Читать книгу Mischievous Maid Faynie - Laura Jean Libbey - Страница 8

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A gasp of horror broke from Kendale's lips. Yes, Lester Armstrong was fatally injured, he could see that.

Glancing up, he saw that they were within a few doors of his lodgings. Picking him up by main force, he carried him thither at once and placed him upon his couch. He had expected to see him breathe his last, but to his great surprise Lester Armstrong opened his eyes and whispered his name.

"It is all over with me, Clinton," he whispered. "I—I realize that my fall was fatal, and that it is a question of moments with me, but I—I cannot die until I have told you all, and you have promised to go quickly to my darling and tell her my sad fate."

"Any commission you have you may be sure I will execute for you," replied Kendale, and even while he spoke he was wondering whereabouts in that room Lester Armstrong kept his cash.

Between gasps, his voice growing fainter and fainter with each word, poor Lester told his story, of his love, his wooing and the climax which was to have taken place in two hours' time.

Kendale listened with bated breath. To say that he was amazed, dumfounded, scarcely expressed his intense surprise.

Armstrong, his poor plodding cousin, to strike such luck as to be about to marry an heiress! It seemed like a veritable fairy story. Who would have thought the poor cashier would have known enough to play for such high stakes?

Almost as soon as Lester Armstrong had uttered the last word, he fell back upon his pillow in a dead faint.

"The end is not far," muttered Kendale. "I suppose it would look better to send a call for an ambulance and have him sent to the hospital."

He acted upon the thought without a moment's delay, and while the wagon was en route made a quick search of his unfortunate cousin's apartment, a sardonic smile of triumph lighting his face. And as he transferred the money to his pocket, a sudden thought rushed through his brain—a thought that for the instant almost took his breath away.

Like one fascinated, he looked down at the white face. "I could do it; yes, I am sure I could do it," he muttered, drawing his breath hard.

At that moment the ambulance wagon rattled up to the door. In another instant the two attachés entered the room.

"What is the difficulty?" queried the man, and briefly Kendale explained.

"It seems hardly worth while to take him to the hospital," said one of the men; "he would hardly last until we reach there. Still, if you insist—"

"Yes, I insist," he cut in sharply.

"What name is to be entered?" asked the surgeon.

"Clinton Kendale. He is an actor, and my cousin," he responded in a low even voice.

He watched them while they carried forth the unconscious man.

"My first test will be with the people of this house," he muttered, shutting his teeth hard.

Thrusting the money still deeper in his pocket, he walked boldly down the stairs, tapping at the door to the right, which he knew to be the living room of the family.

"I am going to give up my room," he said.

"Laws a mercy, Mr. Armstrong!" exclaimed the old lady. "What sudden notice! I am so sorry to lose you!"

He chatted for a few moments, paid what was due her, then turned hastily and left the place, remarking before he went that he should not need the few things that he left in his room; that she could keep them if she liked as remembrances.

Once again he was out on the street, with the cold wind blowing on his face.

"Nothing ventured, nothing won!" he said, under his breath. "Now for the heiress and the million of money. By Jove! it's better to be born lucky than rich. I shall need an accomplice in this affair, and that imp of Satan, Halloran, is just the one to help me out with my scheme. It's lucky I have an appointment with him to-night. I shall be sure to catch him. I think it was a stroke of fate that I wasn't in the cast for the rest of the week, though I kicked pretty hard against it at the time. Good-by, footlights and freezing dressing-rooms. I can make a million of money ere the day dawns."

He hailed a passing cab, jumped into it and was driven across the city.

Halloran, the comedian at the same theatre, was sitting in his room half asleep over a half-emptied rum bottle. He always resorted to this course to drown his sorrows when he was laid off.

An hour later the two men were driving with lightning-like rapidity toward the direction of Beechwood.

"Ten," sounded from the belfry of a far-off church as the horses, plunging and panting, struggled up the road that led to the Fairfax mansion.

"Now see that you play your cards right," warned Halloran.

"Trust me for that," replied his companion, removing a cigar from his white teeth, and blowing forth a cloud of smoke. He was about to draw a flask from his breast pocket, but Halloran put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Remember that is your besetting sin," he said. "You have had enough of that already. It will require a steady nerve to meet the girl and carry out the deception, for the eyes of love are quick to discern. If she should for an instant suspect that you are not her lover, Lester Armstrong, the game is up, and you have lost the high stake you are playing for."

"You are right," exclaimed the other, "nothing must interfere with the marriage."

"This must be the place," exclaimed Halloran, in a low voice; "large gabled house, arched gate, serpentine walk; yes, there is the figure of a woman in the shadow of the stone post this way. You are actually trembling. Remember, it's only a young girl you are to face on this occasion, and a deucedly pretty one, at that. The time that you will be more apt to be shaky is when you face her father; but I guess you're equal to it."

A low laugh was his companion's only answer. The next moment Kendale called to the driver to halt, threw open the door and sprang out into the main road, hastening toward the little figure that had emerged out of the shadow.

"Oh, Lester, you have been so long," cried the girl, springing into his arms with a little sobbing cry. "I have been waiting here almost half an hour."

"It took longer to come than I had reckoned on, my darling," he answered. "You know I had to stop at the village below and make arrangements for the wedding."

The girl drew back and looked at him.

"Your voice sounds so hoarse and strange, Lester," she said. "Have you been crying?"

His arms fell from her; he drew back, laughing immoderately.

"What, weeping on the happiest day of my life?" he cried. "Well, that's pretty good. I've been up to my ears in business, rushing around, to get everything in shipshape order, but, good Lord! what am I thinking about, to keep you standing here in the snow? Here is the coach, and by the way, I've brought along an old friend of mine, who was wild to witness the marriage ceremony."

As he spoke he took her by the arm and drew the girl toward the carriage in waiting.

What was there about her lover that seemed so changed to the girl, that caused the love to suddenly die out of her heart?

"Lester," she cried, drawing back, "oh—oh, please do not be angry with me, but I've changed my mind. It seemed such a terrible thing to do. Let us not be married to-night."

Something like an imprecation rose to his lips, but he chopped it off quickly, uttering again that laugh, so hard, so cruel, so blood-curdling, that it sent a chill of terror to her young heart.

"It's too late to change your mind now," he exclaimed. "It's only natural you should feel this way; girls always do. Here is the coach and the horses. The driver and my friend will be impatient to be off."

Either the excitement of his coming triumph or the brandy he had taken had made him recklessly wild.

He drew her along, heedless of her struggles, her passionate protest. His face was flushed, his dark eyes gleamed; he was ready at that moment to face and defy devils and men.

"Don't make a fuss, my darling. You've got to come along," he exclaimed. "Of course, you have scruples and all that. I think the more of you for them, but you'll thank me for not listening some day. I'll bring you back after the ceremony's over and set you down at your own gate, if you say so, I swear I will," and as he spoke he caught her in his arms and fairly thrust her into the vehicle, placed her on the seat and sprang in beside her.

The door closed with a bang and the horses were off like a flash.

Too terrified to utter another word of protest, and half fainting from fright, Faynie sank back, gasping, into the farthest corner. Her companion turned to the man sitting opposite.

"My friend, Smith, Faynie," he said by way of introduction, and adding, before the other could utter one word to acknowledge the introduction, "let's have a little more of that. I'm chilled to the marrow with the cold, standing out there in the snow."

There was a faint move of the little bundle huddled up in the corner. She fell forward in a dead faint.

"So much the better," cried Kendale. "She will not bother us until we've had time to formulate our plans. Ha, ha, ha! how easy it is for a sharp-witted fellow like myself to make a million of money!"