells you isall true. He was everything he says when he first came to Panama. Hedid get into trouble, and I helped him out; he had no money, and I puthim up as my guest; he needed work, and I helped to place him. Throughmy assistance--partly, at any rate--he has made a man of himself. Hehas been welcome at my house, at my table; he has come and gone as hepleased, like one of the family, you might say. But those are littlethings; they count for nothing." He smiled in a way that seemedironical, his lips writhed away from his teeth until his visageresembled a death-head. His tone had gripped his hearers, and Anthonystirred uneasily, thinking this an odd way of accepting a gift.
Unclasping his long, white fingers, Cortlandt held up the watch topublic view.
"In payment for my poor friendship he has given me this magnificentthing of gold and jewels, the finest I ever saw. I never counted uponsuch gratitude. It is too much, and yet a man cannot refuse the gift ofhis friend and not seem ungracious, can he? Somewhere in the Orientthey have a custom of exchanging gifts. No man may accept a thing ofvalue without making adequate return, and it has always struck me as awise practice." He turned full upon Kirk for the first time since hehad begun speaking, and his voice rose a tone as he said: "I can't letthe obligation rest entirely upon me. We have been friends, Anthony,and I am going to give you something in return which I have prizedhighly; it would be counted of great value by some." Once more hepaused and drew his lips back in that grimace of mockery--it could nolonger be termed a smile. "It is this--I am going to give you--my wife.You have had her from the first, and now she is yours." For onefrightful moment there was no sound; even the men's breathing washushed, and they sat slack-jawed, stunned, half-minded to believe thissome hideous, incredible jest. But the maniacal light in Cortlandt'seyes, and Anthony's chalk-white, frozen countenance soon showed themthe truth. Some one gasped, another laughed hysterically, the soundbreaking in his throat. Cortlandt turned away gloatingly.
Kirk was the last to recover his powers, but when they did revive theycame with a prodigious rush. He plunged upward out of his chair with acry like a wounded animal, and the others rose with him. The tablerocked, something smashed, a chair was hurled backward. The room brokeinto instant turmoil. Kirk felt hands upon him, and then went blindwith fury, struggling in a passion too strong for coherent speech. Hewas engulfed in chaos. He felt things break beneath his touch, feltbodies give way before him.
How or when Cortlandt left the room he never knew. Eventually he foundhimself pinned in his chair, with Runnels' white face close against hisown and other hands upon his arms. His first frenzy quickly gave way toa sickening horror. Some one was commanding him to be still, to createno scene; but those were not words, they were simply mutterings thatconveyed no meaning.
"It's a lie! The man's crazy!" he cried, hoarsely; then, as hiscompanions drew away from him, he rose to his feet. "Why are youlooking at me like that? I tell you it's a damned lie! I never--"
Runnels turned to the table, and with shaking hand put a glass to hislips and gulped its contents. Wade and Kimble exchanged glances, then,avoiding each other's eyes, took their hats from the hooks behind them.
"Wait! Bring him back!" Kirk mumbled. "I'll get him and make him sayit's a lie." But still no one answered, no one looked at him. "God! Youdon't believe it?"
"I'm going home, fellows. I'
m kind of sick," Kimble said. One of theothers murmured unintelligibly, and, wetting a napkin, bound up hishand, which was bleeding. They continued to watch Kirk as if fearful ofsome insane action, yet they refused to meet his eyes squarely. Therewas no sympathy in their faces.
The knowledge of what these actions meant came to him slowly. Was itpossible that his friends believed this incredible accusation? Thethought made him furious, too agitated as yet to realize that such acharge made under such circumstances could not well prove less thanconvincing. As he began to collect himself he saw his plight moreclearly. His first thought had been that Cortlandt was insane, but theman's actions were not those of a maniac. No! He actually believedand--and these fellows believed also. No doubt they would continue tothink him guilty in spite of all that he could do or say; for afterthis shocking denunciation it would take more than mere words to provethat he had not betrayed his friend and benefactor. It was incredible,unbearable! He wanted to shout his innocence at them, to beat it intotheir heads; but the more he expostulated the more distant they became.
One by one they took their hats and went out, mumbling good-night toone another, as if intending to go home singly in order to avoid alldiscussion of this thing that had fallen among them Runnels aloneremained.
"YOU don't believe I did--that?" Anthony asked, in a strained voice.
"I--I think I do." There was a miserable silence, and then: "It isn'tthe thing itself, you know, so much as the rotten--underhandedadvantage you took. If he'd been a stranger, now--Honestly, isn't ittrue?"
Kirk shook his head, listlessly. "I wouldn't lie to you."
Runnels drew a deep breath.. "Oh, come, now, the man MUST have knownwhat he was saying. Do you realize what it means--if--well, if he weremistaken? It would be bad enough if he were not, but this would be tentimes worse. Don't you see?"
"I don't see much of anything yet. I'm stunned."
"Ugh! To make it public that way, he must be made of iron." Runnelsshuddered; then, with cold eyes on Kirk, continued: "He must haveknown, Anthony. Men don't do things like that on suspicion."
"He misunderstood our friendship," said Kirk, heavily, then rousedhimself for a last plea. "Look here!" he cried. "You know Cortlandt andyou know me. The man was insanely jealous! I know it sounds weak, butit's the truth, and it's all I can say. I'll go mad if you doubt me."
Runnels' face showed the pain he felt, but his eyes looked incredulous.
"Another thing," Kirk went on, desperately: "do you suppose that ifwhat you believe were true I could have the inhuman nerve to come hereto-night? That would make me a fool or a monster!"
"I don't know," said Runnels.
"You do know. You know ME. If we weren't such friends I wouldn't arguewith you like this, but--I can't bear it. And to-night of all--" Hebroke off sharply. "My God! I'd forgotten that I'm married! SupposeGertrudis hears of this! If it ever gets to her--I--believe I couldkill him."
"Don't talk like that."
"I never really thought I could take a person's life, but if she heardshe might believe; everybody else seems to believe. Understand, shehardly knows me. She might--she might--" Anthony seized his temples indespair.
Runnels took a sudden illogical decision. He never knew exactly whathad influenced him, but his whole past knowledge of Anthony surged upin him with a force that he could not resist. He found that he couldnot really believe him capable of this abomination any more than hecould believe it of himself. Little of our life is ruled by reason, andit is something else than logic that produces the last feeling ofconviction. Here, this something was present where logic was lacking.
He laid his hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Take it easy, old man," he said."I believe you. I've always known that they didn't get along together,although--well, I won't try to understand it. He may not do anythingfurther, and these fellows won't mention what happened here; theycan't."
"You know we're only half married," moaned Kirk, hardly heeding him."Women are apt to be jealous, aren't they, Runnels? What do you supposeshe'd do?"
"Don't worry about that. I'm thinking about Cortlandt. If he finds outhe's mistaken, what will HE do?"
"He'll have to find out. I'm going to tell him. His wife will tell him.Good God! Do you see what an awful light it puts me in? You don't doubtme, do you, really, old man?"
"No--but what a night this has been! It seems a year old. Come along,now, you must get out of here. You must turn in."
"Oh, I don't feel as if I'd ever sleep again until this thing iscleared up." His anguish swept over him in a fresh tide. "Those boysthink I did that trick to the man who befriended me!"
"Well, don't let's talk about it any more; we can't stay here allnight, anyhow. The waiters are wondering what this row is about. Ithink we'd better take a walk." Runnels dragged his companion out,trying to calm him as best he could.
In passing through the deserted lobby of the hotel, they saw Cliffordidling about; but they were too much absorbed to wonder what had kepthim up so late. By the clock across the Plaza they saw it was two hoursafter midnight as they stepped into the street; then, finding nocoaches in sight, they set out to walk toward Ancon, both badly in needof the open air.
A moment later Clifford followed them, taking pains to keep at adistance.
Now that the full import of Cortlandt's accusation had sunk into hismind, Kirk lapsed into a mood of sullen bitterness. He said little, buthis set face worried his companion, who was loath to bid him goodnighteven when they were close to the Tivoli. After they had parted Runnelswas upon the point of going back and offering to spend the night withhim, but thought better of it. After all, he reflected, hisapprehensions were probably quite unfounded. Anthony was too sensible achap to do anything he might repent of, now that his gust of passionhad died down. So he went on homeward wondering vaguely how Cortlandtwould dare to meet his wife, or, if he really found himself mistaken,how he could ever summon courage to look his hosts in the face.
Instead of passing through the office, Kirk mounted to the porch of theTivoli and entered his room from the outside, as he and Chiquita haddone earlier that evening. He found Allan waiting, and bursting with adesire to gossip, but cut him short.
"Get my street-clothes, I'm going out." He tore the white tie from histhroat as if it were choking him.
"It is too late, sar. You will be h'exposing yourself to a fever in themist," expostulated the boy; but Kirk would not hear argument.
"Come along if you want to, I can't sleep. I want to walk--walk untilI'm tired."
Mystified and frightened at this behavior, Allan obeyed. "Never have Ih'observed you so h'angry, boss," he observed. "Is it Ramon Alfarez?"His eyes began to roll in excitement, for the spectacle of his master'sagitation never failed to work upon him powerfully.
"No, not Ramon; another. I've been hurt, Allan. I can't explain, foryou wouldn't understand, but I've been hurt."
The negro's lips drew apart in an expression of ape-like ferocity, andhe began to chatter threats of vengeance, to which Kirk paid littleheed. A few moments later they went out quietly, and together took therock road down toward the city, the one silent and desperate, the otherwhining like a hound nearing a scent.