LXVI
"WHEN I HANDS IN MY CHECKS"
Kincaid glanced joyfully to Flora, but her horrified gaze held himspeechless.
"Now," she softly asked, "who is the helplezz--the cage'--the doom'? You'ave kill' me."
"I'll save you! There's good fighting yet, if--"
"H-oh! already, egcep' inside me, I'm dead."
"Not by half! There's time for a last shot and I've seen it win!" Hecaught up the trowel, turned to his work and began to sing once more:
"When I hands in my checks, O, my ladies, Mighty little I espec's, O, my ladies--"
She dropped into a seat, staring like one demented.]
He ceased and listened. Certainly, somewhere, some one had moaned.Sounds throughout the house were growing, as if final orders had setmany in motion at once. For some cause unrelated to him or to Anna, toFlora or the silent boat, bugles and drums were assembling the encampedbrigade. Suddenly, not knowing why, he flashed round. Flora was withinhalf a step of him with her right arm upthrown. He seized it, but vainwas the sparring skill that had won at the willow pond. Her brow was onhis breast, the knife was in her left hand, she struck with thrice hernatural power, an evil chance favored her, and, hot as lightning, deep,deep, the steel plunged in. He gulped a great breath, his eyes flamed,but no cry came from him or her. With his big right hand crushing herslim fingers as they clung to the hilt, he dragged the weapon forth andhurled her off.
Before he could find speech she had regained her balance and amazed himyet again with a smile. The next instant she had lifted the daggeragainst herself, but he sprang and snatched it, exclaiming as he drewback:--
"No, you sha'n't do that, either."
She strove after it. He held her off by an arm, but already his strengthwas failing. "My God!" he groaned, "it's you, Flora Valcour, who'vekilled me. Oh, how did--how did you--was it accid'--wasn't it accident?Fly!" He flung her loose. "For your life, fly! Oh, that gun! Oh, Godsend it! Fly! Oh, Anna, Anna Callender! Oh, your city, Flora Valcour,your own city! Fly, poor child! I'll keep up the sham for you!"
Starting now here, now there, Flora wavered as he reeled to the brokenwall and seized the trowel. The knife dropped to the floor but he setfoot on it, brandished the tool and began to sing:
"When I hands in my checks, O, my ladies--"
A cry for help rang from Flora. She darted for the door but was met byGreenleaf. "Stay!" he repeated, and tone, hand, eye told her she was aprisoner. He halted aghast at the crimson on her hands and brow, onHilary's, on Hilary's lips and on the floor, and himself called, "Helphere! a surgeon! help!" while Kincaid faced him gaily, still singing:
"Mighty little I espec's, O, my ladies--"
Stooping to re-exchange the tool for the weapon, the singer went limp,swayed, and as Greenleaf sprang to him, toppled over, lengthened out andrelaxed on the arm of his foe and friend. Wild-eyed, Flora swept to herknees beside him, her face and form all horror and affright, crying in avoice fervid and genuine as only truth can make it in the common run ofus, "He di'n' mean! Oh, he di'n' mean! 'Twas all accident! He di'n'mean!"
"Yes, Fred," said Hilary. "She--she--mere accident, old man. Keep itmum." He turned a suffering brow to Flora: "You'll explain forme--when"--he gathered his strength--"when the--boat's gone."
The room had filled with officers asking "who, how, what?" "Did ithimself, to cheat the gallows," Madame heard one answer another as bysome fortune she was let in. She found Greenleaf chief in a group busyover the fallen man, who lay in Flora's arms, deadly pale, yet with astrong man's will in every lineament.
"Listen, Fred," he was gasping. "It'll sound. It's got to! Oh, it will!One minute, Doctor, please. My love and a city--Fred, can't some onelook and see if--?"
From a lifted window curtain the young aide who had brought Anna to thehouse said, "Boat's off."
"Thank God!" panted Hilary. "Oh, Fred, Fred, my girl and _all_! Just aminute, Doctor,--_there_!"
A soft, heavy boom had rolled over the land. The pain-racked listenerflamed for joy and half left the arms that held him: "Oh, Fred, wasn'tthat heaven's own music?" He tried to finish his song:
"But whaheveh I is sent, dey mus' undehstan'--"
and swooned.
Kincaid's Battery Page 66