Ronicky Doone Page 11

  Chapter Eleven

  _A Cross-Examination_

  He was conscious then only of green-blue eyes, very wide, very bright,and lips that parted on a word and froze there in silence. The heartof Ronicky Doone leaped with joy; he had passed the crisis in safety.She had not cried out.

  "You're not--" he had said in the first moment.

  "I am not who?" asked the girl with amazing steadiness. But he saw herhand go back to the dressing table and open, with incredible deftnessand speed, the little top drawer behind her.

  "Don't do that!" said Ronicky softly, but sharply. "Keep your hand offthat table, lady, if you don't mind."

  She hesitated a fraction of a second. In that moment she seemed to seethat he was in earnest, and that it would be foolish to tamper withhim.

  "Stand away from that table; sit down yonder."

  Again she obeyed without a word. Her eyes, to be sure, flickered hereand there about the room, as though they sought some means of sendinga warning to her friends, or finding some escape for herself. Then herglance returned to Ronicky Doone.

  "Well," she said, as she settled in the chair. "Well?"

  A world of meaning in those two small words--a world of dreadcontrolled. He merely stared at her thoughtfully.

  "I hit the wrong trail, lady," he said quietly. "I was looking forsomebody else."

  She started. "You were after--" She stopped.

  "That's right, I guess," he admitted.

  "How many of you are there?" she asked curiously, so curiously thatshe seemed to be forgetting the danger. "Poor Carry Smith with amob--" She stopped suddenly again. "What did you do to Harry Morgan?"

  "I left him safe and quiet," said Ronicky Doone.

  The girl's face hardened strangely. "What you are, and what your gameis I don't know," she said. "But I'll tell you this: I'm letting youplay as if you had all the cards in the deck. But you haven't. I'vegot one ace that'll take all your trumps. Suppose I call once what'llhappen to you, pal?"

  "You don't dare call," he said.

  "Don't dare me," said the girl angrily. "I hate a dare worse thananything in the world, almost." For a moment her green-blue eyes werepools of light flashing angrily at him.

  Into the hand of Ronicky Doone, with that magic speed and grace forwhich his fame was growing so great in the mountain desert, came thelong, glimmering body of the revolver, and, holding it at the hip, hethreatened her.

  She shrank back at that, gasping. For there was an utter surety aboutthis man's handling of the weapon. The heavy gun balanced and steadiedin his slim fingers, as if it were no more than a feather's weight.

  "I'm talking straight, lady," said Ronicky Doone. "Sit down--pronto!"

  In the very act of obedience she straightened again. "It's bluff," shesaid. "I'm going through that door!" Straight for the door she went,and Ronicky Doone set his teeth.

  "Go back!" he commanded. He glided to the door and blocked her way,but the gun hung futile in his hand.

  "It's easy to pull a gun, eh?" said the girl, with something of asneer. "But it takes nerve to use it. Let me through this door!"

  "Not in a thousand years," said Ronicky.

  She laid her hand on the door and drew it back--it struck hisshoulder--and Ronicky gave way with a groan and stood with his headbowed. Inwardly he cursed himself. Doubtless she was used to men whobullied her, as if she were another man of an inferior sort. Doubtlessshe despised him for his weakness. But, though he gritted his teeth,he could not make himself firm. Those old lessons which sink into aman's soul in the West came back to him and held him. In the helplessrage which possessed him he wanted battle above all things in theworld. If half a dozen men had poured through the doorway he wouldhave rejoiced. But this one girl was enough to make him helpless.

  He looked up in amazement. She had not gone; in fact, she had closedthe door slowly and stood with her back against it, staring at him ina speechless bewilderment.

  "What sort of a man are you?" asked the girl at last.

  "A fool," said Ronicky slowly. "Go out and round up your friends; Ican't stop you."

  "No," said the girl thoughtfully, "but that was a poor bluff atstopping me."

  He nodded. And she hesitated still, watching his face closely.

  "Listen to me," she said suddenly. "I have two minutes to talk to you,and I'll give you those two minutes. You can use them in getting outof the house--I'll show you a way--or you can use them to tell me justwhy you've come."

  In spite of himself Ronicky smiled. "Lady," he said, "if a rat was ina trap d'you think he'd stop very long between a chance of gettingclear and a chance to tell how he come to get into the place?"

  "I have a perfectly good reason for asking," she answered. "Even ifyou now get out of the house safely you'll try to come back later on."

  "Lady," said Ronicky, "do I look as plumb foolish as that?"

  "You're from the West," she said in answer to his slang.

  "Yes."

  She considered the straight-looking honesty of his eyes. "Out West,"she said, "I know you men are different. Not one of the men I knowhere would take another chance as risky as this, once they were out ofit. But out there in the mountains you follow long trails, trails thathaven't anything but a hope to lead you along them? Isn't that so?"

  "Maybe," admitted Ronicky. "It's the fever out of the gold days, lady.You start out chipping rocks to find the right color; maybe you neverfind the right color; maybe you never find a streak of pay stuff, butyou keep on trying. You're always just sort of around the corner frommaking a big strike."

  She nodded, smiling again, and the smiles changed her pleasantly, itseemed to Ronicky Doone. At first she had impressed him almost as aman, with her cold, steady eyes, but now she was all woman, indeed.

  "That's why I say that you'll come back. You won't give up with onefailure. Am I right?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. If the trail fever hits meagain--maybe I would come back."

  "You started to tell me. It's because of Caroline Smith?"

  "Yes."

  "You don't have to talk to me," said the girl. "As a matter of fact Ishouldn't be here listening to you. But, I don't know why, I want tohelp you. You--you are in love with Caroline?"

  "No," said Ronicky.

  Her expression grew grave and cold again. "Then why are you herehunting for her? What do you want with her?"

  "Lady," said Ronicky, "I'm going to show you the whole layout of thecards. Maybe you'll take what I say right to headquarters--the manthat smiles--and block my game."

  "You know him?" she asked sharply.

  Apparently that phrase, "the man who smiles," was enough to identifyhim.

  "I've seen him. I dunno what he is, I dunno what you are, lady, but Ifigure that you and Caroline Smith and everybody else in this house isunder the thumb of the gent that smiles."

  Her eyes darkened with a shadow of alarm. "Go on," she said curtly.

  "I'm not going on to guess about what you all are. All I know is whatI'm here trying to do. I'm not working for myself. I'm working for apartner."

  She started. "That's the second man, the one who stopped her on thestreet today?"

  "You're pretty well posted," replied Ronicky. "Yes, that's the one. Hestarted after Caroline Smith, not even knowing her name--with justa picture of her. We found out that she lived in sight of the EastRiver, and pretty soon we located her here."

  "And what are you hoping to do?"

  "To find her and talk to her straight from the shoulder and tell herwhat a pile Bill has done to get to her--and a lot of other things."

  "Can't he find her and tell her those things for himself?"

  "He can't talk," said Ronicky. "Not that I'm a pile better, but Icould talk better for a friend than he could talk for himself, Ifigure. If things don't go right then I'll know that the trouble iswith the gent with the smile."

  "And then?" asked the girl, very excited and grave.

  "I'll find him," said Ronicky Doone.


  "And--"

  "Lady," he replied obliquely, "because I couldn't use a gun on a girlain't no sign that I can't use it on a gent!"

  "I've one thing to tell you," she said, breaking in swiftly on him."Do what you want--take all the chances you care to--but, if you valueyour life and the life of your friend, keep away from the man whosmiles."

  "I'll have a fighting chance, I guess," said Ronicky quietly."

  "You'll have no chance at all. The moment he knows your hand isagainst him, I don't care how brave or how clever you are, you'redoomed!"

  She spoke with such a passion of conviction that she flushed, and amoment later she was shivering. It might have been the draft from thewindow which made her gather the hazy-green mantle closer about herand glance over her shoulder; but a grim feeling came to Ronicky Doonethat the reason why the girl trembled and her eyes grew wide, was thatthe mention of "the man who smiles" had brought the thought of himinto the room like a breath of cold wind.

  "Don't you see," she went on gently, "that I like you? It's the firstand the last time that I'm going to see you, so I can talk. I knowyou're honest, and I know you're brave. Why, I can see your wholecharacter in the way you've stayed by your friend; and, if there's apossible way of helping you, I'll do it. But you must promise me firstthat you'll never cross the man with the sneer, as you call him."

  "There's a sort of a fate in it," said Ronicky slowly. "I don't thinkI could promise. There's a chill in my bones that tells me I'm goingto meet up with him one of these days."

  She gasped at that, and, stepping back from him, she appeared to besearching her mind to discover something which would finally andcompletely convince him. At length she found it.

  "Do I look to you like a coward?" she said. "Do I seem to beweak-kneed?"

  He shook his head.

  "And what will a woman fight hardest for?"

  "For the youngsters she's got," said Ronicky after a moment's thought."And, outside of that, I suppose a girl will fight the hardest tomarry the gent she loves."

  "And to keep from marrying a man she doesn't love, as she'd try tokeep from death?"

  "Sure," said Ronicky. "But these days a girl don't have to marry thatway."

  "I am going to marry the man with the sneer," she said simply enough,and with dull, patient eyes she watched the face of Ronicky wrinkleand grow pale, as if a heavy fist had struck him.

  "You?" he asked. "You marry him?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "And you hate the thought of him!"

  "I--I don't know. He's kind--"

  "You hate him," insisted Ronicky. "And he's to have you, thatcold-eyed snake, that devil of a man?" He moved a little, and sheturned toward him, smiling faintly and allowing the light to come moreclearly and fully on her face. "You're meant for a king o' men, lady;you got the queen in you--it's in the lift of your head. When you findthe gent you can love, why, lady, he'll be pretty near the richest manin the world!"

  The ghost of a flush bloomed in her cheeks, but her faint smile didnot alter, and she seemed to be hearing him from far away. "The manwith the sneer," she said at length, "will never talk to me like that,and still--I shall marry him."

  "Tell me your name," said Ronicky Doone bluntly.

  "My name is Ruth Tolliver."

  "Listen to me, Ruth Tolliver: If you was to live a thousand years, andthe gent with the smile was to keep going for two thousand, it'd nevercome about that he could ever marry you."

  She shook her head, still watching him as from a distance.

  "If I've crossed the country and followed a hard trail and come heretonight and stuck my head in a trap, as you might say, for the sake ofa gent like Bill Gregg--fine fellow though he is--what d'you think Iwould do to keep a girl like you from life-long misery?"

  And he dwelt on the last word until the girl shivered.

  "It's what it means," said Ronicky Doone, "life-long misery for you.And it won't happen--it can't happen."

  "Are you mad--are you quite mad?" asked the girl. "What on earth haveI and my affairs got to do with you? Who are you?"

  "I dunno," said Ronicky Doone. "I suppose you might say I'm a championof lost causes, lady. Why have I got something to do with you? I'lltell you why: Because, when a girl gets past being just pretty andstarts in being plumb beautiful, she lays off being the business ofany one gent--her father or her brother--she starts being the businessof the whole world. You see? They come like that about one in tenmillion, and I figure you're that one, lady."

  The far away smile went out. She was looking at him now with a sort ofsad wonder. "Do you know what I am?" she said gravely.

  "I dunno," said Ronicky, "and I don't care. What you do don't count.It's the inside that matters, and the inside of you is all right.Lady, so long as I can sling a gun, and so long as my name is RonickyDoone, you ain't going to marry the gent with the smile."

  If he expected an outbreak of protest from her he was mistaken. Forwhat she said was: "Ronicky Doone! Is that the name? Ronicky Doone!"Then she smiled up at him. "I'm within one ace of being foolish andsaying--But I won't."

  She made a gesture of brushing a mist away from her and then steppedback a little. "I'm going down to see the man with the smile, and I'mgoing to tell him that Harry Morgan is not in his room, that he didn'tanswer my knock, and then that I looked around through the house anddidn't find him. After that I'm coming back here, Ronicky Doone, andI'm going to try to get an opportunity for you to talk to CarolineSmith."

  "I knew you'd change your mind," said Ronicky Doone.

  "I'll even tell you why," she said. "It isn't for your friend who'sasleep, but it's to give you a chance to finish this business and cometo the end of this trail and go back to your own country. Because,if you stay around here long, there'll be trouble, a lot of trouble,Ronicky Doone. Now stay here and wait for me. If anyone taps at thedoor, you'd better slip into that closet in the corner. Will youwait?"

  "Yes."

  "And you'll trust me?"

  "To the end of the trail, lady."

  She smiled at him again and was gone.

  Now the house was perfectly hushed. He went to the window and lookeddown to the quiet street with all its atmosphere of some old NewEngland village and eternal peace. It seemed impossible that in thehouse behind him there were--

  He caught his breath. Somewhere in the house the muffled sound of astruggle rose. He ran to the door, thinking of Ruth Tolliver at once,and then he shrank back again, for a door was slammed open, and avoice shouted--the voice of a man: "Help! Harrison! Lefty! Jerry!"

  Other voices answered far away; footfalls began to sound. RonickyDoone knew that Harry Morgan, his victim, had at last recovered andmanaged to work the cords off his feet or hands, or both.

  Ronicky stepped back close to the door of the closet and waited. Itwould mean a search, probably, this discovery that Morgan had beenstruck down in his own room by an unknown intruder. And a searchcertainly would be started at once. First there was confusion, andthen a clear, musical man's voice began to give orders: "Harrison,take the cellar. Lefty, go up to the roof. The rest of you take therooms one by one."

  The search was on.

  "Don't ask questions," was the last instruction. "When you see someoneyou don't know, shoot on sight, and shoot to kill. I'll do theexplaining to the police--you know that. Now scatter, and the man whobrings him down I'll remember. Quick!"

  There was a new scurry of footfalls. Ronicky Doone heard them approachthe door of the girl's room, and he slipped into the closet. At once acloud of soft, cool silks brushed about him, and he worked back untilhis shoulders had touched the wall at the back of the closet. Luckilythe enclosure was deep, and the clothes were hanging thickly from theracks. It was sufficient to conceal him from any careless searcher,but it would do no good if any one probed; and certainly these menwere not the ones to search carelessly.

  In the meantime it was a position which made Ronicky grind his teeth.To be found skulking among woman's clothes in a closet--to be d
raggedout and stuck in the back, no doubt, like a rat, and thrown into theriver, that was an end for Ronicky Doone indeed!

  He was on the verge of slipping out and making a mad break for thedoor of the house and trying to escape by taking the men by surprise,when he heard the door of the girl's room open.

  "Some ex-pugilist," he heard a man's voice saying, and he recognizedit at once as belonging to him who had given the orders. Herecognized, also, that it must be the man with the sneer.

  "You think he was an amateur robber and an expert prize fighter?"asked Ruth Tolliver.

  It seemed to Ronicky Doone that her voice was perfectly controlledand calm. Perhaps it was her face that betrayed emotion, for after amoment of silence, the man answered.

  "What's the matter? You're as nervous as a child tonight, Ruth?"

  "Isn't there reason enough to make me nervous?" she demanded. "Arobber--Heaven knows what--running at large in the house?"

  "H'm!" murmured the man. "Devilish queer that you should get soexcited all at once. No, it's something else. I've trained you toowell for you to go to pieces like this over nothing. What is it,Ruth?"

  There was no answer. Then the voice began again, silken-smooth andgentle, so gentle and kindly that Ronicky Doone started. "In the olddays you used to keep nothing from me; we were companions, Ruth. Thatwas when you were a child. Now that you are a woman, when you feelmore, think more, see more, when our companionship should be like arunning stream, continually bringing new things into my life, I findbarriers between us. Why is it, my dear?"

  Still there was no answer. The pulse of Ronicky Doone began toquicken, as though the question had been asked him, as though hehimself were fumbling for the answer.

  "Let us talk more freely," went on the man. "Try to open your mind tome. There are things which you dislike in me; I know it. Just whatthose things are I cannot tell, but we must break down these foolishlittle barriers which are appearing more and more every day. Notthat I mean to intrude myself on you every moment of your life. Youunderstand that, of course?"

  "Of course," said the girl faintly.

  "And I understand perfectly that you have passed out of childhood intoyoung womanhood, and that is a dreamy time for a girl. Her body isformed at last, but her mind is only half formed. There is a pleasantmist over it. Very well, I don't wish to brush the mist away. If Idid that I would take half that charm away from you--that elusiveincompleteness which Fragonard and Watteau tried to imitate, Heavenknows with how little success. No, I shall always let you live yourown life. All that I ask for, my dear, are certain meeting places. Letus establish them before it is too late, or you will find one day thatyou have married an old man, and we shall have silent dinners. Thereis nothing more wretched than that. If it should come about, then youwill begin to look on me as a jailer. And--"

  "Don't!"

  "Ah," said he very tenderly, "I knew that I was feeling toward thetruth. You are shrinking from me, Ruth, because you feel that I am tooold."

  "No, no!"

  Here a hand pounded heavily on the door.

  "The idiots have found something," said the man of the sneer. "And nowthey have come to talk about their cleverness, like a rooster crowingover a grain of corn." He raised his voice. "Come in!"

  And Ronicky Doone heard a panting voice a moment later exclaim: "We'vegot him!"