CHAPTER V
The latch moved slowly, and with its movement came a gentle tap on thepanel.
"Come in," he said.
The next instant he was staring. The girl had entered and closed thedoor behind her. O'Connor's picture stood in flesh and blood beforehim. The girl's eyes met his own. They were like glorious violets, asO'Connor had said, but they were not the eyes he had expected to see.They were the wide-open, curious eyes of a child. He had visualizedthem as pools of slumbering flame--the idea O'Connor had given him--andthey were the opposite of that. Their one emotion seemed to be theemotion roused by an overwhelming, questioning curiosity. They wereapparently not regarding him as a dying human being, but as a creatureimmensely interesting to look upon. In place of the gratitude he hadanticipated, they were filled with a great, wondering interrogation,and there was not the slightest hint of embarrassment in their gaze.For a space it seemed to Kent that he saw nothing but those wonderful,dispassionate eyes looking at him. Then he saw the rest of her--heramazing hair, her pale, exquisite face, the slimness and beauty of heras she stood with her back to the door, one hand still resting on thelatch. He had never seen anything quite like her. He might have guessedthat she was eighteen, or twenty, or twenty-two. Her hair, wreathed inshimmering, velvety coils from the back to the crown of her head,struck him as it had struck O'Connor, as unbelievable. The glory of itgave to her an appearance of height which she did not possess, for shewas not tall, and her slimness added to the illusion.
And then, greatly to his embarrassment in the next instant, his eyeswent to her feet. Again O'Connor was right--tiny feet, high-heeledpumps, ravishingly turned ankles showing under a skirt of some fluffybrown stuff or other--
Correcting himself, his face flushed red. The faintest tremble of asmile was on the girl's lips. She looked down, and for the first timehe saw what O'Connor had seen, the sunlight kindling slumberous firesin her hair.
Kent tried to say something, but before he succeeded she had takenpossession of the chair near his bedside.
"I have been waiting a long time to see you," she said. "You are JamesKent, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm Jim Kent. I'm sorry Dr. Cardigan kept you waiting. If I hadknown--"
He was getting a grip on himself again, and smiled at her. He noticedthe amazing length of her dark lashes, but the violet eyes behind themdid not smile back at him. The tranquillity of their gaze wasdisconcerting. It was as if she had not quite made up her mind abouthim yet and was still trying to classify him in the museum of thingsshe had known.
"He should have awakened me," Kent went on, trying to keep himself fromslipping once more. "It isn't polite to keep a young lady waiting twohours!"
This time the blue eyes made him feel that his smile was a maudlin grin.
"Yes--you are different." She spoke softly, as if expressing thethought to herself. "That is what I came to find out, if you weredifferent. You are dying?"
"My God--yes--I'm dying!" gasped Kent. "According to Dr. Cardigan I'mdue to pop off this minute. Aren't you a little nervous, sitting sonear to a man who's ready to explode while you're looking at him?"
For the first time the eyes changed. She was not facing the window, yeta glow like the glow of sunlight flashed into them, soft, luminous,almost laughing.
"No, it doesn't frighten me," she assured him. "I have always thought Ishould like to see a man die--not quickly, like drowning or being shot,but slowly, an inch at a time. But I shouldn't like to see YOU die."
"I'm glad," breathed Kent. "It's a great satisfaction to me."
"Yet I shouldn't be frightened if you did."
"Oh!"
Kent drew himself up straighter against his pillows. He had been a manof many adventures. He had faced almost every conceivable kind ofshock. But this was a new one. He stared into the blue eyes, tonguelessand mentally dazed. They were cool and sweet and not at all excited.And he knew that she spoke the truth. Not by a quiver of those lovelylashes would she betray either fear or horror if he popped off rightthere. It was astonishing.
Something like resentment shot for an instant into his bewilderedbrain. Then it was gone, and in a flash it came upon him that she wasbut uttering his own philosophy of life, showing him life's cheapness,life's littleness, the absurdity of being distressed by looking uponthe light as it flickered out. And she was doing it, not as aphilosopher, but with the beautiful unconcern of a child.
Suddenly, as if impelled by an emotion in direct contradiction to herapparent lack of sympathy, she reached out a hand and placed it onKent's forehead. It was another shock. It was not a professional touch,but a soft, cool little pressure that sent a comforting thrill throughhim. The hand was there for only a moment, and she withdrew it toentwine the slim fingers with those of the others in her lap.
"You have no fever," she said. "What makes you think you are dying?"
Kent explained what was happening inside him. He was completely shuntedoff his original track of thought and anticipation. He had expected toask for at least a mutual introduction when his visitor came into hisroom, and had anticipated taking upon himself the position of a politeinquisitor. In spite of O'Connor, he had not thought she would be quiteso pretty. He had not believed her eyes would be so beautiful, or theirlashes so long, or the touch of her hand so pleasantly unnerving. Andnow, in place of asking for her name and the reason for her visit, hebecame an irrational idiot, explaining to her certain matters ofphysiology that had to do with aortas and aneurismal sacs. He hadfinished before the absurdity of the situation dawned upon him, andwith absurdity came the humor of it. Even dying, Kent could not fail tosee the funny side of a thing It struck him as suddenly as had thegirl's beauty and her bewildering and unaffected ingenuousness.
Looking at him, that same glow of mysterious questioning in her eyes,the girl found him suddenly laughing straight into her face.
"This is funny. It's very funny, Miss--Miss--"
"Marette," she supplied, answering his hesitation.
"It's funny, Miss Marette."
"Not Miss Marette. Just Marette," she corrected.
"I say, it's funny," he tried again. "You see, it's not so terriblypleasant as you might think to--er--be here, where I am, dying. Andlast night I thought about the finest thing in the world would be tohave a woman beside me, a woman who'd be sort of sympathetic, you know,ease the thing off a little, maybe say she was sorry. And then the Lordanswers my prayer, and _you_ come--and you sort of give me the impressionthat you made the appointment with yourself to see how a fellow lookswhen he pops off."
The shimmer of light came into the blue eyes again. She seemed to havedone with her mental analysis of him, and he saw that a bit of colorwas creeping into her cheeks, pale when she had entered the room.
"You wouldn't be the first I've seen pop off," she assured him. "Therehave been a number, and I've never cried very much. I'd rather see aman die than some animals. But I shouldn't like to see YOU do it. Doesthat comfort you--like the woman you prayed the Lord for?"
"It does," gasped Kent. "But why the devil, Miss Marette--"
"Marette," she corrected again.
"Yes, Marette--why the devil have you come to see me at just the momentI'm due to explode? And what's your other name, and how old are you,and what do you want of me?"
"I haven't any other name, I'm twenty, and I came to get acquaintedwith you and see what you are like."
"Bully!" exclaimed Kent. "We're getting there fast! And now, why?"
The girl drew her chair a few inches nearer, and for a moment Kentthought that her lovely mouth was trembling on the edge of a smile.
"Because you have lied so splendidly to save another man who was aboutto die."
"_Et tu, Brute_!" sighed Kent, leaning back against his pillows. "Isn'tit possible for a decent man to kill another man and not be called aliar when he tells about it? Why do so many believe that I lie?"
"They don't," said the girl. "They believe you--now. You have gone socompletely into the details of the
murder in your confession that theyare quite convinced. It would be too bad if you lived, for you surelywould be hanged. Your lie sounds and reads like the truth. But I knowit is a lie. You did not kill John Barkley."
"And the reason for your suspicion?"
For fully half a minute the girl's eyes rested on, his own. Again theyseemed to be looking through him and into him. "Because I know the manwho DID kill him," she said quietly, "and it was not you."
Kent made a mighty effort to appear calm. He reached for a cigar fromthe box that Cardigan had placed on his bed, and nibbled the end of it."Has some one else been confessing?" he asked.
She shook her head the slightest bit.
"Did you--er--see this other gentleman kill John Barkley?" he insisted.
"No."
"Then I must answer you as I have answered at least one other. I killedJohn Barkley. If you suspect some other person, your suspicion iswrong."
"What a splendid liar!" she breathed softly. "Don't you believe in God?"
Kent winced. "In a large, embracing sense, yes," he said. "I believe inHim, for instance, as revealed to our senses in all that living,growing glory you see out there through the window Nature and I havebecome pretty good pals, and you see I've sort of built up a mothergoddess to worship instead of a he-god. Sacrilege, maybe, but it's agreat comfort at times. But you didn't come to talk religion?"
The lovely head bent still nearer him. He felt an impelling desire toput up his hand and touch her shining hair, as she laid her hand on hisforehead.
"I know who killed John Barkley," she insisted. "I know how and whenand why he was killed. Please tell me the truth. I want to know. Whydid you confess to a crime which you did not commit?"
Kent took time to light his cigar. The girl watched him closely, almosteagerly.
"I may be mad," he said. "It is possible for any human being to be madand not know it. That's the funny part about insanity. But if I'm notinsane, I killed Barkley; if I didn't kill him, I must be insane, forI'm very well convinced that I did. Either that, or you are insane. Ihave my suspicions that you are. Would a sane person wear pumps withheels like those up here?" He pointed accusingly to the floor.
For the first time the girl smiled, openly, frankly, gloriously. It wasas if her heart had leaped forth for an instant and had greeted him.And then, like sunlight shadowed by cloud, the smile was gone. "You area brave man," she said. "You are splendid. I hate men. But I think ifyou lived very long, I should love you. I will believe that you killedBarkley. You compel me to believe it. You confessed, when you found youwere going to die, that an innocent man might be saved. Wasn't that it?"
Kent nodded weakly. "That's it. I hate to think of it that way, but Iguess it's true. I confessed because I knew I was going to die.Otherwise I am quite sure that I should have let the other fellow takemy medicine for me. You must think I am a beast."
"All men are beasts," she agreed quickly. "But you are--a differentkind of beast. I like you. If there were a chance, I might fight foryou. I can fight." She held up her two small hands, half smiling at himagain.
"But not with those," he exclaimed. "I think you would fight with youreyes. O'Connor told me they half killed Kedsty when you met them in thepoplar grove yesterday."
He had expected that the mention of Inspector Kedsty's name woulddisturb her. It had no effect that he could perceive.
"O'Connor was the big, red-faced man with Mr. Kedsty?"
"Yes, my trail partner. He came to me yesterday and raved about youreyes. They ARE beautiful; I've never seen eyes half so lovely. But thatwasn't what struck Bucky so hard. It was the effect they had on Kedsty.He said they shattered every nerve in Kedsty's body, and Kedsty isn'tthe sort to get easily frightened. And the queer part of it was thatthe instant you had gone, he gave O'Connor an order to freeMcTrigger--and then turned and followed you. All the rest of that dayO'Connor tried to discover something about you at the Landing. Hecouldn't find hide nor hair--I beg pardon!--I mean he couldn't find outanything about you at all. We made up our minds that for some reason orother you were hiding up at Kedsty's bungalow. You don't mind a fellowsaying all this--when he is going to pop off soon--do you?"
He was half frightened at the directness with which he had expressedthe thing. He would gladly have buried his own curiosity and all ofO'Connor's suspicions for another moment of her hand on his forehead.But it was out, and he waited.
She was looking down, her fingers twisting some sort of tasseled dressornament in her lap, and Kent mentally measured the length of herlashes with a foot rule in mind. They were superb, and in the thrill ofhis admiration he would have sworn they were an inch long. She lookedup suddenly and caught the glow in his eyes and the flush that layunder the tan of his cheeks. Her own color had deepened a little.
"What if you shouldn't die?" she asked him bluntly, as if she had notheard a word of all he had said about Kedsty. "What would you do?"
"I'm going to."
"But if you shouldn't?"
Kent shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I'd have to take my medicine.You're not going?"
She had straightened up and was sitting on the edge of her chair. "Yes,I'm going. I'm afraid of my eyes. I may look at you as I looked at Mr.Kedsty, and then--pop you'd go, quick! And I don't want to be here whenyou die!"
He heard a soft little note of laughter in her throat. It sent a chillthrough him. What an adorable, blood-thirsty little wretch she was! Hestared at her bent head, at the shining coils of her wonderful hair.Undone, he could see it completely hiding her. And it was so soft andwarm that again he was tempted to reach out and touch it. She waswonderful, and yet it was not possible that she had a heart. Herapparent disregard of the fact that he was a dying man was almostdiabolic. There was no sympathy in the expression of her violet eyes asshe looked at him. She was even making fun of the fact that he wasabout to die!
She stood up, surveying for the first time the room in which she hadbeen sitting. Then she turned to the window and looked out. Shereminded Kent of a beautiful young willow that had grown at the edge ofa stream, exquisite, slender, strong. He could have picked her up inhis arms as easily as a child, yet he sensed in the lithe beauty of herbody forces that could endure magnificently. The careless poise of herhead fascinated him. For that head and the hair that crowned it he knewthat half the women of the earth would have traded precious years oftheir lives.
And then, without turning toward him, she said, "Some day, when I die,I wish I might have as pleasant a room as this."
"I hope you never die," he replied devoutly.
She came back and stood for a moment beside him.
"I have had a very pleasant time," she said, as though he had given hera special sort of entertainment. "It's too bad you are going to die.I'm sure we should have been good friends. Aren't you?"
"Yes, very sure. If you had only arrived sooner--"
"And I shall always think of you as a different kind of man-beast," sheinterrupted him. "It is really true that I shouldn't like to see youdie. I want to get away before it happens. Would you care to have mekiss you?"
For an instant Kent felt that his aorta was about to give away. "I--Iwould," he gasped huskily.
"Then--close your eyes, please."
He obeyed. She bent over him. He felt the soft touch of her hands andcaught for an instant the perfume of her face and hair, and then thethrill of her lips pressed warm and soft upon his.
She was not flushed or embarrassed when he looked at her again. It wasas if she had kissed a baby and was wondering at its red face. "I'veonly kissed three men before you," she avowed. "It is strange. I neverthought I should do it again. And now, good-by!" She moved quickly tothe door.
"Wait," he cried plaintively. "Please wait. I want to know your name.It is Marette--"
"Radisson," she finished for him. "Marette Radisson, and I come fromaway off there, from a place we call the Valley of Silent Men." She waspointing into the north.
"The North!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, it is far north. Very far."
Her hand was on the latch. The door opened slowly.
"Wait," he pleaded again. "You must not go."
"Yes, I must go. I have remained too long. I am sorry I kissed you. Ishouldn't have done that. But I had to because you are such a splendidliar!"
The door opened quickly and closed behind her. He heard her stepsalmost running down the hall, where not long ago he had listened to thelast of O'Connor's.
And then there was silence, and in that silence he heard her wordsagain, drumming like little hammers in his head, "_Because you are sucha splendid liar_!"
The Valley of Silent Men Page 6