mm'^^^.k 
 
 .A',' 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 3543.A53T8 1914 
 
 The trey o'hearts,a motion-picture meiod 
 
 3 1924 021 713 320 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021713320 
 
A GIRL AND A HALF-BREED FOLLOWED HIS EVERY MOVEMENT. 
 
THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
By LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE 
 
 Extravaganzas 
 
 The Day of Days 
 Terence O'Rourke 
 The Pool of Flame 
 
 Romances 
 
 The Lone Wolf 
 The Destroying Angel 
 The Bandbox 
 Cynthia-of-the-Minute 
 No Man's Land 
 The Fortune Hunter 
 The Bronze Bell 
 The Black Bag 
 The Brass Bowl 
 
 JOAN THURSDAY: a Novel 
 
THE 
 TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 A Motion -Picture Melodrama 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE 
 
 Author of "The Lone Wolf," etc. 
 
 Illustrated with photographs from the picture-play production 
 by the Universal Film Manufacturing Company 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, IQ14, hy 
 
 Louis Joseph Vance 
 
 ^11 rights reserved, including that 0} 
 
 translation into foreign languages, 
 
 including the Scandinavian 
 
PREFACE 
 
 'T^HE work between these covers, however grave 
 its many faults and shortcomings, was penned 
 with a single aim, to wit, to compose a story sus- 
 ceptible to adaptation to motion-picture purposes. 
 Its brazen impudence in respect of probability was de- 
 manded by the fact that each episode of the fifteen 
 here presented must of necessity embrace sufficient 
 moving incident to warrant some two thousand feet 
 of film exhibiting from ninety to one hundred and 
 twenty animated scenes. 
 
 It is offered in its present form mainly for the 
 amusement of those who in common with the author 
 likicd the pictures, who conceived a fondness for the 
 several characters: for the dashing, impish Judith, 
 and the brave, long-suffering Rose so admirably 
 portrayed and differentiated by Miss Cleo Madison; 
 for the gallant if persecuted Alan, who could never 
 have been played by any one lacking the cool-headed 
 daring and good-will of Mr. George Larkin; for that 
 frigid villain, Seneca Trine, as delineated by the 
 always amiable Mr. Edward Sloman; for that 
 notorious bad-shot of unremitting ubiquity and ever- 
 lasting stupidity, Marrophat, as played (with blank 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 cartridges) by Mr. Ray Hanford; and for the cyni- 
 cally devoted Barcus of Mr. Thomas Walsh, 
 
 If the work is lacking in the quality known as 
 characterization, the fault is all the author's: if the 
 picture were not, the merit is all the players'. But 
 the work of both would have gone for nothing without 
 the never-failing patience, ingenuity, and intelligence 
 of Mr. Wilfred Lucas, who directed the production of 
 the pictures. 
 
 (The author would be guilty of high treason to his 
 kind if he forgot the traditional feud between author 
 and adaptor long enough to give any credit what- 
 soever to Miss Bess Meredyth, the scenario-writer, 
 who minced the stories into such scene-fodder as is 
 most palatable to the reeling camera.) 
 
 The thanks of the author and his publishers are 
 due to the Universal Film Manufacturing Company 
 for permission to reproduce the "still pictures" of 
 scenes in the production here presented as illustra- 
 tions. 
 
 L. J. V. 
 
 Los Angeles, California, 
 October, i, 1914. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. 
 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XL 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 XX. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The Message of the Rose 
 The Sign of the Three 
 The Trail of Treachery- 
 Flower o' the Flame , 
 The Hunted Man 
 The Haunting Woman 
 Disclosures . . , . 
 White Water . 
 Forewarned. 
 The Captain of the Seaventure 
 Blue Water 
 The Counterfeiter 
 Holocaust .... 
 Marooned .... 
 Dead Reckoning . 
 Debacle .... 
 The Masked Voice 
 The Island .... 
 The Sunset Tide . 
 The Rocket 
 Crack o' Doom 
 Juggernaut .... 
 The House Divided . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 3 
 
 13 
 20 
 
 26 
 31 
 34 
 36 
 41 
 47 
 SI 
 54 
 57 
 64 
 68 
 
 75 
 80 
 
 85 
 89 
 
 94 
 
 lOI 
 
 no 
 
 "5 
 121 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXIV. II— A Sporting Offer . . . 126 
 
 XXV. The Time o' Night .... 130 
 
 XXVL Changeling 136 
 
 XXVII. The Ring 141 
 
 XXVIII. Mock Rose 148 
 
 XXIX. Jailbird 153 
 
 XXX. Bird-man 160 
 
 XXXI. As a Crow Flies 166 
 
 XXXII. Pullman 171 
 
 XXXIII. Hand-car 176 
 
 XXXIV. Caboose 181 
 
 XXXV. Detail 185 
 
 XXXVI. The Painted Hills .... 192 
 
 XXXVII. The Up Trail 196 
 
 XXXVIII. Hopi Jim 202 
 
 XXXIX. The Man in the Shadow . . 206 
 
 XL. The Trail of Flying Hoof-prints 209 
 
 XLI. Avalanche 215 
 
 XLII. As in a Glass, Darkly . . . 226 
 
 XLIII. Jaws of Death 233 
 
 XLIV. Debacle 240 
 
 XLV. The Last Warning — ^And Flight 244 
 
 XL VI. Sacrifice 252 
 
 XLVII. The New Judith 263 
 
 XLVIII. The Old Adam 267 
 
 XLIX. The Last Trump 274 
 
 L. The Wife 280 
 
THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 The Message of the Rose 
 
 IAPPED deep in the leather-bound luxury of an 
 -/ ample lounge-chair, walled apart from the 
 world by the portentous silences and venerable 
 solitude of the library of London's most exclusive 
 club, Mr. Alan Law sprawled (largely on the nape 
 of his neck), and, squinting discontentedly down 
 his nose, plotted in furtherance of his own selfish 
 ends. 
 
 He was exhaustively bored. 
 
 He had every legitimate reason to be bored. He 
 had squeezed the orange of amusement dry and had 
 nothing else to do but be bored. And this was Eng- 
 land, this was June, this was his twenty-seventh 
 summer; a combination of circumstances so alluring 
 that with almost any other right-minded man it 
 would have proved resistless. 
 
 He was, outwardly, a very ordinary person; that is 
 to say, normally sane and good looking, well man- 
 nered, well cared for, well dressed. In other respects 
 
 3 
 
4 THE TREY 0' HEARTS 
 
 his was a singular personality. Since childhood he 
 had worked hard, for no good reason that he could 
 see, at learning his duty (and pleasure) in that state 
 of life into which it had pleased God, to call him — 
 but he Kad yet to earn an honest penny. He was 
 master of a dozen-odd arts and crafts which had thus 
 far rewarded him with nothing but ennui. He pos- 
 sessed and maintained in prime condition the body 
 of an athlete, which served him to no particular end. 
 He knew more about most things, from cabbages to 
 kings, than did ninety-nine out of every hundred 
 denizens of his world, but he didn't know how to 
 avoid boredom. The sum of his wisdom on this 
 subject was to the effect that ennui was inescapable; 
 being good was frightfully wearing on one; misbe- 
 having was worse. 
 
 Normally, Mr. Law did behave himself; he was 
 made of the stuff that riches cannot spoil. Left to 
 himself, he would far rather stand at the wheel of a 
 motor boat than beside that of a roulette layout; he 
 preferred playing polo to playing the ponies; hitting 
 the high spots along Montmartre was less amusing, 
 in his esteem, than sailing comfortably over them at 
 an altitude of several thousand feet; while it was 
 never his notion of fun to gulp bromo seltzer as an 
 antidote for last night, and then cocktails to counter- 
 act the antidote. 
 
 But there were times when it was strongly borne 
 
THE MESSAGE OF THE ROSE 5 
 
 in upon him that he must either break out in some 
 unique and spontaneous manner or blow up. At 
 such times history was apt to be manufactured in 
 bulk. And this — ^this day of an English June — ^was 
 one of those times. Mr. Queux was uneasily aware 
 of the unrest simmering within him; very much, no 
 doubt, as Vesuvius is periodically conscious of its 
 divine discontent. 
 
 His chair stood by an open window, below which 
 lay an old English garden in full flower, the property 
 of the club and its boast. Through the window a 
 half-hearted breeze wafted gusts of air soporific and 
 heavy with the breath of roses. 
 
 Mr. Law drank deep of it, and in spite of 
 his spiritual unrest, sighed slightly and shut his 
 eyes. 
 
 An unspoken word troubled the deeps of his con- 
 sciousness, so that old memories stirred and struggled 
 to its surface. The word was "Rose," and for the 
 time seemed to be the name neither of a woman nor a 
 flower, but oddly of both, as though the two things 
 were one. 
 
 He wondered idly why this was so until his mental 
 vision, bridging the gap of a year, conjured up the 
 picture of a lithe, sweet silhouette in white, with red 
 roses at her belt, posed on a terrace of the Riviera 
 against the burning Mediterranean blue. 
 
 Mr. Law was dully conscious that he ought to be 
 
6 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 sorry about something. But he was really very 
 drowsy indeed. And so he fell quietly asleep. 
 
 The clock was striking four when he awoke, and 
 before closing his eyes he had noticed that its hands 
 indicated ten minutes to four. So he could not have 
 slept long, if quite long enough to dream of a girl in 
 white, with red roses at her belt, waiting for him on a 
 pierhead in New York harbour. 
 
 And he came to smiling a gentle smile that slowly 
 as consciousness cleared gave place to an impatient 
 frown due to the reminder that he was to all intents 
 an outlaw from America, and then by a look of down- 
 right bewilderment, due in turn to realization of a 
 minor miracle that had come to pass while he 
 dreamed. 
 
 For some few seconds Alan rested as he was, in- 
 credulously regarding the rose which had materi- 
 alized so mysteriously upon the little table at his" 
 elbow. He was sure it had not been there when he 
 closed his eyes, and almost as sure that it was not 
 real. What right, indeed, had a red rose to trespass 
 upon the soHdly respectable and imaginative pre- 
 cincts of a British club Hbrary? Beyond reasonable 
 doubt it was nothing more or less than the figment 
 of a supersentimentalized imagination worked upon 
 by the magic fragrance of the rose garden. 
 
 Then of a sudden he sat bolt upright. 
 
 In defiance of the injunction that glared at him 
 
THE MESSAGE OF THE ROSE 7 
 
 from every reading table in the room — letters of "gold 
 on a black ground, neatly framed: 
 
 SILENCE! 
 
 Mr. Law announced with the emphasis of ab- 
 solute conviction: 
 
 "Well, I'm damned!" 
 
 He touched the rose. It was real beyond all 
 question; a warm red rose, fresh plucked. When 
 impulsively he took it by the stem, he discovered a 
 most indisputable thorn — ^which did service for the 
 traditional pinch. 
 
 Thus persuaded that he was not still dreaming, Mr. 
 Law jumped up from his chair and glared suspi- 
 ciously round the room. A practical joke in that 
 solemn atmosphere was a thing unthinkable; still, 
 there was the rose. 
 
 But the room was empty aside from himself and 
 the rose. 
 
 Impulsively he Struck a call-bell — arid repented, 
 haunted by the fear of making himself ridiculous. 
 It was inconceivable that he should demand of the 
 waiter then approaching, "Who, while I slept, made 
 me a present of this rose?" 
 
 The waiter entered to find the member leaning non- 
 chalantly against the table, drawing on his gloves. 
 
 "You rang, sir?" 
 
8 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "I did. Ah — ^waiter, I've been asleep, you know." 
 
 "Thank you, sir." 
 
 "Only a minute or two, of course." 
 
 "Quite so, sir." 
 
 " I wish to know if anybody entered this room while 
 I was asleep." 
 
 "I couldn't say, sir — unless it might 'ave been Mr. 
 Marrophat. 'E's the only other gentleman on this 
 floor of the club-'ouse at present, sir." 
 
 "Marrophat? But I don't know him!" 
 
 "Thank you, sir." 
 
 "Still . . . where is he?" 
 
 "In the writing-room, sir." 
 
 "Thanks." 
 
 "Thank you, sir." 
 
 "Marrophat? No fear!" Mr. Law assured him- 
 self as the waiter left the room. 
 
 On the other hand, roses are not introduced into 
 London's most exclusive clubs without some human 
 sponsor. 
 
 On his way out Law glanced through the door of 
 the writing-room, and was confirmed in his incredu- 
 lity. Mr. Marrophat, stodgily rounded over a desk 
 in the corner, was the incarnate genius of superfatted 
 British dignity. Impossible to credit him with any- 
 thing resembling a sense of humour — or any such 
 spirit of romantic mischief as might prompt one to 
 distribute roses to one's fellow club members. 
 
THE MESSAGE OF THE ROSE 9 
 
 Perplexed, Alan fled the club, pausing by force of 
 habit only long enough to consult the letter-rack 
 and annex an envelope he found there addressed to 
 him. 
 
 It was a white envelope of good quality. The 
 address was typewritten, the stamp Englishj with a 
 London postmark, half illegible. 
 
 Mr. Law tore the envelope open in an absent- 
 minded fashion, and started as if stung. The in- 
 closure was a simple playing card — a Trey of Hearts ! 
 
 In the writing-room Mr. Marrophat continued to 
 compose. The mental exertion caused him to breathe 
 rather heavily. His colourless thick lips were com- 
 pressed as if to restrain his tongue from aping the 
 antics of his pen. His starting eyes followed the 
 ink scratches on the telegraph blank with a look of 
 mildly anguished surprise. 
 
 In point of fact, he wasn't writing; he was labori- 
 ously printing the following words: 
 
 "Senex, New York — Rose uttered 3:58 P- M. Trey 
 followed. A. much disturbed. M. P. T." 
 
 When he had finished, Mr. Marrophat waved the 
 blank to and fro until the ink was dry. This was 
 not for want of a blotter, but because blotters have 
 been known to reveal secrets when read in a mirror. 
 
lo THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Nor was it because the club lacked servants that 
 Mr. Marrophat presently got up, folded his cable 
 message, waddled forth, and proceeded to commit 
 it to the nearest office with his own trustworthy 
 fat hands. 
 
 As for Alan Law, he wandered down Pall Mall in a 
 state of daze; he went toward Trafalgar Square. He 
 didn't know where he was going, or even that he 
 was on his way, and he didn't care. For all that, 
 no one who chanced to observe him would have 
 dreamed that he was preoccupied with question- 
 ing his own mental integrity; but the hypothetical 
 observer would have shared his misgiving had he 
 suspected that Mr. Law was wearing a rose inside 
 his top hat, to say nothing of a three spot of hearts 
 in the breast pocket of his admirable morning coat. 
 
 He could, of course, read quite well the message 
 of the rose. He would not soon forget that year-old 
 parting with his Rose of the Riviera: 
 
 "You say you love me but may not marry me — 
 and we must never see each other again. Then 
 promise this, that if ever you change your mind, 
 you'll send for me," 
 
 And her promise : " I will send you a rose." 
 
 But a year had lapsed with never a sign from her, 
 so that he had grown accustomed to the unflattering 
 belief that she had forgotten him. 
 
 And now the sign had come — but in a fashion so 
 
THE MESSAGE OF THE ROSE ii 
 
 strange that he hesitated to accept it. It wouldn't 
 do to jump at conclusions and make one's self ridicu- 
 lous. Very probably it hadn't come from her at all, 
 but was just an everyday coincidence. 
 
 But there was that Trey of Hearts! Now what 
 the deuce did the Trey of Hearts mean ? 
 
 Now in heraldry the word Trine signifies a group 
 of three. And the Trey of Hearts is a group of three. 
 Arid the surname of that Rose of his heart's desire 
 was Trine. 
 
 Was the card then simply her way of fixing beyond 
 question the identity of the sender of the rose ? 
 
 Alan ambled aimlessly into Cockspur Street, and 
 of a sudden found himself at a dead halt, transfixed 
 by a poster in one of the show windows. 
 
 The poster advertised the newest steamship in the 
 trans-Atlantic service, and the artist had seen fit to 
 delineate his subject at the moment of drawing away 
 from a pierhead in the foreground, on which pier- 
 head a young woman was shown waving a farewell 
 handkerchief — a lithe, sweet silhouette in white with 
 red roses at her belt posed against a sea of burning 
 blue. 
 
 Mr. Law drew an incredulous, lemon-gloved hand 
 across his bewildered forehead. 
 
 "Three times in the same place in thirty minutes! " 
 he muttered blankly, "There's something uncanny 
 about this ... If life itself were not a riddle 
 
12 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 without a reading — I'd begin to believe in the super- 
 natural ! As it is " 
 
 When he entered his rooms that evening to dress 
 for dinner it was to find an American Beauty rose 
 ornamenting his dressing-table, pinned to a Trey of 
 Hearts. 
 
 Interrogated, his valet deposed ignorance of the 
 matter. 
 
 When Alan returned from dinner and the theatre, 
 it was to find a solitary rose reposing with blushing 
 effrontery upon his pillow. The inevitable Trey of 
 Hearts, it appeared, had crawled in between the 
 covers. 
 
 That made three of each. 
 
 Mr. Law sat down and thought. Then he sum- 
 moned his valet — and discharged him. 
 
 "The Lord," he said, "may love a Har. But I'm 
 human. Here's a month's wages. Clear out of this 
 in three minutes. . . ." 
 
 When morning came, London had lost Alan Law. 
 No man — nor any woman — had received warning of 
 his disappearance. He was simply vanished from 
 English ken. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 The Sign of the Three 
 
 OUT of doors, high noon, spring, the clamorous 
 Hfe of New York swift running through its 
 brilliant streets. 
 
 Within doors, neither sound nor sunbeam disturbed 
 a perennial quiet that was yet not peace. 
 
 The room was like a well of night, the haunt of 
 shadows and sinister silences. Heavy hangings dark- 
 ened its windows and masked its doors, a carpet of 
 velvet muffled its floor, bookcases lined its walls. 
 From the topmost shelves pale sculptured masks 
 peered down, incarnadined by the dim glow from a 
 solitary light that burned in that darkness like a 
 smouldering ember. 
 
 The electric bulb of ruby glass was focussed upon 
 a leather-bound desk-blotter on a black desk whose 
 farther edges blended with the shadows. 
 
 Little was visible beyond the radius of that light 
 and the figure of an old man that brooded over it, 
 motionless in a great leather-bound chair. 
 
 His hair was as white as his heart was black; his 
 nose was aquiline, finely chiselled, his cheek-bones 
 
 13 
 
14 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 high and sharp. His mouth resembled a steel trap; 
 while his forehead shelved back sharply from ragged 
 black brows that shadowed eyes like Hve coals. 
 
 He was clothed in a black dressing-gown, and from 
 the thighs down was covered by a woollen rug. He 
 stared unblinking at the crimson blotter: a man 
 seven eighths dead, completely paralyzed but for 
 his head and his left arm. 
 
 A figure of savage patience he sat waiting — for 
 years on end, for so long that those who knew him 
 had well-nigh forgotten that Seneca Trine once had 
 been as vital a creature as ever lived. 
 
 Presently a faint clicking disturbed the stillness. 
 Seneca Trine had put forth his left hand and touched 
 a button embedded in the desk. Something else 
 clicked — ^this time a latch. There was the faint 
 sound of a closing door, the hangings rustled, 
 and a smallish man in black stole into the light, 
 paused beside the desk, and waited for leave to 
 speak. 
 
 The voice of Trine rang Uke a bell in the silence, 
 a weirdly deep and sonorous voice to issue from thar 
 wasted frame. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "A telegram, sir — from England." 
 
 "Give it me!" 
 
 The old man seized the sheet of yellow paper, 
 scanned it hungrily, and crushed it with a gesture of 
 
THE SIGN OF THE THREE 15 
 
 uncontrollable emotion. His voice rang with exul- 
 tation when next he spoke: 
 
 "Send my daughter Judith here!" 
 
 The servant disappeared, and two minutes later 
 a young woman in street dress was admitted to the 
 chamber of the shadows. She went directly to her 
 father, bent over and touched her lips to his forehead. 
 
 He did not speak^ but her quick ears caught the 
 rustle of the paper crushed anew in his grasp, and 
 she experienced an intuition of something momentous 
 impending. 
 
 "You sent for me, father?" 
 
 He replied brusquely: "Sit down." 
 
 She found a chair and settled herself in it. 
 
 "Now turn the light upon your face." 
 
 The red glow lighted up a face of exquisite beauty, 
 an eager, passionate face mirroring the spirit of 
 quenchless youth, and her father nodded slightly as 
 if with satisfaction. 
 
 "Judith — tell me — what day is this?" 
 
 "My birthday. I am twenty-one." 
 
 "And your sister's birthday? Rose, too, is twenty- 
 one." 
 
 A slight frown clouded Judith's face; but she re- 
 plied quietly: "Yes." 
 
 "You could have forgotten that," the old man 
 pursued almost mockingly. "Do you dislike your 
 twin-sister so intensely ? " 
 
i6 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 The girl's voice trembled. "You know," she said, 
 "I hate and despise her." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "We have nothing in common — beyond parentage 
 and this abominable resemblance. Our natures differ 
 as light from darkness." 
 
 "And which would you say was — light?" 
 
 "Hardly my own: I'm no hypocrite. Rose is 
 everything that they tell me my mother was, while 
 I"— the girl smiled strangely — "I think — I am more 
 your daughter than my mother's." 
 
 A nod of the white head confirmed the suggestion. 
 "It is true. I have watched you closely, Judith. 
 Before I was brought to this " — the wasted handmade 
 a significant gesture — "I was a man of strong pas- 
 sions. . . . Your mother never loved, but rather 
 feared, me. And Rose is the mirror of her mother's 
 nature: gentle, unselfish, sympathetic. But you, Ju- 
 dith, you are like a second self to me." 
 
 An accent of satisfaction was in his voice. The girl 
 waited, tensely expectant. 
 
 "Then, if I were to ask a service of you that might 
 injuriously affect the happiness of your sister " 
 
 The giirl laughed briefly: "Only ask it!" 
 
 "And how far would you go to do my will " 
 
 "Where would you stop in the service of one you 
 loved?" 
 Y^Seneca Trine permitted himself an odd mirthless 
 
TRINE SUSPECTED HIS WIFE. OF WHAT, HE COULD NOT TELL. 
 
THE SIGN OF THE THREE 17 
 
 chuckle, "I know," he said, "I know." And after 
 a brief pause: "Rose is in love," he announced 
 obliquely. 
 
 The girl half-started from her chair, but with 
 visible effort controlled herself. 
 
 "Oh, I know — I know!" the father continued. "I 
 am a prisoner of this living tomb; but all things I 
 should know — somehow — in time — I come to know." 
 
 "It's true — that Englishman last year — ^what's his 
 name? — ^Law, Alan Law." 
 
 "In the main," the father corrected, "you are 
 right. Only he's not English. His father was Wel- 
 lington Law, the banker." 
 
 She knew better than to interrupt, but her seeming 
 patience was belied by the whitening knuckles of a 
 hand that lay within the little pool of blood-red light. 
 
 Presently the deep voice rolled on: "Law and I 
 were once friends; then — ^we loved one woman, your 
 mother. I won her — all but her heart: too late she 
 realized it was Law she loved. He never forgave 
 me, nor I him. Though he married another woman, 
 still he held from me the love of my wife. I could 
 not sleep for hating him — and he was no better off. 
 Each sought the other's ruin; it came to be an open 
 duel between us in Wall Street. One of us had to 
 fail — and I held the stronger hand. The night before 
 the day that was to have seen my triumph I walked 
 in Central Park^ as was my habit, to tire my body 
 
1 8 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 so that my brain might sleep. I was struck by a 
 motor-car, picked up insensible — and lived only to 
 be what I am. Law triumphed in the Street while 
 I lay helpless; only a remnant of my fortune re- 
 mained to me. Then his chauiFeur, discharged, 
 came to me and sold me the truth; it was Law's car 
 with Law at the wheel that had struck me down — 
 a deliberate attempt at assassination. I sent Law 
 word that I meant to have a life for a life. For what 
 was I better than dead? I promised him that, 
 should he escape, I would have the life of his son. 
 He knew I meant it, and sent his wife and son abroad. 
 Then he died suddenly — I believe from fear of me." 
 
 Trine smiled. "I had made his life a reign of 
 terror. Ever so often I would send him — mysteri- 
 ously always — a Trey of Hearts: it was my death- 
 sign for him. Every time he received a Trey of 
 Hearts, within twenty-four hours an attempt of 
 some sort would be made upon his life. The strain 
 broke down his nerve. . . . 
 
 "Then I turned my attention to the son, but the 
 Law millions mocked my efforts; their alliance with 
 the Rothschilds placed mother and son under the 
 protection of every secret police in Europe, but they 
 dared not come home. At length I realized that 
 I must wait game. I needed three things: more 
 money; to bring Alan Law back to America; and 
 an incorruptible agent. I ceased to persecute mother 
 
THE SIGN 6f the THREE " 19 
 
 and son, and by careful speculations repaired my for- 
 tunes. In Rose I had the lure to draw the boy back 
 to America; in you, the one person I could trust. 
 
 "I sent Rose abroad under an assumed surname 
 and arranged that she should meet Law. They fell 
 in love at sight. Then I wrote her that the man she 
 had chosen was the son of him who had murdered 
 all of me but my brain. It fell out as I foresaw: she 
 broke olF with Law without telling him the truth. 
 You can imagine the scene — passionate renunciation 
 — ^pledges of constancy — the arrangement of a secret 
 code whereby, when she needed him, she would send 
 him a single rose — the birth of a great romance!" 
 
 The old man laughed sardonically. "Well . . . 
 the rose has been sent; Law is already homeward 
 bound; my agents are watching his every step. 
 The rest is in your hands." 
 
 The girl bent forward, her eyes aflame in a paUid 
 face. 
 
 "What is it you want of me?" she asked in a 
 vibrant voice. 
 
 "Bring Alan Law to me. Dead or alive, bring 
 him to me. But alive, if you can compass it: I 
 wish to see him die." 
 
 The hand of youth grasped the icy hand of death- 
 in-life. 
 
 "I will bring him," Judith swore. " Dead or alive, 
 you shall have him here." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 The Trail of Treachery 
 
 BUT young Mr. Law was sole agent of his own 
 evanishment. The reason for his life in exile 
 was well known to him, if largely a matter of in- 
 difference since his friendships had taken root in 
 English soil. The message of the Rose he understood 
 perfectly; but the hidden meaning of the Trey of 
 Hearts so perplexed him that before leaving London 
 he dispatched a cablegram to Digby, his confidential 
 agent in New York: 
 
 " What do you know about the Trey of Hearts ? 
 Answer immediately." 
 
 Digby's answer forestalled Alan's arrival in Liver- 
 pool: 
 
 "Trey of Hearts was Trine' s death-sign for your 
 father. For God's sake keep away from America." 
 
 But Alan had more than once visited America 
 incognito and unknown to Seneca Trinej and had 
 
THE TRAIL OF TREACHERY 21 
 
 confidence in his ability successfully to repeat the 
 adventure — via a route of his own selection. 
 
 Eight days out of London, a second-class passenger 
 newly landed from one of the C.-P. steamships, he 
 walked the streets of Quebec, and dropped out of 
 sight between dark and dawn, to turn up in the 
 Canadian hamlet of Baie St. Paul, apparently a 
 tenderfoot American woods-traveller chaperoned by 
 a taciturn Indian guide. 
 
 Crossing the St. Lawrence by night, the two struck 
 off into the hinterland of the Notre Dame range, 
 followed the Riviere Quelle to its headwaters, and 
 then crossed the Maine border. 
 
 On the second noon thereafter, trail-worn and 
 weary, the two paused on a ridge-pole of the wilder- 
 ness up back of the Allagash country, and made 
 their midday meal in a silence which, if normal 
 in the Indian, was one of deep misgiving on Alan's 
 part. 
 
 Continually his gaze questioned the northern skies 
 that lowered portentously, foul with the smoke of a 
 county-wide conflagration that threatened unless 
 soon checked to lay waste all northern Maine bone- 
 dry with drought. 
 
 And the fires were making southward far faster 
 than man might hope to travel through that grim 
 and stubborn land. Even as he stared, Alan saw 
 fresh columns of dun-coloured smoke spring up as 
 
22 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 the flames, spurred by a freshening wind, made 
 league-consuming strides. 
 
 Anxiously he consulted the Indian. But his 
 questions gained Alan little comfort from Jacob, who 
 said that rain alone could stop the flames. After 
 recommending forced marches to bring them by 
 to-morrow's noon to the spot he called Spirit Lake, 
 where canoes might be found to aid their flight, the 
 Indian withdrew into sullen reserve. 
 
 They travelled far and fast before sundown, then 
 again paused for food and rest. As Jacob set about 
 preparing the meal, Alan stumbled off to whip the 
 little trail-side stream for trout. 
 
 Perhaps a hundred yards upstream, the back-lash 
 of a careless cast hooked the State of Maine. Too 
 tired even to remember the appropriate words, Alan 
 scrambled ashore, forced through the undergrowth 
 that masked the trail, found his fly, set the State of 
 Maine free, and swinging on his heel brought up 
 standing, transfixed by the discovery of a rectangle 
 of white pasteboard fixed to the trunk of a sapling: 
 a Trey of Hearts, of which each pip had been neatly 
 punctured by a .22 calibre bullet. 
 
 Nor had it been long there: when Alan scrutinized 
 it he found the card innocent of weather-stains, the 
 pin unrusted that held it, the wounds in the sapling 
 raw and damp. 
 
 He carried it back to camp, meaning to consult 
 
THE TRAIL OF TREACHERY 23 
 
 the guide, but on second thought reconsidered. It 
 was not likely that the Indian had overlooked the 
 inevitable traces of human neighbours that must have 
 been apparent to his woods-sharpened wits. So Alan 
 waited for him to speak, and meantime determined to 
 watch him narrowly, though no other suspicious cir- 
 cumstance had marked their association. It might 
 turn out to be simply chance which had thrown that 
 sinister card in his path. 
 
 The first half of the night was devoted to relentless 
 progress southward. There could be no more ques- 
 tion as to the need for urgent haste: overhjead the 
 north wind muttered; thin veils of smoke drifted 
 through the forest, and ever the curtained heavens 
 glared with reflected fires. 
 
 By midnight Alan had passed the limit of his en- 
 durance. Though Jacob declared that Spirit Lake 
 was now only six hours distant, as far as concerned 
 Alan he might have said six hundred. They camped 
 in perfunctory fashion. His blanket once unrolled, 
 Alan dropped upon it like one drugged. 
 
 The sun was high when he awakened and sat up, 
 wondering what had come over the Indian to let him 
 sleep so late. This was soon made clear. Jacob 
 had absconded, leaving Alan barely food enough for a 
 cold breakfast. 
 
 Overnight the fire had made tremendous gains. 
 The nearness of his peril dwarfed the treachery of the 
 
24 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Indian. Alan delayed long enough to swallow a few 
 mouthfuls of raw food, gulped water from a spring, 
 and set out at a dog-trot on the trail to Spirit Lake. 
 
 For hours he blundered on, holding to the trail 
 mainly by instinct — the roaring of the flames ever 
 more loud and ominous, the cloud of smoke ever more 
 dense, the heat moment by moment more intense. 
 
 Finally he staggered into a little clearing, tripped 
 over some obstacle, and plunged headlong, so be- 
 wildered that he could not have said whether he was 
 tripped or thrown. As he fell a heavy body landed 
 on his back and crushed him savagely to earth. 
 
 In less than a minute he was overcome, his wrists 
 hitched together, his ankles bound. When his vision 
 cleared he discovered Jacob squatting on his heels 
 and regarding him with a face as immobile as the 
 bronze it resembled. 
 
 Beyond, a woman in a man's hunting costume 
 stood eying the captive as narrowly as the Indian, 
 but with a countenance that seemed exultantly aglow 
 over his downfall. 
 
 But for that look he could have believed the face 
 that which had brought him overseas: feature for 
 feature, she counterfeited the woman he loved; only 
 those eyes, aflame with their look of inhuman ruth- 
 lessness, denied that the two were one. 
 
 He sought to speak. The breath rustled in his 
 throat hke wind whispering among dead leaves. 
 
(D 
 O) 
 CO 
 CL 
 
 (Ji 
 

 CQ 
 
 Tl 
 
 (Q 
 CD 
 
FLOWER O' THE FLAME 27 
 
 but a minute sufficed: within its span a tongue of 
 flame licked up, wrapped itself round the hempen 
 cord, and ate it through. Immediately Alan kicked 
 his feet free and crawled from the pyre. 
 
 As for his hands — Alan's hunting-knife was stilf 
 in its sheath belted to the small of his back. Tearing^ 
 at the belt with his hampered fingers, he contrived 
 to shift it round within comparatively easy reach. 
 Withdrawing and conveying the blade to his mouth, 
 he gripped it between his teeth and severed the cords 
 round his wrists. 
 
 Already the glare was silhouetting the trees not a 
 hundred yards away. Before Alan could turn and 
 run he saw the flames bridge fifty yards at a bound 
 and set a dead pine blazing. 
 
 And then he was pelting like a madman across the 
 clearing. Presently the trail branched right and 
 left; Alan darted to the left at a venture, and soon 
 broke from the forest to the shore of a lake, within 2 
 few hundred feet of the dam that choked its outlet — ■ 
 a substantial dam, well-banked and timbered, through 
 whose spillway a heavy volume of water cascaded 
 with a roar. 
 
 A glance showed Alan that his only way of escape 
 was via the dam, and that there was a canoe at mid- 
 lake bearing to the farther shore Judith Trine and 
 the Indian. Suddenly Jacob turned his head sharply 
 and dropped the paddle. The next instant a bullet 
 
28 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 from a Winchester .30 kicked up the pebbles a few 
 feet in advance of Alan. 
 
 He quickened his pace; the next bullet fell closer, 
 while the third actually bit the earth beneath his 
 running feet as he gained the dam. Exasperated, he 
 pulled up, whipped out his pistol and fired without 
 aim. And he noted that the distance between dam 
 and canoe had lessened perceptibly, thanks to the 
 strong current sucking through the spillway. 
 
 His shot flew wide, but instinctively his finger 
 closed again upon the trigger, and coincident with 
 the report he saw the paddle in the bow of the canoe 
 snap in twain, its blade falling overboard. Then 
 the Indian fired again, his bullet droning past Alan's 
 «ar. As he fired in response Jacob started, dropped 
 his rifle into the lake, clawed at his throat, and crum- 
 pled up in the bow of the canoe. 
 
 Alan turned and ran along the dam toward two 
 heavy timbers that bridged the spillway. 
 
 Then a glance aside brought him up with a thrill 
 of horror: the suck of the overflow had drawn the 
 <:anoe within a hundred yards of the spillway. The 
 ^ead Indian in its bow, the living woman helpless 
 in its stern, it swept onward to destruction. 
 
 A moment later Alan found himself at the brink 
 of the spillway, staring down into a chasm thirty 
 feet in depth, wherein the cascade broke upon a hud- 
 dle of jagged boulders. 
 
FLOWER O' THE FLAME 29 
 
 His next actions were iimpremeditated. He ran 
 out upon the bridge, threw himself down upon the 
 innermost timber, and calculated the drop to the 
 glassy brink immediately below — not less than a 
 fathom. And the canoe was now within a hundred 
 feet. 
 
 A swift glance gauged its course: Alan turned,, 
 dropped his legs in the space between the timbers, 
 and let his body fall backward, arms extended, and 
 swung braced by his feet beneath the outer timber. 
 
 He was aware of the canoe hurtling onward, its 
 sharp prow aimed directly for his head. In an in- 
 stant hands closed around his wrists, a tremulous 
 weight tore at his arms, and with an effort of incon- 
 ceivable difficulty he began to lift the woman up out 
 of the foaming jaws of death. 
 
 Somehow that impossible feat was achieved,, 
 somehow the woman gained a hold upon his body 
 and contrived to clamber over him to the timbers,. 
 and somehow he in turn pulled himself up to safety. 
 Later he became aware that the woman had crawled 
 to safety on the farther shore; he pulled himself to- 
 gether and imitated her example. Then he dis- 
 covered the face of Judith Trine close to his, and he 
 heard her voice, barely audible above the voices 
 of conflagration and cascade: 
 
 "You fool! Why did you save me? I tell you> 
 I have sworn your death " 
 
30 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 The grotesqueness of it all broke upon him and he 
 laughed hysterically, waving her aside. 
 
 "Oh, go to the devil! "he cackled insanely. . . . 
 
 Darkness followed. A flash of lightning seemed 
 to flame between them and he lapsed into uncon- 
 sciousness. . . . 
 
 When he roused, it was with a shiver. Rain was 
 falling in torrents. Across the lake clouds of steam 
 enveloped the fires that fainted beneath the deluge. 
 A hissing noise filled the world above the roaring of 
 the spillway. 
 
 He was alone. 
 
 But in his hand he found — a rose. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 The Hunted Man 
 
 THE day was hot and windless with an unclouded 
 sky, and memories of the dreadful yesterday 
 but deepened the sense of to-day's serenity. In 
 flooding sunlight the woodlands basked and steamed, 
 and a great stillness brooded over all the wilderness. 
 
 Long before any sound audible to human ears 
 disturbed the noonday hush, a bobcat sunning on a 
 log in a glade to which no trail led, pricked ears, rose, 
 glanced over-shoulder with a snarl, and — of a sudden 
 — ^was no more there. 
 
 Perhaps two minutes later a succession of remote 
 crashings began to be heard, the sound made by 
 some heavy body forcing a way through the under- 
 brush. Soon a man broke into the clearing and 
 reeled to a seat on the log, shuddering uncontrol- 
 lably in all his limbs. 
 
 He was a young man and had been personable. 
 Just now his face was crimson with congested blood 
 and streaked with sweat and grime; his lips were 
 cracked and swollen, his eyes haggard, his hands 
 bleeding. Woods equipment he had none beyond a 
 
 31 
 
32 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 hunting-knife. All else had been consumed in the 
 fore^ fire or stolen by his Indian guide. 
 
 Now the man was lost. After a night passed 
 without a fire he had waked to discover the sun 
 rising in the -^vest and the rest of the universe sym- 
 pathetically upside-down. Aimlessly, ever since, 
 he had stumbled and blundered — possessed by a 
 notion that he was dogged by furtive enemies — and 
 within the last hour the puppet of blind, witless 
 panic. 
 
 Even now, as he strove to calm himself and rest, 
 the feeling that something was peering at him grew 
 intolerably acute. He jumped up, flung himself 
 frantically through the brush in pursuit of the some- 
 thing, and — found nothing. 
 
 With a great effort he pulled himself together and 
 turned back to the clearing. 
 
 There, upon the log on which he had rested, he 
 found — but refused to believe he saw — a playing 
 card — a Trey of Hearts. 
 
 With a gesture of horror Alan Law fled the place. 
 
 Then a grinning half-breed guide stole like a 
 shadow to the log, picked up and pocketed the card, 
 and set out in tireless, catfooted pursuit. 
 
 An hour later, topping a ridge, Alan caught the 
 music of clashing waters. Tortured by thirst, he 
 began at once to descend in reckless haste. What 
 was at first a gentle slope grew swiftly more declivi- 
 
IN THAT HOUR TRINE SWIJRE AX A« ITL REVEXOE AGAINST LAW. 
 
THE HUNTED MAN 33 
 
 tous, bare of underbrush, and sparsely sown with 
 small cedars. 
 
 The shelving moss-beds afforded uncertain footing, 
 and the scanty cedar growth but small support. 
 Alan came at headlong pace within sight of the eaves 
 of a cliff, and precisely then the hillside seemed to 
 slip from under him. His heels flourished in the 
 air, his back thumped a bed of pebbles. He began 
 to slide, grasped a puny little cedar which came 
 away in his hand, and amid a shower of stones shot 
 over the edge and down a drop of more than thirty 
 feet. He was aware of the sun, a molten ball wheel- 
 ing madly in the sky. Then dark waters closed over 
 him. 
 
 He came up gasping, and struck out for something 
 dark that rode the waters near at hand — a canoe. 
 But his strength was spent. Within a stroke of an 
 outstretched paddle he flung up a hand and went 
 down. 
 
 Instantly one occupant of the canoe, a young and 
 very beautiful woman in a man's hunting clothes, 
 spoke a word of command, and, as her guide steadied 
 the vessel with his paddle, rose carefully in her place 
 and curved her lithe body over the bows, headforemost 
 into the pool. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 The Haunting Woman 
 
 MR. LAW had endured even more than a weath- 
 ered woodsman could have borne without 
 suffering. Forty-eight hours of such heavy woods- 
 walking as he had put in to escape the fire would have 
 served to prostrate almost any man; add to this 
 (ignoring a dozen other mental, nervous, and physi- 
 cal strains) the fact that he had been half-drowned. 
 , . . He experienced fever, delirium, then blank 
 slumbers of exhaustion. 
 
 He awoke at night, unaware that thirty-six hours 
 had passed since his fall. This last, however, and 
 events that had gone before, he recalled with toler- 
 able clearness. Other memories, more vague, of 
 gentle hands, of a face by turns an angel's and a 
 dear woman's, troubled him even less materially. 
 He was sane enough to know he had been out of his 
 head, and since it seemed he had been saved and 
 cared for, he found no reason to quarrel with pres- 
 ent circumstances. 
 
 With some difl&culty, from a dry throat, he whis- 
 pered: "Water . . ." 
 
 34 
 
THE HAUNTING WOMAN 35 
 
 In response he heard some one move over a creak- 
 ing floor. A sulphur match spluttered. A candle 
 caught fire, silhouetting — illusion, of course! — the 
 figure of a woman. Water splashed. Water splashed 
 noisily. Alan became aware of some one who stood 
 at his side, one hand oflFering a glass, the other gently 
 raising his head that he might drink. 
 
 Draining the glass, he breathed his thanks and 
 sank back, retaining his grasp on the wrist of that 
 unreal hand. The hallucination went so far as to 
 say, in a woman's soft accents : 
 
 "You are better, Alan ? " 
 
 He sighed incredulously : " Rose ! " 
 
 The voice responded, "Yes!" Then the perfume 
 of roses grew still more strong, and a miracle came to 
 pass: for Mr. Law, who realized poignantly that all 
 this was sheer nonsense, distinctly felt lips like velvet . 
 caress his forehead. 
 
 He closed his eyes, tightened his grasp on that 
 hand of phantasy, and muttered. 
 
 The voice asked : "What is it, dear? " 
 
 He responded; "Delirium. . . . But I like 
 it. . . . Let me rave I" 
 
 Then again he slept. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Disclosures 
 
 IN A little office, in one of lower Manhattan's 
 ofl&ce-towers, a mouse-brown man sat over a big 
 desk: a little man of big affairs, sole steward of one 
 of America's most formidable fortunes. 
 
 At precisely the instantwhen Alan Lawcatapulted 
 over the edge of a cliff in northern Maine the signal 
 of the little man's telephone clicked, and, lifting 
 receiver to ear, he nodded witha smile andsaid, "Ask 
 her to come in at once, please." Jumping up, he 
 placed a chair, the door opened, and a young woman 
 entered. 
 
 The mouse-brown man bowed. "Miss Rose 
 Trine ? " he murmured. 
 
 The young woman returned his bow: "Mr. 
 Digby?" 
 
 "You are kind to come in response to my — ah — 
 unconventional invitation," said the little man. 
 ** Won't you — ah — sit down?" 
 
 She said, "Thank you," gravely, and took the 
 chair he indicated. 
 
 "If you will permit me to say so," he said dif- 
 
 36 
 
IT \\ AS I.OV 
 
 E AT FIRST SIGHT. 
 
"4iBta>^ 
 
DISCLOSURES 37 
 
 fidently, "now that one sees you, Miss Trine, it is 
 quite comprehensible why my employer — ah — feels 
 . toward you as he does." 
 
 The girl flushed. "Mr. Law has told you ?" 
 
 "I am his nearest friend on this side, as well as 
 his man of business. So I have ventured to request 
 this — ah^surreptitious appointment in order to — 
 ah — ^take liberty of asking whether you have recently 
 sent Alan a message." 
 
 "I have not communicated with Mr. Law in more 
 than a year!" 
 
 "Precisely as I thought," Mr. Digby nodded. 
 **None the less, Mr. Law not long since received what 
 purported to be a message from you: In fact — a 
 rose. I have the information over Mr. Law's signa- 
 ture — a letter received ten days ago — from Quebec." 
 
 "Alan in America ! " the girl cried in distress. 
 
 "In response to — ah — the message of the rose." 
 
 " But I did not send it ! " 
 
 "I felt sure of that," said Mr. Digby, watching her 
 narrowly, "because of something that accompanied 
 the rose, a playing card — a Trey of Hearts." 
 
 Her eyes were blank. "I must tell you, I see, 
 that a Trey of Hearts invariably foresignalled an at- 
 tempt on the life of Alan's father." 
 
 Her white lips stammered : " My father- .? " 
 
 "That is why I sent for you," Mr. Digby pursued. 
 "Alan's letter reached me within twenty-four hours 
 
38 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 of his arrival in Quebec, and detailed his scheme to 
 enter the United States secretly — as he puts it, by 
 way of northern Maine — and promised to advise by 
 telegraph as soon as he reached Moosehead Lake. 
 He should have >vired me ere this. Frankly, I am 
 anxious about the boy ! " 
 
 "And I ! " the girl exclaimed pitifully. "To think 
 that he should be brought into such peril through 
 me!" 
 
 "You can tell me nothing? " 
 
 "Nothing — as yet. I did not dream that the 
 message of the rose was known to any but Alan and 
 myself. I cannot understand ! " 
 
 "I may tell you that your father maintains a very 
 efficient corps of secret agents." 
 
 "You think he spied upon me ? " 
 
 "I know he did. In the service of my employer 
 I, too, employ agents of my own. Your father sent 
 you to Europe for the sole purpose of having you 
 meet Alan." 
 
 "Oh!" she protested. "But what earthly mo- 
 tive " 
 
 "That Alan might be won back to America \ 
 through you — and — — " 
 
 There was no need to finish. The girl was visibly 
 mustering her wits to cope with this emergency. 
 
 "I may depend on you," Mr. Digby suggested, 
 "to advise me if ?" 
 
DISCLOSURES 39 
 
 A fine spirit of resolve set her countenance aglow. 
 "You may count on me for action on my part, if 
 circumstances warrant it. I promised not to marry 
 Alan — but not to stand by and see him sacrificed. 
 Tell me how I may communicate secretly with you — 
 and let me go as soon as possible ! " 
 
 Within the hour Rose Trine stood before her father 
 in that sombre room whose sinister colour-scheme 
 of crimson and black was the true livery of the 
 passion for vengeance that alone kept warm the 
 embers of his deathlike life. Two hours ago she 
 could not have denied him compassion; now she 
 looked down upon him with cold eyes, hardening 
 her heart. When at length he decided to speak, 
 it was with a ring of hateful irony in his strangely 
 sonorous voice. 
 
 "Rose, I am told you have been to-day guilty of 
 an act of disloyalty." 
 
 She said coolly: "You had me spied upon." 
 
 "Naturally, I had you watched." 
 
 She dropped an impassive monosyllable: "Well.?" 
 
 "You have visited the servant and friend of the 
 man I hate — and you love." 
 
 She said, without expression: "Yes." 
 
 " Repeat what passed between you." 
 
 "I shall not, but on one conditien." 
 
 "And that is ?" 
 
40 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "Tell me whether it was you who sent the rose — 
 and, where is Judith ? " 
 
 "I shall tell you nothing. Repeat" — the voice 
 rang resolutely — " repeat what Digby told you ! " 
 
 The girl was silent for a long minute. Then his 
 hand moved toward the row of buttons sunk in the 
 top of his desk. 
 
 " I warn you I have ways to make you speak " 
 
 With a quick movement the girl prisoned the 
 bony wrist in her strong fingers. With her other 
 hand she whipped open an upper drawer of the desk 
 and took from it a revolver. 
 
 "On the contrary," she said quietly, "the time 
 has passed when you could have me punished for 
 disobedience. You will call nobody; if interrupted 
 I shan't hesitate to defend myself. And now I shall 
 find for myself what I wish to know." 
 
 For a moment he watched in silence as she bent 
 over the desk, rummaging its drawers. Then with 
 an infuriated gesture he began to curse her. . . . 
 
 She shuddered a little at the black oaths, but 
 nothing could stay her in her purpose. He was 
 breathless when she straightened up, studied intently 
 for a moment a sheaf of papers, and thrust them into 
 her hand-bag with the revolver. Then touching the 
 push-button which released a secret door, she slipped 
 from the room, and within another minute had 
 made her way unseen from the house. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 White Water 
 
 IN BROAD daylight Alan Law opened bewildered 
 eyes to realize the substance of a dream come 
 true. He lay upon a couch of balsam, in a corner of 
 somebody's camp — a log structure, rudely furnished. 
 His clothing lay upon a chair at his side. 
 
 He arose and dressed, exulting in his sense of re- 
 newed well-being, a prey to hints of an extraordinary 
 appetite. There were evidences of a woman's recent 
 presence: blankets neatly folded upon a second bed of 
 aromatic balsam in the corner, a pair of dainty buck- 
 skin gauntlets depending from a nail in the wall, 
 and, in an old preserve jar on the table, a single rose, 
 warm and red, dew upon its petals! 
 
 There was fire in the cook-stove and things to 
 cook, but despite his hunger Alan didn't stop for 
 that. He rushed to the door, threw it open, and 
 looked out. There was no living thing in sight. 
 
 The place was a table of level land some few acres 
 in area, bounded on one hand, beneath the cliff from 
 which he had dropped, by a river fat with recent 
 rains; on the other by a second cliff of equal height. 
 
 41 
 
42 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Near the camp, upon a strip of shelving beach, two 
 canoes were drawn up. Dense thickets of pines, 
 oaks, and balsam hedged in the clearing. 
 
 He was, it seemed, to be left to himself that day; 
 when he had cooked and made way with an enormous 
 breakfast, Alan found nothing better to do than to 
 explore this pocket domain. He never wandered 
 far from camp. He was indisposed to run any risk 
 of not being at home to welcome the woman who 
 had nursed him and then vanished, leaving him for 
 souvenir only that rose (culled from a bush that 
 some whim of chance had planted near the cabin 
 door) and the memory of her lips. . . . 
 
 He feasted famously again at noon; whiled away 
 several hours by fishing with rod and tackle found 
 in the camp, and toward three o'clock lounged back 
 to his aromatic couch for a nap. 
 
 The westering sun had thrown a shadow across the 
 cove when he was awakened. Rose Trine was 
 kneeling beside him, clutching his shoulders, calling 
 him by name. He wasted no time discriminating 
 between dream and reality, but gathered both into 
 his arms. And for a moment she rested there un- 
 resisting, if sobbing quietly. 
 
 "What is it, dearest?" he questioned, kissing her 
 tears away. 
 
 "To find you all right. ... I was so 
 afraid!" 
 
WHITE WATER 43 
 
 "Of what? Wasn't I all right when you left me 
 here this morning ? " 
 
 She looked strangely at him. 
 
 "I did not leave you here this morning, Alan. I 
 wasn't here " 
 
 "You were not " he stammered. "Then 
 
 who ?" 
 
 "Judith," she stated with conviction. 
 
 "Impossible! You don't understand." 
 
 The girl shook her head. "Yet I know Judith 
 was here until this morning. I tell you I know! 
 She passed us in a canoe a few hours ago while we 
 watched in hiding. And one of her guides told mine 
 she was here with you. She had sent him to South 
 Portage for quinine. He stopped there to get drunk, 
 and that's how my guide managed to worm the 
 information from him." 
 
 "I don't understand." Alan passed a hand across 
 his eyes. 
 
 The report of a rifle interrupted him. At this, 
 clutching frantically at his arm, the girl drew him 
 away toward the river. 
 
 "Oh, come!" she cried wildly. "There's no 
 time !" 
 
 "But why? What was that?" 
 
 "Judith is returning. We must escape the only 
 way — by the river." 
 
 "The current is too strong." 
 
44 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 " But downstream — ^the current with us " 
 
 " How about those rapids ? " 
 
 "We must shoot them ! " 
 
 "Can it be done?" 
 
 "It must be!" 
 
 He offered no further objection, but turned at 
 •once and launched one of the canoes. Rose took her 
 place in the bow, paddle in hand; and Alan was 
 about to step in astern when a shot sounded and a 
 bullet kicked up turf within a dozen feet. A glance 
 discovered two figures debouching into the clearing. 
 He dropped into place and, planting paddle in 
 shallows, sent the canoe well out with a vigorous 
 thrust. Two strokes took it to the middle of the 
 pool, where the current caught the little craft and 
 sped it through more narrow and higher banks. A 
 moment more, and the mouth of the gorge was 
 yawning for them. 
 
 Alan rose carefully to his feet for a reconnaissance. 
 He looked back first, and saw the prow of the second 
 canoe glide out from the banks. He looked ahead. 
 The rapids were a wilderness of shouting waters, white 
 and green. But there was no escaping that ordeal. 
 The canoe was already spinning between walls where 
 the water ran deep and fast. The-man settled down 
 to work with grim determination, pitting courage and 
 strength and experience against the ravening, bellow- 
 ing waters that tore at the canoe on every hand. 
 
WHITE WATER 45 
 
 He fought like one possessed. There was never 
 an instant's grace between judgment and execution; 
 and both must be instantaneous, or else — destruc- 
 tion. Again and again the canoe plunged wildly 
 toward the instant annihilation which was avoided 
 only by the timely plunge of a paddle, guided by 
 luck or instinct or both. The one ray of hope in 
 Alan's mind sprang from the fact that, however 
 rough, the rapids were short. Now, when he had 
 been in their grasp a minute, he seemed to have been 
 there hours. 
 
 His labourings were tremendous, unbelievable, 
 inspired. The goal of safety was within sight when 
 Alan's paddle broke, and the canoe swung broadside 
 to a boulder, turned turtle, and precipitated both 
 headlong into that savage welter. 
 
 As the next few moments passed he was fighting. 
 Hke a mad thing against overwhelming odds. Then, 
 of a sudden, he found himself swimming mechani- 
 cally in the smooth water of a wide pool beyond the 
 lowermost eddy, the canoe floating bottom up nearby, 
 and Rose supporting herself with one hand on it. 
 
 Her eye met his, clear with adorable courage. He 
 floundered to her side, panted instructions to transfer 
 her hand to his shoulder, and struck out for the 
 nearer shore. Both found footing at the same time 
 and waded out exhausted. 
 
 Then Alan remembered the pursuit. He looked 
 
46 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 up the rapids in time to view the last swift quarter 
 of the canoe's descent, Judith in the bow, motion- 
 less, a rifle across her knees, in the stem an Indian 
 guide kneeling and fighting the waters with scarcely 
 perceptible effort in contrast with Alan's supreme 
 struggles. Like a living thing the canoe seemed to 
 gather itself together, it hurtled the eddy in a bound, 
 took the still water with a mighty splash, and shot 
 downstream at diminished speed. 
 
 Judith lifted her rifle and brought it to bear — upon 
 her sister. With a cry of horror, Alan flung himself 
 before Rose. For a breathless instant the woman 
 in the canoe stared along the sights, then lowered her 
 weapon and spoke to the guide, who instantly began 
 to ply a brisk paddle. The canoe sped on and 
 vanished round the bend. 
 
 "Why, in the name of heaven, why?" asked Alan, 
 amazed. 
 
 The girl said dully: "Don't you know?" And 
 when he shook his head. "Her guide told mine 
 you had saved her life on the dam at Spirit Lake. 
 Now do you see ? " 
 
 His countenance was blank: "Gratitude?" 
 
 "Not gratitude alone, but something more ter- 
 rible. . . . Not that I can blame her. . . . 
 But come, if we strike through here we shall, I think, 
 pick up a trail that will bring us to Black Beaver 
 settlement by dark." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 Forewarned 
 
 THE thing was managed with an ingenuity that 
 Alan termed devilish: it was indisputably 
 Machiavellian. 
 
 The lovers had come down from the North in hot 
 haste and the shadow of death. Two days of steady 
 travelling, by canoe, by woods trail, by lake steamer, 
 wore to a culmination through this endless afternoon 
 on the train from Moosehead Lake. No sort of 
 privacy or comfort was attainable in cars crowded 
 to suffocation with fretful, sweating people, home- 
 ward bound from a week-end holiday over the 
 Fourth. ^ 
 
 Nor was it possible to discriminate, to guess 
 whether or not they rode in the company of spies 
 andenemies. Chin in hand, indifferentto discomfort, 
 Alan brooded, his eyes fixed on this woman whom he 
 loved, who had taken her life in her hand to save his 
 life. 
 
 She lay back listlessly in the chair beside his, 
 visibly wilting in the heat blast, her hair in disarray, 
 her eyes closed, fair cheeks faintly flushed, pulses 
 
 47 
 
48 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 slowly throbbing in that exquisite, immaculate 
 throat. . . . 
 
 He would have given worlds to be able to try and 
 comfort her. But with all those abominable peo- 
 ple 
 
 No matter, the longest afternoon must have its 
 evening; an hour or so more and they would be in 
 Portland, surrounded by all the conveniences and 
 safeguards of civiHzation, free at last to draw breath 
 of ease in the land of law, order, and sane living. 
 
 The train had paused at the last hill station. Then 
 as the trucks groaned and moved anew, a lout of a 
 boy came galloping down the aisle, brandishing two 
 yellow envelopes and blatting like a brazen calf. 
 
 "Mista' Lawrlj Mista' Lawr! Tel'grams for 
 Mista' Lawr!" 
 
 Alan snatched the envelopes, tipped the boy, and 
 hoped to heaven he might break his sunburned neck 
 as he tumbled off the rear steps. 
 
 He had been expecting a reply to his wire for 
 reservations on the night express from Portland to 
 New York. But why two envelopes superscribed 
 "Mr. A. Law, Kineo train southbound, Oakland Sta?" 
 
 He tore one open, and grunted disgust with its 
 curt advice; opened the other and caught his breath 
 as he withdrew — part way only — a playing card^a 
 Trey of Hearts. 
 
 Thrusting it back, he tore both envelopes into a 
 
FOREWARNED 49 
 
 hundred fragments and scattered them from the 
 window. But the fiendish wind whisked one small 
 scrap back into the lap of the woman he loved. The 
 silken lashes trembled, lifted slightly, disclosing the 
 dark glimmer of questioning eyes. And as she 
 clipped the scrap of card-board between thumb and 
 forefinger, he silently took from her one corner of 
 the Trey of Hearts. 
 
 She nodded acknowledgment of his dumb solicitude 
 but made no direct comment. 
 
 "The Pullman agent at Portland wires that there 
 are no reservations available on any New York train 
 in the next thirty-six hours," he said with lowered 
 voice. "We'll have to rest up overnight, I gu€ss." 
 
 "Couldn't we catch the New York boat to-night ? " 
 
 "No. It leaves before we get in." 
 
 She said, "Too bad," abstractedly, reclosed her 
 eyes, and apparently lapsed anew into semi-som- 
 nolence, but without deceiving him who could well 
 guess what poignant anxiety gnawed at her heart. 
 
 He could have ground his teeth in exasperation: 
 the impish insolence of that warning. To think 
 that this was America, this the twentieth century, 
 and still a man could be hunted from pillar to post, 
 haunted with threats, and that by a slip of a girl 
 with the cunning of a madwoman, the heart of a 
 thug, the face the beloved woman that sat beside 
 him. 
 
so THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 A surmise slowly settled into conviction that the 
 woman Judith Trine, sister to the Rose he loved so 
 well, was as mad as that monomaniac, her father, 
 who sat helpless in his cell of silence and shadows in 
 New York, impatient for the word that his vengeance 
 had been consummated by the daughter whom he 
 had inspired to execute it. . . . 
 
 In the dusk of evening the train lumbered into 
 Portland station; and, heart in mouth, Alan helped 
 Rose through the crowd and into a taxicab. 
 
 "Best hotel in town," he demanded. "And be 
 quick — for a double tip." 
 
 He did not dare plume himself on a new escape. 
 He dared not even trust this public chauffeur. Yet 
 that one he distrusted, it seemed, without reason: 
 shortly the cab stopped before a hotel of tolerable 
 pretensions on a quiet street. 
 
 He had communicated his scheme to the girl 'en 
 route, receiving her endorsement of it. Now, having 
 registered for her and seen her to the door of the 
 best available room in the house within call of the 
 public lobby and office, he washed, gulped a hasty 
 meal, and hurried away into the night with only the 
 negro driver of a fortuitous hack for his guide. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 The Captain of the "Seaventure" 
 
 HE WASTED the better part of an hour in fruit- 
 less inquiries: then his luck led him down a 
 poorly lighted wharf, attheendofwhich he discovered 
 a young man perched atop a pile, hands in pockets, 
 gaze turned seaward, lips pursed — ^whistling. At 
 the sound of footsteps this person turned to appraise 
 the stranger, then, reassured, resumed his harmonious 
 diversion of melancholy, and with it his gloomy stare 
 across the water. 
 
 "Pardon me," Alan ventured, "perhaps you can 
 help me out " 
 
 "You've come to the wrong shop, my friend," the 
 young man interposed. "I couldn't help anybody 
 out." 
 
 "I thought possibly you might know where I 
 could charter a seaworthy boat." 
 
 "What kind of a boat?" the young man demanded. 
 
 "Anything moderately fast, well-found and able, 
 with accommodations for two passengers — one a 
 lady." 
 
 The young man slipped down from his perch. 
 
 SI 
 
52 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "If you don't look sharp," he said, "you'll charter 
 the Seaventure." He waved his hand toward a vessel 
 moored nearby. "There she is, schooner-rigged, 
 fifty feet over all, twenty-five horsepower auxiliary, 
 two staterooms — all ready. Come aboard." 
 
 Alan accepted his invitation, and the light of the 
 cabin lamp revealed to Alan's scrutiny a roughly 
 modelled, good-humoured face enlivened by twin- 
 kling though steady blue eyes. 
 
 "Name, Barcus," said the young man, "christened 
 Thomas. Nativity, American. State of life, flat 
 broke. I found myself this spring with this boat 
 on my hands, sunk every cent I had fitting out on 
 an oral charter with a moneyed blighter in New York 
 who was to have met me here a fortnight since- 
 He didn't — and here I am, in pawn to the ship- 
 chandler." 
 
 "How much do you owe ? " 
 "Upward of a hundred." 
 
 "Say I advance that amount, when can we sail?" 
 "Pay my bills, and we can be off" inside an hour. 
 That is — I may have some trouble scaring up a 
 crew." 
 
 " How much of a crew do you need I " 
 "One other who knows his job will be enough." 
 "Then that's settled," Alan said. "I know boats. 
 I'll be your crew — and the better satisfied to have 
 nobody else aboard." 
 
CAPTAIN OF THE "SEAVENTURE" 53 
 
 The eyes of Mr. Barcus clouded. "See here, 
 what's your little game, anyway? I'll be no party 
 to a kidnapping or " 
 
 "It's an elopement," Alan interrupted on in- 
 spiration. "We've simply got to get clear of Port- 
 land by midnight." 
 
 "I'm on!" Barcus agreed. "God knows why I 
 believe you, but I do." 
 
 "Now," Alan proceeded, "here's a hundred and 
 fifty. Be ready for us in half an hour — ready to 
 cast off the minute we come aboard." 
 
 "I'll be ready," Mr. Barcus agreed, arid in a mo- 
 ment the feet of his employer drummed along the 
 deck overhead while Barcus soliloquized: "I don't 
 know your name; you haven't asked my price; if it 
 wasn't for that smile of yours, my hair-trigger friend, 
 I'd be less satisfied that this was my lucky day!" 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 Blue Water 
 
 ANXIETY ate like an acid at Alan's heart. He 
 jTjL could only hope against hope and count on 
 haste to make his getaway. But when he reentered 
 the hotel, one surprising thing happened that gave 
 him new heart: it seemed almost as if his luck had 
 turned. For as he paused at the desk of the cashier 
 to demand his bill, the elevator gate opened and Rose 
 came out to meet him, with an eager air of hope 
 masking her fatigue. 
 
 "I worried so I couldn't rest," she told him; "so 
 I watched from the window till I saw you drive up. 
 Then something told me you had been success- 
 ful " 
 
 He acquainted her briefly with his fortune. "It 
 may be a little hard on you," he concluded, "but 
 she's a comfortable boat enough, and with luck and 
 decent weather " 
 
 " I shall be all right," she protested. " I'm a good 
 sailor, and I am so glad we're to get away. I have 
 been oppressed all evening by a dreadful premoni- 
 tion." 
 
 54 
 
BLUE WATER 55 
 
 "Nonsense!" he cheered her insincerely. "What 
 could happen in a staid old town like this? We're 
 out of the woods at last! " 
 
 But she seemed unable to overcome the heaviness 
 of her spirits even when their cab set them down at 
 the wharf. 
 
 Here, Alan had feared, was the crucial point of 
 danger. But his straining senses detected no sign 
 of menace among those black, crowding shadows — 
 and nothing happened. Mr. Barcus was found in 
 cheerful waiting — the Seaventure ready to cast off, 
 her motor already grumbling with impatience. 
 
 "All right?" he chirruped to his passenger and 
 crew. "Jump aboard ! We'll be off in a jiffy." 
 
 And he was as good as his word. Alan had barely 
 set foot on deck, following the girl, when a smother of 
 foam boiled up under the stern, the propeller blades 
 gripped water, and the Seaventure swung away from 
 the wharf. 
 
 After a careful search of the little craft, Alan, 
 satisfied that all was well, nodded cheerfully. 
 
 "All right," he said to the girl. "We're clear of 
 that lot, nobody but the three of us aboard. Now 
 you'd best turn in. This is to be your stateroom, 
 this one to port, and you'll have a long night's 
 sleep to make up for what you've gone through, 
 dearest." 
 
 He drew nearer, dropping his voice tenderly. 
 
56 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 And of a sudden, with a little low cry, the girl came 
 into his arms and clung passionately to him. 
 
 "But you?" she murmured. "You need rest 
 as much as I!" 
 
 "Oh, no, I don't," he continued. "Barcus and I 
 stand watch and watch, of course. There's nothing 
 for you to do but be completely at your ease. Good- 
 night." 
 
 Eyes half-closed, she seemed to suffer his kiss 
 rather than to respond, then turned hastily to her 
 stateroom, leaving him staring in wonder at her 
 strangeness. But he had no time for speculation. 
 A surge of triumph in his heart, he ran up the com- 
 panion-way and rejoined Barcus. 
 
 "Well?" Barcus asked amiably. "Find every- 
 thing to your satisfaction ? " 
 
 "I think so — quite. What can I do?" 
 
 "Stand by until we round the breakwater. Then 
 take the wheel while I make sail. We'll catch a cap- 
 ful of wind as soon as we get out, and then this old 
 hooker is due to set a pace you'll find surprising." 
 
 It was well on toward midnight before he finally 
 relieved Alan and told him to turn in. By that time 
 the Seaventure was spinning south-southeast, close 
 reefed to a sou'west wind, the fixed white eye of 
 Portland Headlight fast falling astern to starboard. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 The Counterfeiter 
 
 AT FOUR o'clock Alan was awakened by boot- 
 l\, heels pounding imperatively overhead, and 
 tumbled on deck again, to stand both dog-watches. 
 At eight o'clock, still aching with fatigue, he was 
 free to return to his berth for another four-hour rest. 
 
 This time misguided consideration induced Barcus 
 to let his crew sleep through the first afternoon watch. 
 Six bells were ringing when, in drowsy consciousness 
 that something had gone suddenly and radically 
 wrong, Alan wakened. The steady onward urge of 
 the little vessel had given place to wild rocking and 
 pitching, while the song of the wind in the cordage 
 was lost In the flapping and bellow of slack canvas. 
 
 For some reason evidently Barcus had found it 
 necessary to bring the Seaventure up into the wind; 
 but Alan could imagine no reason why he should 
 have performed the maneuver in such lubberly fash- 
 ion. 
 
 He was on deck almost before he rubbed the 
 sleepiness from his eyes. His first glance discovered 
 the whed deserted, the woman with back to him 
 
 S7 
 
S8 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 standing at the tafFrail, Barcus — nowhere to be seen. 
 The second confirmed his surmise that the Sea- 
 venture had come up into the wind, and now was 
 yawing off wildly into the trough of a stiff sea. A 
 diird showed him to his amazement a Gloucester 
 fisherman — ^which they had overhauled with ease 
 that morning and which now should have been well 
 down the horizon astern — not two miles distant, and 
 bearing directly down upon the smaller vessel. 
 
 Bewildered, he darted to the girl's side, demanding 
 to know what was the matter. She turned to him a 
 face he hardly recognized — but still he didn't under- 
 stand. The interference was a thing unthinkable; 
 his brain faltered when taxed to credit it. Only 
 when he saw her tearing at the painter, striving to 
 cast it off and with it the dory it dragged a hundred 
 feet astern, and another glance discovered the head 
 of Mr. Barcus rising over the stern of the tender as 
 he strove to lift himself out of the water, did Alan 
 appreciate what had happened. 
 
 It was with the feeling that all the world had gone 
 mad, that he seized the girl and tore her away from 
 the rail before she could unknot the painter. 
 
 "Rose!" he cried. "What's the matter with you ? 
 Don't you see what you're doing.?" 
 
 She ceased to struggle and lay unresisting in his 
 arms. "Let him go!" she muttered. "We don't 
 want him — and he'll be picked up, right enough." 
 
THE COUNTERFEITER 59 
 
 " But — ^what are you thinking of, Rose " 
 
 "Can't you say anjrthing but 'Rose! Rose! Rose!* 
 Is there no other name that means anything to you? 
 It is intolerable ! I love you no less than she — rather 
 more — because I hate you, too! Can't you under- 
 stand ?" 
 
 Convulsively she freed herself. "Let me go!" 
 she insisted. "Let me go!" 
 
 "Judith!" he cried, stupefied. "But— good Lord! 
 how did you get aboard ? Where's Rose ? " 
 
 "Where you'll not find her again," the woman re- 
 torted. " Trust me for th at ! " 
 
 "What do you mean?" Then illumination came. 
 "Do you mean it was you whom I brought aboard 
 last night?" 
 
 "Who else?" 
 
 "You waylaid her in the hotel, substituted your- 
 self for her !" 
 
 "Of course. Why not ? When I saw her sleeping 
 there — ^what else should I think of than to take her 
 place with the man I love? I knew you'd never 
 know the difference. I was mad enough to think I 
 could stand being loved by you in her name! It 
 was only to-day, when I'd had time to think, that 
 I realized how impossible that was ! " 
 
 A cry from over the stern roused Alan to fresh 
 appreciation of the emergency. With scant con- 
 sideration he hustled the woman below, and closed 
 
6o THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 her in with the sliding latch, then sprang to the 
 tafFrail to lend a helping hand to Mr. Barcus, who 
 was climbing aboard, after he had pulled the dory 
 up under the stern by its painter. He came over the 
 rail^in a temper, bellowed a blasphemous command 
 to take the wheel and swing the Seaventure ofF again 
 upon her course, and then pulled himself together. 
 
 "I hope you'll pardon the impertinence," he sug- 
 gested acidly, "but may I inquire if that bloody- 
 minded vixen is your blushing bride to be ? " 
 
 Alan shook a helpless head. "No — it's all a 
 damnable mistake. She's her sister — I mean, the 
 right girl's sister — and her precise double — fooled 
 me — not quite right in the head, I'm afraid." 
 
 "You may well be afraid!" Mr. Barcus snapped, 
 **D'you know what she did? Threw me overboard! 
 Fact! Came on deck sweet as peaches, and all of a 
 sudden whips out a gun, points it at my head, and 
 orders me to luff into the wind. Before I could 
 make sure I wasn't dreaming, she had fired twice — 
 in the air — a signal to that fisherman astern there: 
 at least, it answered with two hoots of its whistle 
 and changed course to run up to us. Look how she's 
 gained already!" 
 
 A glance showed the vessel within a mile and ap- 
 parently bent on running them down, 
 
 "But how did she happen to throw you over- 
 board?" 
 
THE COUNTERFEITER 6t 
 
 "Happen nothing!" Barcus roared. "She did it 
 a' purpose! I had a notion to get that gun away 
 before she did mischief with it, but when I knocked 
 it out of her hand she flew at me like a wildcat, and 
 before I knew what was up, I was slammed backward 
 over the rail. God's mercy gave me a chance at 
 the dory — and at that this giddy she-devil of yours 
 was trying to cast me adrifc!" 
 
 "I can't tell you how sorry I am," Alan responded 
 gravely. "It's a hideous mix-up, and I'd no business 
 dragging you into it " 
 
 "Amen to that!" 
 
 "There's more to tell — but one thing to be done 
 first." 
 
 "And that ? " Mr. Barcus inquired. 
 
 "To get rid of the lady," Alan announced firmly. 
 "Those must be her people aboard that fisherman j 
 and if we let her stop aboard she's certain to do 
 something to cripple us — if she hasn't already; and 
 if that boat ever overhauls us, I'm as good as done 
 for — murdered. It sounds insane, but it's so." 
 
 "It doesn't sound insane to me, my friend," said 
 Mr. Barcus ruefully, "not after the last half hour." 
 
 "Then take the wheel." 
 
 " What are you going to do? " 
 
 "Make the fisherman a present. You don't mind 
 parting with the dory — if I pay for it ? " 
 
 "Take it for nothing," Barcus grumbled. 
 
62 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 He took Alan's place, watching him with a sar- 
 donic eye as he drew the tender in under the leeward 
 quarter, made it fast, and reopened the companion- 
 way. As the girl came on deck, in a rage that only 
 heightened her loveliness, Alan noted a glimmer of 
 satisfaction in her glance astern as she recognized 
 how well the fisherman had drawn up on them, 
 
 "Friends of yours, I infer?" Alan inquired. 
 
 Judith nodded: "I don't mind telling you she 
 was ordered out of Gloucester by telegraph five min- 
 utes after you struck your bargain with this gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "It would be unkind of us to keep you longer 
 from your friends," Alan observed. "And it will 
 save trouble if you'll be good enough to step into 
 the dory without a struggle." 
 
 Without a word, Judith swung herself overside 
 into the dory. Immediately Alan cast off, and for 
 some minutes there was silence between the two men 
 while the tender dropped swiftly astern. 
 
 Then suddenly elevating his nose, Barcus sniffed. 
 "Here," he said sharply, "relieve me for a minute, 
 will you? I want to go forward and have a look at 
 that motor." 
 
 In the time that he remained between decks the 
 fisherman luffed, picked up the dory and its occupant, 
 and came round again in chase of the Seaventure. 
 
 When Barcus reappeared it was with a grave face. 
 
THE COUNTERFEITER 63 
 
 "What's the trouble now?" 
 
 "Nothing much, only your playful little friend has 
 been up to another ofher light-hearted tricks. . . . 
 The drain-cocks of both fuel tanks have been opened, 
 and there are upward of a hundred and fifty gallons 
 of gasoline sloshing around in the bilge." 
 
 He cast a shrewd eye aloft and astern. "Stop 
 where you are,'' he said, " and let her come up only 
 when I give the word, Fm going to let out those 
 reefs. We can stand more sail — and there's no 
 telling how much longer the reef will keep going. 
 It looks to me as if we were up against it — 'specially 
 if your lady friend isn't satisfied. Which, from the 
 way that fisherman sticks to us, doesn't seem likely." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 Holocaust 
 
 YES, yes," said Mr. Barcus indulgently. 
 "Very interesting. Very interesting indeed. 
 I've seldom listened to a more interesting life-histoiy, 
 my poor young friend. But I don't believe one word 
 of it. It's all damn foolishness! Particularly this ! 
 The rest of your adventures are reasonable enough. 
 They won my credulity — and I'm a native son of 
 Missouri. But this last chapter is impossible. And 
 that's flat. It couldn't happen — and has. And 
 there we are!" 
 
 Against the western horizon a strip of sand dunes 
 rested like a bar between the sunset in the sky and the 
 ensanguined sea that mirrored it. 
 
 The wind had gone down with the sun, leaving the 
 Seaventure becalmed — her motor long since inert for 
 want of fuel — a mile or so off Nauset Beach. 
 
 Farther offshore, the so-called Gloucester fisher- 
 man rode, without motion, waters still and glassy. 
 Figures might be seen moving about her decks; and 
 soon she lowered a small boat. A little later a faint 
 humming noise drifted across the tide. 
 
 64 
 

 L,' 
 
 >4ifiiiisiSS.-:» 
 
 
 V..v"' ' 
 
 %m-''^H' 
 
 
 '■ *■..!'' .-^ifr 
 
 fe; MMiff^ 
 
 
 ^ ',%"" 
 
 [■ng^^|H||| 
 
 T=^-^ . ;:■■'■■'''"■■. 
 
 
 *-Vv-M*w*>^^f*i^i*^- ■'■'^ j^li^ ^ ^ ^ r"'^ fc^^..^' ■■.., 
 
 <■;''■'. ■ ' .' 
 
 7^^^-'jf^--M 
 
 m ^'' 
 
 
 ^^H 
 
 
 
 
 '-Itt ' 
 
 
 ,^,.^-^ 
 
 
 1 iB: i 
 
 wm 
 
 w. '■■■% 
 
 ^mLA^^tM 
 
 
 \im 
 
 # :. ' ^lf:l 
 
 ^^^sBHkIj^I 
 
 ' .'.'':- ;^' ■ ' 
 
 \ 
 
 
 ■''^*' ■.", 
 
 
 
 , --,',' --J.-»^->-*— -— """^ - . i . 
 
..jt'Kttft&P'&;' 
 
 
 ALANS ARRIVAL WAS THE SIGNAL FOR MUCH EXCITEMENT. 
 
HOLOCAUST 6s 
 
 "Power tender," said Barcus. "Coming to call, 
 I presume. Sociable lot. What / can't make out is 
 why do they tow our dory back. Uneasy conscience, 
 maybe — ^what?" 
 
 Alan grunted his disgust, but said nothing. 
 
 "Don't take it so hard, old top," Barcus advised. 
 Then he rose and dived down the companion-way, 
 presently to appear with a megaphone and a shotgun. 
 
 "No cutting-out parties in this outfit," he ex- 
 plained, grinning amiably. "None of that old stufF, 
 revised to suit your infatuated female friend. Once 
 aboard the lugger and the man is mine ! " 
 
 Stationing himself at the rail, he bellowed through 
 the megaphone. 
 
 "Keep off! Come within gunshot and I'll blow 
 your fool heads off! " Putting aside the megaphone, 
 he sat down again. "Not that I'd dare fire this 
 blunderbuss," he confided, " with this reek of gaso- 
 line. Phew-w! I've inhaled so much gas in the last 
 few hours, I m dry clean down to my silly old toes ! " 
 
 For thirty minutes nothing happened. The fish- 
 erman's launch was resting motionless on the water, 
 two figures mysteriously busy in its cockpit, the 
 Seaventure's dory trailing behind it. 
 
 Gradually these details were blotted out by the 
 closing shadows. Far up the coast two white eyes, 
 peering over the horizon, stared steadfastly through 
 the dark: "Chatham Lights," Barcus said they were. 
 
66 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Abruptly he dropped the glasses and jumped up. 
 "Hear that ? " he cried. 
 
 Now the humming of the motor was again audible 
 and growing louder every instant; and Alan, infected 
 with the excitement of Barcus, could just make out 
 a dark shadow that moved swiftly and steadily to- 
 ward the Seaventure. 
 
 "What the devil! "he demanded, puzzled. Barcus 
 grasped his arm excitedly. 
 
 "Quick — kick off your shoes — get set for a mile- 
 long swim! Devil's work, all right!" he panted, 
 divesting himself of shoes and outer garments. "I 
 couldn't make out what they were up to till I saw 
 them lash the wheel, light the fuse, start the motor, 
 and take to the dory. They've made a torpedo-boat 
 out of that tender " 
 
 He sprang upon the rail, steadying himself with 
 a stay. "Ready?" he asked. "Look sharp!" 
 
 The two dived as one, and not until three hundred 
 feet or more separated them from the schooner did 
 either dare pause for a backward glance. 
 
 Then the impact of the launch against the Sea- 
 venture's side rang out across the waters, and with a 
 roar the launch blew up, spewing skyward a wide- 
 spread fan of flame. There followed a crackling 
 noise, and bright flames licked out all over the 
 schooner from stem to stern. It seemed minutes 
 that she burned in this wise-^it was probably not so 
 
HOLOCAUST 67 
 
 long — before her decks blew up and the flames swept 
 roaring to the sky. 
 
 By the time Alan and Barcus had gained shoal 
 water that permitted them footing to wade ashore, 
 waist-deep, the Seaventure had burned to the water's 
 edge. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Marooned 
 
 ON NAUSET BEACH, Alan and Barcus sprawled 
 on the sands, some distance back from the 
 water, and listened to the thumping of their over- 
 taxed hearts, and panted. Now and again one would 
 lift his head and stare out over the waters at a little 
 line of reddish flames : all that remained to witness 
 to the fact that, an hour since, these two had been 
 in command of as trim and seaworthy a little schooner 
 as ever ventured the trip from Portland to New York. 
 Farther out again a green eye stared unblinking over 
 the water: the starboard light of the becalmed fishing 
 schooner whose crew had caused the disaster. 
 
 "Barcus," said Alan, "what I can't understand is 
 why those damned thugs out there thought we'd be 
 asses enough to stay aboard the Seaventure and get 
 burned up." 
 
 The other replied : "Did they ? " 
 
 "Looks that way. If they didn't, why were we 
 permitted to swim ashore? There was nothing to 
 prevent their rowing round to cut us off." 
 
 "Maybe they did, and missed us, Mr. Law-and- 
 
 68 
 
MAROONED 69 
 
 Order! We were a wee mite excited, you've got to 
 admit. It's possible we didn't hear the noise of 
 their oars. And it's black enough for them to have 
 overlooked us. A man's head in the water isn't 
 really a conspicuous object on a dark night." 
 
 "I suppose not," said Alan indifferently. "It 
 doesn't matter. Tell me, Barcus, what's the nearest 
 symptom of civilization ? " 
 
 "Chatham village," said Mr. Barcus, "six miles 
 or so to the no'th'ards, and cut off by an inlet. Then 
 there's the lighthouse on Monomoy Point, three miles 
 to the south." « 
 
 A silence followed, broken only when Mr. Law 
 voiced a thought bred of malignant contemplation. 
 
 "I'd give a deal to know who's aboard that vessel." 
 
 "You don't mean you think your regular young 
 woman !" 
 
 "It's possible," said Law. "Judith kidnapped 
 her in Portland. That's not so far from Gloucester 
 a motor-car couldn't have caught that schooner 
 before she sailed to waylay us this morning. And 
 what better way to take care of a girl you've kid- 
 napped than to ship her somewhere by sea, in the 
 care of trustworthy hellions ?" 
 
 "Don't ask me. I've done very little kidnapping." 
 
 "For tuppence," said Law, "I'd swim off to that 
 boat and see for myself." 
 
 "For two million dollars, I would not!" Barcus 
 
70 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 affirmed. "I'm as wet as I mean to be for the next 
 twenty-four hours." 
 
 A moment later the Hne of little flames went out, 
 and the owner of the late Seaventure fancied he could 
 hear the hiss of smouldering timbers sucked under 
 and drowned out. 
 
 "Exit," he announced moodily, "exit Seaventure. 
 R. I. P.— a good little ship ! " 
 
 "Oh, let up, can't you?" Mr. Law exclaimed pee- 
 vishly. "I'm sorrier than you are — and, after all, 
 it's my loss: I've got to buy you another boat. 
 All you've actually lost is your temper." 
 
 "And my susceptibility to the charms of the sex," 
 Mr. Barcus corrected. "Nothing can ever restore 
 my lost faith in woman's gentleness. When you 
 brought aboard that young woman I thought butter 
 wouldn't melt in her mouth, and first thing I know 
 she ups and points a gun at my head and tips me 
 overboard, and then makes a pretty bonfire out of 
 my sailboat." 
 
 For a moment the two maintained attentive si- 
 lence. Then a little flutter of sound came from across 
 the water. Gradually it gathered volume, and be- 
 came recognizable as the lisp of cautious oars. 
 
 "I'm going away from here," Mr. Barcus an- 
 nounced firmly. 
 
 "Half a second," Alan Law pleaded. "I've got a 
 scheme." 
 
MAROONED 71 
 
 "Rot!" Barcus interrupted; "all you've got is 
 what I've got — a bare chance for your life by running 
 like hell for Monomoy Light. If we're sticking 
 round here when that boat lands, this blithe elope- 
 ment of yours is liable to finish like that Dead March 
 from Saul!" 
 
 "Yes— but listen!" Alan insisted. "They've got 
 to land, haven't they, and leave the boat while they 
 look for us? Well, then, what's to prevent our hid- 
 ing in the dunes and ? " 
 
 "It's a head you've got on your shoulders," Barcus 
 struck in admiringly. "Chances are they'll pot us 
 in the act; but I never did dote on walking, and it's 
 all of three miles to Monomoy Light ! " 
 
 In the next breath, "Look out!" he shrieked. A 
 blue flare had broken out in full blaze on the surface 
 of the water near them, revealing a dory which had 
 drawn in under cover of the darkness, and at the 
 same time discovering to its occupants the two star- 
 tled figures on the beach. Before they could stir, a 
 spiteful tongue of flame spat out, and a bullet sang 
 between them and buried itself in the sands behind 
 them. 
 
 The two turned and pelted off down the beach, 
 seeking to escape that deadly area of illumination. 
 Other shots sped them, but none was so well aimed 
 as the first; and presently they gained the grateful 
 shelter of the night-wrapped dunes. 
 
72 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 " Easy ! " Barcus counselled, pulling up. "Not too 
 far into this wilderness, or we'll be lost." 
 
 Meantime the dory had grounded on the beach, 
 and its occupants, jumping out, set off in pursuit of 
 the fugitives, following their tracks with the aid of 
 electric flash-lamps. The darkness, however, con- 
 spired with the labyrinth of the dunes to save Alan 
 and his companion. It was a matter of comparative 
 ease to confuse the chase. 
 
 Within five minutes — ^while the chase floundered 
 at random a quarter mile to the south — Law and 
 Barcus were squirming snakelike up the back of a 
 ten-foot bluff. From its brow they looked down 
 on the spot where the dory lay — under armed guard — 
 an unhappy fact made evident by the play of a 
 flash-lamp intermittently raking the beach on every 
 hand. 
 
 In an interval of blackness, slowly and stealthily 
 Alan got to his feet and swung back a heavy club 
 of driftwood which he had chanced upon. A pause 
 ensued, of waiting for the flash-light to make sure 
 of his aim. Instead of that, a match spluttered, 
 revealing with its reddish glow a bronzed and evil 
 visage intent upon the bowl of a pipe. 
 
 The guard puffed fast and had the tobacco well 
 aglow when the sky took advantage of his trustful- 
 ness and fell upon him like an avalanche. Simul- 
 taneously, Alan and Barcus slid down the face of 
 
MAROONED 73 
 
 the blufF and finished what the treacherous sky had 
 left undone. By the time the disarmed guard had 
 recovered sufficiently to cry for help, the dory was a 
 hundred yards off the beach and making excellent 
 time in the direction of the green light. 
 
 They wrought at the oars with a machine-like 
 precision that drove the boat fast and furiously. 
 Concealment of their purpose from those aboard 
 the schooner was out of the question. The racket 
 and the play of flash-lamps along the beach must have 
 betrayed the fact that they had turned the tables 
 long before the dory left the inshore shoals. 
 
 Caution, however, made them rest on their oars 
 while yet a little way from their goal. No sound 
 was audible other than the whine of an ungreased 
 block; nothing was visible beyond the glare of the 
 green lantern. 
 
 "What think ? " Barcus whispered. 
 
 "NoteUing," Alan replied. "All a chance." 
 
 "You've got that gun handy?" — ^with reference 
 to the rifle of which they had despoiled the victim 
 of the sky's ill-faith. 
 
 "Here." 
 
 "Then — let'sgotoit! Giveway!" 
 
 A dozen strokes brought them alongside, and the 
 two young men dropped oars, rose, and seizing the 
 low gunwale, lifted themselves to the deck. Nothing 
 opposed them: the deck was silent and deserted. 
 
74 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Alan led the way aft and down the companion-way 
 to the cabin where a dim light burned. Of the two 
 stateroom doors, one disclosed an empty cabin, the 
 other was locked, Trjnng the handle, Alan fancied 
 he heard a sound within. Pausing, he called, with a 
 thrill of fearful hope : 
 
 "Hello in there!" 
 
 The response was a cry of incredulous delight: 
 "Alan!" 
 
 By way of answer he hurled all his hundred and 
 eighty pounds against the door. The lock splintered 
 away from its socket, -the door flew open with a 
 bang, and Alan strode into the room with a cry: 
 "Rose!" 
 
 His sweetheart met him halfway, her arms uplifted, 
 her countenance transfigured. 
 
 The discreet Mr. Barcus turned and ascended the 
 companion-way, his nose wrinkled with misgivings. 
 
 "Blest if I know how he can tell 'em apart," he 
 remarked. "Not that I blame him for taking a 
 chance: it wouldn't pain me any to find out I'd kissed 
 the wrong girl — not, that is, unless she didn't care 
 for my technique. In that case, I guess the sequel 
 would be apt to prove tolerable agonizing ! " 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 Dead Reckoning 
 
 SOME ten minutes later a hail from the deck dis- 
 turbed the lovers. 
 
 " Below there ! I say — Law ! — ^wind a-coming ! " 
 
 " Right O! Half a minute!" 
 
 But that stipulated delay was several times 
 multiplied before Alan showed up on deck, to 
 find Barcus bending a laborious back to the cap- 
 stan. Already a breath of coolness stole through 
 the warm languor of the night: blocks creaked, 
 canvas shivered : there was a sibilant murmur in the 
 water outside. 
 
 "Lend a hand, can't you?" Barcus complained. 
 " I didn't interrupt you just to get an audience. The 
 sooner we get this anchor in " 
 
 " But I don't want the anchor," Alan protested. 
 "It isn't my anchor. I say, cut the cable— or let 
 it run." 
 
 Barcus stepped back from the capstan and kicked 
 open the pawl, with the result that the windlass 
 began merrily to unwind. 
 
 "My compliments! I never thought of that. 
 
 7S 
 
76 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 If you'd only betray as much intelligence in man- 
 aging your private affairs " 
 
 Alan checked him. "What's that?" he demanded 
 in a tone tense with apprehension. The rumbhng 
 of a marine motor drifted down on the wings of the 
 sluggish winds. 
 
 *' Don't ask me. I'm afraid to guess ! " 
 
 "But they couldn't possibly " 
 
 "Since when did you set up to be a judge of pos- 
 sibilities? Nothing probable ever happened to you 
 's far's I can make out. I know there are two life- 
 saving stations on Nauset, both with modern equip- 
 ment — motor lifeboats and all. Our business is to 
 get out of here quick, and not advertise our exit, 
 either. Take that port light in and dowse it, while 
 I do the same by the starboard. Then duck below 
 and put out the cabin lamp. Then, if this blackness 
 holds, we may manage an invasion!" 
 
 There followed an exceedingly busy quarter of an 
 hour. They were clever sailormen, used to all sorts 
 of craft, and the end of that period found the schooner 
 with sheets taut and canvas full to a good easterly 
 breeze — ^the light on Monomoy Point watching them 
 from over the starboard beam. 
 
 "Hear anything more of that power boat?" Alan 
 asked, joining Barcus by the wheel. 
 
 "Nothing — ^wind too fresh." 
 
 " Better let me stand the first trick — what ? " 
 
DEAD RECKONING 77 
 
 "Nix! I know my way about these shoals blind- 
 fold, whereas you couldn't weather Monomoy safely 
 in broad daylight. Get under the table and be a 
 good dog — d'you hear?" 
 
 With a chuckle, Alan obediently stretched himself 
 out on the deck. 
 
 " I say. Law! You seem pretty easy in your mind 
 about this young woman below. Sure you ain't 
 been stung twice ? " 
 
 " Sure," Alan asserted with conviction. 
 
 "Well, I reckon you ought to know. But to me, 
 she's the same that tried to send me to Davy Jones' 
 locker. How did she get aboard here ? " 
 
 "I fancy they chloroformed her^ while she slept 
 in that hotel in Portland. Whether or no. Rose 
 woke up in a closed motor-car — bound and gagged, 
 of course — and was brought aboard at Gloucester 
 about midnight." 
 
 " Simple when you know how," Barcus commented. 
 "Cuddle down, now, and I'll sing you to sleep. 
 
 . ." Unconsciousness like a cloud soon de- 
 scended upon Alan's overwearied faculties. . . . 
 
 He awoke with a yawn and a shiver, in the gray 
 of chill daybreak. A thick fog pressed heavily upon 
 the face of the waters, and moisture beaded all things, 
 even Alan's face and hands. Barcus stood at the 
 wheel, reeling with weariness, his eyes half-closed 
 In a face like a mask of fatigue. 
 
78 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "Can't keep up much longer," he apologized 
 thickly; "stood it about as long as I can. Take 
 your trick and give me forty winks." 
 
 "You're a brick!" Alan protested. "Why didn't 
 you call me sooner?" 
 
 "No good! I knew the way — you didn't. That 
 is, I did until this accursed fog closed down. Now — 
 God knows where we are — by my reckoning some- 
 where in Nantucket Sound." 
 
 Grasping a handle on the wheel-box, he jerked it 
 threetimes;and the automobile horn blared raucously 
 a threefold response up forward. 
 
 "Keep that going, three blasts, then a minute 
 interval — and if the devil takes care of his own we 
 may escape being run down." 
 
 With a sigh he collapsed upon the deck, and was 
 almost instantly asleep. Hither and yon in the 
 obscurity fog-signals of other shipping sounded a 
 concert of discordance — the man-power horn of a 
 c,atboat crying the warning back to the deep-throated 
 whistle of a coastwise steamship and the impertinent 
 drumming of a motor-boat's exhaust with the muffler 
 cut out. This last boxed the compass, sounding 
 now here, now there, now near, now far; though the 
 complaints of other shipping diminished in volume 
 and died away in the distance, giving place to others, 
 still the plutter-plutter of that motor was never 
 altogether lost- 
 
DEAD RECKONING 79 
 
 Vainly straining his vision against the blank pallor 
 of the encompassing fog, Alan wondered, worried, 
 dreaded. . . . 
 
 At irregular intervals, starting from proccupation, 
 he would manipulate the brass pull on the wheel- 
 box, provoking the horn's stuttering blasts of protest. 
 It seemed improbable that any of the schooner's 
 former crew could fail to recognize that weirdly 
 singular whoop, a sound like nothing else that Alan 
 could recall. 
 
 Only the coldest comfort was to be extracted from 
 the reflection that, even with the aid of that fog- 
 signal, hunting a lost schooner In those mist-masked 
 waters was a task like that traditional one of the 
 needle and the haystack. Alan's life of late seemed 
 simply one endless tissue of wild improbabilities. 
 So long as his luck held, the least likely thing was 
 always to be considered the one thing most certain 
 to come to pass. 
 
 And the exhaust of that restless motor-boat was 
 never for an instant still: it echoed an incessant 
 strumming from the surface of the waters as from 
 some gigantic sounding-board. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Debacle 
 
 THE loneliness of Alan's vigil was eventually 
 relieved by the appearance on deck of the 
 woman he loved. 
 
 The tableau that greeted her — of one haggard 
 wretch at the wheel and the other lying at his feet 
 in the stupor of fatigue — instantly wrung from Rose 
 a little cry of solicitude. 
 
 Warm food and hot coffee lent a little tone to 
 Alan's spirits, and he was presently able to discuss 
 their situation. 
 
 "There's only one way out of it I can see — flight. 
 If we win safely in New York, the only thing is for 
 us to marry with all haste and leave the country by 
 the first boat." 
 
 By way of answer she nestled still more closely into 
 the hollow of his arm, and he continued: "Otherwise, 
 I can't see anything for it but to fight the enemy with 
 their own weapons. What I'm most afraid of is that 
 sometime I may forget it's a woman I'm defending my- 
 self against. When a fellow's fighting for his life he 
 can't always stop to calculate theweight of his blows." 
 
 80 
 
DEBACLE 8i 
 
 There was a little pause; then: "Death," the girl 
 said slowly, "I'm not sure it wouldn't be merciful 
 to Judith." 
 
 " But not by my hand ! " 
 
 "Oh, no! Not that, not that! But she isn't 
 responsible — not quite sane, I think. And even if 
 you are spared, my dear one, there are lives of others 
 to consider, presuming she stays at large." 
 
 "I've thought of that," he said gravely. "If 
 only she could be put away some place and watched 
 
 — ^restrained " 
 
 ; "You've my consent," Rose responded. "But 
 even so, my father and his agents remain to be dealt 
 withi" 
 
 The young man held her closer to him: "Don't 
 fear, I'll find some way out without injuring either 
 of them. I promise you that ! " 
 
 He sealed the pledge upon her lips. . . . 
 
 And in that moment from some point forward a 
 crash sounded simultaneously with the dull shock 
 of collision with a smaller vessel; and a strange voice 
 cried out in exultation. The decks rang loud with 
 a crush of booted feet pounding aft. Alan sprang 
 toward the companion-way to fetch the rifle. But 
 his feet slipped. He went down, and an instant 
 later two men fell heavily upon him — active, strong 
 fellows in the dress of fishermen. He was suflFered 
 to rise only as a prisoner, helpless in the grasp of two 
 
82 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 pairs of powerful hands. Barcus was rudely jerked 
 to his feet and held captive by two more fishermen. 
 A fifth had taken charge of Rose, clamping her wrists 
 in the vise of one big hand. The sixth and sole other 
 member of the boarding party was — ^Judith Trine. 
 
 Down the side a heavy lifeboat ground its way 
 astern, the loose end of its painter slipping over the 
 rail even as Alan caught sight of it. Observing this, 
 one of the men in charge of Alan addressed Judith 
 for leave to retrieve the boat. 
 
 "No — let it go. Hold that man fast till I fetch a 
 rope. We'll make sure of them both this time!" 
 
 Straining forward, Rose implored her sister: 
 'Judith, in pity's name, think what you are doing!" 
 
 "Hold your tongue!" Judith snapped. "Another 
 whimper, and I'll have you gagged. "Yes, I'll " 
 
 The balance of her threat was drowned out by the 
 sudden roar of a steamship^fog-signal so close aboard 
 that it seemed almost to emanate from the forepart 
 of the schooner herself. 
 
 It was answered by cries of terror from a dozen 
 throats and Alan found himself released as his cap- 
 tors sprang toward the taffrail. He caught a glimpse 
 of the towering bows of a great steamer — sweeping 
 swiftly toward them. Some one aboard the schooner 
 bellowed a terrified appeal : 
 
 "Stop your engines! Shut off your propeller/ 
 St9p your " 
 
DEBACLE 83 
 
 Then, like the wrath of God, the steamship over- 
 whelmed them, its bows sliced through thie schooner 
 as a knife through cheese. . . . 
 
 When Alan came up he struck out at random. 
 Aware of several dark objects dotting the surface 
 not far away, he swam for the nearest: the head was a 
 woman's, the face turned toward him the face of Rose. 
 
 He gasped wildly: "Keep cool! Don't struggle! 
 Put one hand on my shoulder and " 
 
 What happened then was never quite clear: he 
 knew only that he was forced to fight for his life — 
 that the woman flung herself upon him like some 
 maddened animal, clutching his throat, winding 
 her limbs around his, dragging him down and 
 down. . . . 
 
 Primitive instinct alone saved him. He remem- 
 bered freeing an arm, drawing it back, delivering a 
 blow with all his strength, and that he was then free 
 and struggling back to the air. 
 
 Then a boat-hook caught and dragged him s»me 
 distance, until two strong hands caught him beneath 
 the armpits and held his head above water. He 
 looked up witlessly into the face of Barcus, and still 
 bewildered, struggled feebly. But the other's voice 
 brought him back to his senses: "Easy, old top! 
 Take it easy! You're all right now — rest a minute, 
 then help me get you aboard." 
 
 He obeyed, and presently, with considerable as- 
 
84 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 sistance from Barcus, contrived to scramble in over 
 the gunwales of a boat which proved to be the stolen 
 lifeboat. Aside from Barcus and himself it held 
 one other person only — ^the woman he loved, crum- 
 pled up and unconscious, in the bow. He strove to 
 rise and go to her, but Barcus restrained and quieted 
 him. 
 
 "There! Easy, I say! She's all right — fainted — 
 that's all! She and I took the water in practically 
 the same spot, and luck threw this blessed boat my 
 way. No trouble at all. " 
 
 "But the others — Judith! I left her out there — 
 unconscious — she'll drown, I tell you!" 
 
 "And I'll tell you something!" said Mr. Barcus 
 severely. "You'll lie quiet and shut up or I'll dent 
 your dome with an oar. Let her drown — and a good 
 job, I say ! Don't you know the meaning of 'enough ?' 
 Merciful heavens, man, you're the most insatiable 
 glutton for punishment ever!" 
 
 But Alan wasn't listening. There was a horror in 
 his heart. 
 
 Dead! Judith dead! Back there, in the fog and 
 the cold . . . dead by his hand! 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 The Masked Voice 
 
 THE leaden fog wrapped the world in an embrace 
 as inexorable as the coils of some great, gray, 
 slimy serpent. Through its sluggish folds the life- 
 boat crept at snail's pace. In the bow, Rose rested 
 in exhaustion, her eyes closed, her head pillowed on a 
 life preserver, her sodden garments modelled closely 
 to the slender body that ever and again was shaken 
 by a long, shuddering respiration. 
 
 Seated on the nearest thwart, Alan watched over 
 her with a grimly hopeless solicitude. Premonition 
 of misfortune darkened his heart with an impene- 
 trable shadow. In the stern, Tom Barcus presided 
 morosely over the steering gear. 
 
 Thus for hours on end it had been with these three: 
 ever the boat ploughed steadily onward. Destitute 
 of compass and of all notion of the sun's bearings, 
 Barcus steered mainly through force of habit — the 
 salt-water man's instinctive feeling that no boat under 
 way should ever in any conceivable circumstance lack 
 a hand at the helm. 
 
 For some time subsequent to the collision fog- 
 
 8s 
 
86 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 signals sounding now near, now far, in the encom- 
 passing obscurity had fostered hope; but now for 
 more than an hour the silence had been uncannily 
 constant, broken only by the rumble of the motor, 
 the lisp of water slipping down the slide, the suck 
 and gurgle of the wake. 
 
 Forebodings no less portentous than Law's crawled 
 in the mind of Barcus. It was as likely as not that 
 the lifeboat was travelling straight out to sea. And 
 gasoline tanks can and oftentimes do become — 
 empty. Moreover, Barcus was a confirmed skeptic 
 in regard to the reliability of marine motors. In 
 view of all which considerations he presently opened 
 the battery switch. The cessation of that uniform 
 drone was startling enough to rouse Rose Trine from 
 her state of serai-somnolence. With a look of panic 
 she sat up, thrust damp hair back from her eyes, and 
 nervously inquired : 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "Nothing," Barcus replied: "I shut the engine 
 off — ^that's all." Then, uninterrupted, the stillness 
 strangled their spirits in its ruthless grasp, until of a 
 sudden a cry shrilled through the fog, so near at hand 
 that itseemed scarcely more distant than over the side; 
 
 "Ahoy! Help! Ahoy there ! Help!" 
 
 So urgent was its accent that it brought the three 
 as one to their feet, all a-tremble, eyes seeking one 
 another's faces, then shifting uneasily away. 
 
THE MASKED VOICE 87 
 
 "What can it be?" Rose whispered, aghast, shrink- 
 ing into Alan's ready arm. 
 
 " Some other unfortunate," Alan replied, obviously 
 with an effort. For his flesh crawled with supersti- 
 tious dread. He knew that voice; it was the voice 
 of one whom he had believed dead, drowned fathoms 
 deep, miles from that spot. 
 
 "Judith!" the girl moaned. 
 
 "Impossible!" Alan contended. "I saw her go 
 down. 
 
 "That doesn't prove she didn't come up," Barcus 
 broke in acidly. 
 
 ' ' Ahoy ! Motorboat ako-o-oy ! Help ! " 
 
 Alan cupped hands to mouth and sent an answer 
 ringing through the murk. 
 
 "Ahoy ! Where are you ? Where away ? " 
 
 "Here — on the reef— half drowned — perishing with 
 cold " 
 
 "How does my voice bear?" Alan called back. 
 
 "What the dickens do you care?" Barcus inter- 
 polated suspiciously. 
 
 "To port," came the response. "Starboard your 
 helm and come in slowly ! " 
 
 "Right 01 Half a minute!" Alan replied assur- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Like hell!" Barcus muttered in his throat as he 
 bent over the fljrwheel. 
 
 Jumping on the forward thwart and balancing 
 
88 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 himself perilously near the gunwale, Alan peered into 
 the fog. 
 
 "Can't make out anything," he grumbled. "Start 
 her up — but 'ware reef! " 
 
 "Nothing doing," Barcus retorted curtly. "The 
 motto is now, 'Full speed astern l'" 
 
 "Oh, come! We can't leave a woman — in a fix 
 like that!" 
 
 "Can't we? You watch!" Barcus grunted, rock- 
 ing the flywheel with all his might; for the motor 
 had turned suddenly stubborn. 
 
 "Alan!" Rose pleaded, "think what it means. 
 I know it sounds heartless of me — my own sister — 
 but you know how mad she is — ^wild with hatred 
 and jealousy. If you take Judith into this boat, 
 it's your life or hers ! " 
 
 "If we leave her out there," Alan retorted, "it's 
 her life on our heads!" 
 
 At this juncture the motor took charge of the 
 argument and settled it in summary fashion. With 
 a smart explosion it started up unexpectedly in 
 reverse, at one and the same time precipitating Alan 
 overboard and almost dislocating the arm of Mr. 
 Barcus. Alan struggled to the surface just in time 
 to see the bows of the lifeboat back away and vanish 
 into the mist. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 The Island 
 
 NOT more than thirty seconds could have elapsecS 
 before Barcus recovered from the shock of the 
 motor's treachery sufficiently to reverse the wheels 
 throttle down the carburetor, and jump out of the 
 engine-pit. But in that small space of time the 
 lifeboat and Alan Law had parted company as defi- 
 nitely as though one of them had been levitated bod- 
 ily to the far side of the globe. • It could not have 
 been more than a minute after the accident before 
 Barcus was guiding the boat over what he could- 
 have sworn was the precise spot where Alan had dis- 
 appeared, but without discovering a sign of him. 
 For the next twenty minutes he divided attention, 
 between vain attempts to soothe the distracted girt 
 and to educe a reply from Alan by stentorian hailing^ 
 Then of a sudden he verged so close upon the object 
 of his search that he was warned off in a manner 
 sufficiently arresting by nothing more or less, in 
 fact, than a gunshot. On the echo of this a man's, 
 rough voice warned peremptorily: 
 
 "Sheer ofF, damn you! Sheer ofFl If you come 
 
 80 
 
so THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 on another yard I'll blow your heads off your 
 shoulders ! " 
 
 Precipitately Barcus reversed and then silenced 
 the engine. 
 
 "Alan!" he yelled. "Alan! Give a hail to tell 
 tis you're safe!" 
 
 The answer came in another voice — Judith's, 
 clear, musical, effervescent with sardonic humour. 
 
 " Be at peace, little one — bleat no more ! Mr. Law 
 is with us — and safe !" 
 
 Barcus sought counsel of Rose. Her eyes were 
 ilank with despair. He shook his head helplessly. 
 With no way on her, the lifeboat drifted. 
 
 After a little the girl crept aft, and they conferred 
 in guarded tones. 
 
 "What can we do?" Rose implored. "We can't 
 leave him. . . . Oh, when I think of him there, 
 in her power, I could go mad!" 
 
 "If only I knew," Barcus protested, "but my 
 liands are tied. There's nothing to go by — except 
 the bare chance that the reef she mentioned may 
 he Norton's. It doesn't seem possible, but we 
 w^y have made that much southing. If so, 
 "we're about three miles off the mainland, some- 
 where in the neighbourhood of Katama Island, 
 a little desolate rocky bump inhabited mainly by 
 fchermen." 
 
 The girl racked her hands. "But how could 
 
THE ISLAND 91 
 
 Judith have got there — ^with her men — and dry- 
 ammunition ? " 
 
 "Don't ask me. Going on my experience with 
 the lady, I'd be willing to bet she was picked up by 
 the steamer that ran us down, and proceeded to make 
 a prize of it — or tried to. Perhaps she found or stole 
 a boat from somebody; she couldn't have made 
 Norton's Reef by swimming — it's too far. That's, 
 the answer, they were picked up, stole a boat, and 
 piled it up on the reef." 
 
 "And there's no hope 1" 
 
 "If we could make the mainland and get 
 help. . . ." 
 
 His accents died away into a disconsolate silence 
 that held unbroken for more than an hour. Rose 
 went back to her place in the bow, crouched there, 
 a huddled shape of wretchedness; and in the stem 
 sat Barcus submerged in a dejection no less pro* 
 foundly dismal, his gaze directed vacantly at his^ 
 feet. 
 
 Alan was delivered into the hands of the enemy; 
 defeated in the game he had played with such brav& 
 spirit — his life for the forfeit. 
 
 Brief though their friendship was in actual dura- 
 tion of time, Barcus had come to hold the man in 
 such affection as only is possible between men who 
 have faced danger and endured hardship shoulder 
 to shoulder. 
 
^ THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Tom Barcus mourned a brave man and loyal 
 friend. . . . 
 
 So slowly did the current bring the lifeboat toward 
 the beach and so still was the tide that neither ap- 
 preciated they were near land until the bows grounded 
 with a slight jar and a grating sound. 
 
 With a cry of "Land, by all that's lucky!" Barcus 
 jumped up, then stooping, lent the girl a hand, and 
 helped her to her feet. Then sandy beach was re- 
 vealed to their wondering eyes, backed by a looming 
 "wall of rock whose top was lost in vapour. 
 
 Hardly had Rose found time to comprehend this 
 good fortune, when Barcus was over the side and 
 dragging the boat up on the shoals. Then lifting 
 ^ose down, he set her on dry land, rummaged out 
 anchor and cable and planted the former well up 
 under the foot of the cliflF. 
 
 As he rose from this last labour, the westering sun 
 hroke through the fog. In less than five minutes 
 thereafter the wind had rolled the fog back and sent 
 it spinning far out to sea, while the shore was del- 
 uged with sunlight bright and deliciously warm. 
 
 "You're about all in?" 
 
 She nodded confirmation of what was no more 
 than simple truth. 
 
 "Where are we?" she added. 
 
 He could only make her party to his own perplex- 
 ity. 
 
THE ISLAND 95 
 
 "You're not fit to travel," he pursuied. "Do you 
 mind being left alone while I take a turn up the 
 beach and have a look around? We can't be far 
 from some sort of civilization; even if this is aa 
 island, there are few desert islands along this coast. 
 I'll find something soon enough, no fear. , . . 
 There's a niche among the rocks up there," Barcus. 
 indicated, "almost a cave, where you'll be warm and' 
 dry enough, and secure from overhead observation- 
 Maybe you can even manage a wink of sleep." . . . 
 
 She negatived that suggestion with a dreary 
 smile: no sleep for her until sheer exhaustion over- 
 powered her or she knew Alan's fate! 
 
 And so iterating his promise to be no longer than 
 might be absolutely needful, he left her. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 The Sunset Tide 
 
 •4~?OK a time after Barcus had tramped ofF she lin- 
 X gered upon the sands, in the mouth of the shelter 
 ^e had selected, staring hungrily out over the shim- 
 mering sea. Slowly the sea darkened with the slow 
 decline of the sun, by whose altitude above the 
 horizon the day had now not ninety minutes more 
 to run. She thought drowsily that if that sun sank 
 •vdthout her learning that her lover lived, it would not 
 rise again upon a world tenanted by Rose Trine. 
 
 It was not true, she told herself, that people never 
 die of broken hearts. . . . Then sleep over- 
 whelmed her suddenly, like a great, dark cloud. ' But 
 its dominion over her was not of long duration. She 
 came to her senses to find Barcus gently shaking 
 her by the shoulder, and sat up with a cry of mystified 
 compassion; for in the brief time that he had been 
 absent — it had not been more than an hour — most 
 unquestionably Mr. Barcus had been severely used. 
 
 He had acquired a long but shallow cut over one 
 €ye, together with a bruised and swollen cheek; and 
 -what simple articles of clothing remained to him, 
 
 94 
 
THE SUNSET TIDE 95 
 
 after his strenuous experiences of the last forty-eight 
 hours, had been reduced to even more primitive 
 simplicity: his shirt, for example, now lacked one 
 entire sleeve. 
 
 "No," he told her, "don't waste time pitying me.. 
 I'm all right — avd so is Alan! That's the maia 
 thing for you to understand; he's still alive and 
 sound " 
 
 "Where is he? Take me to him!" she demanded. 
 
 "That's the rub," Barcus confessed, knuckling his. 
 hair. "I dassent take you to him. Judith might 
 not like it. Besides, it isn't safe to mingle with the 
 inhabitants of this tight little island, and you can't 
 get to Alan without mingling considerably. Sit 
 down; I'll tell you all about it, and we'll try to figure 
 some way out. Maybe we can frame up a rescue 
 under cover of night." 
 
 And when the girl settled herself beside him, he 
 launched into a detailed report. 
 
 "It's Katam Island," he announced, "but the 
 place has clianged since I visited it some years ago.. 
 Then it was a decent community; now, unless all 
 signs fail, it's a den of smugglers. I noticed a num- 
 ber of Chinese about; and when I ventured to intro- 
 duce myself to the village gin-mill and ask a fevr 
 innocent questions, the entire population landed on. 
 me like a thousand of brick. I suspect we've stum- 
 bled on a settlement of earnest workers at the gentle 
 
96 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 art of helping poor Chinamen evade the exclusion 
 laws." 
 
 With a wry smile, he continued: "I came to 
 just in time to witness the landing of your amiable 
 ;sister, her gang, and Alan, in company with as 
 choice a crew of scoundrels as you'd care to see. I 
 gathered from a few words that leaked out of the 
 back door of the barroom that Judith had stolen 
 a boat from the ship that picked her up, and then 
 piled it up on Norton's Reef; and shortly after she 
 ;had gathered Alan in, the schooner of these smugglers 
 Jiappened along, and she hailed it and struck a bar- 
 gain with them. Anyway, her lot and the islanders 
 ■were soon as thick as thieves, and tanking up so so- 
 ciably that I got a chance to whisper a word to Alan 
 .and tell him you were all right, and that he'd find us 
 both down here on the beach, if he escaped. He's 
 locked up now in a little stone hut on the edge of the 
 clifF, with the door guarded and the window over- 
 looking a sheer drop of thirty feet or so to the beach. 
 When I'd seen that much, I calculated it was about 
 time for me to go before Mam'selle Judith nicked 
 ■me with the evil eye." 
 
 "You don't think she saw you?" the girl cried. 
 
 "I don't think so," Barcus allowed gravely; and 
 •tihen, lifting his gaze, he added as he rose in a bound, 
 ■*'! just knoza she did — ^that's all!" 
 
 In another instant he was battling with three 
 
THE SUNSET TIDE 97 
 
 ruffians who had come suddenly round a shoulder 
 of rock. Weak with suffering and fatigue, he was 
 overborne in a twinkling, and his hands were made 
 fast behind his back. Rose's resistance was as 
 futile as his own; she, too, was captive, and her hands 
 were bound like his. 
 
 Suddenly the sound of a strange laugh chilled the 
 blood in Barcus, and he swung sharply to confront 
 Judith Trine. 
 
 He was by no means poor-spirited, but he shrank 
 from the look she gave him, and was relieved when 
 with a sneer she passed him by and planted herself 
 before her sister. 
 
 "Well?" she demanded brusquely. "How many 
 more lessons will you need to make you realize I 
 mean to have my way, and that you'll cross me only 
 to suffer for it?" 
 
 Rose's courage won the admiration of Barcus. 
 Far from cringing, she seemed to find fresh heart in 
 her sister's challenge. 
 
 "So you've tried again?" she inquired. "You've 
 offered him your love yet another time, have 
 
 5" 
 
 you."^ 
 
 "Silence!" Judith cried in fury. 
 
 "Only to learn once more that he would rather 
 death than you?" Rose persisted, unflinching. 
 "And so you come to take your spite out on me, do 
 you ? You pitiful thing ! " 
 
98 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Judith controlled herself and her voice marvel- 
 lously. 
 
 "You will see," she said evenly. "I have pre- 
 pared a way to make you understand what opposi- 
 tion to me means. . . ." She waved a hand 
 toward the nearest point of rocks. "Take them 
 along!" she commanded. 
 
 Her men without hesitation or further instructions 
 marched Rose and Barcus down to the end of the 
 spit and on into the water. 
 
 It was nearly knee-deep before Barcus was halted, 
 forced to sit down, and swiftly made fast in that 
 position, submerged to his chest. This accomplished, 
 the men turned attention to Rose, lashing her in 
 similar wise at Barcus's side. 
 
 Then quietly those well-trained servants turned 
 their backs and marched off". 
 
 Judith, watching them, laughed her short, mirth- 
 less laugh. 
 
 "The tide will be high," she said, "precisely at sun- 
 set. You may time your lives by that. Whenthesun 
 dips into the sea, then will your lives go down with it." 
 
 She turned on her heel and strode swiftly away. 
 
 For some time Barcus struggled vainly. As for 
 Rose, she wasted no strength in struggling. 
 
 He noted that already the water* had risen more 
 than an inch. 
 
 Humbled even in his terror by that radiant calm 
 
THE SUNSET TIDE 99 
 
 that dwelt upon his companion, he ventured dif- 
 fidently: "Rose — ^Miss Trine — I'm sorry," he said, 
 which was not at all what he had meant to say. " I've 
 done my best. I suppose it's wrong to give up, but 
 they've made it too much for me this time." 
 
 "I know," she said gently. 
 
 The sun was close upon the rim of the world. He 
 closed his eyes to shut out the vision of its slow, im- 
 placable descent. 
 
 The water was now almost level with his lips. 
 
 " It's a good-bye now," he faltered. 
 
 "Not yet!" her voice rang beside him, vibrant. 
 "Look — up there — along the clifF!" 
 
 Two men were running along the cHfF, and the 
 man in the lead was Alan. 
 
 Then, even as Barcus gazed, the skyline of the 
 cliff was empty; one or the other had tripped and 
 fallen over the brink, and falling had grasped his 
 enemy and carried him down as well. 
 
 By no chance, Barcus told himself, could either 
 escape uninjured. 
 
 Yet, to his amazement, he saw one break from the 
 other's embrace and rise. He who lay still was 
 Judith's man. 
 
 With a violent effort Barcus lifted his mouth above 
 water and shrieked : 
 
 "Alan ! Alan I Help I Here — at the end of the point 
 — in the water — help!" 
 
loo THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 A precious minute was lost before Alan discovered 
 their two heads. Then he ran toward them as he 
 had never run before, and as he came whipped out a 
 jackknife and freed its blade. 
 
 Even so — since it was, of course, Rose who was 
 first freed — Barcus was half-drowned before Alan 
 helped him in turn up to the beach. 
 
 And as this happened the last blood-red rim of the 
 sun was washed under by the waves. 
 
 Two minutes later the lifeboat was afloat, and 
 Mr. Barcus, already recovered, was labouring with 
 the flywheel of the motor, stimulated by the sight 
 of a party, led by Judith, racing down the beach. 
 
 But it was not until well out from shore that any 
 one of them found time for speech. Then Mr. 
 Barcus straightened up from his assiduous attentions 
 to the motor, and inquired : 
 
 "Would you mind, Mr. Law, telling how you got 
 out of that hut?" 
 
 "Jumped," Alan responded tersely, "from the 
 window. There was no other way." 
 
 "You bear a charmed Ufe," was the only comment. 
 "If ever I get out of this affair I'm going to have a 
 try at your life, myself, just once, for luck!" 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 The Rocket 
 
 AFTER several hours of good behaviour the 
 1 1l demon charged with dominion over power- 
 boats rammed the nose of the Hfeboat deep into the 
 flank of a skulking shoal of viscid mud quite fifty 
 feet from shore. 
 
 While the motor and the men were labouring, 
 panting, struggling, and splashing in a vain effort 
 to work the boat off the shoal, the gasoline gave out. 
 With a gasp, a grunt, and a sigh, the motor fell dumb. 
 The two men, likewise breathless, looked at one 
 another stupidly, but found no words. . . . 
 
 "Why not wade ashore?" Rose suggested mildly 
 from the place she had taken astern in order to 
 lighten the bow. "It isn't so far — and what's one 
 more wetting ? " 
 
 "But there's no sense in Miss Trine wading," 
 Barcus suggested; "we're web-footed as it is; and 
 she's too tired." 
 
 "Well, what then?" 
 
 "We can carry her, can't we ? " 
 
 After a toilsome progress Rose at length slipped 
 
I02 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 from the seat formed by the clasped hands of the 
 two men. "Gee!" grunted Barcus frankly, "and 
 it was me who suggested this ! " 
 
 The girl responded with a quiet laugh, as natural 
 of effect as one could wish until it ended in a sigh, 
 and, without the least warning, she crumpled upon 
 herself and would have fallen heavily, in a dead 
 faint, but for Alan's quickness. 
 
 "Good Lord!" Barcus exclaimed, as Alan gently 
 lowered the inert body of the girl to the sands. 
 "And to think I didn't understand she was so nearly 
 all in — chaffing her like that! I'd like to kick my- 
 self!" 
 
 "Don't be impatient," Alan advised grimly. 
 "And you might fetch me some water." 
 
 It was an order by no means easy to fill; Barcus 
 had only his cupped hands, and little water remained 
 in these by the time he had dashed from the shal- 
 lows back to the spot where Rose lay, while the few 
 drops he did manage to sprinkle upon her face 
 seemed to avail nothing. In the end Alan gave up 
 the attempt. "She's all rights" he reported, re- 
 leasing a wrist whose pulse he had been timing. 
 "She fainted, right enough, to begin with, but now 
 she's just asleep — and needs it, God knows! It 
 would be kinder to let her rest, at least until I see 
 what sort of a reception that lighthouse over yonder 
 is inclined to offer us." 
 
THE ROCKET 103 
 
 "You'll go, then?" Barcus inquired. "I'd just 
 as lief, myself " 
 
 "No; let me," Alan insisted. "It's not far — not 
 more than a quarter of a mile. 
 
 Barcus nodded, his face drawn and gray in the 
 moon-glare. "Thank God!" he breathed brokenly, 
 "you're able — afraid I'm not." 
 
 He sat down suddenly and rested his head on his 
 knees. "Don't be longer than you can help," he 
 muttered thickly. 
 
 The truth, however, was that Alan himself was 
 hardly more fit for the tramp. Fatigue seemed to 
 have fastened weights to heels that dragged with 
 ever-heavier reluctance as he plodded along the beach. 
 
 But all at once he heard a series of staccato snorts, 
 the mellow tolling of a brazen bell, the rumble of a 
 train ! 
 
 And then he ran, weariness altogether forgotten 
 in the surge of hope attending this discovery that he 
 was again in touch with civilization. 
 
 As he came round the headland he saw before him 
 the quiet vista of a village street with a railroad 
 station. 
 
 He burst into the station just as the agent was 
 closing up for the night. 
 
 " Nah," the latter averred; "they ain't no more 
 trains till mornin'. Can't y' see I'm shuttin' up ? " 
 
 **But surely there must be a telegraph station " 
 
I04 THE TREY 0' HEARTS 
 
 "You bet your life they is — right here. An' I'm 
 shuttin' it up, too. Call around at eight o'clock to- 
 morrer mornin'." 
 
 "But I must send a telegram now," Alan pro- 
 tested. "It's a matter of life and death." 
 
 "Sure, young feller. It always is — after business 
 hours." 
 
 Alan thrust a hand into his trousers -pocket. "Will 
 a dollar influence your better judgment?" he sug- 
 gested. 
 
 "Let's see your dollar," the other returned, open 
 incredulity informing his countenance. 
 
 Alan "brought forth an empty hand. 
 
 "Make a light," he said sharply. "My money's 
 in a belt round my waist. Open up your office. 
 You'll get your dollar, no fear ! " 
 
 Peremptorily he shouldered past the agent and 
 entered the station; he quickly made good his word, 
 unbuckling an oilskin belt beneath his shirt and 
 extracting a fold of banknotes that struck sparks of 
 respect from the agent's flinty arrogance. 
 
 "All right," he grumbled. "Write your message. 
 It ain't often I do this, but I'll make an exception 
 for you." 
 
 Alan delayed long enough only to make a few 
 inquiries, drawing out the information that the quick- 
 est way to any city of importance was by boat across 
 Buzzard's Bay to New Bedford. Boats, it was im- 
 
THE ROCKET 105 
 
 plied, were plentiful, readily to be chartered. A time- 
 table supplied all other needful advice, and Alan 
 wrote his message swiftly. 
 
 Addressed to Digby in New York, it required that 
 gentleman to arrange for a motor-car to wait on the 
 waterfront of New Bedford from 3:0x5 a. m. till 
 called for in the name of Mr. Law, as well as for a 
 special train at Providence, similarly instructed. 
 
 With hope like new life animating him, Alan hur- 
 ried forth from the station, heedless of the interest 
 in him betrayed by two village loafers, trotted up the 
 street, ordered supper for three at the village hotel, 
 and set off again down the beach. 
 
 But now, all unconscious of the fact, he went no 
 more alone. 
 
 He found his sweetheart and his friend much as 
 he had left them — ^with this difference, that Barcus 
 now lay flat on his back and was snoring lustily. He 
 was roused only with the greatest difiiculty, and 
 awoke grumbling. 
 
 He was placated quickly enough, however, by 
 Alan's information. 
 
 But when it was the turn of Rose, both faltered. 
 None the less, it must be done; Alan hardened his 
 heart with the reminder of their urgent necessity, 
 and eventually brought her to with the aid of a few 
 drops of some brandy which he had purchased at the 
 village. 
 
io6 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Between them, they helped her up the beach, past 
 the point, and at length to the door of the hotel, 
 "where — reanimated by the mere promise of food — 
 Rose disengaged their arms and entered without 
 more assistance, while Barcus in his own famished 
 eagerness was deterred from treading her heels by 
 the hand of Alan falling heavily upon his arm. 
 
 "Wait!" the latter admonished in a half-whisper. 
 "Look there!" 
 
 Barcus followed the direction of his gesture, and 
 was transfixed by sight of a rocket appearing into 
 the night-draped sky from a point invisible beyond 
 the headland. The two consulted one another with 
 startled and fearful eyes. 
 
 As with one voice they murmured one word : 
 
 "Judith!" 
 
 To this Alan added gravely : 
 
 "Or some spy of hers!" Then rousing, Alan re- 
 leased his friend, with a smart shove urging him 
 across the threshold of the hotel. 
 
 "Go on," he insisted," Join Rose and get your sup- 
 per. I'll be with you as soon as I can arrange for a boat. 
 Tell her nothing more than that — that I thought it 
 unwise to wait longer before looking round." 
 
 He turned to find his landlord approaching. His 
 question was barely uttered before the man lifted 
 a willing voice and hailed a fellow townsman idling 
 nearby. 
 
THE ROCKET 107 
 
 " Hey, Jake — come here ! " 
 
 Introduced as Mr. Breed, Jake pleaded guilty to 
 ownership of the fastest and staunchest power- 
 cruiser in the adjacent waters. His terms, though 
 extortionate, were undisputed. And Alan readily 
 consented to Mr. Breed's condition — ^that his crew 
 (of one man) accompany the vessel to bring her 
 back from New Bedford. Then, enjoining haste, 
 and promising to be at the town-wharf within ten 
 minutes, he hastened to join Rose and Barcus and 
 complete the ruin that they ,had wrought on a plenti- 
 ful hot supper. 
 
 Neither man mentioned the rocket or his fears. 
 Pending developments, there was no profit in ex- 
 citing Rose's anxieties : haste was the one prescription 
 of that hour. 
 
 This they observed religiously: within the stipu- 
 lated ten minutes they were waiting upon a float at 
 the side of the town-wharf, while the promised row- 
 boat of Mr. Breed leisurely drew in to meet them. 
 
 Having embarked, the burden of Alan's solicitude 
 grew lighter with every dip and splash of blades that, 
 wielded by a crew of villainous countenance, brought 
 them nearer a handsome motor boat which Mr. 
 Breed designated as his own. It was not until Alan 
 looked up to find Mr. Breed covering him with a 
 revolver that he had the least apprehension of any 
 danger near at hand. 
 
io8 THE TREY O' HEARTS' 
 
 "I'll take that money-belt of yours, young feller," 
 Mr. Breed announced. "And you be quick about 
 it — not forgetting what's in your trousers pocket!" 
 
 In the passion of his indignation, Alan neglected 
 to play the game by the rules. The indiflFerence he 
 displayed toward the weapon was positively unpro- 
 fessional, for he struck it aside as though it were 
 nothing more dangerous than a straw. And in the 
 same flutter of an eyelash, he launched himself like 
 a wildcat at the throat of Mr. Breed, who went 
 suddenly over the stern, his firearm sinking to the 
 bottom while he splashed and gurgled and blasphemed 
 and saw his crew (who had been the first to suggest 
 this affair while the two watched Alan through the 
 window of the railway station) make sad business of 
 an attempt to overpower Mr. Barcus. 
 
 The splash made by the first on entering the water, 
 indeed, anticipated the second splash by less than a 
 minute. And then Mr. Barcus was bending his 
 back to the oars while Alan knelt in the stem and 
 brandished a boat-hook, asserting his intention of 
 braining the first who dared swim alongside. 
 
 "And just for this," he added before getting out of 
 earshot, "I'm going to treat my party to a joy-ride 
 in your pretty power-boat. You'll not get a cent; 
 but if you send a man to Newport to-morrow he 
 can have the boat back." 
 
 He made the peroration as Barcus brought them 
 
THE ROCKET 109 
 
 up under the quarter of the power-cruiser. Within 
 two minutes the motor was spinning contentedly, 
 the mooring had been sHpped, the motor-boat was 
 heading out into the sound. Rose, made comfort- 
 able on a transom of the tiny cabin, went almost 
 instantly asleep, while Alan made all snug, and 
 joined his friend by the wheel. 
 
 For the best part of an hour neither spoke. Alan 
 drowsed, soothed by the slap of waves against the 
 side and the dull sing-song of the engine. When he 
 roused himself, for no particular reason, it was to 
 regard with admiration the spectacle of Barcus, 
 tirelessly vigilant and efficient, at the wheel. 
 
 "My friend," he observed, languidly, "as our 
 acquaintance ripens I am more and more impressed 
 with the beUef that neither of us was bom to die a 
 natural death, whether abed or at the hands of those 
 who disHke us; but rather to be hanged as common 
 pirates." 
 
 "You have the courage of ignorance," Barcus 
 replied coolly. "If you'll take the trouble to glance 
 astern " 
 
 Alan sat up with a start to see behind them the 
 milk-white sails of an able schooner. 
 
 Sheets all taut and every inch of canvas fat with 
 a beam wind, she footed it merrily in their wake, a 
 silver jet spouting from her cutwater. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 Crack o' Doom 
 
 MR. LAW'S capacity for surprise was exhausted. 
 He viewed the schooner with no more display 
 of emotion than resided in narrowing eyelids and 
 tightening muscles about his mouth. 
 
 "Much farther to go?" he inquired presently. 
 
 "At our present pace — say two hours." 
 
 "And can we hold our own?" 
 
 "Just about," Barcus allowed. 
 
 "Anything to be done?" 
 
 "Nothing but pray, if you remember how." 
 
 Later, however, after another glance astern, Bar- 
 cus revised this opinion. "Take the wheel and 
 let me have a squint at that engine. She ought to 
 have more power than she's developing just now. 
 . . . No good," he soon reported briefly, taking 
 the wheel again; "she'll go just so fast and no faster." 
 
 As the next hour wore itself out, it was seen that 
 the pursuer was gaining. Inch by inch she crept 
 up in the wake of her prey; and they counted surely 
 on being overhauled by the time they could effect 
 a landing, if not before. 
 
CRACK O' DOOM iii 
 
 In the end, however, they made it by the narrow- 
 est margin. The features of Judith Trine, watching 
 them from the schooner's side, were distinctly re- 
 vealed in the chill gray light of the early dawn as 
 they aimed for the first fair landing on the main 
 waterfront of the city. 
 
 Long since Alan had wakened Rose and brought 
 her on deck. With matchless seamanship, Barcus 
 laid the smaller boat smoothly alongside the wharf. 
 By the time they had climbed to the street level the 
 schooner was scraping the piles at the end of the 
 dock. 
 
 Alan swept the neighbouring street with a hungry 
 glance. There was neither policeman, nor watch- 
 man, nor motor-car in sight. If they ran for it, 
 they must surely be overtaken. Something must 
 be done to hinder the crew of the schooner from 
 landing. 
 
 "Here!" he cried sharply to Barcus. "You take 
 Rose, hurry to the street, and find that motor-car. 
 Tknow she's there; Digby never failed me yet!" 
 
 "But you ?" 
 
 "Don't waste time. I'll be with you in three 
 shakes. I've got a scheme!" 
 
 Urged frantically, the reluctant pair made off at 
 a round pace. Then bare-handed and alone, he 
 turned back to oppose his strength and courage and 
 wits against a dozen. 
 
112 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 As for his scheme, Alan Law had none other than 
 to give battle, and sacrifice himself, if need be. 
 His eye lighted on a four-foot length of stout 
 three-inch oak scantling — an excellently formidable 
 club. 
 
 Snatching this up, he pelted down the wharf, 
 arriving at the end barely in time to oppose the first 
 man who landed from the schooner. This one the 
 club took on the side of the head; he fell without a 
 murmur. The one who followed took a cracked 
 crown back to the schooner's deck. The third 
 brought a capstan-bar and proved more difficult 
 to deal with. Others were swarming to his aid when 
 a swing of the bar knocked Alan's club from his 
 grasp. But his opponent was luckless; before he 
 could recover from the sweep of his blow, Alan had 
 landed on his chin a fist that had all his heart and 
 soul behind it. A flourishing pair of heels and a 
 ringing thump on the schooner's deck finished that 
 episode. 
 
 But now, disarmed, Alan's case was desperate. 
 He was being surrounded. 
 
 Wildly casting about for some weapon, he leaped 
 toward a pyramid of little but heavy kegs, and 
 seizing one, swung it overhead and cast it full 
 force into the midriff of his nearest enemy; so 
 that this one doubled up convulsively, with a sickish 
 grunt, and vanished in turn over the end of the 
 
CRACK O' DOOM 113 
 
 wharf. His fellow followed with less injury, in 
 his effort to escape a second hurtling keg, which, 
 meeting with no resistance, pursued him even to 
 the deck, where the force of its impact split its 
 seams. ' 
 
 None of the combatants noticed that the powder 
 that filtered out was black and coarse. Alan, in- 
 deed, had only the haziest notion that gunpowder 
 kegs were his ammunition. He had discharged the 
 last of a dozen more when he became aware that 
 Judith had climbed up the rigging and, lightly 
 poised, was drawing a revolver preparatory to coming 
 ashore. 
 
 In the same breath he heard a friendly shout of 
 warning far up the dock, and knew that Barcus was 
 coming to his aid. 
 
 Judith's revolver fell level with his head, and he 
 thought that his last minute had dawned. He made 
 a forlorn attempt to dash in under the weapon and 
 grapple with her, but it was not that which caused 
 the weapon, even as the woman pulled the trigger, 
 to lift from its deadly aim and explode harmlessly 
 in the air. Alan closed with her, wrested the pistol 
 from her grasp, and mechanically tossed it aside. 
 It went over the end of the wharf and fell on the 
 deck of the schooner. 
 
 It was an old-fashioned weapon, and the force 
 •with which it struck the deck released the hammer. 
 
114 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Instantly a .44 cartridge blazed into the open head 
 of a broken powder keg. 
 
 With a roar like the Trump of Doom a mighty gust 
 of flame and smoke broke forth, and the decks of the 
 schooner were riven and shattered; her masts tot- 
 tered and fell. ... 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 Juggernaut 
 
 ALAN came to himself supported by Barcus, 
 1 A. his senses still reeling from the concussion of 
 that thunderbolt which he had so unwittingly loosed 
 — the cloud of sulphurous smoke not yet dissipated 
 by the wind. Judith lay at his feet, stunned; and 
 round about other figures, of men insensible, if not, 
 for all he could say, dead. 
 
 And then Barcus was hustling him down the wharf. 
 
 "Come ! Come ! " he rallied Alan. " Pull yourself 
 together. Rose is waiting in the car, and if you don't 
 want to be arrested you'll stir your stumps, my son! 
 That explosion is going to bring New Bedford buzz- 
 ing round our ears like a swarm of hornets ! " 
 
 His prediction was justified, for just then a police- 
 man appeared as if by magic. Brandishing his 
 night-stick, he made for Alan, as if Instinctively rec- 
 ognizing the cause of the disaster, and would have 
 done him serious injury had not Barcus flung himself 
 at the officer's legs, tackling clean and low. 
 
 They went down with a crash, and the fight was 
 on; but Barcus managed to shriek: 
 
ii6 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "Run, you simp, run! Make your getaway with 
 Rose while the going's good ! I can take care of my- 
 self." 
 
 At the same time a hand descended on Alan's 
 shoulder, and he found himself in the grasp of a 
 pugnaciously inclined citizen who reaped unhappy 
 reward for his temerity, being tripped and thrown as 
 Alan realized that Barcus was right — ^that his first 
 duty was to Rose. 
 
 Whereupon he swung about, butted his way 
 through a group of three confused and strong-lunged 
 persons, and in three bounds gained the running- 
 board of the waiting motor-car, in whose body Rose 
 was standing as if half-minded to alight. 
 
 "Clear out!" he told the chauffeur violently. 
 "Make yourself scarce!" 
 
 As the man hesitated, Alan threw him bodily from 
 the car, dropped into his seat, and threw in the 
 clutch. They were a hundred feet distant from the 
 scene of the accident before Alan was fairly settled 
 in his place. Alan shook himself together and drew 
 upon the lore of a master of motoring. The car 
 shot through that street like a hunted shadow. 
 
 As he grew more and more calm, he congratulated 
 himself on the car. If not capable of a racing pace, 
 it would serve his ends as speedily as was consistent 
 with reasonable care for the life of the woman he 
 loved. 
 
JUGGERNAUT 117 
 
 Yet his congratulations were premature, they were 
 not ten minutes out of the environs of the city when 
 Rose left her seat and knelt behind his, to communi- 
 cate the intelligence that they were already being 
 pursued by a heavy touring-car, driven by a man, a 
 woman in the seat by his side — ^Judith the latter, 
 the man an old employee of her father by the name 
 of Marrophat. 
 
 Marrophat! 
 
 He looked back, recognized this Marrophat as 
 well as Judith, and realized that theirs was the faster 
 machine. 
 
 They could overtake the fugitives practically when 
 they would. Why did they not do so at once ? They 
 must be awaiting a favourable opportunity. Ah, well, 
 he would 
 
 And then, quite clearly, he recognized the time 
 and the place in the character of the road that lay 
 before him as the car sped like a dragonfly down a 
 slight grade. From the bottom of the grade it swung 
 away in a wide curve, bordered for some distance by 
 railroad tracks on a slightly lower level. 
 
 He had guessed the fiendish plan of the other 
 driver only too truly. As they approached at express 
 speed the stretch where the roar paralleled the tracks 
 Alan sought to hug the left-hand side of the road, 
 but in vain. 
 
 Roaring, with its mufl^er cut out, the pursuing 
 
ii8 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 car swept up and baffled him, bringing its right for- 
 ward wheel up beside the left rear wheel of his car, 
 then more slowly forging up until, with its weight, 
 bulk, and superior power, it forced him inch by 
 inch to the right, toward the tracks, until his right- 
 hand wheels left the road and ran on uneven turf, 
 until the left-hand wheels as well lost grip on the 
 road metal, until the car began to dip on the slope 
 to the tracks. 
 
 He heard the far hoot-toot of a freight locomotive. 
 There followed a maniac moment, when the world 
 was upside down. Alan's car slipped and skidded, 
 swung sideways with frightful momentum toward 
 the tracks, caught its wheels against the ties, 
 and. . . . 
 
 The sun swung in the heavens like a ball on a 
 string. There was a crash, a roar. There was 
 nothing — oblivion. . . . 
 
 The car had turned turtle, pinning Rose and Alan 
 beneath it. 
 
 And there was something very like a miracle in 
 all this: for neither was killed, nor even injured be- 
 yond bruises. Alan started back to consciousness 
 to find himself inextricably jammed beneath the 
 machine, only his head and shoulders protruding, 
 and in the same moment found himself looking into 
 the eyes of Rose and heard her voice. 
 
 "Alan ! " she gasped. "You are not killed ? " 
 
JUGGERNAUT 119 
 
 "No — ^not even much hurt, I fancy," he replied. 
 "And you?" 
 
 "Not much " 
 
 The deep-throated roar of the locomotive bellowing 
 danger silenced him. He closed his eyes. 
 
 Then abruptly the weight was lifted from his 
 chest. He saw a man dragging Rose from under 
 the machine, and saw that the man was Marrophat. 
 And almost immediately some one lifted his head and 
 shoulders, caught him with two hands beneath his 
 armpits, and drew him clear of the machine. And 
 the face of the rescuer was the face of Judith Trine. 
 
 The crash he had expected, of the car being crum- 
 pled up by the oncoming locomotive, did not follow. 
 As he scrambled to his feet, his first glance was up 
 the track, and discovered the train slowing to a halt. 
 
 His next was one of wonder for the countenance of 
 Judith Trine as she stood, at a little distance, re- 
 garding him : her look a curious compound of relief, 
 regret, hatred, love. 
 
 His third glance described beyond her the figure 
 of Marrophat carrying Rose in his arms, stumbling 
 as he ran toward his car on the highroad. 
 
 He moved to pursue, but found his way barred 
 by Judith. 
 
 "No!" she cried. "No, you shall not " 
 
 Her hand caught the grip df a revolver that pro« 
 truded from her pocket. 
 
I20 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "You will never have the courage to pull that 
 trigger when I'm helpless in your hands ! " 
 
 The hot blood mantled her exquisite face like red 
 fire. She caught her breath with a sob, then flung 
 wildly at him : 
 
 "Well, if you must know — ^it's true. I can't bring 
 myself to kill you. For all that, you shall die — I 
 could not save you if I would! And this I promise 
 you, you shall never see Rose again before you die!" 
 
 And while he stood gaping, she ran, quickly cover- 
 ing the little distance between him and the car. As 
 she jumped into this and dropped down upon the 
 seat beside her half-conscious sister, Marrophat swung 
 the car away. 
 
 It vanished in a dust-cloud as a throng of railroad 
 employees surrounded and assailed him with clam- 
 orous questions. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 The House Divided 
 
 ALONE — chained to the invalid chair wherein, day 
 AjL in, day out, for years on end, he had suffered 
 the Promethean torments of the life that would not 
 die out of his wretched carcass— Seneca Trine sat 
 waiting, with the impassivity of a graven figure, 
 
 "Another hour! ... In sixty minutes more 
 they will be here, Judith and Marrophat and Rose — 
 poor fool — and him ! They will put him down before 
 me, bound and helpless, if not dead . . ." 
 
 A slight pause prefaced words that were a whim- 
 pered prayer: "God grant that Alan Law may be laid 
 down still living here at my feet! Then ..." 
 
 A bitter smile twisted his tortured features. 
 "When I have seen him die as his father died — ^then 
 — ah, God! — then at last I, too, may die!" 
 
 There was a long silence, then a groan of exasper- 
 ated protest: "Why do they not come? Why does 
 Judith delay? She must have found so many op- 
 portunities to leap and strike, why has she always 
 failed ? Where is that message she sent me yester- 
 day?" 
 
122 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 His one sound hand groped out and sought a mass 
 of papers on the desk beside him, sorting out from 
 among then two yellow forms. Painfully he blinked 
 over these and slowly his pain-bent lips conned their 
 wording. 
 
 "Alan and Rose safe with me — will bring both home 
 to-morrow night without fail," he read the first aloud, 
 and then the second: "Have motor-car waiting for 
 me to-morrow morning from three o'clock till called for — 
 New Bedford waterfront — Judith." 
 
 "No!" he aflSrmed with the fervour of one per- 
 suaded by his own desires, "I must not doubt the 
 girl! Patience!" he whispered, and, closing his eyes, 
 rested his head against the back of the chair and 
 was for a long time still. . . , But when the 
 girl entered softly, as if fearful of disturbing his 
 slumbers, she found him with head erect and eyes 
 ablaze. 
 
 "Judith!" he cried, his great voice vibrating like 
 a brazen bell. "At last! You have brought him? 
 Where is he?" The girl dropped her head. After 
 an instant of incredulous disappointment the man 
 shot a single, frigid question at her. 
 
 "You have failed?" 
 
 "I have failed," she confessed. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 She shrugged slightly. "Who knows why one 
 fails? I did my best; he was too much for me, out- 
 
THE HOUSE DIVID'ED 123 
 
 witted me at every turn, and now I bring you only 
 Rose." 
 
 She faltered, awed by the glare of his infuriated 
 eyes. "Let me explain," she begged. 
 
 He snapped her short. "There is something be- 
 neath this, something you will not tell me." 
 
 His hand sought the row of buttons on the desk 
 and pressed one long. Almost instantly a servant 
 glided into the room. 
 
 "My daughter Rose — ^have her brought here to 
 me at once!" 
 
 In another moment the replica of his daughter 
 Judith was ushered into his presence. 
 
 Upon this one he loosed the lightnings of his wrath 
 without ruth. They met for the first time since 
 she had mutinied against him, and left his roof to go 
 to the lover whose life her father sought. 
 
 Rose suffered him in silence. His most galling 
 recrimination educed no retort. But she listened 
 with covert avidity, hoping that some word of his 
 might betray the secret of her lover's fate since she 
 had been torn from his protection. That word, how- 
 ever, did not come before Judith stirred her sister's 
 temper beyond control. 
 
 In a lull in Trine's tirade, Judith chose to interject: 
 "Don't be so hard on the silly fool, she's not re- 
 sponsible, she's sick with love for that good-looking 
 simpleton!" 
 
124 THE TREY 0' HEARTS 
 
 "And you!" Rose turned on her passionately. 
 "What about you? If I love Alan Law, at least 1 
 love him openly. I'm not ashamed to own it — and I 
 don't pursue him, as you do, pretending I mean to 
 sacrifice him to a wicked family feud, and then spare 
 him, as you do, hoping so to work upon his sym- 
 pathies. There," she cried to her father, "there 
 stands the daughter who has betrayed your faith." 
 
 The retort on Judith's lips was checked by her 
 father's gesture and a word that rang through the 
 room like the tolling of a bell. " Silence ! " 
 
 Abashed, she averted her face and hung her head. 
 
 "I think," Trine announced in a voice of ice, "I 
 have learned now what I needed to know." 
 
 His fingers sought the row of buttons, and when a 
 servant responded, he inquired. 
 
 "Mr. Marrophat has returned?" 
 
 "He is in the waiting-room, sir," 
 
 "Conduct Miss Judith Trine to him and tell him 
 I hold him personally responsible for her safekeeping. 
 He will understand." 
 
 "Very good, sir." 
 
 "No!" Trine silenced Judith's attempt to protest 
 and exculpate herself, "not another word. Go ! " 
 
 Sullenly the girl obeyed. 
 
 And for a long time thereafter the father, alone 
 with Rose, essayed in vain to break down her mu- 
 tinous silence. 
 
THE HOUSE DIVIDED 125 
 
 Only, in the end, he was able to shatter her calm 
 by a remark so uttered as to seem an inadvertent 
 avowal that he had already brought about the as- 
 sassination of her lover. Even that failed of its 
 purpose, for her taciturnity yielded only to hysteria; 
 and realizing that he wasted breath. Trine summoned 
 two of his creatures and had her led weeping from the 
 room to be held prisoner in her bedchamber on the 
 topmost floor of the house. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 II — ^A Sporting Offer 
 
 THAT same evening Mr. Alan Law issued forth 
 from the Grand Central Station, hailed a taxi- 
 cab, had himself conveyed to the Hotel Monolith, 
 and registered as Arthur Lawrence. 
 
 But it was his true name that he gave to the person 
 whom he called up on the telephone after being shown 
 to his rooms. But then he was speaking to his old 
 friend and man of business, Mr. Digby. Within 
 another ten minutes this last was in conference with 
 his employer. 
 
 "I think you must be out of your head," Digby 
 insisted nervously, once their first greetings were 
 over. "You in New York while Trine lives and 
 knows you're this side of the water! It was dan- 
 gerous enough before, when we had every reason to 
 believe he was satisfied with having caused your 
 father's death. But now " 
 
 He fluttered his hands in a panicky gesture. 
 
 "Nonsense!" Alan laughed. "Remember this 
 is New York, with a policeman on every corner!" 
 
 "Are you really so infatuated as to repose faith 
 
 126 
 
II— A SPORTING OFFER 127 
 
 in the protective powers of the police?" Digby de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Well, I saw one of 'em do some rather efficient 
 scrapping this morning!" Alan paused and smote 
 his palm with a remorseful fist. "By the Eternal, 
 I'm forgetting poor Barcus!" 
 
 "Barcus?" 
 
 "Chap whose boat I chartered into Portland — 
 sheer luck on my part — ^he's one of the salt of the 
 earth. I left him on the waterfront there at dawn, 
 mixing it up with the police force in order to divert 
 their minds from Rose and me. It's too long to tell 
 now. First, something must be done for the boy. 
 You've got influence of some sort in New Bedford, 
 surely?" 
 
 Digby reflected. "There's George Blaine, justice 
 of the peace ' 
 
 "The very man! Telegraph him in Barcus's in- 
 terests immediately. And telegraph Barcus as well. 
 Send him a hundred for expenses and tell him to join 
 me here in New York as quickly as he can!" 
 
 "Your friend's address?" Digby inquired, as he 
 sat down at the desk and fumbled with the supply 
 of hotel stationery. 
 
 "New Bedford jail, of course!" Alan chuckled, 
 but cut his laugh in two as something fluttered from 
 the pack of envelopes and fell to the floor between the 
 two men. It was a Trey of Hearts. 
 
128 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "Now will you believe?" Digby demanded huskily, 
 
 "In what? A simple coincidence?" Alan flouted. 
 "Take my word for it, this is nothing more nor less 
 than a souvenir of a poker party held by yesterday's 
 tenant of this suite." 
 
 "Perhaps — perhaps!" Digby assented, stroking 
 his tremulous lips. "But I'm afraid for you. Do 
 me this favour at least : do leave town — go incognito 
 to some quiet place nearby and wait there for the 
 sailing of the next trans-Atlantic steamer. Oh, surely 
 you can't deny me this one wish of my fond old heart, 
 my boy!" 
 
 With unfeigned affection Alan dropped a hand on 
 Digby's shoulder. 
 
 "There's nothing on earth I would not do for you," 
 he said. "But this thing — I can't do it, even for 
 you. Rose Trine is here in New York, at the mercy 
 of her father and sister; and you may judge what 
 their mercy will be when you learn all that she has 
 done for me. I can't go until I find her and take her 
 with me." 
 
 "I have your word you'll go providing I find and 
 restore Rose to you ? " 
 
 "You have my word to that, unquestionably. 
 Bring Rose to me, and I'll gladly shake the dust of 
 New York from my shoes, and never return till Trine 
 is dead." 
 
 "It shall be done," Digby promised. "It must!" 
 
II— A SPORTING OFFER 129 
 
 "You believe that?" 
 
 "In twelve hours Rose shall be restored to you." 
 
 "Will you make a book on it? Jf you believe you 
 can carry out your promise, wire the White Star 
 Line to reserve the best available suite on the Oceanic, 
 sailing to-morrow morning at ten, and make ar- 
 rangements for a marriage before the boat sails ! " 
 
 "I'll go you," Digby agreed, "and if I fail, I forfeit 
 the cost of the reservation. But about this marriage 
 — ^you'll have to have a license in this State — and 
 can't get one except by applying in person with 
 your bride-to-be." 
 
 "Then we'll marry in Jersey," Alan insisted. 
 "Dig up some clergyman over there, and tell him 
 to be prepared to earn a heavy honorarium between 
 seven and nine to-morrow morning." 
 
 "One moment; give me time to write these wires," 
 Digby pleaded. 
 
 And to Alan's surprise the little man proceeded 
 to compose the telegrams as if he really believed in 
 his ability to make good his word. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 The Time o' Night 
 
 WITH the further pledge that Alan would hear 
 from him before dawn, the little brown man 
 scuttled away. Not ill-pleased to be left to his own 
 devices (whose proposed character Digby would 
 never have approved had he so much as suspected 
 them), Alan none the less deferred action until 
 after midnight. 
 
 It was about one in the morning when he arrived, 
 after taking elaborate precautions, in the neighbour- 
 hood of the Riverside Drive and before the home of 
 his mortal enemy, a grim white house that towered, 
 stark and tall, upon a corner. All its windows were 
 dark but one — and that one, in the topmost tier, 
 showed only a feeble glimmer, so slight that Alan 
 almost overlooked it. 
 
 He believed with small doubt that Rose was a 
 prisoner within those walls, and, this being the pre- 
 sumptive case, that small, high window of the light 
 might well be hers. That it might equally well be 
 another's was beside the point; the possibility re- 
 mained, and while this was so he could not rest 
 
 130 
 
THE TIME O' NIGHT 131 
 
 without doing his best to learn the truth. Now one 
 way of accompHshing this offered itself to his fertile 
 and ardent imagination. 
 
 Directly across the street from the Trine residence 
 a colossal apartment structure stood half-finished, 
 the gaunt iron skeleton rearing a web of steel sten- 
 cilled against the shining sky. After certain precau- 
 tionary maneuvers, Alan approached the watchman's 
 shelter of the unfinished tenement. To his infinite 
 disgust, Alan found the guardian very wide awake. 
 This in itself might have been deemed a suspicious 
 circumstance; not for nothing does an honest night 
 watchman so deny the laws of nature and the tenets 
 of his craft. But Alan overcame with banknotes 
 what seemed an uncommonly stubborn reluctance, 
 and got his way. 
 
 He could not know that another skulked behind a 
 barrier of lime barrels and overheard all that passed. 
 All ignorant, the young man addressed himself to 
 an uncommonly unpleasant climb. The ladders were 
 crazily constructed and none too securely poised, 
 but at length he gained the gridiron of girders on 
 a plane with the lighted window across the way, and 
 crept along one of these, gingerly on his hands and 
 knees, until he came to its end, and might, if he 
 cared to, look down a hundred feet to the sidewalks. 
 
 That view, however, did not tempt; he kept his 
 eyes level, and was rewarded with a bare glimpse of a 
 
132 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 prettily papered wall framed in the lace of half-drawn 
 curtains. Sonrething moved within the room, but 
 beyond the range of his vision; he saw an indefinite 
 shadow flicker across the wall, but more than that, 
 nothing. 
 
 Behind him, grim, ravening death stalked Alan 
 in the darkness. He had not the least suspicion that 
 all was not well. 
 
 Of a sudden, the tenant of the room came to the 
 window and stood there looking pensively out, al- 
 together unconscious of the watcher. Was the 
 woman Rose or Judith ? That she was one of those 
 he could plainly see. At last she revealed herself 
 by a gesture indelibly stamped on tablets of his 
 memory: a slight gesture of grave dubiety, finger- 
 tips lightly touching her lips and cheek. The woman 
 in the window, then, was Rose. 
 
 He drew from his pocket a notebook, tore out a 
 blank page, and with the assistance of a ray of moon- 
 light, scrawled a message. 
 
 When he looked up from this task, she had van- 
 ished. 
 
 Sitting astride the girder, he took his watch — a 
 cheap afi'air he had picked up when reclothing him- 
 self in the garments of civilized society at Providence 
 that morning — opened the back of the case, and 
 closed it upon the folded message. Then drawing 
 back his arm, he cast it from him with such force 
 
THE TIME O' NIGHT 133 
 
 that it almost unseated him at the end of the swing. 
 But nothing less would have served to bridge that 
 yawning chasm. And the watch flew, straight and 
 true, squarely through the lighted window and to 
 the farther wall. . . . 
 
 That much he saw, but whether the girl came to 
 the window after picking it up he never knew. In 
 that very instant he heard a sound behind him of 
 heavy breathing. The assassin had come close upon 
 his prey when Alan turned and discovered his peril. 
 Crawling, as Alan had crawled, on hands and knees 
 along the girder, the man had inched up within a 
 yard. 
 
 The moonbeam which had aided Alan in the com- 
 position of his message struck across the other's 
 face and showed it like a mask of deadly hatred, 
 with its eyeballs glaring and its lips drawn back from 
 the naked blade gripped between its teeth — a stiletto 
 nothing sort of a foot in length. 
 
 With a low cry of desperation Alan snatched off 
 his hat, a soft and shapeless felt affair, and flung it 
 squarely in the fellow's face. Before he could re- 
 cover — ^before, that is, it dropped away and cleared 
 his vision — ^Alan had bent forward and grasped the 
 wrist of the hand that held the knife. He snatched 
 simultaneously at the other hand, but it eluded him. 
 
 Immediately the two became engaged in a furious 
 contest for possession of the stiletto. Alan had this 
 
134 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 advantage, as long as the knife might not strike, 
 that his right arm was free, while the assassin had 
 only his left. With this he strove to reach his knife- 
 hand and possess himself of the weapon. As persist- 
 ently Alan foiled his purpose by dragging the knife- 
 hand toward him and swinging it far out to one side. 
 At the same time he struck repeatedly with his 
 clenched right fist at the other's face. As often as 
 not his blows failed to land; when they did land, it 
 was lightly, for the most part; the distance between 
 them was just a bit beyond his reach, the assassin 
 could dodge a blow by drawing back his head, and 
 Alan dared not unlock his feet beneath the girder 
 in order to inch forward within better range. His 
 blows did little damage beyond disconcerting the 
 other, but this proved a very considerable factor in 
 the duel. In the end they served, together with that 
 steady, resistlessly downward and outward drag, to 
 break the grip of the man's locked legs. 
 
 He pitched forward on his face along the girder, 
 kicking wildly, grasping at the air. The stiletto 
 fell and disappeared. Before Alan could release his 
 hold, or ease the strain upon the right arm of the 
 assassin, the fellow had slipped from the girder and 
 hung helpless in space, dangling at the end of Alan's 
 arm — ^with no more than the grip of five fingers 
 between him and death. 
 
 Then the battle began anew, but now it was a 
 
THE TIME O' NIGHT 135 
 
 battle with a man half-crazed with fright and strug- 
 gling so madly that he well-nigh frustrated the efforts 
 of his rescuer. 
 
 Its progress remained forever a blank in Alan's 
 memory. He knew that he was doing his best to 
 save an enemy from annihilation: that was all. How 
 he contrived to lift the fellow with his left arm high 
 enough to get a grip on his collar and hold him so 
 until his arms caught the girder and he was able to 
 help himself up — ^with much assistance — ^was some- 
 thing inexplicable. 
 
 Yet it happened so, in the upshot, the assassin lay 
 like a limp rag across the girder, head and arms hang- 
 ing on one side, legs and feet on the other, spent with 
 his terrific exertions and physically sick with terror. 
 In this state Alan left him; he had done enough; let 
 the man shift for himself frdm this time on. 
 
 Cautiously crawling over the other's body, he 
 edged along to the head of the ladder. When he 
 looked back from safety, the cut-throat lay as Alan 
 had left him, kicking convulsively. And the window 
 across the way was blank. 
 
 Reflecting that little noise had marked the progress 
 of that duel in the dark, that Rose in consequence 
 could hardly have known anything of it, he let him- 
 self down story by story to the street, and njade off 
 without pausing to see whether the night w^|^fijii|p'^ . 
 blatant slumbers were real or feigned. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Changeling 
 
 AT DAWN Judith rose and bathed and dressed 
 herself in negligee. In the adjoining room she 
 could hear small, stealthy noises — the sounds made 
 by her sister moving about and preparing against 
 the unguessable moment when her rescue would be 
 attempted, according to the information conveyed 
 in that midnight message. 
 
 For, by chance, Judith had been in the recess of 
 her darkened window when Alan edged out along the 
 girder, on the building opposite. Judith recognized 
 him at the moment when he was inditing his mes- 
 sage, while grim death stalked him from behind. 
 
 She had seen him throw the watch and she had 
 'witnessed with wildly beating heart that duel in the 
 air, unable to surmise its outcome only from the fact 
 that the victor spared the life of the vanquished. 
 
 Theinfatuatechivalry of thatman! . . . 
 
 A dozen emotions tore at her heart. She was 
 estranged from her father. She was at odds with 
 his creature, Marrophat, because she had repulsed 
 his overtures at love-making. And the old con- 
 
 136 
 
CHANGELING 137 
 
 tempt in which she had ever held her "sister Rose 
 had been transmuted into violent hatred. 
 
 And it had been her destiny to learn to love the 
 man who loved her sister and was loved by her in turn. 
 
 That she could no longer suffer this state of af- 
 fairs to endure was the one clear fact on the horizon 
 of her tempestuous soul. The clock was striking 
 six as she left her room; across the street workingmen 
 were about to begin the labours of the day. Brush- 
 ing past the guard outside the door to Rose's room, 
 Judith turned the key that remained in the lock on 
 the outside, removed it, entered, and locked the door 
 behind her. 
 
 Without any surprise she found her sister already 
 dressed to the point of donning her outer garments. 
 Rendered half-frantic by this unexpected interrup- 
 tion, threatening as it did the perilous scheme that 
 Alan had proposed, Rose greeted her sister with a 
 countenance at once aghast and wrathful. 
 
 "What do you want?" she demanded. "I insist 
 that you leave this room at once! " 
 
 "I may leave this room, and I may not, dear little 
 sister. But one of us will never leave it alive." 
 
 "Judith!" 
 
 "One moment!" Crossing to a side table, Judith 
 took up a glass from a tray that held a silver water- 
 pitcher, and returned with it to the table that oc- 
 cupied the middle of the floor. At the same time 
 
138 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 she opened a hand till then fast clenched and dis- 
 covered a small blue bottle with a red label shriek- 
 ing the warning " POISON ! " 
 
 "Strychnine," she explained composedly, "in 
 solution," and emptied the bottle into the glass. 
 
 A measure of courage returned to Rose. "Do 
 you expect to be able to make me drink that?" she 
 demanded. 
 
 "Not I — but Destiny, if it will! See here!" 
 From a pocket of her dressing-gown Judith produced 
 a sealed deck of playing cards. "Let these declare 
 the will of Destiny toward us. I will break the seal, 
 shuffle the cards, and deal," she explained, suiting 
 action to the word. "The one who gets the Trey 
 of Hearts will drain that glass. Is it a bargain ? " 
 
 "Never! Oh, now I know that you are altogether 
 mad!" 
 
 Whipping a small revolver from another pocket of 
 her dressing-gown, Judith placed it on the table, 
 ready to her hand. 
 
 "You will shoot me if I do not consent? " 
 
 "Not you, but him. If you refuse, little sister, 
 I will shoot Alan Law dead when he comes to keep 
 his appointment with you." 
 
 "Ah!" Rose cried in mingled fright and amazement, 
 "how did you find out " 
 
 "Nevermind. Is it a bargain?" 
 
 With a shudder Rose bowed her head. 
 
«1 
 
 CHANGELING 139 
 
 'Deal — and may God judge between us!" 
 
 One -by one Judith stripped the cards from the 
 top of the deck, deaUng first to Rose, then to herself. 
 Twelve had been dealt when she held her hand an 
 instant. 
 
 "I have a premonition about thirteen," she said, 
 with a cruel smile for Rose. 
 
 But the card that fell to Rose was a Queen of 
 Hearts. 
 
 "Another superstition gone smash!" Judith com- 
 mented, and dealt herself the Trey of Hearts. 
 
 Judith's hand moved steadily toward the glass. 
 
 "Judith! you cannot mean to drink it?" 
 
 With a strangled cry. Rose covered her face with 
 her hands to shut out the sight, stood momentarily 
 swaying, and dropped to the floor in a complete faint. 
 
 Judith carried the glass to her lips, but before she 
 could tilt it, her glance darted through the window 
 and saw that which caused her to stay her hand. 
 On the topmost tier of girders of the building op- 
 posite Alan Law stood amid a little knot of amused 
 and animated labourers, one foot in the great steel 
 hook of the hoisting tackle. As Judith stared, he 
 waved a hand to some person invisible. 
 
 Immediately the arm began to lift, the tackle to 
 move slowly through the blocks. Very gently he 
 was swung up and outward. . . . 
 
 With a cry Judith flung the poison from her, leaped 
 
I40 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 across the room, snatched up the street garments 
 Rose had dropped, and struggled madly into them. 
 
 Before the shadow of Alan, clinging to the hook 
 and chain, fell athwart the window, she was dressed, 
 and clambered out upon the sill. 
 
 The hook hung steady within six inches of the 
 window-ledge. Alan extended his arm. 
 
 "Nothing to fear, except lest I hold you too tight, 
 dear one!" 
 
 Without a word Judith set her foot beside his in 
 the hook, surrendered to his embrace, and closed her 
 eyes. Immediately they were swimg away from 
 the window, over toward the opposite sidewalk, and 
 gently lowered to the street. 
 
 "Safe and sound — and not a soul over there the 
 wiser as yet," he declared with a derisive nod toward 
 the home of Trine. "Come along! Here's a limou- 
 sine waiting. In twenty minutes we'll be at the 
 ferry, in forty over in Jersey, within an hour married, 
 within four hours safe at sea! " 
 
 She made the need for haste cover her consterna- 
 tion. And when they were safely ensconced in the 
 town-car and swiftly tearing downtown — the time 
 was not yet. She could not declare herself. Nor 
 could she refuse his endearments, who had gone so 
 long athirst for them. So that presently she was 
 returning them passionately — and the infamy of it 
 all was dim and blurred in her understanding. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 The Ring 
 
 THEIRS was the last vehicle to swing between 
 the gates of the Twenty-third Street ferry 
 before these last were closed. 
 
 And this was well, for Alan, glancing through the 
 rear window, started involuntarily when he descried 
 a powerful touring-car tearing toward the ferry- 
 house, its one passenger half rising from the front 
 seat, beside the driver, and exhibiting a countenance 
 purple with congested chagrin as he saw his car 
 barred out of the carriage entrance. 
 
 The girl caught nervously at Alan's hand. 
 
 "What is it, dear?" 
 
 He made a gesture of exasperation. 
 
 "Marrophat," he snapped. 
 
 She uttered a hushed cry of dismay. But at that 
 instant the taxicab rolled aboard the ferry-boat, the 
 deck gates were closed, a hoarse whistle rent the 
 roaring silence of the city, winches rattled and chains 
 clanked, and the boat wore ponderously out of its 
 slip. 
 
 " So much for Mr. Marrophat ! " Alan crowed, sitting 
 
 141 
 
142 THE TREY 0' HEARTS 
 
 down. "Foiled again! But what I want to know is 
 how the deuce did he get such an accurate line on my 
 plans? How did he know that I was coming here, 
 to the Erie Ferry ? It passes me. However, he can't 
 stop us now." 
 
 "This isn't the only ferry. There's the Pennsyl- 
 vania and the Lackawanna — and by hard driving 
 he might even manage to catch the boat that con- 
 nects with this from the Christopher Street ferry of 
 the Erie!" 
 
 ■" Impossible ! I don't believe it ! I won't ! " 
 
 But the incident had served appreciably to chill 
 their spirits. They accomplished the remainder of 
 that voyage in a silence that was ho less depressed 
 because they sat hand in hand throughout. 
 
 Nor was their taxicab three minutes out of the 
 ferry-house on the Jersey shore when the girl's fears 
 were amply justified; a shout from behind drew Alan's 
 head out of the window. Marrophat's touring-car 
 was within fifty yards, and Marrophat, standing on 
 the running-board, was shouting inarticulately and 
 flourishing an imperative hand; while the distance 
 between them was momentarily growing less notice- 
 able — since the taxi-motor was not to be expected to 
 develop sufficient power to maintain its lead on a 
 six-cylinder car of the latest and most powerful 
 model. 
 
 As Marrophat's car drew abreast Alan said quietly: 
 
THE RING 143 
 
 "Don't be alarmed, I can attend to this gentleman 
 single-handed." 
 
 And this he proceeded to demonstrate with ad- 
 mirable ease, even though called upon to do so far 
 sooner than he had thought to be — ^thanks to Marro- 
 phat's harebrained precipitancy. For Trine's first 
 lieutenant now took his life in his hands and in one 
 bound bridged the distance between the flying cars 
 and landed on the taxi's running-board. 
 
 "Stop!" he screamed madly. "Stop, I say! You 
 don't know wha t you're doing ! Let me tell you ' 
 
 He got that far but no farther. In the same breath 
 Alan had flung wide the door and was at the fellow's 
 throat. There was a struggle of negligible duration. 
 Marrophat was in no way his antagonist's match; 
 within three seconds he threw out both hands, 
 clutched hopelessly at the framework of the cab, and 
 fell heavily to the street. 
 
 Simultaneously the touring-car dropped back and 
 stopped. 
 
 The taxi sped on and Alan looked back in time to 
 catch a glimpse of a number of loafers lifting Marro- 
 phat to his feet. 
 
 "Not seriously injured, I fancy," he told the girl. 
 "Worse luck!" he added gloomily. 
 
 But it seemed that he was to have greater cause 
 than this to complain of his luck before that ride 
 was ended. Three blocks farther on a tire blew out 
 
144 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 ai d the taxi slowed down and limped dejectedly to 
 th irb. 
 
 m and the chauffeur piled out in the same in- 
 str ., the one standing guard — ^with an eye out as 
 Wi for another cab — ^while the other assessed dam- 
 a^ ;S. 
 
 "Nothing for it but a new tire, sir," the chauffeur 
 reported sympathetically. 
 
 "Go to it," Alan advised him tersely, "and if you 
 make a quick job of it I'll make it worth your while. 
 Here's my card." 
 
 The man took the card, and, after a glance at the 
 name, touched his hat with more noticeable respect. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Law," he agreed, "anything you 
 say." And forthwith got to work. 
 
 The rapidity with which he completed the change 
 of tires proved him an excellent chauffeur, an adept 
 at his craft; but the delay was one disastrous for all 
 that. The touring-car came in sight just as they 
 were off again, but for the time being contented it- 
 self with trailing about fifty feet in the rear, while the 
 taxi fled the Hoboken waterfront and found its way 
 into the broader streets of a suburban quarter. 
 
 When they were well into this last, the touring- 
 car drew in swiftly and Marrbphat, rising in his seat, 
 levelled a revolver over the windshield and fired. 
 The crack of his weapon was coincident with a 
 metallic thud beneath the rear seat of the taxicab. 
 
ALANS GUN DISAPPEARS WHILE HE SLEEPS. 
 
THE RING 145 
 
 With a, satisfied leer Marrophat settled back and 
 pocketed his revolver. * 
 
 Surmising that the gasoline tank had been punc- 
 tured by the bullet, he was inclined to believe that 
 Marrophat hoped to stop the taxicab by depriving 
 it, in course of time, of its fuel. With this in mind 
 he was presently surprised to see Marrophat's car 
 stop and Marrophat himself get down. The brow 
 of a hill intervened, shutting off sight of the black- 
 guard as he knelt and lit a match. It was the girl 
 who gave the alarm, suddenly withdrawing her head 
 from the window. 
 
 "He's fired the gasoline! It's flaming along the 
 street, following the line of the leak — and catching 
 up with us." 
 
 Without pausing to put his hand to the latch, Alan 
 kicked the door open. 
 
 "Jump!" he cried. "For your life — ^jump! As 
 soon as that flame catches up with the tank " 
 
 Simultaneously the chaufi^eur, overhearing, shut 
 ofF the power. The three gained the sidewalk barely 
 in time. In the flutter of an eyelash the explosion 
 followed. There was a roar — and then a heap of 
 smoking ruins. ' 
 
 Without waiting to admire the spectacle, Alan 
 
 caught the arm of the girl and hurried her up the 
 
 ■street. Chance brought them to the next comer as 
 
 another cab, fareless, hove into view. Promising its 
 
146 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 driver anything he might ask, Alan gave him the 
 address, and helped the girl in. The second car 
 made better time than the first, and soon swept up 
 to a corner house of modest and homely aspect. Two 
 minutes more, and Alan was exchanging salutations 
 with Digby's good friend, the Reverend Mr. Wright. 
 
 Embarrassment worked confusion with the young 
 man's perceptive faculties. He was dimly aware of a 
 decently furnished minister's study; of two witnesses, 
 womenfolk of the minister's household; of the Rever- 
 end Mr. Wright himself as a benevolent voice rolling 
 sonorously forth from a black-clad presence; of the 
 woman of his heart standing opposite him; of 
 questions asked and responses made; of a ring that 
 was magically conjured from some store apparently 
 maintained against precisely similar emergencies; of a 
 hand that took the hand that was to be his wife's 
 and placed it in his; of his clumsy and witless bungling 
 with the task of fitting that ring to the finger of his 
 sweetheart's hand. . . . 
 
 And then a door banged violently in the hallway; 
 a man's voice made some indistinguishable demand; 
 Rose's hand was suddenly whipped away before he 
 could fit on the ring; the study door was flung open, 
 and Marrophat precipitated himself into the room. 
 
 "You fool! Drop that ring! Stop this farce! 
 Don't you know who you're marrying? That 
 woman is Judith Trine — not Rose ! " 
 
THE RING 147 
 
 Blankly Alan turned to the girl. The manner 
 and look of Rose had dropped from her like a cast 
 garment, confessing the truth of Marrophat's as- 
 sertion. And as if this were not enough, Judith 
 confessed it doubly with a sudden outbreak of char- 
 acteristic rage. 
 
 "You devil!" she cried to Marrophat. "Keep 
 out of my way forever after this, or take the con- 
 sequences! God knows," she panted, "why I don't 
 kill you as you stand ! " 
 
 The front door slammed behind the girl. 
 
 When Alan, the first to recover, gained the side- 
 walk, she was already in the taxicab. Whatever 
 reward she had promised the man, he whipped his 
 machine away as if from the fear of sudden death. 
 Darting from the house, Marrophat leaped into his 
 own car and tore off in pursuit. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 Mock Rose 
 
 TAKING the dazed young man by the hand, as 
 though he had been a child, the Reverend Mr. 
 Wright led Alan back to his study and established 
 him in a comfortable armchair beside his desk. 
 
 At the elbow of the Reverend Mr. Wright a tele- 
 phone shrilled. With a gesture of professional pa- 
 tience he turned to the instrument, lifted the receiver 
 to his ear, and spoke in musically modulated accents : 
 
 "Yes; this is Mr. Wright. . . . Ah, you, Mr. 
 Digby. . . . Not coming? But, my dear sir, 
 Mr. Law is already here. I must tell you " 
 
 "If you please," Alan begged, "let me speak to 
 Digby at once. Forgive me " 
 
 Reluctantly the minister surrendered the telephone. 
 
 "That you, Digby?" 
 
 "Alan! Bless my soul, what are you doing over 
 there?" 
 
 "Rose? What about her?" Alan demanded, 
 stammering with anxiety. 
 
 "Why — one of my spies has just reported by 
 telephone. He saw a young woman — either Rose or 
 
 148 
 
MOCK ROSE 149 
 
 Judith — climb out of one of the basement windows of 
 Trine's house this moming. Then several rough- 
 looking customers rushed out of Trine's house, seized 
 the girl, and made off with her in a motor-car bearing 
 a New Jersey license number." 
 
 Without a word of response, and without a word of 
 apology to the Reverend Mr. Wright, Alan dropped 
 the receiver and fled that house like a man demented. 
 
 Tliere was neither a motor-car in sight nor any 
 time to waste in seeking one. Alan could only hope 
 to find one on his way back toward the ferry. He 
 traversed a vast amount of strange territory, and it 
 must have been upward of an hour before he came 
 into a street which he recognized. 
 
 As he paused, to cast about him for the way to the 
 ferry, a touring-car turned a corner at top-speed and 
 slowed to a stop before an unsavoury tenement. 
 This touring-car was occupied by half a dozen ruf- 
 fians in whose hands a young girl struggled, as they 
 jumped out and wrestled her out with brutal incon- 
 sideration. 
 
 Like a shot Alan had crossed the street, but only 
 to bring up nose to the panels pf the tenement door, 
 and to find himself seized and thrown roughly aside 
 by a burly denizen when he grasped the knob and 
 made as if to follow in. 
 
 "Keep back, young feller!" his assailant warned 
 him. 
 
ISO THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 To the speaker's side another ranged, eying Alan 
 with a formidable scowl. An elbow planted heavily 
 in the pit of the stomach of one disposed of him for 
 the time being. A blow from the shoulder sent the 
 other reeling to the gutter. And Alan was in the 
 tenement's lowermost hall. Sounds of scuffling feet 
 were audible on the first landing. Alan addressed 
 himself impetuously to the staircase, gaining its 
 top in half a dozen leaps, and only in time to see a 
 door slammed at the forward end of the hall and 
 hear a key turned in its lock. 
 
 A cluster of men blocked his way. He threw 
 himself headlong into their midst, and gained the 
 closed door before they sought to stay him. 
 
 He shook the knob and shouted : " Rose ! Rose ! " 
 
 Her cry came back to him, a muffled scream: 
 "Alan! Help! Help!" 
 
 Backing away with a mad idea of throwing him- 
 self bodily against the door and breaking it down, he 
 was suddenly confronted by a hideously menacing 
 face. 
 
 Without the hesitation of a heart-beat Alan swung 
 heavily for the thug's jaw. The blow went solidly 
 home. The man fell like a poled ox. 
 
 Pendemonium ensued. Rallying to their com- 
 rade, the ruffians attacked Alan with one mind and 
 one intent. Simultaneously the lamp on the wall 
 was struck from its bracket and crashed to the floor, 
 
MOCK ROSE 151 
 
 its glass well breaking and loosing a flood of kerosene 
 to receive the burning wick. The explosion fol- 
 lowed instantly. In a trice the hallway was a lake 
 of burning oil. 
 
 Still fighting like a madman, contesting every foot 
 of the way, Alan was borne downstairs by the fleeing 
 mob and out of the front door. The doorway 
 vomited men and women of the tenement. By the 
 time they left the way clear a solid wall of flame stood 
 behind it. 
 
 Thrice Alan essayed to pass that barrier of fire, and 
 thrice it threw him back. 
 
 Then drawing aside, he endeavoured to come to his 
 sober senses, and cast about for some more feasible 
 way to effect the rescue of his Rose. 
 
 That way was revealed to him in another instant. 
 
 The tenement occupied one corner of a narrow 
 street and directly opposite stood a storage ware- 
 house. Before this last was the common landing 
 stage for truck deliveries protected by a shed roof. 
 And, suspended from a timber that peered out over 
 the eaves, a hoisting tackle dragged the ground with 
 its ropes. 
 
 It was the work of another minute to rig a loop in 
 the line and fasten it round his body beneath the 
 arms. Volunteers did not lack — a couple of husky 
 longshoremen sprang to the ropes. They heaved 
 with a will. His feet left the ground. He caught the 
 
IS2 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 eaves of the shed roof and drew himself up on this 
 last, back a little way down it, and calculating his 
 direction nicely, with a running jump launched him- 
 self out over the street. 
 
 The momentum of his leap carried him truly to- 
 ward that window where Rose was waiting. Then 
 its force slackened. For an awful instant he believed 
 that he had failed. But with the last expiring ounce 
 of impetus he was brought within grasping distance 
 of the window-sill. 
 
 Hauling himself up, he gathered her into his 
 arms 
 
 A great tongue of flames licked angrily out of the 
 window as he swung her back to safety. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 Jailbird 
 
 THE period of restraint in durance vile suffered 
 by one Thomas Barcus proved in the upshot 
 far more brief than had been fondly hoped not only 
 by his just judge but, singularly enough, by the mis- 
 demeanant himself. 
 
 "Ten days' rest will do me no harm," he assured 
 himself. So meditating, he committed himself, body 
 and soul, to the sleep he so sorely needed. 
 
 But his rest was to be by no means so long. He 
 was sentenced at lo a. m., and it was little short of 
 lo p. M. of the same day when his repose was dis- 
 turbed by the rattle of a key in the lock of the door to 
 his cell. 
 
 Sitting up, Mr. Barcus rubbed his eyes and 
 combed his hair with his fingers. 
 
 "What did I tell you?" he observed resignedly. 
 *'It begins again already. . . ." 
 
 He was conducted to the presence of the judge him- 
 self, who at once ordered his release. 
 
 " If only you had told me you were a friend of Mr. 
 Digby's," the judge hastened to say as soon as the 
 
 153 
 
154 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 two were ensconced in the privacy of the judicial 
 limousine, " I would have known better how to guide 
 myself in this unfortunate affair. As it is, I can only 
 assure you of my profound regret that I was not 
 better advised. And I trust sincerely that you will 
 not fail to tell Mr. Digby that I acted immediately 
 on receipt of his telegram." 
 
 "Rest easy, I won't forget," Barcus promised him 
 enigmatically, at pains to cover the truth that Digby 
 was nothing more to him than the name of Alan 
 Law's man of business. 
 
 "This is what Mr. Digby says," the judge replied, 
 laboriously deciphering the message by the light of a 
 match: "'Please see to immediate release of one 
 Thomas Barcus probably in jail in your jurisdiction 
 for rioting on waterfront this morning. Pay his fine 
 and instruct him to report to me in New York at 
 -earliest feasible hour. Give him all the money he 
 wants and look to me for remuneration' " 
 
 The private comment of Barcus to this was : " I've 
 suspected that this was a fairy-tale all along. Now I 
 know it is ! " 
 
 Not until a sound night's sleep had topped off the 
 beginning of his rest in jail did Barcus come down to 
 earth. He demonstrated his return to common sense 
 by hiaking a round breakfast in Grand Central 
 Station before looking up the residence of Digby in 
 the telephone directory, reasoning that, if he was to 
 
JAILBIRD 1 55 
 
 rejoin his fortunes to those of Alan Law, it was best 
 to* be fortified in every conceivable way before de* 
 livering himself anew to a career of peril and priva- 
 tion. 
 
 The information he garnered from Mr. Digby 
 over the telephone shook only momentarily Barcus's 
 conviction that intimate acquaintance with battle-, 
 murder, and sudden death was the inevitable reward 
 of association with this friend of his heart. 
 
 "Alan being married to Rose Trine in Jersey City 
 at this very minute!" he breathed, as he emerged 
 from the booth memorizing the address of the of- 
 ficiating clergyman. "I don't believe it; the course 
 of true love can't be running as smooth as all that. 
 Why, its impossible! Alan hasn't ridden the tidal 
 wave yet, nor tamed the bucking earthquake! He 
 has thus far flirted with death in little more than two- 
 score different forms; if this is his finish, he's a rank, 
 quitter — hardly half a hero ! " 
 
 Forthwith he engaged a taxicab to convey him to 
 Jersey City. 
 
 "I'd give my earldom," he asseverated, "rather 
 than miss the eruption, or whatever it is, that is 
 bound to take place just in time to crab this un- 
 natural denouement!" 
 
 And when he beheld a dense volume of smoke 
 advertising a conflagration on the Jersey shore, he 
 shook a sagacious head. 
 
156 THE TREY O^ HEARTS 
 
 "If Alan isn't mixed up in that somehow," he 
 declared, "I'm a sorry failure as a prophet of woe and 
 disaster!" 
 
 There was as much intuitive apprehension as 
 humour responsible for this remark; witness the fact 
 that, on landing, he risked the delay required to turn 
 aside and have a look at the fire. 
 
 It proved to be situated in the heart of a squalid 
 slum. The firemen had already given up all hope, 
 apparently, of saving anything but the adjoining 
 buildings; that they had done their best was shown 
 by the tangle of apparatus that cumbered the space 
 within the fire-lines. 
 
 Mr. Barcus viewed the scene for some moments; 
 then, tolerably satisfied that there was nothing here 
 to excuse his "hunch" about Alan Law, was on the 
 point of instructing his chauffeur to drive on when 
 his attention was attracted by a curious movement 
 in the throng of sightseers. A number of men began 
 to force their way in a V-shaped wedge through the 
 tl^rong, making toward its very heart, the point on 
 the fire-lines nearest the burning building. 
 
 What this meant, Mr. Barcus had not the slightest 
 idea. But his attention was fixed by the face of a 
 man who was following in the hollow of the V — an 
 €vil white face that seemed somehow vaguely famil- 
 iar. It was several seconds before Barcus identified 
 it as the face of the man who had borne Judith Trine 
 
JAILBIRD 157 
 
 away in a motor-car from the New Bedford wharf the 
 previous morning: beyond doubt one of Seneca 
 Trine's first lieutenants. 
 
 At the same time, at the point where the V had 
 paused, a wild uproar lifted up. A cry was audible — 
 "Firebug! Lynch him! Lynch the firebug!" And 
 at this the mob turned and streamed away in pursuit 
 of an invisible quarry, who chose to attempt his- 
 escape by a route directly opposite to that which 
 would have led him within view of Mr. Barcus. 
 
 Barcus was on the point of stepping out of his cab 
 when he was stayed by sight of the evil white face 
 returning, still in the hollow of the flying V. And 
 now Barcus saw that the man of the white face was 
 not alone. There was a woman with him. And, 
 Barcus reflected, why might not this be Rose Trine, 
 suffering new persecution at the hands of her un- 
 natural father's creatures ? 
 
 He was too far away to make sure, but he pointed 
 White Face out to his chauffeur as the V reached a 
 touring-car and the woman was lifted in (unresisting 
 and apparently in a dead faint), and when the tour- 
 ing-car started away the taxicab of Mr. Barcus 
 trailed it. 
 
 Ten minutes later, from the rear deck of a ferry- 
 boat in midstream, a boat bearing back to N^w York 
 not only the touring-car of White Face but the cab of 
 Mr. Barcus, the latter gentleman witnessed an in- 
 
IS8 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 cident of uncommon character, even for New York, 
 wherein (we're told) anything may happen, and most 
 things do. 
 
 He saw a young man, hatless, coatless, almost 
 .i^hirtless, tear down to the end of one of the Jersey 
 'wharves, his heels snapped at by a ravening rabble, 
 which he was so desperately anxious to escape that 
 lie dived headforemost into the greasy, tide-twisted 
 liver. 
 
 He took the water neatly, came up ininjured and 
 clear-headed, and without an instant's hesitation 
 struck away toward the middle of the Hudson. 
 
 But he was not to make his getaway so easily. In 
 a moment it was seen that he was being rapidly 
 overtaken by a couple of harbour policemen in a 
 dory. 
 
 During the breathless suspense of that chase the 
 ferry-boat drew stolidly farther and still farther 
 away from the scene. Barcus could not tell whether, 
 as it seemed, the police-laden dory was really over- 
 hauling the swimmer, or whether the illusion of per- 
 spective deceived him. At all events, it seemed a 
 /rightfully near thing when the interruption befell 
 . which alone could have saved the man whom Barcus 
 believed to be none other than Alan Law. 
 
 Out of the very sky dropped a hydroplane, cutting 
 the water with a long graceful curve that brought 
 it, almost at a standstill, directly to the head of the 
 
JAILBIRD 159 
 
 swimmer, and at the same time forced the police-boat 
 to sheer wildly ofF in order to escape collision. 
 
 Immediately the swimmer caught the pontoon of 
 the hydroplane, pulled himself up out of the water, 
 and clambered to the seat beside the aviator. Be- 
 fore he was fairly seated the plane was swinging back 
 into its fastest pace. With the ease of a wild goose 
 it left the water, described a wide circle above the 
 bluffs of Weehawken, and swept away southward. 
 In that quarter it was presently lost to the sight of 
 Mr, Barcus, who gravely Ufted his hat in parting 
 salutation. 
 
 "You are a brave man, my friend," he apostro- 
 phized the spirit of Alan Law, "and an uncommon 
 lucky one, and a bit of a damn fool into the bargain. 
 But the more I see of you the more firmly I believe 
 your own assertion that you were bom to be hanged ! '* 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 Bird-man 
 
 ABOUT eight o'clock in the evening of the same 
 day a motor-car deposited at the Hotel Monolith 
 a gentleman whose weather-beaten and oil-stained 
 motoring-cap and duster covered little clothing more 
 than shirt and trousers and assorted oddly in the 
 eyes of the desk-clerk with the rather meticulously 
 tumed-out guest known to him as Mr. Arthur 
 Lawrence, and to the management of the hotel as Mr. 
 Alan Law incognito. 
 
 Eventually persuaded, the clerk yielded up the 
 key to Mr. Lawrence's suite of rooms together 
 with two notes superscribed with the same nom de 
 guerre. 
 
 The first proved to be a characteristic communica- 
 tion: 
 
 "Dear Ulysses: — ^Thanks for the jail delivery. 
 When I saw you snatched out of the North River 
 this morning I was engaged in trailing a pale-faced 
 villain in a motor-car; he was a bold, bad kidnapper; 
 Rose was in his power, as we say in such cases. I 
 sleuthed after 'em, even to the house of Seneca Trine. 
 
 x6o 
 
BIRD-MAN i6i 
 
 Latter followed a furtive young man from the house 
 of Trine to the office of the general manager of the 
 New York Central, where he made arrangements 
 foi: a special to convey the said Trine and retinue to 
 Chicago. It leaves at three o'clock this afternoon. 
 I was unable to ascertain whether Rose is to partici- 
 pate in this hegira, but I know I shall. I have 
 bribed the train-crew to let me impersonate the por- 
 ter. So, should you be moved to follow and succeed 
 in catching up with us, and observe anybody who 
 looks rather ofF-colour in the party, don't shoot, the 
 said body will be Me. 
 
 "Yours for the quiet life, 
 "Tom Bargus." 
 
 The second note was a mere hurried scrawl : 
 
 "They are taking me West by special train — I 
 don't know where or why. A servant has promised 
 to see that this reaches you. Save me ! " 
 
 Over this Alan wrinkled an incredulous nose. The 
 hand was the hand of Rose, but the phraseology was 
 not in her spirit. He picked up the envelope to 
 compare the handwriting of the address with that 
 of the enclosure — and shook out a Trey of Hearts. 
 
 This last was covered, as to its face, with a plainly 
 written message: 
 
 "With the compliments of Seneca Trine to Alan 
 Law. We are due in Chicago at eleven to-morrow 
 
i62 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 morning and leave immediately for the Pacific Coast 
 via Santa Fe Route." 
 
 Comparison between this and the message pur- 
 porting to be from Rose distilled the conviction that 
 the same hand was responsible for both, 
 
 Alan shrugged. So he was to be lured away from 
 New York and Rose by this transparent trick, was 
 he? No fear! But — he had a plan! 
 
 Promptly Alan called up the Aviation Fields at 
 Hempstead Plains and got into communication with 
 a gentleman answering to the surname of Coast, 
 the same bird-man who had come to Alan's res- 
 cue with his hydroplane. Their arrangements were 
 quickly consummated. Coast agreeing to wait for 
 Alan with his biplane in Van Cortlandt Park from 
 midnight till daybreak, prepared if need be to under- 
 take a trans-continental flight. 
 
 Another man would have needed twelve hours in 
 bed at the least to compensate for such a day; Mr. 
 Law after three hours of sleep awakened in a lamb- 
 like temper when called at 1 1 :30. 
 
 At midnight he committed an act of burglarly, 
 calmly and with determination breaking his way into 
 the house of Seneca Trine through the area windows 
 and basement. 
 
 Nothing hindered and none opposed him. He ex- 
 plored the dwelling minutely, room by room, story 
 
BIRD-MAN 163 
 
 by story, intent on one subject only — ^to find Rose 
 Trine, or else make sure she was not there. 
 
 He negotiated the flight of steps which led to the 
 topmost floor with extraordinary stealth, advised 
 thereto by a sound which had theretofore been in- 
 audible to him. Possibly the manservant whom he 
 fovind snoring in a chair outside a closed door had not 
 fallen asleep and begun to snore until the moment 
 when Alan set foot upon the lower step of that final 
 ascent. 
 
 Turning the head of the stairs, Alan paused, intent 
 on this man who must somehow be disposed of before 
 he might solve the riddle of that shut and guarded 
 door. 
 
 Aside from actual violence no solution offered to 
 the puzzle; and violence was abruptly forced upon 
 him. 
 
 No sound warned him of the door that opened at 
 his back as he stood watching the sleeping guard. 
 A piercing shriek was the first intimation received 
 that his presence had been discovered. A glance 
 over-shoulder showed him the figure of a maid- 
 servant, her mouth still wide and full of sound, and 
 Alan fell upon the guard like a thunderbolt. The 
 man had barely time to jump up when a fist caught 
 him on the point of his jaw, and he returned to uncon- 
 sciousness. 
 
 Backing ofF, Alan took a short run and flung him- 
 
i64 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 self full-force against the door. With a splintering 
 crash it broke inward, and without dignity or decorum 
 he sprawled on all fours into the presence of Judith 
 Trine. 
 
 Picking himself awkwardly up, Alan flushed crim- 
 son with embarrassment to find himself confronting 
 this woman who had come so unwillingly to accord 
 him her love and had fought so passionately to win 
 him from her sister. 
 
 For her part, Judith laughed mockingly. 
 
 "Poor Mr. Law! Always disappointed. Believe 
 me, I am sorry, for once, it is I and not Rose whom you 
 find locked up here ! For I am locked up by way of 
 punishment — ^thanks to my having had pity on you 
 once too often — ^while my father decamped myste- 
 riously for parts unknown." 
 
 "You don't know where he's gone, then?" 
 
 "Do you?" she asked sharply. 
 
 " Ina general way, byspecial train to the West ** 
 
 "Taking RdSfe?" 
 
 "So I'm told." 
 
 The woman choked upon her anger, but quickly 
 mastered it. 
 
 "He shall pay for this!" she asseverated. 
 
 "Your father? I wish him nothing more nor less 
 than your enmity," Alan assured hef civilly. "But 
 since it seems that he has gone, and Rose with him» 
 if you'll forgive me, I think I'll be going " 
 
BIRD-MAN i6s 
 
 "Then be advised, and take me with you." 
 
 "In what capacity, please? As enemy or — ally?" 
 
 "As ally — ^you're right, we can't be friends — until 
 we overtake that special train. After that, by your 
 leave, I'll shift for myself." 
 
 "It's not such a bad notion," he reflected, "with 
 you under my eye, youcan't domuchto interfere " 
 
 "If I promise " she suggested. 
 
 "I'll take your word," he agreed simply. "But 
 you're in for a lot of hardship, I'm afraid. The one 
 way to catch up with your father is by aeroplane." 
 
 " Don't consider me as a woman when it comes to 
 hardship." 
 
 "I've no reason to, going on what I know of you." 
 
 "Give me one minute to find my coat and 
 hat. . . ." 
 
 The police, summoned by the maid, entered the 
 front door as the two crept out of the area window. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 As A Crow Flies 
 
 ALAN had plenty of time for thought. Speech 
 was impossible while the biplane was in motion, 
 and it was seldom otherwise, but only infrequently 
 at pause when the necessity for replenishing its store 
 of oil and gasoline would force it to descend. 
 
 Between whiles the plane flew fast and high, as the 
 crow flies, athwart the Eastern and Middle Western 
 States. 
 
 Chicago they saw as a smudge on the northern 
 horizon about one o'clock in the afternoon; there- 
 after some little time was lost in descents to ascertain 
 the identity of the many railroad lines. 
 
 And it was some hours later, though still daylight, 
 when they picked up the special flying like a hunted 
 thing across the levels, on the line of the Santa Fe. 
 Alan contrived to focus his binoculars upon the rear 
 platform of the car and saw a white-coated figure 
 with a blac?k face that was watching the biplane in 
 the same manner — ^that is, with glasses. It was the 
 right train then! 
 
 And the man in the white coat was Barcus. 
 
 i66 
 
AS A CROW FLIES 167 
 
 And hardly had he comforted himself with this 
 assurance when the motor stopped. The aviator 
 merely shook a weary head and muttered the words: 
 "Engine trouble." 
 
 Swiftly the earth rose to receive the volplaning 
 mechanism. Under Coast's admirable handling the 
 biplane settled down on the outskirts of a city whose 
 name Alan never learned. 
 
 Barely were they down before he was out and 
 making his way toward the manager's office con- 
 nected with the adjacent train-yard. 
 
 Judith followed him like a shadow. 
 
 Lavish disbursement of money won him his way. 
 Within twenty minutes Alan and Judith were spin- 
 ning through open country in the cab of an engine 
 running light, with only clear track between it and 
 the special. 
 
 The several hours that ensued before the lights of 
 the special appeared were none too many for the task 
 of overcoming the scruples of the engineer and fire- 
 man. But convinced (at least outwardly) that they 
 were not dealing with a lunatic, they at length 
 accepted his money and his promise of a life pension 
 should they lose their jobs, and, disregarding signals, 
 brought the light engine rapidly up toward the rear 
 of the special. 
 
 Within a few hundred feet of the special, Alan saw 
 first one figure hurtle over the rear rail, fall to the 
 
i68 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 tracks, and scramble off just in time to escape anni- 
 hilation. A blur of white remained on the back 
 platform, and Alan understood that Barcus had 
 merely been clearing the way of Trine's guards. An- 
 other minute, and less than fifty feet separated the 
 two trains. Then Alan crept out alongside of the 
 boiler. It seemed an hour before he worked himself 
 up to the cow-catcher, now within four feet of the 
 rear platform of the special. On this last he could 
 see a woman's figure, and beside her a man in a white 
 coat, clinging for dear life to the knob of the door, 
 holding it shut against the frantic efforts of some per- 
 son inside. 
 
 Another hour of suspense dragged out — or such 
 was the effect — ^while the light engine bridged these 
 four scant feet. 
 
 At length it was feasible to attempt the thing. 
 Rose was half over the rail of the car ahead, ready to 
 jump. Straining forward and holding on to a bar 
 so hot that it scorched his palm, he offered a hand 
 to the girl on the rail. 
 
 Her hand fell confidently into it. She jumped. 
 His arm wound round her as she landed on the plat- 
 form of the cow-catcher. He heard her breathe 
 his name, then passed her to the footway at the side. 
 The fireman was waiting there to help her. Alan 
 turned his attention to Barcus. 
 
 To his dismay he found that the engine was losing 
 
AS A CROW FLIES 169. 
 
 ground. The space was widening as Barcus released 
 the knob and threw himself over the rail. By a 
 flying leap, the man gained the platform. 
 
 Then their engine ground slowly to a halt as the 
 rear lights of the train swept from sight around a 
 bend. 
 
 And then the engineer, backed by his fireman, 
 started an argumentative complaint. "They hadn't 
 bargained to be shot at with pistols," and so forth, 
 and so forth. But while engineer and fireman were 
 "chewing the rag like a couple of sea-lawyers," as 
 Mr. Barcus elegantly phrased it, there came a diver- 
 sion. 
 
 Revolvers began to pop once more. And they 
 looked up the track to see the special backing down 
 upon them, several persons on the back platform 
 plying busy trigger-fingers all the while. 
 
 As these last threw open the platform gates and 
 dropped to the ballast, still perforating the air with 
 many bullets, all those under fire turned simultane- 
 ously and sought shelter at the rear of the tender. 
 At a word from Alan, Barcus and the two girls ran 
 on with him around the engine, and, undiscovered,, 
 made for the special now close at hand on the track 
 ahead. It began to move forward as they reached 
 it, but they scrambled aboard somehow. Mr. Barcus 
 who had acted as rear-guard, or at any rate bullet- 
 shield, for the others, heaved a heartfelt sigh as he 
 
I70 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 sat down heavily on a camp-chair and mopped his 
 brow, while the Hghts of the locomotive dropped 
 swiftly back into the gloaming. The fact that sev- 
 eral of the figures grouped round it continued to fire 
 their revolvers at the fast-departing special troubled 
 him not at all. 
 
 "If any of those guys," he assured Mr. Law pres- 
 ently, "could hit a barn door with a Gatling gun at 
 twenty paces — ^well, I wouldn't be proving myself 
 the giddy ass I am by sticking to your ill-starred 
 fortunes. There wouldn't be any to stick to, because 
 you'd have been snuffed out long, long ago — ^with 
 all the chances they've had to blow your fool head 
 off!" 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 Pullman 
 
 COME inside," Law suggested, "and introduce 
 me to the brakeman. I presume I've got to 
 fix things up with him " 
 
 "If there's really any doubt in your mind as to 
 that," Barcus said, rising, "I don't mind telling you 
 you're right." 
 
 " He's approachable ? " 
 
 "Is he?" Barcus laughed. "Would I be here if 
 he wasn't? He's so approachable he meets you at 
 your own front door. Never in all his life has any- 
 thing happened to him like this, he's already figuring 
 on buying a house in Flatbush with the coin he's 
 grafted off of me since we came to an understand- 
 ing. Ever so often his conscience begins to re- 
 proach him, and that's my high-sign to dig and 
 come through." 
 
 He paused as Alan entered the car before him and 
 was greeted by a storm of vituperation that fairly 
 blistered the panels of the Pullman. Mr. Seneca 
 Trine, helpless in his invalid chair, was celebrating 
 this introduction to the young man whom he had 
 
 171 
 
172 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 never before seen but whose life he had schemed to 
 take these many years. His heavy voice boomed 
 and echoed through the car Uke the sounding of a 
 tocsin. . . . 
 
 Alan made no effort to respond, but listened with 
 his head critically to one side and an exasperating 
 expression of deep interest informing his countenance 
 until Mr. Trine was out of breath and vitriol; when 
 the younger man bowed with the slightest shade of 
 mockery in his manner and waved a tolerant hand 
 to Barcus. 
 
 "He has, no doubt," Alan inquired, "his own pri- 
 vate cell aboard this car?" 
 
 "Yas, suh," Barcus agreed, aping well the man- 
 ners of his apparent caste and colour. "Ain't dat 
 de troof ? " he chuckled. 
 
 "Take him away, then," Alan requested wearily — 
 *'if you please." 
 
 "Yas, suh," Barcus replied, with nimble alacrity, 
 seizing the back of the wheeled chair and swinging it 
 around for a spin up the length of the car. 
 
 Before Trine had recovered enough to curse him 
 properly, the door to his drawing-room was closed 
 and Barcus was ambling back down the aisle. 
 
 His grin of relish at this turning of the tables on 
 the monomaniac proved, however, short-hved. It 
 erased itself in a twinkling when Judith shouldered 
 Toughly past him, wearing a sullen and forbidding 
 
PULLMAN 173 
 
 countenance, and flung herself into the drawing-rooim 
 with her father. 
 
 "Storm signals," mused Mr. Barcus. "What 
 possessed our dear friend to bring that tigress along, 
 I'd like to know. He might as well have loaded 
 himself down with a five-gallon can of nitro-glyce- 
 
 rine." 
 
 The cause of her temper was not far to seek: at the 
 far end of'the car Alan was bending solicitously over 
 the chair in which Rose was resting. One of his 
 arms was around her shoulder. Her face was lifted 
 confidently to his. 
 
 Mr. Barcus saw no more. He turned delicately 
 away, and set himself to round out two of the com- 
 partments formerly dedicated to the uses of Trine's 
 creatures, preparing them for the accommodation of 
 Rose and Alan. Judith, he decided, might shift 
 for herself; he owed that young woman nothing — 
 or, if anything, a dozen or so narrow squeaks for 
 her life, such as those to which she had gratuitously 
 treated him. 
 
 He mused morosely on his apprehension of trouble 
 a-brew, simmering over the waxing fire of that strange 
 woman's jealousy. He didn't like the prospect at all. 
 If only Alan and Rose had not been so desperately 
 in love that they couldn't keep away from one an- 
 other! If only Alan had been sensible enough to 
 outwit the woman and leave her behind when he 
 
174 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 started in pursuit of the special! If only there had 
 not been that light engine in pursuit — as Barcus 
 firmly believed it must be — ^loaded to the guards with 
 Trine's unscrupulous hirelings ! 
 
 No telling when they might not catch up! 
 
 The fear of this last catastrophe worked, together 
 with his fears of Judith, to make that night almost a 
 sleepless one for Barcus. He spent it in a chair 
 whence he could watch both the door to the compart- 
 ment Judith had chosen for her own (formerly Mar- 
 rophat's room), and the endless ribbons of steel that 
 swept beneath the trucks, and, shining fugitively in 
 the light from the observation platform, streamed 
 away into the darkness astern. 
 
 But nothing happened. He napped uneasily from 
 time to time, waking with a start of fright, but only 
 to find nothing amiss. Ever Judith stopped behind 
 that closed door, and ever the track behind was in- 
 nocent of the glare of a pursuing headhght. 
 
 Later he had cause to believe that Judith, during 
 one of his cat-naps, had stolen out of that door and 
 had managed to get into most effective communica- 
 tion with the engine-crew and brakeman. Unques- 
 tionably these three had been quite content with 
 Alan's liberal-handed contributions to their bank- 
 accounts up to that hour. Furthermore, they had 
 his promise of a munificent reward if they finished 
 the run to California, to say nothing of the word of 
 
PULLMAN I7S 
 
 Law, son of the railroad builder, that they would be 
 protected in event of losing their jobs through any 
 contingency of this mad adventure. 
 
 Certainly, Barcus thought afterward, nothing but 
 a greater bid from Trine, through Judith, substanti- 
 ated by a heavy advance on account, could have 
 won their allegiance from Alan. . . . 
 
 Whether Judith was responsible or not, this is 
 what happened in the course of the next morning: 
 the special was forced to take a siding to make way 
 for the California Limited Eastbound; and when this 
 had passed, the engine of the special coughed apolo- 
 getically and pulled swiftly out, leaving the Pullman 
 stalled on the siding. 
 
 From the rear of the tender the brakeman and 
 fireman waved affecting farewells to the indignant 
 faces of Alan and Barcus when they showed in the 
 front doorway. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 Hand-car 
 
 WELL!" Mr. Barcus broke a silence whose elo- 
 quence may not be translated in ppnt. " Can 
 you beat it?" 
 
 "Not with this outfit," Alan admitted gloomily, 
 
 " But, damn it ! We've got to ! " 
 
 "Profanity — even yours, my friend^ — ^won't make 
 this Pullman move without an engine." 
 
 "All the same we can't stop here waiting for that 
 gang of things to return in the light engine and cut 
 our blessed throats." 
 
 Mr. Law answered this unanswerable contention 
 only with a shrug. Then, stepping out on the 
 forward platform of the Pullman, he cast a hope- 
 less eye over the landscape. Then he lowered 
 his gaze to the tracks and siding — ^and started 
 sharply. 
 
 "Eh, what now?" Barcus inquired. 
 
 "Some thoughtful body has left an old hand-car 
 over there in the ditch," Alan replied. "Maybe 
 it isn't beyond service — looks as if it might work. 
 Come along and lend me a hand." 
 
 176 
 
HAND-CAR 177 
 
 "Half a minute," Barcus answered, dodging sud- 
 denly back into the car. 
 
 When he reappeared, after some five minutes, Rose 
 accompanied him, aiid Barcus was smiling, 
 
 " Sorry to keep you waiting, old top," he explained, 
 "but I was smitten with an inspiration. There 
 didn't seem to be any sense in letting the amiable 
 Judith loose upon this fair land, so I found a coil oi 
 wire in the porter's closet and wired the handle of the 
 drawing-room door fast to the bars across the aisle. 
 It'll take her some time to get out." 
 
 "What about the window? " 
 
 "It doesn't open wide enough for anybody but a 
 living skeleton to get through." 
 
 "You don't yet know the lady," said Alan with 
 grim foreboding. 
 
 Ten minutes more had passed before the two grimy 
 and perspiring gentlemen succeeded in placing the 
 hand-car upon the tracks. Far back along the line 
 a locomotive hooted mournfully. 
 
 "That's a freight whistle," Barcus advised, helping 
 Rose aboard the hand-car. 
 
 "Maybe you can distinguish the whistle of a 
 freight-car locomotive from that of a passenger-train 
 engine. I don't say you can't, but I'll take no chance 
 on your judgment being good. Hop aboard here, 
 if you're coming with us ! " 
 
 Groaning sojulfuUy, Barcus hopped aboard. 
 
178 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "It isn't the hard work I mind," he explained, 
 laying hold of the handle-bar; "it's my silly pride, 
 it's this swift descent from the sublime to the utili- 
 tarian that irks me. Think of it: yesterday a Pull- 
 man porter, to-day a donkey engine!" 
 
 None the less, he put a willing back into the work. 
 Slowly the hand-car gathered momentum and surged 
 noisily up the track as Alan and Barcus, on opposite 
 sides of the handle-bar, alternately rose and fell 
 back; slowly it mounted the slight grade to the bend 
 in the track, rounded it, lost sight of the stalled Pull- 
 man on the siding, and began to move more swiftly 
 on a moderate down-grade. 
 
 Behind it the thunder of an approaching train 
 grew momentarily in volume. But just as Alan was 
 about to advocate leaving the tracks to clear the way 
 for the train, its rumble began to diminish and 
 gradually was stilled. 
 
 "What do you make of that ? " Alan panted. 
 
 "The freight has taken the siding to wait for some 
 through train to pass. We'll have to look sharp and 
 be ready to jump." 
 
 Five minutes later a second whistle, of a different 
 tone, startled them. 
 
 "Afraid it's all up with us now," Alan groaned, 
 "that sounded precisely like the whistle of the Hght 
 engine." 
 
 "Sure it did!" Barcus agreed. "It wouldn't be 
 
HAND-CAR 179 
 
 us if we had any better luck. The saints be praised 
 for this down-grade ! " 
 
 The hand-car made a very fair pace, at the urge of 
 the two, and the grade was happily long, turning and 
 twisting like a snake through the hills. 
 
 Moreover, it seemed that the light engine had 
 stopped at the siding long enough to couple up Trine's 
 Pullman. It was fully a quarter of an hour before a 
 growing rumble warned the trio on the hand-car, just 
 as it gained the end of the grade. At this point dis- 
 covery of the switch of a spur-line that shot off south- 
 ward into the hills furnished Alan with an inspiration. 
 
 Stopping the hand-car after it had jolted over the 
 frogs, he jumped down, set the switch to shunt the 
 pursuit off upon the spur, and leaped back upon the 
 car. Meeting his eye, Barcus nodded his approval. 
 The stratagem served them. The special took the 
 switch without pause, and the roar of its progress, 
 shut off by an intervening mountain, was suddenly 
 stilled to a murmur. 
 
 But even so there was neither rest for the weary 
 nor much excuse for self-congratulation : the rumble 
 of the special was not altogether lost to hearing when 
 the thunder of the freight drowned it out. 
 
 Then Alan stood up and signed to Barcus to imitate 
 his example. 
 
 "Jump off — leave the hand-car where it is — they'll 
 have to stop to clear it off the track." 
 
i8o THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "And then " 
 
 "I'll buy a lift from them," Alan promised. "It's 
 our only hope. We can't keep up this heart-breaking 
 business forever, and it can't be long before Trine 
 and Marrophat discover their mistake! " 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 Caboose 
 
 SO GREAT is the power of money that it was 
 not more than ten minutes before Rose was 
 settled to rest in such comfort as the caboose on the 
 end of the freight train afforded, while Alan and 
 Barcus sat within its doorway and smoked, mutely 
 speculating on the length of time that would elapse 
 before the special train again appeared, and whether 
 they dared hope its occupants would fail to notice the 
 abandoned hand-car and draw the logical inference. 
 
 An hour passed without event, and evening drew its 
 shades athwart the barren and inhospitable wastes of 
 tumbled hills and arid plains. All seemed well, and 
 no one aboard the freight suspected that, in the box- 
 car next forward of the caboose, a woman in man's 
 clothing lay perdue, chuckling impishly to herself in 
 anticipation of the time and event she was biding 
 with such patience as she could muster — ^time and 
 event alike being hidden from her understanding. 
 
 Oh, most assuredly the time would come! Mark 
 how events had already played into her hands, how 
 Barcus had held her prisoner in the compartment 
 
 i8i 
 
1 82 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 long enough to permit her hurriedly to change from 
 her proper dress to a suit of Marrophat's; how she 
 had finally managed to wriggle out of the broken 
 window without being injured; how her father had 
 welcomed her and taken her donning that attire in 
 earnest of her vow to him never again to weaken in 
 the business he required of her; how the freight, 
 pausing at the siding, had afforded her an opportunity 
 to board it unseen — ^the very train upon which her 
 enemies now rested in fancied security! 
 
 And already she had a plan ... 
 
 Conning it, she hugged herself in malicious glee, 
 blinding herself deliberately to the hideous business 
 that might attend her success, forcing herself to 
 remember one thing only — ^the pledge she had re- 
 newed on her knees to her father. 
 
 The whistle of a locomotive overtaking the freight 
 sounded the signal for her to take action. Rising, 
 she glanced out of the open door. A curve in the 
 track below the freight, labouring slowly up a steep 
 grade, enabled her to catch a glimpse of a headlight 
 followed by a string of lighted windows — the special, 
 beyond a doubt. 
 
 Without hesitation, since the train was not run- 
 ning at speed, she dropped out to the ballast, wheeled 
 about, caught the hand-bar at the end of the box-car 
 as it passed, and swung herself up between it and the 
 caboose. Climbing to the top of the box-car, she 
 
CABOOSE 183 
 
 peered through the gloaming and discerned two 
 heads protruding from the windows of the special's 
 engine, one on either side. 
 
 At a venture she snatched off her coat and waved 
 it in the air. An arm answered the signal from one 
 window of the pursuing locomotive. 
 
 Marrophat, of course! 
 
 She turned and peered ahead. The freight was 
 approaching a trestle that spanned a wide and shal- 
 low gully. So much the better ! 
 
 Dropping down again between the cars, she set 
 herself to uncoupling the caboose. In this she was 
 successful just as the last car rolled out on the trestle. 
 
 Its own impetus carried the caboose to the middle 
 of the trestle before it stopped. As this happened, 
 Alan and Barcus, already warned by the slowing 
 down of the car, and alive to the fact that the special 
 was in pursuit, leaped out upon the ties and helped 
 Rose to alight. 
 
 Already the last of the freight was whisking off the 
 trestle. And behind them the special was plunging 
 forward at unabated speed. There was no time to 
 reach either end of the trestle. 
 
 With common impulse the two men glanced down 
 to the bottom of the gully, then looked at each other 
 with eyes informed by common inspiration. 
 
 Barcus announced in a breath: "Thirty-feet, not 
 more." 
 
184 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Alan replied: "Can you hold the weight of the 
 two of us for half a minute ? " 
 
 Barcus shrugged: "I can try. We might as 
 well — even if I can't." 
 
 While speaking, he was lowering himself between 
 the ties. 
 
 "All right," he announced briefly. 
 
 With a word to Rose, Alan slipped down beside 
 Barcus, shifted his hold to the body of the latter, 
 and climbed down over him until he was supported 
 solely by the grasp of his two hands on Barcus's 
 ankles. Instantly Rose followed him, slipping down 
 over the two men till she in turn hung by her grasp 
 on Alan's ankles. Then she released her hold and 
 dropped the balance of the distance to the ground, a 
 scant ten feet, landing without injury. 
 
 A thought later Alan dropped lightly at her side, 
 staggered a trifle, recovered, and dragged her out of 
 the way. Then Barcus fell heavily and went upon 
 his back, but immediately picked himself up and 
 joined the others in a scramble for safety. 
 
 Overhead the special engine struck the caboose 
 with a crash like the explosion of a cannon. It col- 
 lapsed like a thing of pasteboard, and a shower of 
 timbers, splinters, and broken iron rained about the 
 heads of the fugitives. 
 
 But the gods smiled upon them for their courage 
 — they escaped without a scratch. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 Detail 
 
 A PLATFORM, a siding, a water-tank, a Wells- 
 Fargo office, and a telegraph and ticket office, 
 backed by three rough frame buildings, that is Detail 
 on the Santa Fe. 
 
 Shortly after nightfall the steel ribbons of the 
 Santa Fe began to hum. A headlight peered sus- 
 piciously round a shoulder of the eastern range, took 
 heart of courage to find the plain still wrapped in 
 peace, and trudged stolidly toward Detail, the engine, 
 whose eye it was, pulling after it a string of freight 
 cars, both flat and box. 
 
 At Detail the train paused. Its crew alighted and 
 engaged in animated argument. Detail gathered 
 that the excitement was due to the unaccountable 
 disappearance of the caboose: none seemed to have 
 any notion as to how it could have broken loose, yet 
 missing it conspicuously was. 
 
 In the pause that followed, while a report was 
 telegraphed to headquarters and instructions re- 
 turned to proceed without delay, one of the train- 
 men spied a boyish figure lurking in the open door 
 
 i8s 
 
186 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 of an empty box-car. Cunningly boarding this car 
 from the opposite side, the trainman caught the 
 skulker unawares, and booted him vaingloriously into 
 the night. 
 
 Shortly after the freight train had gone on its way 
 a second headlight appeared in the east, swept swiftly 
 across the plain, stopped at Detail an instant, and 
 then proceeded to back onto the siding. 
 
 The second bird of passage proved to be a loco- 
 motive drawing a single car — a Pullman. 
 
 As the Pullman jolted across the frogs, however, 
 the brakeman, interposing himself between it and 
 the tender, released the coupling. 
 
 By the time that the Pullman had come to a full 
 stop on the siding the locomotive was swinging west- 
 ward like a scared jackrabbit. Then three men ap- 
 peared on the Pullman's platform and shook impotent 
 fists in the direction taken by the fugitive engine. 
 
 At the sound of a voice calling from the interior 
 of the par — a voice strangely sonorous of tone — ^the 
 three men ran back into the car and reported, with 
 countenances variously apologetic, to a man wrapped 
 in a steamer-rug and a cloud of fury. 
 
 While this was taking place, the person of boyish 
 appearance, who had been keeping aloof and incon- 
 spicuous in the background of Detail ever since that 
 unhappy aflFair with the trainman, stole up to the 
 rear of the stalled Pullman, climbed aboard, and un- 
 
DETAIL 187 
 
 ceremoniously interrupted the conference just as the 
 invaUd was polishing off a rude but honest opinion 
 of the intellectual caUbre of one of the three, named 
 Marrophat, who figured as his right-hand man and 
 familiar genius. 
 
 "Amen to that!" the boyish person ejaculated. 
 "There's many a true word spoken in wrath, Mr. 
 Marrophat. Father forgot only one thing — ^your 
 masterly way with a revolver. There's something 
 downright uncanny in the way you can hit anything 
 but what you aim at! " 
 
 To this Mr. Marrophat found nothing to say, but 
 
 , there was great eloquence in his manner of performing 
 
 one of the minor gestures in the repertoire of every 
 
 properly barefaced scoundrel — the trick known as 
 
 biting the lip. 
 
 "Judith!" exclaimed the invalid. "Where did 
 you drop from?" 
 
 "From that freight," Judith explained carelessly, 
 neglecting to elucidate the exact fashion of drop. " I 
 judged you'd be along presently, and thought I'd 
 like to learn the news. Well, what luck ? " 
 
 Her father shrugged with his one movable shoulder. 
 The others shuffled uneasily. 
 
 "None?" Judith interpreted. "You don't mean 
 to tell me that after I had cast the caboose loose on 
 the middle of that trestle you didn't have the nerve 
 to go through with the business!" 
 
1 88 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "We went through with it all right," replied Mar- 
 rophat defensively, "but as usual they were too 
 quick for us. They jumped out and dropped off 
 the trestle before our engine hit the caboose. We 
 smashed that to kindling wood, but they got away. 
 It was dark and no telling which way they had run. 
 We did our best," Marrophat continued. "We 
 can't be blamed if something — somehow — always 
 happens to tip the others off." 
 
 The girl swung to face him with blazing eyes. 
 "Just what does that mean?" she demanded in a 
 dangerous voice. But her eyes just then travelled 
 past the person of Mr. Marrophat to the doorway of 
 the drawing-room, and found it framing a stranger, 
 a man of such huge bulk that his head must bow to 
 pass beneath the lintel, while his shoulders all but 
 touched both jambs. A heavy Colt's .45 hung level 
 in his either hand. 
 
 "Excuse me, friends," he offered in a lazy, semi- 
 humorous drawl. "It pains me considerable to butt 
 in on this happy family gathering, but business is 
 business, and I got to ask you all to please put up 
 your hands!" 
 
 There was little to choose between the alacrity 
 with which nine hands were elevated; but one, the 
 right hand of the invalid, remained motionless. 
 And this the intruder indicated with a significant 
 jerk of one revolver. 
 
DETAIL 189 
 
 "You, too, mister," he advised. "I'm sorry to, 
 judge you're sickly, but I can't afford to play no 
 favourites! Both hands is what I meant." 
 
 "Shoot," said the invalid, "if you like. The hand 
 is paralyzed, even fear of death caimot move it. 
 What do you want ? " 
 
 "Why," drawled the bandit, "nothing in particu- 
 lar, only your cash. Shell out, if you please." 
 
 "One minute," the invalid interposed. "I guar- 
 antee you shall be amply satisfied. I give you my 
 word — ^the word of Seneca Trine." 
 
 The eyes of the bandit widened. "No? Is that 
 so? Seneca Trine, the railroad king? You ought 
 to be able to pay something handsome " 
 
 " I'll pay you far more handsomely than you dream 
 of if you'll do as I wish," Trine interrupted. " Do 
 me the service I wish, and name your price, whatever 
 it is, you shall have it! What's the life of a man 
 worth in this neck of the woods ? " 
 
 " How much you got ? " 
 
 "I'll pay you ten thousand dollars for the life of 
 the man I will name." 
 
 "Give me a thousand on account," said the other, 
 " and a paper saying you'll pay me nineteen thousand 
 more in exchange for one dead man, properly identi- 
 fied as the one you want, and your man's as good as 
 dead this minute." 
 
 "Jimmy, find a thousand dollars for this gentle- 
 
igo THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 man. Make out the paper he indicates for the bal- 
 ance, and I'll sign it." 
 
 "Ain't you powerful trustful, Mr. Trine? How 
 do you know I'll do anything more'n pocket that 
 thousand and fade delicately away." 
 
 "My daughter and this gentleman, Mr. Marrophat, 
 will accompany you." 
 
 "Oh, that's the way of it, is it ? " 
 
 "Precisely! " Trine snapped. 
 
 "All right," he agreed at length, after a surprised 
 recognition of Judith's femininity and a deliberately 
 admiring review of her charms, "you're on as afore- 
 said." 
 
 "Name?" interjected the secretary. 
 
 "Slade," said the bandit, "James Slade, commonly 
 known as Hopi Jim. That's me." 
 
 "Then attend closely, Mr. Slade," said Trine. 
 "The man whose life I want is named Alan Law. 
 He is running away with my daughter Rose, accom- 
 panied by a person named Barcus disguised as a 
 Pullman porter " 
 
 "The three of them having recently escaped from 
 a train wreck up yonder on the trestle?" Hopi Jim 
 interposed. 
 
 "You've met them ? " Judith demanded. 
 
 "About an hour ago," Hopi Jim replied, "a good 
 ways down the road. They stopped and asked where 
 they could get put up for the night. I directed 
 

 JUDITH FELT THE FIRST QUICKENING OF LOVE FOR THE MAN SHE, 
 HAD MEANT TO KILL. 
 

DETAIL 191 
 
 them on to Mesa, down in the Painted Hills yon- 
 der." 
 
 Hopi Jim drifted away into the desert night, to re- 
 turn soon with horses and an assistant — one "Texas " 
 — for whose utter innocence of scruples Mr. Slade 
 unhesitatingly vouched. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 The Painted Hills 
 
 IN THE first rush of golden day the party came 
 quietly into the town of Mesa, riding slowly in 
 order that the noise of their approach might not warn 
 the fugitives, whom Hopi asserted confidently would 
 still be sound asleep in the accommodations offered 
 by the town's one hotel. 
 
 It was to be termed a town only in courtesy, this 
 Mesa: a straggling street of shacks, the halfway sta- 
 tion between the railroad and the mining-camps 
 secreted in the fastnesses of the Painted Hills, camps 
 now abandoned, their very names faded out of the 
 memory of mankind. 
 
 Midway in this string of edifices the hotel stood, 
 an unpainted wooden edifice, mainly veranda and 
 barroom as to its lower floor. Judith watched the 
 windows of the second floor, and she alone of the 
 four detected the face at one of them that showed for 
 one brief instant and then was gone. It was the 
 face of Alan Law. 
 
 Alighting with every precaution to avoid noise, 
 the party left its horses "hitched to the ground" and 
 
 192 
 
SHE HELD THE DEATH SIGN IN HER HAND. 
 
ALAN AND ROSE TAKE A DESPERATE CHANCE TO ESCAPE. 
 
THE PAINTED HILLS 193 
 
 entered the hotel. Two sentences exchanged be- 
 tween Hopi Jim and a blear-eyed fellow behind the 
 bar sealed their confidence with conviction : the three 
 fugitives were guests of the house, occupying two of 
 the three rooms that composed its upper story. 
 
 In the rush that followed up the narrow stairway 
 Judith led with such spirit that not even Marrophat 
 suspected her revolver was poised solely with intent 
 to shoot his own from his hand the instant he levelled 
 it at a human target. 
 
 Closed and locked doors confronted them, and 
 their summons educed no response; while the first 
 door, when broken in, discovered nothing more satis- 
 factory than an unoccupied room, its empty bed bear- 
 ing the imprint of a woman's body. From the one 
 window, looking down the side of the house, Texas 
 announced that the woman had not escaped by 
 jumping out. 
 
 So it seemed that the three must have had warning 
 of their arrival, after all, and presumably were now 
 herded together in the adjoining room, which looked 
 out over the veranda roof, waiting in fear and trem- 
 bling for the assault that soon came. 
 
 But it met with more stubborn resistance than had 
 been anticipated. The door had been barricaded 
 from within. Four minutes and the united efforts of 
 four men (including the bleary loafer of the barroom) 
 were required to overcome its inert resistance. Even 
 
194 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 when it was down, the room was found to be as 
 empty as the first. But the fingers of two hands 
 gripping the edge of the veranda roof showed the 
 way the fugitives had flown, and these vanished in- 
 stantly as the room was invaded. 
 
 Followed a swift rush of hoofs down the dusty 
 street and a chorus of blasphemy in the hotel hall- 
 way, for Judith had headed the rush for the staircase 
 and contrived to block it for a full half-minute by 
 pretending to stumble and twist her ankle. In spite 
 of that alleged injury, she never limped, and wasn't 
 a yard behind the first who broke from the hotel, nor 
 yet appreciably behind in vaulting to saddle. 
 
 Well up the road a cloud of dust half obscured the 
 shapes of three who rode for their lives. The pursuit 
 was off in a twinkling and well bunched, Marrophat's 
 mount leading by a nose, Judith second, Hopi Jim 
 and Texas but little in the rear. Then that hap- 
 pened which brought Judith's heart into her mouth. 
 The foremost of the horses ridden by the three in 
 flight stumbled and fell in such wise that its r'der 
 must have been crushed but for miraculous luck and 
 agility. 
 
 Just then a pufF of wind whipped the curtain of 
 dust aside and showed the figure of a woman standing 
 in the roadway a few feet distant from the fallen 
 horse — Rose, who had somehow managed to fall 
 upon her feet, waiting with a bright face of confidence 
 
THE PAINTED HILLS 195 
 
 for Alan to overtake her. And Alan, who had been 
 riding well to the rear, was abreast her itt a flash. • 
 
 Leaning out as he swept up, without drawing rein, 
 the man wrapped an arm round the woman and lifted 
 her lightly from the ground, setting her in the saddle 
 before him in the flutter of a heartbeat. As if the 
 added weight were but a stimulant, his horse let out 
 its stride. 
 
 At this, Judith heard an oath muttered beside 
 her and saw Marrophat jerking a revolver from its 
 holster. The weapon swept up and to a level, but as 
 the hammer fell Judith's horse cannoned heavily 
 against the other, deflecting the bullet hopelessly. 
 The shock of collision was so great that Marrophat 
 kept his seat with difficulty. He turned toward 
 Judith a face livid with rage. 
 
 Sirttultaneously, Judith saw Alan lean back over his 
 horse's rump and open fire. An instant later his 
 companion, Barcus, imitated his example. 
 
 In immediate consequence, Texas dropped reins, 
 slumped forward over the pommel, then, losing the 
 stirrups, pitched headlong to the ground, while Hopi 
 Jim's horse stopped short, precipitating his rider 
 over his head, and dropped dead. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 The Up Trail 
 
 IT WAS simply an accident," was all the satisfac- 
 tion Judith would afford Marrophat in return for 
 his insistent expostulations. 
 
 But for her, he asserted, the chase would have 
 ended with the pressure of his finger on the trigger. 
 
 "I had him covered, I tell you!" he raved. "If 
 you'd minded your horse, we'd be on our way back 
 to your father now with the body of Alan Law!" 
 
 "You flatter yourself," she retorted. "What was 
 it we were saying, only last night, about the quality 
 of your marksmanship ? " 
 
 Mumbling his indignation, the man swung his 
 horse round and trotted off after Hopi Jim, leaving 
 the girl to smile openly at his discomfiture. 
 
 But she smiled prematurely, for in the brief inter- 
 val that elapsed before his return with Hopi Jim, 
 Marrophat contrived to persuade the bandit that 
 Judith had been responsible for their ill luck. As a 
 consequence, the only information as to their purpose 
 that she was able to extract from either man, when 
 the pursuing party turned aside from the main trail, 
 
 196 
 
THE UP TRAIL 197 
 
 some distance from Mesa, was that Hopi Jim knew a 
 short cut through the range, via what he termed the 
 upper trail, by which they hoped to be able to head 
 the fugitives off before they could gain the desert on 
 the far side of the hills. 
 
 And the trail proved rough, narrow, and tortuous, 
 winding along the ridge-pole of an unholy wilderness. 
 Only at long intervals did they draw rein, to permit 
 Hopi Jim to make reconnaissance of the lower trail 
 that threaded the valley on the far side of the ridge- 
 pole. 
 
 Toward noon he returned in haste from the last of 
 these surveys, and threw himself upon his horse with 
 the advice: 
 
 "We've headed 'em! Can make it now if we ride 
 like all get-out!" 
 
 For half an hour more they pushed on at their best 
 speed, and at length drew rein at a point where the 
 trail crossed the ridge and widened out upon a long, 
 broad ledge that overhung the valley of the lower 
 trail, with a clear drop to the latter from the brink of 
 a good two hundred feet. 
 
 One hasty look into the valley evoked a grunt of 
 satisfaction from Hopi Jim. 
 
 "Just in time," he asseverated. "There they 
 come! Ten minutes more . . ." 
 
 His smile answered Marrophat's with unspeakably 
 cruel significance. 
 
198 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "Texas will sleep better to-night when he knows 
 how I've squared the deal for him!" the bandit de- 
 clared. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" Judith demanded. 
 
 A gesture drew her attention to a huge boulder 
 poised on the very lip of the chasm. 
 
 "We're going to tip that over on your friends, Miss 
 Judith," Marrophat replied. "Simple, neat, ef- 
 ficient — eh ? What more can you ask ? " 
 
 She answered only with an irrepressible gesture 
 of horror. Marrophat's laugh followed her as she 
 turned away. 
 
 For some moments she strained her vision vainly. 
 Then she made out the faintly marked line of the 
 lower trail and caught a glimpse of three figures, 
 mounted, toiling painfully toward the point where 
 death awaited them. 
 
 Hastily she glanced over-shoulder. Hopi Jim and 
 Marrophat were straining themselves against the 
 boulder without budging it an inch, for all its ap- 
 parent nicety of poise. For an instant a wild hope 
 flashed through her mind, it was exorcised when Hopi 
 Jim stepped back and uttered a few words of which 
 only two — "dynamite" and "fuse" reached her 
 ears. 
 
 Then he turned and lumbered off to a rude plank 
 cabin which, hidden in the brush nearby, had until 
 that moment escaped Judith's notice. He kicked 
 
THE UP TRAIL 199 
 
 open the door, entered, and returned bringing a short 
 length of dynamite, a coil of prepared fuse, and a 
 small spade. 
 
 Kneeling beside the boulder he dug busily for an 
 instant, then lodged the stick,^attached the fuse, and 
 crawling on his belly to the edge of the cliff, looked 
 down, to carefully calculate the length of the fuse 
 by the distance of the party down below from the 
 spot where the rock must fall. 
 
 But while he was so engaged, and Marrophat aided 
 him, all eager interest, Judith was taking advantage 
 of their disregard of her. 
 
 Love had changed the nature of this woman. A 
 fortnight since she would have applauded the scheme, 
 callous to the hideousness of the end it was designed 
 to compass. To-day . , . she felt a little faint 
 and sick when she considered what might befall were 
 she unable to give warning. 
 
 Unbuttoning her jacket, she slipped a playing-card 
 from her pocket, a Trey of Hearts, and with a pencil 
 scribbled on its face — "Danger! Go back!" 
 
 Then finding a bit of rock, she bound the card to it 
 and approached the brink. Hopi Jim was meticu- 
 lously shortening the fuse, Marrophat absorbed in 
 watching him. 
 
 In the caiion below the three were within two 
 minutes of the danger-point. It was no trick at 
 all to drop the stone so that it fell within a dozen feet 
 
200 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 of the leading horseman. She saw him dismount 
 and pick up the warning. 
 
 At the same time Hopi Jim and Marrophat jumped 
 up and ran back, each seizing and holding his horse. 
 Constrained to do likewise, Judith waited with a 
 throbbing heart. . . . 
 
 As the explosion smote dull echoes from the flanks 
 of the Painted Hills, the boulder teetered reluctantly 
 on the brink, then disappeared, followed by a rush of 
 earth and gravel. 
 
 Presently, from the caiion below, a dull rumour of 
 galloping hoofs advertised the failure of their attempt. 
 
 And then the girl made a surprising little speech 
 to the cruelly chagrined men: "Gentlemen, I've 
 something to say that needs your attention, likewise 
 your respect. It is this : I am parting company with 
 you. I am riding west by this trail. If either of 
 you care to follow me" — ^the automatic flashed 
 ominously in the sun-glare — "it will be with full 
 knowledge of the consequences. If you are well 
 advised, you will turn back and report your failure 
 to my father." 
 
 She nodded curtly and swung her horse round. 
 
 "And what shall I tell your father from you?" 
 Marrophat demanded. 
 
 "What you please," the girl replied, flashing an 
 impish smile over-shoulder. "I am done with him 
 as well as you." 
 
THE UP TRAIL 201 
 
 She thrust heels into her horse's danks and sped 
 away at a reckless pace. 
 
 "Well," Mr. Marrophat admitted confidentially 
 to Mr. Slade, "I'm damned 1" 
 
 "And that ain't all," Mr. Slade confided in Mr. 
 Marrophat, whipping out his own revolver, "you're 
 being held up, too. I'll take those guns t)f youTn, 
 friend, and what else you've got about you that's of 
 value, including your hoss — and when you get back 
 to Old Man Trine you can just tell him, with iny best 
 compliments, that I've quit the job and lit out after 
 that daughter of hisn. She's a heap sight more at- 
 tractive than nineteen thousand dollars, and not 
 half so hard to earn." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 Hopi Jim 
 
 ONCE she had lost touch with her father's crea- 
 tures, the girl drew rein and went on more 
 slowly and cautiously. 
 
 Below her, in the valley, from time to time she 
 could discern three mounted figures. To their prog- 
 ress she regulated her own, abbreviating her own 
 rests in order that they might not distance her who 
 followed a more arduous trail. 
 
 As chance served she would scout a Uttle distance 
 back along the upper trail, thinking to surprise 
 ,) pursuit by the men she had defied. But not 
 once did she find any sign to show that she 
 was being followed; and by nightfall she com- 
 forted herself with the assurance that Hopi Jim 
 and Marrophat must have guided themselves by 
 her advice, and returned with their report to Seneca 
 Trine. 
 
 It was within an hour of midnight when Alan's 
 party made its last pause and camped, unconscious of 
 the fact that, a quarter of a mile above them, a 
 lonely woman paused when they paused and made 
 
 202 
 
HOPI JIM 203 
 
 her own camp on the edge of a sharp declivity, choos- 
 ing the spot because it afforded her a clear view of 
 their twinkling campfire. 
 
 She made no fire of her own, but consumed the last 
 of the provisions she had brought with her from the 
 Pullman, then wrapped herself in a blanket and lay 
 down to rest, her last conscious act the wafting of a 
 kiss down to the depths whose shadows hid the man 
 she loved. 
 
 The level shafts of the rising sun awakened 
 her, and of a sudden she started up, surprised, 
 by the grating of footsteps on the rocks behind 
 her. 
 
 Before she could turn she was caught and wrapped 
 in the arms of Hopi Jim. His face of bronze bent 
 over her, smiling in the triumph of his cunning; his 
 breath fanned her cheek, hot with his desire; his 
 lips threatened hers imminently. . . . 
 
 Only for an instant she remained motionless in the 
 man's embrace. Then, without warning, she was 
 like a steel spring that he sought to supple to his will. 
 She fought like a wildcat, kicking, biting, tearing, 
 scratching, sobbing, panting, despairing— and fought 
 but the more fiercely as despair grew more dark in 
 her consciousness. 
 
 She mustered all her strength and wits and will 
 for one last struggle, and in a frenzied moment 
 managed to break his hold a trifle, enough to enable 
 
204 THE TREY 0' HEARTS 
 
 her to snatch at the. pistol hangisng froni her bdt, and 
 present it at his. head. 
 
 But it exploded harmlessly, spending its bullet on 
 the blue of the morning sky, and in an instant it was 
 wrested from; her. 
 
 And now all hint of mercy left his eyes:;, remained 
 only the glare of rage. He put forth all his strength^ 
 and Judith was as a child in bis hands. In half ai 
 minute he had her helpless, in as much time more her . 
 back was breaking across his knee, while he bound her 
 with loop after loop of his rawhide lariat. Then Hopi 
 Jim caught her horse, and lifted the girl to its bare 
 back, face upward, catching her hand and feet, as 
 they fell on either flank of the animal, with more 
 loops of that unbreakable rawhide, and placing the 
 master-knot of the hitch that bound this human; pack 
 well beyond her reach. 
 
 She panted a prayer for m.ercy. He lau^ed^ bent 
 and kissed her brutally, and stepped back, still 
 laughing, to admire his handiworks 
 
 Thus he stood for an instant between the horse 
 and. the edge of the declivity, a fair mart, stark 
 against the sky,, fox onse who stood in the valley below, 
 holding his rifle with eager fingers^, waiting jnst suck 
 an opportunity as he had waited it ever since the 
 noise of debri's kicked over the edge by the sttuggling 
 man and woman had drawn his attention to what was 
 going on above^ 
 
HOPI JIM 20S 
 
 As Alan pressed the trigger, Judith saw a look of 
 aggrieved amazement cross the face of Hopi Jim 
 Slade. Then he threw his hands out, reeled, stumbled 
 at the verge, and abruptly shot from sight over the 
 edge of the bluff. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 The Man in the Shadow 
 
 TWO hundred feet if one he fell from the lip 
 of the cliff. Then suddenly the Thing that 
 had been Hopi Jim Slade was checked in its headlong 
 descent by the outstanding trunk of a tree, over which 
 it remained, doubled up, limp, horrible. . . . 
 
 The man who had compassed the bandit's death 
 stepped back, thrust the weapon, still smoking, into 
 the holster strapped to his thigh, and snatched up a 
 case containing binoculars. 
 
 Not before the glasses were adjusted to his vision 
 did he find time to respond absently to the inquiries 
 of his two companions. Now the girl plucked at his 
 sleeve, deflecting the glasses from the object which 
 they were following so sedulously as it moved along 
 the heights, a running horse with a woman bound 
 upon its back, both sharply in silhouette against the 
 burning blue. 
 
 "Alan," the girl demanded, "what is it? Why 
 did you fire? " 
 
 "Judith," he affirmed with a look of poignant 
 solicitude. "She's roped to the back of that crazy 
 
 206 
 
THE MAN IN THE SHADOW 207 
 
 broncho! See for yourself, one false step, and she'll 
 be killed!" 
 
 While the girl focussed her glasses upon that speck 
 that flew against the sky, Alan turned to the two 
 horses hobbled nearby, and seizing a saddle threw it 
 over the back of one. 
 
 At this the other man strode to his side and dropped 
 a detaining hand upon his arm. 
 
 "What are you going to do ? " he demanded. 
 
 Alan shook the hand off and went on with his self- 
 appointed task. 
 
 "Go after her, Tom, of course," he replied. ' "What 
 else? That animal is crazy, I tell you. Think of 
 being carried that way — all day, perhaps — face up 
 to this brutal sun! She'll go mad if something isn't 
 done " 
 
 "You've gone mad yourself already," Mr. Barcus 
 contended darkly. "What's it to you if she does? 
 Suppose you do succeed in rescuing her, what then? 
 As soon as she gets on her pins, she'll try to stick a 
 knife into you, like as not. I suppose you'd like me 
 to call your conduct chivalry? I'll tell you what 
 I call it — ^lunacy! " 
 
 "Don't be an ass," Alan responded temperately, 
 gathering the reins together. "Who warned us 
 yesterday in time to prevent our being crushed by 
 that rock? Judith! Why was she separated from 
 Marrophat and the others — alone up there when that 
 
2oS ,,THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 beast sneaked up behind her — I saw it all^ — and' 
 grabbed her and roped her to that broncho^ if it 
 wasn't that she had broken with, them for good and 
 all, and started to fight on our side ? " 
 
 "You're raving," Barcus commented. He looked 
 to the girl. "Rose — Miss Trine — reason with this 
 madman " 
 
 Dropping the glasses^ the girl came swiftly and 
 confidently to her lover's side, lifting her lips to his. 
 
 "Go, sweetheart!" she told him. "Save her if 
 you can!" 
 
 With a look of triumph for the benefit of Mr. Bar- 
 cus, Alan Law gathered Rose Trine into his arms. 
 
 With an indignant grunt, Mr. Barcus caught up 
 the glasses and turned his back. . . . 
 
 " Go on ! " he grumbled, pretending to ignore the 
 hand Alan oflFered him from the saddle. "I've got 
 no patience with you. ., . . But go!" he insisted, 
 of a sudden seizing the band and pressing it fervently. 
 "And God go with you,, my friend ! " 
 
>"■'. ■'■■■ 
 
 

 
CHAPTER XL 
 The Trail of Flying Hoof-prints 
 
 ALAN'S departUTe from camp had anticipated by 
 a rovmd quarter hour the appearance on the 
 upper trail of friendsof the slain bandit, to the number 
 of four or five, who had both discovered and recovered 
 his body, called his death murder, and pledged them- 
 selves to its avengement, laying responsibility for the 
 putative crime at the door of the man and woman 
 to be seen in the caiion, immediately below the scene 
 of Hopi' Jim's fall. 
 
 Between the moment when discovery of the men 
 on the ridge trail interrupted their hurried breakfast 
 and that which found Rose and Barcus mounted on 
 the back of their one horse and making the best of 
 their way down the canon in pursuit of Alan but 
 little time had lapsed. But fbr the fact that no one 
 could pass from the upper to the lower trail nothing 
 could have saved them. The party on the heights 
 offered abundant testimony of its intentions by 
 wasting its ammunition in futile attempts at long- 
 range marksmanship. 
 
 Even with its dbuble burden, their horse made 
 
 209 
 
2IO THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 better time upon the lower level than those on the 
 ridge trail. By mid-morning, when they approached 
 the foothills that ran down to the desert, the pursuit 
 was more than a mile in the rear and shut off to boot 
 by a monolithic hill, while Alan was many a weary 
 mile in advance. 
 
 He sat upon his horse, just then, at standstill upon 
 the summit of a rounded knoll, the Painted Hills 
 lifted up behind him, the desert before, unfolding 
 like a map, but blurred by the heat-haze that sim- 
 mered over it. 
 
 Was Judith out there, somewhere, lost, defenceless, 
 impotent to lift a hand to shield her face from the 
 blast of the savage sun? 
 
 Was she back there among the Painted Hills, lying 
 still and lifeless, crushed beneath the weight of that 
 fallen horse? 
 
 No rest for Alan till he knew. . . . 
 
 Descending the knoll, he reined his lagging mount 
 back into the trail, following its winding course 
 through the foothills and round the base of that 
 monolithic mountain toward the junction with the 
 ridge trail miles away. 
 
 It approached the hour of noon before he gained 
 the point where the two trails joined and struck out 
 across the desert. And here he discovered indications 
 that the fright of Judith's horse had persisted (per- 
 haps because of her struggles to free herself) even 
 
TRAIL OF FLYING HOOF-PRINTS 211 
 
 to the extent of driving it out upon the desert, for 
 the hoof-prints of a galloping horse were plainly 
 marked, evidently fresh, and led from the other trail 
 past its point of contact and out to lose itself in the 
 welter of the heat. 
 
 He turned and, at the best pace he could spur from 
 his broncho, rode into the embrace of that implacable 
 wilderness of sun and sand. Within half an hour 
 he had lost touch completely with the hills that 
 crouched behind him — ^had forgotten them even as 
 he had forgotten Rose and Barcus in the torments he 
 was suffering for the sake of that strange woman who 
 loved him and whom he did not love. 
 
 For now he was reminded that he had broken his 
 fast neither by bite nor sup. The heat seemed to 
 tear the very breath from his nostrils, thirst had him 
 by the throat like a mortal enemy, giddiness assailed 
 him intermittently. 
 
 At long intervals he would check the broncho and, 
 feeling in the saddle, endeavour to sweep the des- 
 ert with his binoculars. Ordinarily, they discovered 
 nothing, but ever the trail of hoof-prints lured him on. 
 
 And toward the middle of the afternoon he fancied 
 that something rewarded one such effort, something 
 that seemed to move like a weary horse with a human 
 figure bound to its back. He was persuaded he had 
 gained upon the chase. And he pressed on. 
 
 But now phenomena were discernible which, had he 
 
212 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 been more desertwise, would have made him pause 
 before he adventured farther from those hills. The 
 sun had taken on a coppery complexion and swam 
 low. The air was heavy, but seemingly as hot as 
 fire. 
 
 All this was strange and terrible to Mm, but he 
 •never dreamed that it foieboded anything more 
 nearly intolerable. 
 
 All at ora^ the surface ©f the desert seemed to lift 
 and shake like the top of a canvas l3ent in a gale. 
 The dust enveloped man and borse. And then dark- 
 ness fell, a copper-coloured pall. Nothing remained 
 visible beyond arm's length. 
 
 The broncho swung round, back to the blast, and 
 refused to budge another inch, 
 
 Alan dismounted and, seizing the bridle, sought to 
 draw the borse on with him. He wasted his strength; 
 the animal balked, stiffened its legs, and resisted 
 with the stubbornness of a rock; then, of a sudden, 
 jerked its head smartly, snapped the bridle from his 
 grasp, and scuttled away before the storm. 
 
 The bridle was barely torn from his hand before 
 Alan lost sight of the broncho. For a moment he 
 stood rooted in consternation as in a bog, with an 
 arm up-thrown across his facs. 
 
 Then the thought of Judith recurred. . , . 
 
 Head bended and shoulders rounded, he began to 
 forge a way into the teeth of the sandstorm, pos- 
 
TRAIL OF FLYING HOOF-PRINTS 213 
 
 sessedt by determiQation not to. desert her in this 
 hour q£ greatest extremity, though he died of the 
 trying. 
 
 In the end he stumbled Mindly down a decline, 
 and was conscious that he had in some way found 
 shelter from the full force of the wind. He staggered 
 on another yard or two, and blundered into a rough- 
 ribbed wall of rock, whose lee it was that had created 
 this scanty oasis of shelter from the fury that raged 
 through the world. 
 
 He thought to rest there for a time, until the storm 
 had spent its greatest strength; but as he laid his 
 shoulder gratefully against the rock and scrubbed the 
 dust from his smarting eyes, he saw what he at first 
 conceived to bean hallucination — ^Judith Trine stand- 
 ing within a yard of him, alive, strong, free, com- 
 pletely mistress of herself, in no way needing the 
 help of his generous heart and hand. 
 
 He stared incredulously, saw her open her mouth to 
 utter a wondering cry that was nearly inaudible. 
 Her hand fell upon his arm with the weight of un- 
 questionable reality. Then he heard words of under- 
 standing and of gratitude : 
 
 "Alan! You came to me! You followed me, 
 through all this " 
 
 The bitterironyof this outcome to all his labourings 
 and sufferings ate like an acid at his heart. 
 
 He threw off her hand with a bitter laugh — ^that 
 
214 THE TREY 0' HEARTS 
 
 ■was like the croaking of a raven as it issued from his 
 bone-dry throat — and in a momentary possession 
 of hysteric madness reeled away from the woman and 
 the shelter of the rock and delivered himself anew to 
 the mercy of the duststorm. 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 
 Avalanche 
 
 WHEN Alan Law denied her and would have 
 none of her, when he threw himself off into the 
 storm rather than endure association with her in the 
 shelter of the rock, Judith Trine, whose nature Love 
 was strangely altering, swallowed her chagrin and fol- 
 lowed him with the solicitude of one whose love can 
 recognize no wrong in its object. Through all the 
 remainder of that day of terror she was never far 
 from his side, never out of touch with him, though 
 she did not again offer to touch him after that first 
 rebuff. 
 
 What did it matter? she asked herself. All along 
 she had knpwn that he could never love her, that his 
 love was pledged to her own sister Rose. So why 
 should she complain if he despised and rebuffed her, 
 preferred the fury of the tempest to refuge from it in 
 her company? Her love was no less sweet to her 
 for that. And she could not forget that he had come 
 in search of her, spurred inexorably by that sentiment 
 in his nature which would not let him spare himself 
 while a woman needed to be served. 
 
 2IS 
 
2i6 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Once it caught her in the open, the storm flew at 
 her throat like a maddened animal that thirsted for 
 blood. Its shriek of eldritch joy fairly deafened her. 
 Judith was well-nigh swept off her feet, while Alan, 
 in the weakness of his fatigue and suffering, actually 
 staggered and was beaten to his knees. 
 
 Yet when he was warned of her approach by some 
 subtle instinct he rose and battled bliiidly on. . . . 
 
 With the meekness of the strong, she made herself 
 his shadow. And she was now the stronger, for she 
 had had more than an hour's rest beside the water- 
 hole which he had missed on the way of that rocky 
 windbreak. Sooner or later his streiagth must fail 
 him and he would need her: till then she was content 
 to bide her hour. 
 
 It befell presently in startling fashion : she was not 
 a yard behind him when he vanished abruptly. The 
 next moment Judith hersdf was trembling on the 
 crumbling brink of an arroyo of depth and width in- 
 terminable in the obscurity of the duststorm. Down 
 this, evidently, Alan had fallen. 
 
 At once she scouted along that brink until she 
 found a spot which seemed to offer a less sheer de- 
 scent, and let herself down. 
 
 Alan she found lying insensible. There was a 
 slight cut upon his brow, a bruise about his left 
 temple. She tore linen from her bosom, and witfc 
 sparing aid from the canteen washed the cut clean 
 
AVALANCHE 217 
 
 and bandaged it. Then she pillowed his head uporo 
 her lap, and bending over him made of her body ara 
 additional shelter from the swirling clouds of dust. 
 
 From the insensibility induced by that blow upons 
 his temple the man passed quietly into slumbers of 
 profound physical exhaustion. And for hours ore 
 end Judith nursed him there, scarce daring to move; 
 save to minister to his needs. In the course of the 
 first hour she was once startled by the spectral vision^ 
 through the driving sheets of dust, of a horse that: 
 plodded up the arroyo bearing two riders on ks 
 back. 
 
 Weary with the weight of its double burden, it 
 went slowly, and passed so near to Judith that she 
 was able to recognize the features of her sister and 
 Tom Barcus. Riding with heads bowed to the blasts 
 they passed without seeing the fierce-eyed womara 
 who crouched there over the body of a man who lay 
 so still that he might have been dead. 
 
 Be sure she made never a sign to catch their at- 
 tention. 
 
 This hour, at least, was hers; Rose would never 
 grudge it to her when it had passed ! 
 
 Within the next succeeding hour twilight stole 
 athwart the desert, turning its heat to chill, its light: 
 to violet. Then night shut down upon the world. 
 Not before that hour did the storm subside and give 
 place to a bright, clear night of stars and moonlight. 
 
2i8 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Growing more intense, the cold eventually roused 
 the sleeping man. 
 
 Hardly had his eyes unclosed and looked up into 
 the eyes of Judith bending over him than he started 
 np and out of her embrace, got unsteadily to his 
 feet, and staggered away, with a gesture of exorcism. 
 Hugging her new-born humility to her, Judith fol- 
 lowed patiently, at a little distance. 
 
 Not far from where they had rested there was a 
 ■break in the wall of the arroyo. Through this he 
 scrambled painfully, the unheeded woman at his 
 heels. 
 
 A pause there afforded both time to regain their 
 treath and survey the desert for signs of assistance. 
 It offered none. For leagues in any quarter it 
 stretched without a break. The southward hills, 
 however, seemed the nearer. They seemed to have 
 won by now at least two thirds of the way across. 
 And low down upon the slope of one of the hills a 
 tiny light shone like a friendly star. 
 
 With tacit consent both turned that way, Alan 
 leading, Judith his pertinacious shadow. 
 
 And then of a sudden she collapsed. The white 
 w^orld swam giddily about her, rocking like a confused 
 sea. Her knees became as water. . . . She sank 
 silently to the earth. 
 
 He turned and came back to her, lifted her head, 
 asid plied her in turn with the dregs of the canteen. 
 
AVALANCHE 219 
 
 With a sigh and a little shiver she revived. Then, 
 with a struggle, she sat up. 
 
 Neither spoke. 
 
 She shivered again in his arms, and he put his coat 
 about her shoulders. It wrung her heart that he 
 should so expose himself for her sake, yet not for 
 worlds would she have had it otherwise. 
 
 Then they struggled on in strange, dumb com- 
 panionship of misery. 
 
 Thus an hour passed, and for all their desperate 
 struggles neither could see that the light on the 
 mountainside was a yard nearer. 
 
 Suddenly Alan, again exhausted, dropped as if 
 shot. Instantly she was kneeling by his side. But 
 in the act of bending over him she drew back to 
 stare amazed at two twin glaring eyes sweeping 
 down upon them with all the speed attainable by 
 a six-cylinder touring-car negotiating a trackless 
 desert. 
 
 When Judith did move, it was not to comfort Alan. 
 Her first act was to draw from her pocket a heavy,, 
 blunt-nosed revolver, break it at the breech, and 
 blow its barrel clear of dust. Her hand went next 
 to the holster on Alan's hip. From this she extracted 
 his Colt's .45, treating it as she had the other. Then 
 she crouched low above the man she loved, as if 
 thinking to escape notice from the occupants of the 
 motor-car. But the glare of the headlights fell upon 
 
320 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 them and, as was inevitable, discovery followed. 
 The motor-car stopped within twenty feet. Three 
 men jumped out and ran toward them, leaving two 
 in the car — the chauffeur and one who occupied 
 a corner of the rear seat — an aged man with the face 
 -of a damned soul doomed for a little time to live upon 
 this earth in the certain foreknowledge of his damna- 
 tion. 
 
 Judith Trine leaped to her feet and stood over the 
 body of Alan, a revolver poised in either hand. 
 
 "Halt!" she ordered. "Hands up!" 
 
 The three men obeyed without a moment's hesita- 
 tion, her father's creatures, they knew the daughter 
 far too well to dream of opposing her will. 
 
 In the six hands three revolvers glimmered; but 
 set her command all three dropped to the earth. 
 
 Then, sharply, "Stand back two paces!" she re- 
 quired. They complied, and she pocketed their 
 weapons. 
 
 "Now, Marrophat — and you, Hicks, pick Mr. 
 Law up and carry him into the car. If one of you 
 lift a finger to harm him, that one shall answer to 
 me." 
 
 Still none ventured to dispute her. The two men 
 designated lifted Alan Law and bore him with every 
 care toward the motor-car. 
 
 Then the man in the rear seat lifted up a weirdly 
 sonorous voice : 
 
AVALANCHE 22r 
 
 "Stop!" he cried. "Drop that man! Judith, I 
 command you " 
 
 " Be silent ! " the girl cut in sharply. " I command 
 here — if it's necessary to tell you." " 
 
 Then the old man broke out in exasperation that 
 waxed into fury. As well command the sea to still 
 its voice: her father raged like the madman that he 
 was, for the time being divested of his habitual mask 
 of frigid heartlessness. The desperate girl turned to 
 the third man. 
 
 "Now, Jimmy," she said crisply, "into that car — 
 be quick — and gag him." 
 
 "If you do," the father foamed, "I'll have your 
 life- " 
 
 The man named Jimmy hesitated between fear 
 of the one and awe of the other; but his hesitation^ 
 vanished when the girl pulled trigger and two bullets, 
 bored into the earth near his feet. Then with 
 alacrity he jumped into the car and, ignoring the 
 threats of the old man, proceeded to execute Judith's, 
 order. 
 
 "Now out with you!" she instructed in a tolerant 
 tone when that task was finished and Marrophat and 
 Hicks had placed Alan gently on the floor of the car. 
 A flourish of her weapons gained instant indulgence 
 of this wish. 
 
 She stepped up on the running-board and addressed 
 the terrified chauflFeur. 
 
222 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "Straight ahead, my man!" she said. "Make for 
 the nearest pass through those hills yonder, and don't 
 delay unless you're anxious for trouble." 
 
 The car began to move. The three men left 
 in the desert made no effort to plead their cause. 
 It was not until five minutes later that she real- 
 ized what had made them so content to abide by 
 her will. 
 
 Then she heard their voices lifted together in a 
 liowl that was quickly answered, first, by fainter 
 yells from a distant quarter of the desert, then by a 
 growing rumour of galloping hoofs. 
 
 The night glasses in the car afforded her glimpses 
 of some six or seven horsemen making toward the 
 spot where Marrophat, Hicks, and Jimmy waited 
 beside a beacon which they had lighted. 
 
 Half a dozen sentences exchanged with the chauf- 
 feur advised her that these were horsemen from the 
 town of Mesa who had charged themselves with the 
 duty of avenging the death of Hopi Jim Slade, who 
 had followed Rose and Barcus until these last eluded 
 them in the duststorm; who had later effected a 
 junction with the car and been purchased to the uses 
 of her father. 
 
 The subsequent division of forces, it appeared, was 
 due to the fact that two passes were available for 
 «scape by way of the southern hills. The horsemen 
 had been designated to investigate and shut up the 
 
AVALANCHE 223. 
 
 trail toward the east, while the car with Trine had 
 set out to perform like service in the west. 
 
 Exacting his utmost speed from the chauffeur, 
 Judith set herself to revive Alan. With the aid of 
 such stores of food and drink as the car carried, this 
 was quickly accomplished. Alan was soon sitting 
 up and taking stock of the situation as he devoured 
 sandwiches and emptied a canteen. 
 
 Then, ignoring the fact that proximity with him 
 threatened to end the life of Trine with a stroke of 
 apoplexy, he stationed himself on the rear seat, kneel- 
 ing, his .45 ready for use if the horsemen drew too 
 near. 
 
 The mountain pass was about a mile distant. 
 The light on the hillside, according to the chauffeur, 
 was that of a prospector who had camped there 
 temporarily. There was nothing, then, to be feared 
 from that quarter. The horsemen, having paused ta 
 take counsel with Marrophat and his companions,, 
 had resumed their hot pursuit. 
 
 Their own case, Alan reahzed, was becoming des- 
 perate, the motor-car was now labouring through, 
 deeper sand, and the posse was coming up rapidly. 
 
 A long-range pistol duel was in progress before the 
 car had covered half the remaining distance to the 
 pass. By the time it entered this last the pursuit 
 was not a hundred yards behind. The body of 
 the car was struck half a dozen times, its pas- 
 
224 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 •sengers escaped only by what they chose to term a 
 miracle. 
 
 And a minor miracle of fact was already at work 
 in their behalf, though they were unconscious of 
 it. Two hundred feet above the trail two men were 
 "working with desperate haste at some mysterious 
 business, though none noticed them. 
 
 Only the chauffeur was aware of a woman running 
 down the hillside at an angle, to intercept the car 
 several hundred yards from the mouth of the pass. 
 As it drew near the spot where she paused the head 
 of the pursuing party swept into the mouth of the 
 javine. 
 
 And then a great explosion rent the peaceful hush 
 'of night, that till then had been profaned only by the 
 ipattering cracks of the revolver fusillade. From the 
 .side of the hill directly opposite the mouth of the 
 pass shot forth a wide sheet of dusky flame. 
 
 As the roar of dynamite subsided the entire side 
 of the hill slid ponderously down, choking the ravine 
 ■with debris to the depth of thirty or forty feet and 
 burying the leaders of the pursuit beyond hope of 
 rescue. 
 
 Only an instant later the motor-car jolted to a 
 bait, and Rose and Barcus were standing beside the 
 door, jabbering joyful greetings mixed with incoherent 
 'explanations of the manner in which they had come to 
 seek shelter for the night in the prospector's shack, 
 
AVALANCHE 225 
 
 and, roused by the noise of firing and recognizing 
 Alan in the car by the aid of night glasses, had with 
 the prospector's aid hit upon this scheme of shooting 
 a landslide in between the pursuit and its devoted 
 quarry. 
 
CHAPTER XLII 
 
 As IN A Glass, Darkly 
 
 IT WAS a bad situation. 
 The chauffeur had been unable to start his 
 engine, once he had stopped it, and reported pic- 
 turesquely that forcing it through the desert sands at 
 top speed had "just naturally plumb busted its 
 heart." Alan's animosity could not but soften a 
 little to the new Judith who had so evidently thrown 
 in her lot with theirs, and whose well-timed aid that 
 day had certainly saved him from a lingering death 
 in the desert. 
 
 He and Judith had actually talked together almost 
 amicably for several minutes. And it was plain to 
 see tha^ the gentle Rose did not relish the sight of this 
 rapprochement. 
 
 Now Mr. Barcus was shrewdly observing an inter- 
 view between Alan and Rose. And — if the evidence 
 of his senses did not mislead him — he w^s witnessing 
 their first difference of opinion. It was not an argu- 
 ment acute enough to deserve the name of quarrel, 
 but undoubtedly the two were at odds upon some 
 question — Rose insistent, Alan reluctant. 
 
 226 
 
AS IN A GLASS, DARKLY 227 
 
 This last gave way in the end, shrugged, and re- 
 turned to the car. 
 
 "I'm going back up the trail," he announced. 
 
 " Feeling the need of some little exercise, no doubt," 
 Barcus suggested. 
 
 "Rose thinks it's dangerous to stop here," Alan 
 began to explain, ignoring the interruption. 
 
 "Miss Rose is right, eh. Miss Judith?" Barcus 
 interpolated. 
 
 Judith nodded darkly. 
 
 "According to our friend, the chauffeur," Alan re- 
 sumed, "it's ^.'good twenty-mile ride to the next pass 
 and then back here. But Marrophat is capable of it 
 — ^presuming his horses are — and even though we 
 needn't look for them before morning, it would be 
 well to put as much distance between us as possible. 
 So I'm going to see if I can't buy burros from the 
 prospector back there. Rose said he had some — 
 doesn't know how many " 
 
 "Three will be enough," Judith interposed. "1 
 mean, don't get one for me. I'm stopping here." 
 
 "But " Alan started to protest. 
 
 "Please! It's no good arguing, Mr.. Law, I've 
 made up my mind, I can be most helpful here, by my 
 father's side," she asserted, and nodded at Trine with 
 a significant smile that maddened him. "He needs 
 me, and no harm can come to me, I'm pretty well 
 able to take care of myself!" 
 
228 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 At this Barcus breathed an unheard but fervent 
 prayer of thanksgiving, whose spirit he doubted not 
 was shared by Alan. For it stuck in the memory of 
 Barcus that their friend the prospector (whose shack 
 had sheltered Rose and Barcus after their transit of 
 the desert and prior to the man-made avalanche 
 which had afforded this temporary immunity from 
 pursuit) had mentioned in the hearing of Rose the 
 fact that his string of burros was limited to three. 
 And this intelligence Rose had undoubtedly com- 
 municated to Alan. 
 
 This, then, must have been the nub of the lovers' 
 quarrel: Rose's insistence that Judith be left be- 
 hind, Alan's reluctance to consent to this lest he 
 convict himself of the charge of ingratitude, remem- 
 bering the great service his erstwhile antagonist had 
 done him. 
 
 If only Judith might not find cause to change her 
 mind ! 
 
 Thus, the prayer of Thomas Barcus. 
 
 But one dared not trust that young woman to de- 
 mean herself consistently for as long as two consecu- 
 tive minutes. It would need no more than a sisterly 
 little spat with Rose to waken the perverse demon 
 dormant in Judith, and bring her right-about-face 
 on the question of staying behind with her father. 
 
 Now Mr. Barcus earnestly desired that nothing of 
 the sort should happen. In him distaste for the society 
 
AS IN A GLASS, DARKLY 229 
 
 of Miss Judith amounted to a passion. His belief 
 in the sincerity of the defiance she had throAvn in her 
 father's face was slight, his hope that it would endure 
 until the wind changed or the moon set was nil. 
 He set himself sedulously to divert Judith with the 
 magic of his conversational powers, an offering in- 
 differently received. He was still blithely gossiping 
 when Judith flung away to her sister's side. 
 
 The ensuing quarrel seemed the more portentous 
 in view of the restraint imposed upon themselves by 
 both parties thereto; they were at pains not to betray 
 the all-too-patientsubject of their dispute, so thought- 
 fully modulating their accents that never a word was 
 audible to Barcus. 
 
 He believed, however, that a crisis impended when 
 the tinkle of mule-bells sounded down the canon 
 road. Judith's ears were as quick as his own, she, 
 too, had caught the sound of bells behind the base of 
 the hill. And of a sudden, without another word, 
 she turned and flung away into the thickets of under- 
 growth that masked the canon to either side of the 
 wagon-trail. In a twinkling she had lost herself to 
 view. 
 
 The remainder of that business was transacted 
 rapidly enough. There were no preparations to be 
 made, once Alan had ridden up with his three burros, 
 nothing remained but to mount and make off. Fare- 
 wells were not for Trine, though Barcus didn't neg- 
 
23° THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 lect to shake a leg at him before kicking his burro 
 into motion. As for Judith, she kept herself in- 
 visible; and though he looked about for her, Alan 
 was sensitive to Rose's tensity of emotion and fore- 
 bore to aggravate it by open search or calling. 
 
 Five minutes after his return the three had ridden 
 out of sight of the motor-car. In as much time more 
 they had found the forking of the trails described by 
 the chauffeur; and by tacit consent, none questioning 
 the move, struck off on whatthe chauffeur had termed 
 the up-trail — ^the town of Mesquite, whatever its 
 character and wherever it might be, their goal. 
 
 The trail mounted at a sharp grade, seldom wide 
 enough to permit one burro to pass another at need, 
 not seldom skirting the brink of some declivity so 
 sheer that by common instinct the fugitives kept 
 their eyes studiously averted from the abyss. 
 
 But the frequency of such passages bred indif- 
 ference in their sleepy minds. Before morning they 
 were all riding like so many hypnotized subjects, fa- 
 tigue bearing so heavily on all their senses that 
 none spoke or cared to speak. Broad daylight sur- 
 prised them in this state, still stubbornly travelling; 
 and shortly afterward showed them one place so 
 perilous that it shocked them temporarily awake. 
 
 This was simply a spot where the trail came ab- 
 ruptly to an end on one side of a cleft in the hills 
 quite thirty feet wide and several hundred in depth, 
 
AS IN A GLASS, DARKLY 231 
 
 and was continued on the farther side, the chasm 
 being spanned by a bridge of the simplest character 
 — no more than a footway of boards bound together 
 with ropes none too substantial in seeming, with an- 
 other rope, breast-high, to serve as a hand-rail. 
 
 Alan tested the bridge cautiously. It bore him. 
 He returned, helped Rose to cross, and, with her once 
 safely on the farther side, took his life in his hands, 
 and, aided by Barcus, unaffectedly afflicted with 
 qualms, somehow or other persuaded the burros to 
 cross. 
 
 After that, though the way grew more broad and 
 easy and even showed symptoms of a decline, they 
 had not strength enough left to sustain through an- 
 other hour. 
 
 And what they thought good fortune, opportunely 
 at this pass, brought them to a clearing dotted with 
 the buildings of an abandoned copper mine. Not a 
 soul was in evidence there, but the rude structures 
 offered shelter for beast as well as man; here (so 
 ran their sleepy thoughts) they might hide the burros 
 and themselves for a few hours, and so obtain a little 
 sorely needed sleep. Pursuit, if any, might overlook 
 them, go on in ignorance of their proximity. 
 
 None but men fatigued beyond the power of 
 coherent reasoning would have built hopes upon so 
 preposterous a suggestion. But Rose and Barcus 
 had known little rest since the previous dawn, while 
 
232 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Alan, though he had slept a few hours on the desert, 
 had endured even heavier drains upon his vitality 
 than either of the others. None but men in such 
 phght could have overlooked the obvious way of mak- 
 ing themselves secure by cutting down that sword- 
 wide bridge so short a way behind them. 
 
 No less futile was their thought to stand watch 
 and watch about. Barely had they made Rose as 
 comfortable as might be upon the plank flooring 
 of one of the sheds, and tethered the burros out of 
 sight, when Alan collapsed as if drugged, while Bar- 
 cus, who had elected himself to keep the first watch, 
 felt sleep overcoming him like a cloud of thick dark- 
 ness. 
 
CHAPTER XLIII 
 Jaws of Death 
 
 AWAKENING befell Mr. Barcus in a fashion suf- 
 ficiently startling to render him indifferent to 
 the beneficial effects of some eight hours of dreamless 
 slumber. 
 
 He discovered himself lying flat on his face, with 
 somebody's heavy hand purposefully grinding the 
 said face into the planks of the shed flooring. At the 
 same time other hands were busy binding his own 
 together by the wrists, and lashing them to the small 
 of his back by means of cord passed round his middle, 
 while his natural efforts to kick were hampered by the 
 fact that his ankles had already been secured. 
 
 His hands attended to, his head was released. 
 Promptly he lifted it and essayed a yell, an effort 
 rendered abortive by the gag that was thrust between 
 his teeth the instant his j aws opened. After which — 
 barring a gratuitous kick in the ribs — he was left to 
 his own devices. 
 
 They were limited, in the beginning, to resting as 
 he was and listening. Sounds of retreating footsteps 
 were all that rewarded him. Then he heard a cold 
 
 233 
 
234 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 and mirthless chuckle, from some considerable dis- 
 tance, and calculated that he who laughed was some 
 place in the clearing. 
 
 Now the blood of Thomas Barcus ran cold (or he 
 thought it did, which amounts to much the same 
 thing) . For if his senses had played fair, the laugh 
 he had heard was the laugh of Mr. Marrophat. 
 
 He twisted his head to one side and saw nothing 
 but the wall. Twisting the other way, his effort was 
 repaid by the discovery of Rose Trine in plight like 
 unto his own — ^wrists and ankles bound, gagged into 
 the bargain — the width of the shed between them. 
 
 But of Alan Law no sign. . . . 
 
 Tormented beyond endurance by the fears he 
 suffered for the safety of his friend, he began pain- 
 fully inching his way across the floor toward Rose, 
 with what design, Heaven alone knows! ' 
 
 He had contrived to bridge the distance by half 
 when a dark body put the sunlight of the open door- 
 way into temporary eclipse. Another followed it. 
 Boots clumped heavily on the flooring. Two pairs 
 of hands seized him, one beneath the shoulders, the 
 other beneath the knees, and he was lugged out into 
 the sunlight, carried a considerable distance, and 
 deposited within a few feet of the mouth of the 
 abandoned mine just at the moment when he had 
 satisfied himself that the purpose of his captors was 
 to throw him into that black well. 
 
JAWS OF DEATH 235 
 
 Then he was left to himself once more, but only 
 for a few moments : the interval ended when the two 
 apf>eared again, this time bringing Rose in similar 
 fashion. Not until she had been put down beside 
 him did he discover that Alan was likewise a captive, 
 trussed to a tree at some distance. 
 
 The remaining arrangements of their captors were 
 swiftly and deftly consummated. He, after Rose, 
 was dumped lik^ a bale into a huge bucket, and 
 therein by means of rope and windlass lowered to the 
 bottom of the shaft — a descent of something like a 
 hundred feet. 
 
 Marrophat operated the windlass, his first assistant 
 (a boyish body never known to Barcus by any other 
 name than Jimmy) having accompanied Rose down 
 the shaft and waiting there to receive and dispose of 
 Barcus and Alan in turn. 
 
 His handling of them was much like the treatment 
 a sincere baggage-smasher accords an exceptionally 
 heavy trunk. Barcus was partly dragged, partly 
 thrown, tumbled, and kicked, some ten feet or so 
 along a tunnel that struck away from the foot of the 
 shaft, then left shoulder to shoulder with Rose, in 
 darkness only emphasized by the feeble flicker of a 
 candle which Jimmy had thrust into the wall of the 
 tunnel near its mouth, while Alan was lowered, 
 brought in, and thrown roughly down across the 
 body of Barcus. 
 
336 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 A hideous screeching followed, the protests of 
 rusty and greaseless machinery. Twisting his neck, 
 Barcus saw the dim opening of the shaft slowly 
 closing, as if a curtain were being drawn down over it. 
 Jimmy was closing the bulkhead door, leaving them 
 definitely prisoners, beyond human aid. 
 
 The silence was broken by Alan's voice: 
 
 "Barcus!" 
 
 The latter grunted by way of answer, he could do 
 no more. 
 
 "I've worked my gag loose," Alan pursued, "but 
 my hands are tied behind my back. Are yours? 
 Grunt once for 'yes.'" 
 
 Dutifully Barcus grunted a solitary grunt. 
 
 "Then roll over on your face and give me a chance 
 at your bonds with my teeth." 
 
 Barcus wasted no time in obeying Alan's suggestion 
 — then lay for upward of ten minutes with his face 
 in the mould of the tunnel while Alan chewed and 
 spat and chewed again at the ropes round the wrists 
 of his friend. 
 
 It seemed upward of an hour before the bonds grew 
 slack and Barcus worried a hand free, then loosed the 
 other, removed his gag, and set hastily about freeing 
 his friend. That took but a few instants — little more 
 than was needed to rid Rose of her bonds. 
 
 That much accomplished, a pause of consternation 
 followed. The darkness was absolute in the tunnel, 
 
JAWS OF DEATH 237 
 
 Jimmy having taken the candle away with him. 
 Barcus had turned to the bulkhead and was, without 
 the slightest hope, groping about its joints and crev- 
 ices in search of some way of forcing it. . . . 
 
 "Barcus, old man, did you notice what that black- 
 guard had fixed up ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Why — at the bottom of the shaft — I got only a 
 glimpse coming in — ^the door of the powder-room was 
 open, and I saw a fuse set to the top of a keg of blast- 
 ing powder. . . ." 
 
 "What's the good of that? We're fast enough as 
 it is!" 
 
 "Simply to make assurance doubly sure by causing 
 a cave-in. . . ." 
 
 "Why the deuce doesn't he set off his explosion if 
 he means to ? " 
 
 ** Heaven only knows. Perhaps he's thought of 
 some scheme more devilish. Perhaps he set the 
 stage with an empty powder-keg simply to drive us 
 mad with the strain of waiting. . . ." 
 
 "I wouldn't put that by h»m, either," Barcus 
 commented. "See here, what do you know about 
 mines?" 
 
 "Next to nothing." 
 
 "Then you've got little on me. But I seem to 
 remember hearing or reading, some place, that tun- 
 nels have two ends. If that's true, the far end of this 
 
238 THE TREY O* HEARTS 
 
 ought to be the safest place when that explosion 
 happens." 
 
 " Something in that ! " 
 
 "Got any matches?" Barcus inquired. 
 
 "Never one." 
 
 "Nor I. We'll have to feel our way along. Let 
 me lead. If I step over the brink of a pit or any- 
 thing, I'll try to yell and warn you in time." 
 
 Alan caught his , friend's hand and pressed it 
 warmly, a caress eloquent of his gratitude to Barcus 
 for taking their peril lightly, or pretending to, for the 
 sake of Rose. 
 
 A ticklish business, that — groping their way 
 through blackness so opaque that it seemed palpable. 
 An elbow in the tunnel — sensed rather than felt or 
 seen — cut them off from direct communication with 
 the bulkhead, and at the same time opened up a shaft 
 of daylight striking down through that pitchy dark- 
 ness like a column of gold. 
 
 Cries of joy choking in their throats, they gained 
 the spot immediately below the shaft, and looked 
 up dazzled, to see blue sky, like a coin of Heaven's 
 minting, far above them, at the end of a long and 
 almost perpendicular tunnel, wide enough to permit 
 the passage of a man's body, and lined with wooden 
 ladders. 
 
 The end of the lowermost ladder hung within easy 
 reach from the floor of the tunnel. But even as Alan 
 
JAWS OF DEATH 239 
 
 lifted his hands to grasp the bottom rung, the open- 
 ing at the top of the shaft was temporarily obscured. 
 
 Thrilled with apprehension, he hesitated, Marro- 
 phat was up there, he little doubted; it was hardly 
 like that fiend to overlook the ladder-shaft in pre- 
 paring the tunnel to be a living tomb. 
 
 Marrophat or no Marrophat at the top, there was 
 nothing for him to do but to grasp the ladder with 
 a steady hand. Even though he were shot dead on 
 emerging from the shaft, it were better than to die 
 down there. . . . 
 
 He had climbed not more than half a dozen rungs 
 when a few drops of water spattered his fact, like heavy 
 rain. Almost immediately the blue sky was per- 
 manently eclipsed, a cascade of water, almost a solid 
 column, shot down the shaft with terrific force. Alan 
 sought vainly to escape it, to mount against it. Be- 
 fore he knew it, his grasp had been wrenched away 
 from the ladders and he was shooting feet first back 
 into the tunnel. 
 
 Half drowned, he felt himself dragged out of the 
 waterfall. Then he comprehended the fact that the 
 tunnel was already filling; that, where they stood, 
 it was already ankle-deep, while the water continued 
 to tall without hint of let-up. 
 
CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 Debacle 
 
 SCREAMING to make himself heard above the 
 roar of the deluge, Barcus yelled in Alan's, ear: 
 
 "That devil! He's found the reservoir — opened 
 the sluice-gates — ^turned it into that shaft! We're 
 done for!" 
 
 Alan had no argument with which to gainsay him. 
 Silently getting on his feet he groped for Rose and 
 drew her away with him, up the incline that led 
 back to the bulkhead. 
 
 The hour that followed lived ever in his memory 
 as an hour in hell. To die there, in the darkness, like 
 so many noxious animals trapped in a well. . . . 
 
 The water mounted rapidly. Within five minutes 
 it drove them back to the elbow in the tunnel, within 
 tenit lapped their ankles as they lingered there, doubt- 
 ing which was the greater peril, to advance or to 
 stand fast. 
 
 Of a sudden the thought crossed Alan's mind that 
 Marrophat had arranged the fuse and the keg of 
 powder solely to keep them away from the bulkhead. 
 Now that he thought of it, he felt certain that the 
 
 240 
 
AS SHE WAS DRAGGED BKl •' V JTTDITH SXEEREn AT HER SISTER 
 
DEBACLE 241 
 
 powder-room had been deliberately disclosed to him 
 by Jimmy. 
 
 Probably, then, the keg and fuse were but stage 
 properties 
 
 At any rate he concluded that it were better to be 
 extinguished in the space of a second, annihilated 
 by an explosion, than to die thus lingeringly. On this 
 consideration, he drew Rose with him back to the 
 bulkhead. It was solid — a crackless barrier of stout 
 oaken planks reinforced with straps of iron. 
 
 The water was stalking them even there like an 
 insatiable enemy. The lisp of its advancing wave- 
 lets rang in his hearing like the purring of a man- 
 killing tiger in the darkness of a night-bound jungle. 
 When they had been some fifteen minutes beside the 
 bulkhead the water mounted the head of a slight 
 rise perhaps ten feet behind them and poured down 
 in ever-deeper volume to back up against the barrier. 
 
 It was waist-deep there before they retreated to 
 the head of the rise. Half an hour later it was waist- 
 deep even there, the highest spot in the tunnel. 
 
 In fifteen minutes more it had reached their chins. 
 Holding Rose close to him, Alan kissed her lips that 
 were as cold as death. 
 
 Then fumbling under water, he found the hand of 
 the man at his side. . . . 
 
 In the tunnel that branched ofF from the main- 
 
242 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 shaft, beyond the bulkhead, some thirty minutes 
 before this juncture, a candle had guttered in its 
 stick, left carelessly thrust into the wall by Marro- 
 phat's lieutenant, and, guttering, had dropped a 
 flaming wick into the little heap of bone-dry debris 
 which blazed up against the timbering that upheld 
 the walls of the tunnel. This timbering caught fire 
 without delay, and in a space of time incredibly brief 
 the flames were spreading right and left. 
 
 As Alan said a mute farewell to Rose and Barcus 
 the fire spread out in the bottom of the shaft and 
 invaded the powder-room. Alan had guessed aright 
 at Marrophat's design: the keg of blasting-powder was 
 less than an eighth full, its explosion could not pos- 
 sibly have effected the cave-in Alan had at first feared. 
 
 But what Marrophat had overlooked was the 
 proximity to the keg of several sticks of dynamite, 
 masked by a film of earth that had fallen from the 
 crumbling walls. When the blazing fuse dropped 
 sparks into the blasting-powder this last exploded 
 right willingly, and the dynamite took its cue without 
 the least delay. 
 
 The resultant detonation was terrific. The bulk- 
 head was crushed in like an eggshell barrier, and the 
 released flood streamed out and spread swiftly to 
 the farthest recesses of the burning tunnel. Dense 
 clouds of steam filled that place of terror as the fires 
 were extinguished. 
 
DEBACLE 243 
 
 Swept with the stream Alan contrived to retain his 
 hold round the waist of Rose. Barcus shot past him 
 unseen in the darkness. It was not until Alan had 
 contrived to stay himself and his almost witless 
 burden beneath the mouth of the shaft that he dis- 
 covered Barcus alive, if almost unrecognizable in his 
 mask of mould and soot, battling back toward the 
 shaft against the knee-deep tide. 
 
 Immediately before them dangled the hoisting 
 bucket and rope. 
 
 Surrendering the care of Rose to Barcus, Alan 
 climbed into the bucket and stared upward, examin- 
 ing the walls of the shaft for a way to the top. There 
 was none other than the most difficult; the one feas- 
 ible route was via the rope. 
 
 He lifted himself up on the rope, wound it round 
 one leg, and began that heart-breaking climb. And 
 somehow, by almost superhuman effort, it was even- 
 tually accomplished. 
 
 He arrived at the top of the shaft far too exhausted 
 to show surprise when, falling in half-fainting con- 
 dition within two feet of the brink, he saw Judith 
 Trine running across the clearing. 
 
 Without her aid he would not within hours have 
 been able to work the windlass and lift Rose and 
 Barcus to the surface. 
 
CHAPTER XLV 
 The Last Warning — and Flight 
 
 IN THE clear light of dawn four strangers strag- 
 gled into Mesquite town — ^two weary and haggard 
 men, two footsore and bedraggled women. One of 
 these last was dressed in a suit of man's clothing, 
 much the Worse for wear. The other members of 
 the party, one and all, wore the look of people who 
 have escaped the jaws of death by the narrowest of 
 imaginable squeaks. Their clothing, of the most 
 rough-and-ready description though it was, had evi- 
 dently at some quite recent time been sopping wet, 
 then rough dried on its wearers; every garment was 
 warped out of shape and caked with mud and dust. 
 Even their hands and faces were none too clean; 
 abortiveefforts had evidently beenmade to erase some 
 of the grime at a mountain stream, but lacking soap and 
 towels the outcome had not been altogether happy. 
 
 At sight of the Mountain House — Mesquite's one 
 carvanserai — ^the party betrayed slight symptoms 
 of a more cheerful spirit: rejoicing in its promise of 
 food and drink, and beds withal wherein to sleep, 
 the four quickened their steps. 
 
 244 
 
THE LAST WARNING— AND FLIGHT 245 
 
 But of a sudden one of the women — she who wore 
 the garments of her sex — paused, uttered a low cry 
 athrill with terror, and clutching the arm of the man 
 nearest her, pointed down to the card that stared 
 up from the dust at her feet. 
 
 It was a Trey of Hearts. . . . 
 
 "Oh, what can it mean?" Rose^— for it was she — 
 whispered brokenly, clinging to her lover's arm. 
 
 "Surely you don't think. . . . Surely it must 
 be accidental. . . . Surely it can't mean " 
 
 "I'm afraid it does," Alan Law responded gravely, 
 eying the front of the Mountain House. "Our luck 
 holds inconsistently — ^that's all. It wouldn't be us 
 if we didn't pick out the one place where Marrophat 
 and Jimmy chose to stop overnight. Fortunately, 
 it's early; I doubt they're up. With half a show we 
 ought to be able to find some way of putting a good 
 distance between us and this town before they waken. 
 
 . . . Tom!" 
 
 But Mr. Barcus was already at his elbow, in 
 thorough sympathy of Alan's interpretation of the 
 significance to be attached to the card that trembled 
 in Rose's hand. 
 
 "Sharp's the word!" he agreed. "And there's a 
 motor-car over there, in front of the blacksmith's. 
 Probably we can hire her " 
 
 "Trine's car!" Alan ejaculated, recognizing the 
 automobile at a glance. "Then he's here, as well!" 
 
246 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "Looks like it," Barcus admitted. "But so much 
 the better. We'll just naturally take the darn thing 
 off his hands, and I'll bet there isn't another car 
 within fifty miles ! We'll be well out of these moun- 
 tains before he finds anything to chase us with." 
 
 But his confidence was demonstrated to be pre- 
 mature by the discovery, which rewarded the first 
 cursory examination, that the car was very thoroughly 
 out of commission. 
 
 Two minutes later, however, their earnest inquiries 
 elicited the fact that Mesquite itself boasted two 
 motor-cycles whose owners were not indifferent to a 
 chance to sell them second-hand at a considerable ad- 
 vance on the retail list price of the machines when 
 new. 
 
 And thus it was that, within ten minutes from 
 Rose's discovery of that chance-flung warning in the 
 dust, the party was again in rapid motion, 
 
 Mr. Barcus was the first to get under way, with 
 Judith Trine occupying the extra seat over the 
 rear wheel. And though Alan was little slower, the 
 staccato chatter of the other motor had diminished 
 to a merely steady drumming in the distance before 
 the second machine began to move. 
 
 Now civilization has produced no noises more 
 alarming and irritating than the chant of the steam 
 riveter and the road-«ong of the motor-cycle. 
 
 Disturbed by the departure of the machine bearing 
 
THE LAST WARNING —AND FLIGHT 247 
 
 Barcus and Judith, Seneca Trine craned his neck and 
 managed to glimpse through his window the second 
 motor-cycle as it started, Alaii steering. Rose in the 
 seat behind. 
 
 And something subtly pyschological drew the gaze 
 of his daughter toward her father's window. As 
 they chugged past the Mountain House Alan was 
 conscious of a startled movement behind him and 
 a convulsive tightening of the hands that clutched his 
 belt. Instinctively he applied all the power that the 
 motor could generate. 
 
 Sixty seconds later a flaunting banner of dust was 
 all that remained to remind Mesquite that Romance 
 had passed that way — ^that, and a series of passionate 
 screams emanating from the bedchamber of Seneca 
 Trine, where the cripple lay possessed by seven devils 
 of insensate rage. 
 
 Thus was his pleasure in the dawning of a new day 
 ruined by the discovery that those whom he had 
 thought to be safely entombed in the lowermost level 
 of a flooded mine, twenty miles distant, were alive 
 and sound and active enough to make yet another 
 eff^ort toward their salvation. 
 
 His screams brought attendance; but it was some 
 time before his demands could be met and Marrophat 
 and Jimmy roused from their heavy slumbers in 
 adjoining chambers; and half an hour elapsed before 
 the chauffeur, roused from his own well-earned rest. 
 
248 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 succeeded in convincing the pair that pursuit with 
 the motor-car was altogether out of the question until 
 he had spent at least half the day overhauling the 
 motor. 
 
 But the devil takes care of his own; within another 
 half hour luck brought a casual automobile to 
 Mesquite — a two-seated, high-power racing machine, 
 driven by two irresponsible wayfarers who proved 
 only too susceptible to Marrophat's offer of double 
 the cost of the car — f. o. b. Detroit — for its immediate 
 surrender. 
 
 The two piled out promptly, Marrophat and 
 Jimmy jumped in, and Trine from his bedroom win- 
 dow sped them with a blast of blasphemy which was 
 destined to keep his memory green in Mesquite for 
 many a year after he had been consigned to his 
 grave. . . . 
 
 It must have been an hour later when Alan looked 
 back and discovered, several miles distant on the 
 far-flung windings of the mountain road, asmall crim- 
 son shape that ran like a mad thing tirelessly pursued 
 by a cloud of tawny dust. 
 
 A motor-car of uncommon road-devouring quality, 
 it might or might not contain Marrophat and Jimmy, 
 once more in pursuit. Bitter experience had long 
 since taught Alan to take no chances. 
 
 Though it was his life that they sought no later 
 than yesterday, they had proved that if Rose were 
 
THE LAST WARNING-AND FLIGHT 249 
 
 with Alan they would include her ruthlessly in what- 
 soever scheme they might contemplate for his per- 
 sonal extermination. Nor would Tom Barcus be 
 exempt, though Judith might be, in view of Marro- 
 phat's infatuation for the girl. 
 
 These two were far ahead and must somehow be 
 overtaken and warned — ^no easy matter, since the 
 machine which bore them was faster than Alan's, 
 just as the racing automobile was faster than either. 
 From its jog-trot the cycle swept into its greatest 
 speed: ventre-d-terre, ears back, tail a-stream, it 
 roared down the road at such speed as tore the very 
 breath from the lips of those whom it carried. 
 
 Alan kept his gaze steadfast to the road, for at such 
 frightful speed as they were now making the slight- 
 est obstruction was fraught with direst peril. Now 
 on one hand, now on the other, now on both, the 
 hillsides fell away in such steep declivities as almost 
 to deserve the name of cliffs, as the road wound its 
 serpentine way through the heart of these desolate, 
 silent mountains. 
 
 Then catastrophe befell. . . . 
 
 Round the swelling bosom of a wooded mountain- 
 side the motor-cycle swept like a hunted hare, and 
 without the least warning came upon Barcus and 
 Judith, dismounted, Barcus bending over his cycle 
 and tinkering with its motor. For an instant col- 
 lision seemed unavoidable. Barcus and Judith and 
 
250 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 the motor-cycle occupied most of the width of the 
 road; there was Httle room between them and the 
 declivity, less between them and the forest. To try 
 to pass them on the latter side would be only to dash 
 his brains out against the trees; while to make the 
 attempt on the outside would be to risk leaving the 
 road altogether and dashing off into space. . . . 
 
 It was impossible to stop the cycle. In desperation 
 Alan chose the outside of the road; and for the space 
 of a single heartbeat thought that he might possibly 
 make it, but with the next realized that he would 
 not — seeing the front wheel swing off over the lip of 
 the slope. 
 
 At this he acted sharply and upon sheer instinct. 
 As the cycle left the road altogether he risked a bro- 
 ken knee by releasing his grasp of the handle-bars 
 and straightening out his leg and driving it down for- 
 cibly against the road bed. The effect of this was 
 to lift him bodily from the saddle; the machine shot 
 from beneath him like some strange projectile hurled 
 from the bore of a great gun, and Rose crashed against 
 him in the same fraction of a second. 
 
 Headlong they plunged as one down the hillside, 
 struck its shelving surface a good twenty feet from 
 the brink of the road, and, flying apart, tumbled 
 their separate ways down the remainder of the drop 
 and into the friendly shelter of the underbrush. 
 
 Something nearly miraculous saved them whole. 
 
THE LAST WARNING— AND FLIGHT 251 
 
 Beyond a few scratches and bruises and a severe 
 shaking up, they escaped unharmed. And they 
 were picking themselves up and recollecting their 
 scattered wits when, with impetus no less terrific 
 than their own had been, the pursuing motor-car 
 swung round the bend and hurled itself directly 
 at the two who remained upon the road above. 
 
CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 Sacrifice 
 
 BUT Tom Barcus hadn't failed to profit by the 
 warning implied in Alan's accident. Alan, he 
 told himself, would never have run his cycle at so 
 foolhardy a pace without good reason, and under the 
 circumstances good reason was synonymous solely 
 with pursuit. 
 
 He was therefore on the alert, quick to see the rac- 
 ing automobile when it came hurtling round the bend, 
 and in the nick of time grasped Judith's arm and 
 swung her back with him out of harm's way. 
 
 His motor-cycle, abandoned in the middle of the 
 road, was struck by the motor-car and flung halfway 
 down the enbankment, a hopeless tangle of shattered 
 tubing and twisted wire. As the collision took place, 
 he saw Jimmy seated beside Marrophat, who drove, 
 swing a magazine gun round and let it off at hopeful 
 random. The bullet lodged in a tree-trunk. Judith 
 fired in response. But her shot flew wild, and the 
 racing-car flew on, as if on the wings of the wind. 
 
 At first blush it seemed surprising that the car 
 did not stop. But Barcus reminded himself that 
 
 252 
 
SACRIFICE 2S3 
 
 Marrophat and Jimmy could not possibly have wit- 
 nessed the accident involving Alan and Rose, who, 
 together with the wreck of their machine, remained 
 well-cloaked by the underbrush at the bottom of 
 the caiion. The assassins had assumed that Alan 
 had hurried on; and since their own first business 
 was with him, they had done likewise, reasoning that 
 they could return and deal with his unfortunate 
 friend at their convenience after overhauling their 
 quarry whose life they most coveted. 
 
 As for Rose and Alan — ^Heaven alone knew what 
 had happened to them. But Barcus set himself to 
 find out without delay. He sprang from the shelter- 
 ing trees and, Judith at his heels, pelted headlong 
 down the slope to the spot where the others had 
 vanished. To find them practically unscathed af- 
 fected that loyal soul almost to tears. 
 
 But when congratulations had been mutually ex- 
 changed, there fell an awkward pause. The eyes 
 of the four sought one another's ruefully, each pair 
 quick with the unuttered but inexorable inquiry: 
 What next? 
 
 The road was now barred to them. At any mo- 
 ment the racer might return. They confronted the 
 necessity of threading afoot a wild and mountainous 
 country of whose geography they were absolutely 
 ignorant. And time pressed, while the fatigue bred of 
 their many hardships weighed heavily upon them all. 
 
254 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 It was Barcus who advanced the suggestion which 
 was adopted, more through lack of a better than for 
 any appeal intrinsic in the proposition. 
 
 "When we broke down, up there," he ventured, 
 " I saw a canon branching oflF from this one about a 
 quarter of a mile over yonder. We might stroll 
 round that way and see what its natural attractions 
 may be, if any. It's sure a mighty poor sort of a 
 canon that doesn't lead anywhere — and anjrway 
 we can't be worse off than we are, and " 
 
 "Sufficient!" Mr. Law interrupted. "Providing 
 Rose and Judith feel equal to the effort, I'm for your 
 suggestion." 
 
 "We must," said Judith slowly. 
 
 With a sigh, Rose nodded her agreement. 
 
 Crooking a deferential arm, Barcus offered it to 
 Judith. 
 
 "Everything is lovely in the formal garden," he 
 insisted; "so sweetly romantic. Are you game for an 
 idle saunter, just to while the idle hours away?" 
 
 The woman found spirit enough for a smile as she 
 tticked her hand gratefully beneath his arm. 
 
 "You're the cheerfulest soul I ever met," she said 
 demurely. "What I'm going to do without you 
 when, if ever, we get out of this awful business, good- 
 ness only knows." 
 
 "Let's talk of something else," he suggested 
 hastily. 
 
SACRIFICE 2SS 
 
 "Unless, of course," she pursued with unbroken 
 gravity, " I marry you. . . ." 
 
 "Heaven," the young man prayed fervently 
 "forfend!" 
 
 "That is hardly gallant " 
 
 "I mean — Heaven forfend that you should throw 
 yourself away!" 
 
 "Humph!" she mused. "Perhaps you're right 
 
 Their banter was not without a subtle object, 
 namely to reassure the girl who followed, supported 
 by her lover's arm. 
 
 In the course of the last twenty-four hours Rose's 
 jealousy of her sister's new-found friendliness with 
 Alan had become acutely evident. The least courtesy 
 which circumstances now and again demanded that 
 he show Judith was enough to cloud the countenance 
 of Alan's betrothed. 
 
 Nor, indeed, was Rose altogether destitute of 
 plausible excuse for this feeling of hers. It was un- 
 deniable that between Alan and Judith a bond of sym- 
 pathy had grown out of the trials and hardships they 
 had of late suflFered in common. It was undeniable, 
 but even in his most private thoughts Alan denied 
 it fiercely. 
 
 That her love was hopeless, Judith knew but too 
 well. Even though Alan might not be altogether 
 indifferent to her, his loyalty to Rose was unshakable. 
 
2s6 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 And not for worlds would Rose's rival have had it 
 otherwise. She could not have loved him as she did 
 had he not been so immovably true. As it was, 
 since she could not hope her love might ever be re- 
 turned, she was content to love and to promise her- 
 self that, if opportunity offered, she would not prove 
 unready to sacrifice herself to her love. At times she 
 caught herself praying that such opportunity would 
 soon be accorded her, and that the sacrifice it should 
 demand would be complete. . . . 
 
 Now prayers are sometimes answered when the 
 craved boon is good for the soul. . . . 
 
 Slowly and painfully these four toiled along an 
 obscure trail. Above them, on the road they had 
 abandoned, the crimson racer doubled back to the 
 point where it had passed Judith and Barcus; its 
 occupants descended, explored, and came presently 
 upon the trail of the fugitives. 
 
 Bloodhounds could not have settled down upon a 
 scent with more good-will and eagerness than Mr. 
 Marrophat and his faithful aide. The sun was high 
 above the carion when the pursuit came within rifle- 
 shot of the chase. 
 
 The spiteful crack roused the quartet from a pause 
 of dismay due to tardy appreciation of the fact that 
 they had penetrated almost to the end of a blind 
 alley. According to Mr. Barcus's definition, in short, 
 this was indeed a mighty poor sort of a canon, since 
 
SACRIFICE 257 
 
 it proved to lead nowhither; its head was a wall of 
 rock around three hundred feet in height, closing the 
 end of a traplike chasm. 
 
 A trap, indeed, now that the report of the rifle 
 advised them that their retreat was cut off! 
 
 A hasty council of war armed Alan with Judith's 
 revolver and posted him behind a boulder command- 
 ing the approaches to the chasm. The weapon, a 
 powerful .45, had a range sufficient to numb the 
 impetuosity of the assassins and keep them under 
 cover and out of sight of the desperate essays the 
 fugitives were making to compass an escape. 
 
 For in the shed behind an abandoned log-cabin — 
 souvenir, no doubt, of some long-forgotten pros- 
 pector — Barcus had unearthed a length of stout 
 rope. He had hacked this into two equal lengths. 
 One of these lengths he proceeded to make fast round 
 his own waist, then round Rose's. The other he left 
 to be similarly employed by Alan and Judith. For 
 it was agreed that they must climb, and while the 
 cliff offered no problem to daunt a skilled mountain- 
 climber, it was considered best that the fugitives 
 should be hitched up in pairs against any possibility 
 of a slip. The manner of the pairing had been deter- 
 mined by the fact that Barcus boasted some experi- 
 ence in mountaineering, while Rose was plainly the 
 most exhausted of the two women, the least able to 
 help herself in an emergency. 
 
258 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 He had worked his way, with the girl in tow, to a 
 point about midway up the face of the cliff, following 
 a long diagonal that provided the easiest climbing, 
 when Alan stole back to Judith and reported that he 
 was convinced that the pursuit had turned back — 
 perhaps for want of ammunition. Without delay, 
 then, following the way Barcus had chosen, he and 
 Judith began the ascent. 
 
 Two thirds of the climb had been accomplished, 
 and Rose and Barcus had arrived in safety at the 
 top, before the temptation to look down proved ir- 
 resistible to Alan. Immediately beneath his heels 
 the face of the cliff" was deeply hollowed out, leaving 
 a drop of fifty feet to a shelving ledge of shale as steep 
 as a roof, whose eaves — perhaps another fifty feet 
 below — jutted out over another fall of a hundred 
 feet. Alan shuddered and swallowed hard before 
 resuming the ascent. 
 
 Another twenty feet, however, brought him to a 
 ledge quite six feet wide, offering a broad and easy 
 path to the summit. He gained this with a prayer 
 of heartfelt relief, and was on the point of rising to his 
 feet when a scream of terror from Rose, watching 
 over the upper edge, warned him in time to enable 
 him to snatch and grasp a knob of rock before 
 Judith's weight suddenly tautened the rope between 
 them and jerked Alan's legs from under him. 
 
 His feet and legs kicking the empty air beyond the 
 
SACRIFICE 259 
 
 lip of the edge, he lay face downward, clutching 
 desperately the knob of rock, praying that it might 
 not come away in his grasp, that his grasp might 
 hold, that Barcus might arrive in time to save them 
 both. The rope was cutting into his waist like a 
 dull knife. The drag of Judith's body was frightful. 
 He could feel her swinging like a pendulum at the 
 end of its thirty feet, and could imagine but too 
 vividly what would happen if the rope should prove 
 faulty. 
 
 The fall of twenty feet to the shale roof was 
 nothing. What would follow would, however, spell 
 death. The impact of her body would set the shale 
 in motion, like an avalanche — and beyond the eaves 
 was only emptiness and the boulder-strewn bed of the 
 chasm, a hundred feet below! 
 
 The sweat poured from his face like rain. His 
 eyes started in their sockets. The blood drummed in 
 his ears. His fingers grew numb, his throat dry. 
 He felt that he could not hold on another instant, 
 when, abruptly, that torture was no more. The 
 rope had been relieved of its burden. He heard a 
 scream from above, then the thump of Judith's body 
 falling on the shale, then the slithering rumble of the 
 landslide gathering momentum . . . 
 
 Barcus at length arrived, and assisted him to a 
 place of security. Spent and faint and sick with 
 horror, he lay prone, shuddering. 
 
26o THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Only the assurance of Barcus that Judith had some- 
 how escaped being precipitated over the eaves of the 
 shale roof gave him nerve enough to resume the cHmb. 
 It was true, she lay within three yards of the brink, 
 unstirring. She dared not stir — a single movement 
 would set the shale bed again in motion. 
 
 Alan understood that, as Barcus asserted, she had 
 deliberately cut the rope herself — and offered up her 
 life to spare his own. . . . 
 
 A broad roadway ran along the top of the preci- 
 pice, turning off, at a little distance to the right, to 
 descend the mountainside. And just beyond this 
 turning Providence had chosen to locate the camp of 
 an hydraulic mining outfit. 
 
 Alan's appearance at the top, in fact, was coin- 
 cident with the arrival at the point of half a dozen 
 excited miners; and he had no more than voiced his 
 demands than three of their number were hastening 
 to procure rope and more hands. Within five minutes 
 Alan was being lowered over the edge and down to the 
 shale roof, on which he landed at a spot far to one 
 side of Judith, to escape all danger of sending a second 
 landslide down upon her. 
 
 Picking his way carefully, Alan edged along the 
 brink, more than once saved from falling by the 
 rope, until he stood immediately below Judith. There 
 pausing, he tossed the end of the rope into her hands, 
 and when she had wound it twice around her arms, 
 
SACRIFICE 261 
 
 crept up to her side and helped her make it fast about 
 her body. 
 
 His signal to the miners that all was well educed 
 prompt response. There was a giddy interval in 
 which the two swung perilously between heaven and 
 earth. Then they stood once more in safety. 
 
 Supported by sympathetic hands, the quartet 
 staggered into camp, their story, as condensed by 
 Barcus and breathlessly confirmed by Alan, already 
 winning them enthusiastic champions. And this 
 was well; for in a few moments the rumble of a motor- 
 car sounded beyond the shoulder of the hill. 
 
 A startled question elicited the information that 
 the cliff road was only a continuation of the road they 
 had abandoned in the canon. The approaching 
 car, then, could hardly be any other than that which 
 was freighted with the men who had so long sought 
 the death of Alan and his friend. 
 
 Startled into command of his faculties, Alan rose, 
 took quick cognizance of such faculties for defence as 
 the camp afforded, and issued his instructions. 
 
 Not far from the point where the road swung from 
 the cliff to thread the camp the hydraulic nozzle 
 was in action, its terrific force of water melting the 
 mountainside away ton by ton. Toward this Barcus 
 ran af top speed, gaining the men in charge of the 
 nozzle just as the car swung round the bend. 
 
 Pausing only long enough to make certain that 
 
262 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 there could be no mistake, and having this certainty 
 made doubly sure by Jimmy's action in rising from 
 his seat and firing an ill-aimed revolver at Alan, 
 Barcus and the miner swung the nozzle round until 
 it bore directly on the car. 
 
 The power of its stream was so great that the car 
 was checked in its tracks; and before the water could 
 have been shut off or the stream diverted, the ma- 
 chine was driven back to the very lip of the cliff and 
 over it, taking with it those twain upon whose efforts 
 the hope of Seneca Trine of late had been centred. 
 A death that was merciful, in that it was instantane- 
 ous, awaited them at the foot of the cliff. 
 
CHAPTER XLVII 
 The New Judith 
 
 FROM sleep as from drugged stupour Judith 
 Trine awakened, struggling back to conscious- 
 ness like some exhausted diver from the black depths 
 of a night-bound pool. At first she could not recog- 
 nize her surroundings. This chamber of rough 
 plank walls and primitive furnishings, this hard 
 couch she shared with her still slumbering sister Rose, 
 the view of tree-clad mountains revealed by an open 
 window at the bedside, conveyed nothing to her in- 
 telligence. 
 
 A formless sense of some epochal change in the 
 habits and mental processes of a lifetime added to 
 her confusion. Who was she herself, this strange 
 creature who rested there so calmly by the side of 
 Rose? ... If she were Judith Trine, how 
 came she to be there? The sisters had sedulously 
 avoided association with each other ever since child- 
 hood: they had not shared the shelter of four walls 
 overnight since time beyond the bounds of Judith's 
 memory! What, then, had so changed them both 
 that they should be found in such close company? 
 
 263 
 
264 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 What, undeed, had become of that wild things 
 Judith Trine of yesterday? Surely she had little 
 enough in common with this Judith of to-day, in 
 whose heart was no more room for envy, hatred, 
 malice, or any uncharitableness, so full was it of 
 love which, though focussed upon the person of one 
 man, none the less embraced all the world — even her 
 sister and successful rival. 
 
 And this was the work of Love! 
 
 She sighed, but sighed softly, that she might not 
 disturb her sister; and in this very act of considera- 
 tion emphasized the vastness of the change that 
 had come over her. For a week ago to have roused 
 Rose needlessly would have afforded Judith malicious 
 delight: while to-day Judith was not only thoughtful 
 of her sister's minor comforts, but stood prepared to 
 sacrifice herself, to break her own heart with her own 
 two hands, that Rose's happiness might be assured. 
 
 Now the chain of memories was complete. She 
 recalled every incident that had marked the growth 
 of this great love she had for Alan Law, from that 
 first day, not yet a month old, when he had escaped 
 the fiery death-trap she had set for him and repaid 
 her only by risking his life anew to save her from 
 destruction, down to this very morning, when the 
 stream from a hydraulic nozzle had swept over the 
 brink of a precipice the two desperate men bent upon 
 comp assing the death of her beloved . 
 
THE NEW JUDITH 265 
 
 Alan Law might now be considered safe from fur- 
 ther persecution, since there remained not one soul 
 loyal enough to Seneca Trine to prosecute his private 
 war of vengeance. And though that aged mono- 
 maniac had means whereby he might purchase other 
 scoundrels, Judith was determined that he should 
 never again have an opportunity to do so. If there 
 were any justice in the land — ^if there were any alien- 
 ists capable of discriminating between Trine's ap- 
 parent sanity and his deep-rooted mania — then surely 
 not many more days should pass into history with- 
 out witnessing his consignment to an institution for 
 the criminally insane. 
 
 She, Judith, would see to that, and then. . . . 
 
 She made a small gesture of resignation to her 
 destiny. What became of her no longer mattered, 
 so that Alan were made happy in such happiness as 
 he coveted. 
 
 With the utmost care she rose from the bed, crept 
 to the door of the room (now recognized as the quar- 
 ters of the foreman of the hydraulic mining outfit) and 
 out into the room adjoining. And there, pulling the 
 door to gently behind her, she paused and stood in 
 tense-strung contemplation of the man she loved — 
 Alan Law — asleep in a chair beside a table, his head 
 pillowed on his arms. 
 
 This was leave-taking between him and her — and 
 he would never know. 
 
266 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Far better so: Judith felt she could not trust herself 
 to say farewell to him. 
 
 Like a thief she stole across the creaking floor to 
 Alan's side, hesitated, bent her head to his and 
 touched her lips to his cheek — a caress so slight that 
 he slept on in ignorance of it. 
 
 Then, as she lifted her head, her bosom convulsed 
 with silent sobs, she looked into the face of Rose. 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII 
 The Old Adam 
 
 IT WAS as if the women had exchanged natures 
 while they slept. 
 
 Rose threatened and Judith shrank! 
 
 The countenance that Rose showed her sister was 
 a thunder-cloud rent by the lightning of her angry 
 eyes. Her pose was like that of an animal set to 
 spring. In her hand hung a revolver, and slowly the 
 girl's grasp tightened upon the grip of the weapon and 
 its muzzle lifted. Remarking this, a flash of her one- 
 time temper quickened Judith. 
 
 "Well?" she taunted her sister. "Why don't you 
 shoot?" 
 
 "What were you doing there?" Rose demanded. 
 
 "If you must know from me what you already 
 know on the evidence of your eyes, I was bidding 
 good-bye to the man I love, kissing him without his 
 knowledge or consent before leaving him to you for 
 good and all!" 
 
 "And so you leave him to me out of your charity! 
 Is that it?" 
 
 "Any way you like. But if it's so intolerable to 
 
 267 
 
268 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 you to think that I dare love him and confess it to 
 you, if you begrudge me the humiliation of stooping 
 to kiss a man who doesn't want my kisses, if you are 
 so afraid of losing him while I live and love him, very 
 well, then!" 
 
 With a passionate gesture Judith tore open the 
 bosom of her waist, offering her flesh to the muzzle of 
 the revolver. 
 
 Just then the man at the table, startled from his 
 sleep by the sound of angry voices, leaped from his 
 chair with a violence that sent it clattering to the 
 floor, and hurled himself headlong across the room, 
 imprisoning the wrist of his betrothed with one hand 
 while the other wrested the weapon away and passed 
 it to Judith. 
 
 "Rose!" he cried thickly, "What does this mean? 
 Are you mad ? Judith ! " 
 
 Dragging the bosom of her waist together, Judith 
 thrust the weapon into its holster and turned away. 
 
 "Be kind to her, Alan," she said in an uncertain 
 voice, "she didn't understand and — and I goaded her 
 beyond endurance, I'm afraid. Forgive me — but be 
 kind to her always." 
 
 Somehow, blindly, she stumbled out of the cabin. 
 into the open, possessed by a thought whose tempta- 
 tion was stronger than her powers of resistance. 
 She had the pistol. . . . None, she told herself 
 bitterly, would seek to hinder her. . . . But 
 
THE OLD ADAM 269 
 
 she meant so to arrange the matter that none should 
 see or suspect and be moved to interfere. Round 
 the shoulder of the mountain, on the road along the 
 edge of the clifF, she was sure of freedom from ob- 
 servation. 
 
 Late though the afternoon hour was, the business 
 of hydraulic mining still engaged the undivided at- 
 tention of every man in the camp. None noticed 
 the gijrl as she sped up the road toward the cliff — at 
 least, if any one did, it was without remarking the 
 symptoms of the hysteria which was at the bottom 
 of this mad impulse toward self-destruction. 
 
 And yet, such is the inconsistency of the human 
 animal, the instinct for self-preservation was stronger 
 than her purpose: when a touring-car swung round 
 the mountain and shot toward her she jumped aside 
 hastily to escape being run down. The next instant 
 the machine was lurching to a halt and the sonorous 
 accents of Seneca Trine were saluting her. 
 
 "Judith! You here! Where' ve you been ? Where 
 are Marrophat and Jimmy? Haven't you seen or 
 heard anything of them? They left me at six o'clock 
 this morning, to go after " 
 
 "Dead!" the girl interrupted, sententious, eying 
 him strangely. 
 
 "Dead?" he echoed. "Who's dead?" A gleam 
 of infernal joy lighted up his countenance. "You 
 don't mean to tell me Alan Law " 
 
270 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 "No," she cut him short. " I mean to tell you that 
 Marrophat and Jimmy are dead." 
 
 "I don't believe it!" the old man screamed, aghast. 
 " You're lying to me, you jade ! You're lying-^ " 
 
 "I am not," she broke in coldly. "I am telling 
 you the plain truth. . . . They caught up with 
 us here, about noon — came up this road, shooting 
 over the windshield. It was our life or theirs. We 
 turned the hydraulic stream on them and washed the 
 car over the clifF. If you don't believe me, get some- 
 body to show you their faces." 
 
 She indicated with a gesture two forms that lay at 
 a little distance back from the roadside, motionless 
 beneath a sheet of canvas, the bodies of Trine's crea- 
 tures, recovered by the mining gang and brought 
 up for a Christian burial. 
 
 But Trine required no more confirmation of Ju- 
 dith's word. The light flickered and died in his evil 
 old eyes; and despair followed realization that he no 
 longer owned even one friend or creature upon whose 
 conscienceless loyalty he might depend. 
 , This, then, was the cruel fruition of his merciless 
 hounding of Alan Law from the woods of northern 
 Maine to the hills of southern California! . . . 
 
 The last bitter drop that brimmed his cup of 
 misery was added when Alan Law himself appeared, 
 leaving the miners' cabin in company with his be- 
 trothed — Rose now soothed and comforted, smiling 
 
THE OLD ADAM 271 
 
 through the traces of her recent tears as she clung to 
 her lover, nestling in the hollow of his arm. But 
 this sight aroused Trine. 
 
 " Drive on ! " he screamed to the chauffeur. " Drive 
 on, do you hear ? " 
 
 Judith had stepped up on the running-board and 
 was eying the driver coldly, with one hand signifi- 
 cantly resting on the butt of the weapon at her side. 
 The car remained at a standstill. 
 
 "Where's Barcus?" Judith demanded, when, after 
 helping Rose into the car and running back to thank 
 their hosts, Alan returned alone to the car. 
 
 "Goodness only knows," the young man answered 
 cheerfully. "He would insist on rambling off down 
 the canon in search of an alleged town where we 
 could hire a motor-car. I daresay we'll meet him on 
 his way back — or else asleep somewhere by the road- 
 side!" 
 
 Taking the seat next the chauffeur, Alan gave the 
 word to drive on, and the car slipped away from the 
 mining-camp, saluted by cheers from the miners. 
 
 Half an hour passed without a word being spoken 
 by any member of the party. Each was deep in his 
 or her own especial preoccupation, Alan turning over 
 plans for an early wedding. Rose hugging the content- 
 ment regained through her lover's protestations, 
 Judith lost in profoundest melancholy, Trine nursing 
 his rage, working himself up into a silent fury whose 
 
vji THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 consequences were to be more far-reaching than he 
 dreamed. 
 
 The aged monomaniac occupied the right-hand 
 comer of the rear seat. Thus his one able hand was 
 next to Judith, in close juxtaposition to the revolver 
 in the holster on her hip. Without the least warning 
 his left hand closed upon the weapon, withdrew it, 
 and levelled it at the back of Alan's head. 
 
 As he pulled the trigger Judith flung herself bodily 
 upon the arm. Even so, the bullet found a goal, 
 though in another than the intended victim. The 
 muscular forearm of the chauffeur received it. With 
 a shriek of pain the man released the wheel and 
 grasped his arm. 
 
 Before Alan could move to prevent the disaster the 
 car, running without a guiding hand, cannoned off a 
 low embankment to the left and shot full-tilt into a 
 shallow ditch on the right, shelling its passengers like 
 peas from a broken pod. Alan catapulted a good 
 twenty feet through the air and alighted with such 
 force that he lay stunned for several moments. 
 
 When he came to he found Barcus helping him to 
 his feet, a heavy seven-passenger touring-car halted 
 in the roadway indicated the manner in which his 
 friend had arrived on the scene of the accident. 
 When damages were assessed it was found that none 
 of the party had suffered seriously but the chauffeur 
 and Seneca Trine himself. The former had only his 
 
THE OLD ADAM 373 
 
 wound to show, however, while Trine lay still and 
 senseless at a considerable distance from the wrecked 
 automobile. 
 
 Nothing but a barely perceptible respiration and 
 an intermittently fluttering pulse persuaded them 
 that the flame of life was not extinct in that poor, 
 old, pain-racked and twisted body. 
 
CHAPTER XLIX 
 
 The Last Trump 
 
 TOWARD the evening of the third day following 
 the motor spill, Judith sat in the deeply recessed 
 window of a bedchamber on the second floor of a 
 hotel situated in the heart of California's orange- 
 growing lands. 
 
 Behind her Seneca Trine sat, apparently asleep, in 
 a wheeled invalid chair. 
 
 There was no other occupant of the room. 
 
 Though he had lain nearly two days in coma, her 
 father's subsequent progress toward recovery of his 
 normal state had been rapid. Now, according to a 
 council of surgeons and physicians who had been 
 summoned to deliberate on his case, he was in a fair 
 way to round out the average span of a sound 
 man's lifetime. He had apparently suffered nothing in 
 consequence of his accident more serious than pro- 
 longed unconsciousness. For the last twenty-four 
 hours he had been in full possession of his faculties 
 and (for some reason impossible for Judith to fathom) 
 uncommonly cheerful. 
 
 From this circumstance she drew a certain sense 
 
 274 
 
THE LAST TRUMP 275 
 
 of mystified anxiety. Twice in the course of the 
 morning she had caught his eye following her with 
 a gleam of sardonic exultancy, as though he nursed 
 some secret of extraordinary potentialities. She was 
 oppressed by a great uneasiness. 
 
 Perhaps (she reasoned) the weather was respon- 
 sible for this feeling. The day had been uncon- 
 scionably hot, without a breath of air. Now, as it 
 drew toward its close, its heat seemed to become more 
 and more oppressive even as its light was darkened 
 by a vast pall of inky cloud shouldering up over the 
 mountains to the music of distant rumblings. 
 
 Within another ten minutes the man Judith loved 
 with all her body and soul would be the husband of 
 her sister. She had told herself she was resigned, 
 but she was not, and she would never be. Her heart 
 was breaking in her bosom as she sat there, listening 
 to the ever-heavier detonations of the approaching 
 thunderstorm and to the jubilant pealing of a great 
 organ down below. 
 
 She had told herself that, though resigned, she 
 could not bear to witness the ceremony. Now as the 
 moment drew near she found herself unable to endure 
 the strain alone. 
 
 Slowly, against her will, she rose and stole across 
 the floor to her father's chair. 
 
 His breathing was slow and regular, beyond doubt 
 he slept; there was no reason why she should not 
 
276 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 leave him for ten minutes; even though he waked, 
 it could not harm him to await her return at the end 
 of that scant period. 
 
 She crept from the room, closed the door silently, 
 ran down the hall, and descended by a back way, a 
 little used staircase, to the lower hall, which was to 
 be the scene of the marriage. 
 
 Constructed in imitation of an old Spanish Mission 
 chapel, it contained one of the finest organs in the 
 world; at this close range its deep-throated tones 
 vied with the warnings of the storm. Judith, lurking 
 in a passageway whose open door revealed the altar 
 steps and chancel, was shaken to the very marrow 
 of her being by the majestic reverberations of the 
 music. 
 
 Since they had regained contact with civilization 
 in a section of the country where the Law estate had 
 vast holdings of land, the chapel was thronged with 
 men and women who had known Alan's father and 
 wished to honour his son. . . . 
 
 Above stairs, in the room Judith had quitted, 
 Seneca Trine opened both eyes wide and laughed a 
 silent laugh of savage triumph when the door closed 
 behind his daughter. At last he was left to his own 
 devices, and at a time the most fitting imaginable for 
 what he had in mind. 
 
 With a grin. Trine raised both arms and stretched 
 them wide apart. Then, grasping the arms of his 
 
THE LAST TRUMP 277 
 
 chair, he Hfted himself from it and stood trembhng 
 upon his own feet for the first time in almost twenty 
 years. 
 
 Grasping the back of the wheeled chair, he used it 
 as a crutch to guide his feeble and uncertain move- 
 ments. But these became momentarily stronger and 
 more confident. 
 
 This, then, was the secret he had hugged to his 
 embittered bosom, a secret unsuspected even by the 
 attending surgeon: that through the motor accident 
 of three days ago he had regained the use of his limbs 
 that had been stricken motionless — strangely enough, 
 by a motor-car — ^nearly two decades since. 
 
 Slowly but surely moving to the bureau in the 
 room, he opened one of its drawers and took out some- 
 thing he had, without her knowledge, seen Judith 
 put away there while she thought he slept. With 
 this hidden in the pocket of his dressing-gown, he 
 steered a straight if very deliberate course to the 
 door, let himself out, and like a materialized spectre 
 of the man he once had been, navigated the corridor 
 to the head of the broad central staircase, and step 
 by step, clinging with both hands, negotiated the 
 descent. 
 
 The lobby of the hotel was deserted. As the cere- 
 mony approached its end, every guest and servant 
 in the house was crowding the doorway to the chapel. 
 None eppssed the progress of this ghastly vision in 
 
278 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 dressing-gown and slippered feet, chuckling insanely 
 to himself as he tottered through the empty halls and 
 corridors, finding an almost supernatural strength 
 to sustain him till he found himself face to face with 
 his chosen enemy and victim. 
 
 The first that blocked his way into the chapel, a 
 bell-boy of the hotel, looked round at the touch of 
 the clawlike hand upon his shoulder, and shrank 
 back with a cry of terror — a cry that was echoed 
 from half a dozen throats within another instant. 
 As if from the path of some grisly visitant from the 
 world beyond the grave, the throng pressed back and 
 cleared a way for Seneca Trine, father of the bride. 
 
 And as the way opened and he looked toward the 
 altar and saw Alan standing hand in hand with Rose 
 while the minister invoked a blessing upon the union 
 that had been but that instant consummated, added 
 strength, the strength of the insane, was given to 
 Seneca Trine. 
 
 When Alan, annoyed by the disturbance in the 
 body of the chapel, looked round, it was to see the 
 aged maniac standing within a dozen feet of him; and 
 as he cried out in wonder. Trine whipped a revolver 
 from the pocket of his dressing-gown and swung it 
 steadily to bear upon Alan's head. 
 
 At that instant the storm broke with infernal fury 
 upon the land. 
 
 A crash of thunder so heavy and prolonged that it 
 
THE LAST TRUMP 279 
 
 rocked the building upon its foundations accompanied 
 the shattering of a huge stained glass window. 
 
 A bolt of bluish flame of dazzling brilliance slashed 
 through the window like a flaming sword and smote 
 the pistol in the hand of Seneca Trine, discharging 
 the weapon even as it struck him dead. 
 
 As he fell, the bolt swerved and struck two others 
 down — ^Alan Law and the woman who had just been 
 made his wife. 
 
CHAPTER L 
 
 The Wife 
 
 AGAIN three days elapsed; and Judith, returning 
 from the double funeral of her father and sister, 
 doffed her mourning for a gown leJss sombre and more 
 suited to the atmosphere of a sick-room, then relieved 
 the nurse in charge of Alan. 
 
 He remained as he had been ever since the falling 
 of the thunderbolt — in absolute coma. 
 
 But he lived, and — or the physicians lied — must 
 soon regain consciousness. 
 
 Kneeling by his bedside, Judith prayed long and 
 earnestly. 
 
 When she arose, it was to answer a tap upon the 
 door. She admitted Tom Barcus and suffered him 
 to lead her into the recess of the window, where they 
 spoke in guarded tones. 
 
 "I've come to tell you something," Barcus an- 
 nounced with characteristic awkwardness. "I've 
 known it for three days — ever since the wedding, in 
 fact — and kept it to myself, not knowing whether 
 I ought to tell you yet or not." 
 
 He paused, eying her uncertainly, unhappily. 
 
 280 
 
THE WIFE 281 
 
 "I am prepared," Judith assured him calmly. 
 
 "You couldn't be. It's the most amazing thing 
 imaginable. . . . See here . . ." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "You understand, don't you, that Alan must 
 never know that Rose was killed by that lightning 
 stroke?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean" — the man floundered miserably — "you 
 see, he loved her so — I thought — I'm sure it would be 
 best — if you can bring yourself to it — to let him go on 
 believing it wasn't Rose who was killed, but Judith. 
 And that's skating so close to the truth that it makes 
 no diflFerence: the Judith Alan knew and the Judith 
 I knew in the beginning is gone as completely as 
 though she and not Rose had been killed." 
 
 After a long pause, the girl asked him quietly: 
 "I understand. But don't you see that, if I were to 
 consent to this — ^lend myself to a deception which I 
 must maintain through all my life to come — ^Alan 
 would consider me his wife ? " 
 
 "Well, but — you see — ^you are his wife. . . . 
 Oh, don't think I'm off my bat: I'm telling you the 
 plain, unvarnished truth. You are Alan's wife. 
 . . . You remember that day in New York when 
 you substituted for Rose, when Alan tried to elope 
 with her, and you went with him to Jersey City, and 
 stood up to be married by a preacher-guy named 
 
282 THE TREY O' HEARTS 
 
 Wright — and Marrophat broke in just at the critical 
 moment and busted up the party?" 
 
 "Well?" she demanded. 
 
 Barcus produced a folded yellow paper from his 
 coat-pocket and proffered it. 
 
 "Read that. It was handed to me as best man 
 just before the ceremony. Seeing it was addressed 
 to Alan, and knowing he was in no frame of mind to 
 be bothered by telegrams, I slipped it into my pocket 
 and forgot all about it temporarily. When I came to 
 find it, I took the liberty of reading it. But read it 
 for yourself." 
 
 The typewritten lines of the message blurred and 
 ran together almost indecipherably in Judith's vision. 
 None the less she contrived to grasp the substance 
 of its meaning: 
 
 "Why didn't you wire me sooner? Marriage to 
 Rose impossible. Rev. Mr. Wright informs me your 
 marriage to Judith last week was completed before Mar- 
 rophat interrupted. Judith legally your wife. Would 
 have advised you sooner had you let me know where to 
 address you. Hope to heaven this gets to you before 
 too late." 
 
 The message was signed with the name of Alan's 
 
 confidential man of business in New York. . . . 
 
 When Judith looked up, she was alone in the room, 
 
THE WIFE 283 
 
 but for the silent patient on his couch. Slowly, 
 almost fearfully, she crept to his bedside and stood 
 looking down into the face of her husband. And 
 while she looked Alan's lashes fluttered, his respira- 
 tion quickened, a faint colour crept into his pallid 
 cheeks, and his eyes opened wide and looked into 
 hers. 
 
 His lips moved and breathed a word of recognition : 
 
 "Judith!" 
 
 With a low cry of tenderness, the girl sank to her 
 knees and encircled his head with her arms. 
 
 "Judith," she whispered, hiding her face in his 
 bosom, "Judith is no more. ..." ' 
 
 A pause, then again the feeble voice : 
 
 "Then, if I was mistaken, if you aren't Judith, 
 you must be Rose — ^my wife!" 
 
 She said steadily, "I am your wife." 
 
 His hands fumbled with her face, closed upon her 
 cheeks, lifted her head until her eyes looked into his. 
 
 And for many minutes he held her so, looking deep 
 into the soul of the woman. 
 
 Thenquietly hesaid, "I ^wozf . . ." 
 
 THE END