He sat for half an hour, with his head thrown back in the easy-chair, watching the flames, thinking back over old college memories that the thought of Tennelly made vivid again. In the midst of it he heard steps on the veranda. Some one from outside unlatched the door and flung it open. A wild, careless laugh floated in on the cold breath of the sea.

Courtland came to his feet as if he had been called! That laugh had gone through his heart like a knife, with its heartless baby-like mirth. It was Gila! Had Tennelly played him false, after all, and brought her along? Was this some kind of a ruse to get them together? For he knew that Tennelly was distressed over their alienation, and that he understood to some extent that it was on account of Gila that he always avoided accepting the many invitations which were continually pressed upon him to come down to the city and be with his friends once more.

The door swung wide on its hinges and Gila entered, trig and chic as usual, in a stylish little coat-suit of homespun, leather-trimmed and short-skirted, high boots, leather leggings, and a jaunty little leather cap with a bridle under her chin. Only her pet.i.te figure and her baby face saved her from being taken for a tough young sport. She swaggered in, chewing gum, her gauntleted hands in her pockets, her young voice flung almost coa.r.s.ely into the room by the wind; the innocent look gone from her face; the eyes wide and bold; the exquisite mouth in a sensuous curve.

Behind her lounged a man older than herself by many years, with silver at his temples, daredevil eyes, and a handsome, voluptuous face. He kicked the door shut behind him and lolled against it while he lit a cigarette.

Gila's laugh rang harshly in the room again, following some low-toned remark, and the man laughed coa.r.s.ely in reply. Then, suddenly, she looked up and saw Courtland standing sternly there with folded arms, regarding her steadily, and her eyes grew wide with horror.

It was Courtland's great disillusionment.

Never had he seen such fear in human face.

Gila's skin grew gray beneath its pearly tint, her whole body shrank and cringed, her eyes were fixed upon him with terror in their gaze.

"Papers haven't come in yet, Mr. Aquilar," called the clerk, affably.

"Train's late to-night. Be in pretty soon, I reckon!"

The man growled out an imprecation on a place where the papers didn't come till that hour in the evening, and lounged on toward the elevator.

Gila slid along by his side, her eyes on Courtland, with the air of hiding behind her companion. Her face was drooped, and when she turned toward the elevator she drooped her eyes also, and a wave of shame rolled up and covered her face and neck and ears with a dull red beneath the pearl. Her last glance at Courtland was the look that Eve must have had as she walked past the flaming swords, with Adam, out of Eden. Her eyes, as she stood waiting for the boy to come to the elevator, seemed fairly to grovel on the floor.

Was this the sweet, wild, innocent flower that had held him in its thrall all the sorrowful months, and separated him from his dearest friend?

Tennelly! Courtland had forgotten until that instant that Tennelly would be there in a few minutes! Perhaps was even then at the door!

He strode forward, and Gila quivered as she saw him coming; quivered and looked up in terror, putting out a fearful hand to the arm of her companion.

The elevator-boy had arrived and was slamming back the steel grating.

The man stood back to let Gila enter, and she slunk past him, her gaze still held in horror on Courtland.

"Will you do me the favor to step into the little reception-room to the right for a moment?" said Courtland, addressing the man, but looking at Gila.

"The devil we will!" said the man, glaring at him. "What right have you to ask a favor like that?"

But Courtland was looking at Gila, and there was command in his eyes. As if she dared not disobey she stepped forth again from the elevator, her eyes still upon him, her face gray with apprehension. Without further word from him she walked before him, slowly, into the little room at the right that he indicated.

"You're a fool!" said Aquilar, regarding her contemptuously, but she went as if she did not hear him. She entered the room, walked half-way across, and turned about, facing the two who had followed. Courtland was within the room, Aquilar lounging idly in the door, as if the matter were of little moment to him. He had a smile of contempt still on his handsome lips.

Courtland's manner was grave and sad. He had the commanding presence and beauty of an avenging angel.

"Gila, are you married to this man?" he asked, looking sternly at her, as though he would search her very soul.

Gila kept her dark, horrified gaze on his face. She was beyond trying to deceive now. She slowly gave one shake to her head, and her white lips formed the syllable, "No!" though it was almost inaudible.

"And yet you are registered here in this hotel as his wife?"

Her eyes suddenly flamed with shame. She drooped them before his gaze and seemed to try to a.s.sent, but her head was drooped too low to bow.

She lifted miserable pleading looks to his face twice, but could not stand the clear rebuke of his gaze. It was like the whiteness of the reproach of G.o.d, and her little sinful soul could not bear it. She lifted a handkerchief and uttered something like a sob. It was as one might think would be the sound of a lost soul looking back at what might have been.

"What the devil have you got to say about it? Who the devil _are_ you, anyway?" roared the man from the doorway.

The elevator-boy and clerk were all agog. The latter had come out of his pen and was standing behind the boy, on tiptoe, where they could get a good view of the scene. The room was tense with stillness.

Aquilar's voice was not one to pa.s.s unnoticed when he spoke in anger, but Courtland did not even lift an eyelid toward him.

Perhaps Aquilar's words had given Gila courage, for she suddenly lifted her eyes to Courtland's face again, a flash of vengeance in them:

"I suppose you are going to tell Lew all about it?" she flung out, bitterly. "I suppose you will make up a great story to go and tell Lew.

But you don't suppose he will believe _you_ against _me_, do you?"

Her eyes were flashing fire now. Her old imperious manner was upon her.

She had driven him from her once! She would defeat him again!

He watched her without a change of countenance. "No, I shall not tell him," he said, quietly; "but _you will_!"

"I?" Gila turned a glance of contemptuous amus.e.m.e.nt upon him. "Some chance! And I warn you that if you attempt to tattle anything about it I will turn, the tables against you in a way you little suspect."

"Gila, you will tell Lew Tennelly _everything_, or you will never marry him! It is his right to know! And now, sir"--Courtland turned to Aquilar, lounging amusedly against the doorway--"if you will step outside I will _settle with you_!"

But suddenly Gila gave a scream and covered her face with her hands, for there, just behind Aquilar, stood Tennelly, looking like a ghost. He had heard it all!

CHAPTER x.x.xI

Tennelly stepped within the room, gave one keen, questioning look at Aquilar as he pa.s.sed him, searching straight into the depths of his startled, shifty eyes, and came and stood before the crouching girl. She had dropped into a chair and was sobbing as if her heart would break.

"What does this mean, Gila?"

Tennelly's voice was cold and stern.

Courtland looked at his shocked face and turned away from the pain of it. But when he looked for the man who had wrought this havoc he had suddenly melted from the room! The front door was blowing back and forth in the wind, and the clerk and bell-boy stood, open-mouthed, staring.

Courtland closed the door of the reception-room and hurried out on the veranda, but saw no sign of any one in the wind-swept darkness. The moon had risen enough to make a bright path over the sea, but the earth as yet was wrapped in shadow.

Down in the field, beyond the outbuildings, he heard a whirring sound, and as he looked a dark thing rose like a great bird high above his head. The bird had flown while the flying was good. The lady might face her difficulties alone!

Courtland stood below in the courtyard, while the moon arose and shed its light through the sky, and the great black bird executed an evolution or two and whirred off to the north, doubtless headed for Seattle or some equally inaccessible point. A great helpless wrath was upon him. Dolt that he had been to let this human leper escape from him into the world again! A kind of divine frenzy seized him to capture him yet and put him where he could work no further harm to other willing victims. Yes, he thought of Gila as a willing victim! An hour before he would have called her just plain innocent victim. Now something in her face, her att.i.tude, as she saw him and walked away with her guilty partner, had made him know her at last for a sinful woman. The shackles had burst from his heart and he was free from her allurements for evermore! He understood now why she had bade him choose between herself and Christ. She had no part nor lot in things pure and holy. She hated holiness because she herself was sinful!

It was midnight before Gila and Tennelly came forth, Tennelly grave and sad, Gila tear-stained and subdued.

Courtland was sitting in the big chair before the fireplace, though the fire was smoldering low, and the elevator-boy had long ago retired to slumbers on a bench in a hidden alcove.

Tennelly came straight to Courtland, as though he had known he would be waiting there for him. "I am going to take Gila down to Beechwood. You will come with us?" There was entreaty in the tone, though it was very quiet.

"Shall I take my car?"

"No. You will ride with me on the front seat. Is there a maid here that I can hire to go with us? We can bring her back in the morning."