For a moment she felt the foundations of the moral and physical world sinking beneath her feet. Dizziness swept her senses. She gripped the table, leaning heavily against it, her eye watching the door with feverish terror for Jim's appearance.
She had never fainted in her life. It was absurd, but the room was swimming now in a dim blur. Again she gripped the table and set her teeth. She simply would not give up. Why should she leap to the worst possible explanation of the jewels? The hatred of old Ella for Jim and the furious antagonism of Jane Anderson had poisoned her mind, after all. It was infamous that she could suspect her husband of crime merely because two silly women didn't like him.
He could explain the jewels. He, of course, asked no questions of the pawn-broker. They were probably sold at auction and he bought them.
It seemed an eternity from the time Jim's foot step echoed on the little porch until he pushed the door open and hastily entered, his arms piled with lap-robes, coats and the dress-suit case in his hand.
He walked with quick, firm step, threw the coats and robes on the couch and placed the suit-case at its head. He hadn't turned toward her and his face was still in profile while he removed the gloves from his pockets, threw them on the robes, and drew the scarlet woolen neckpiece from his throat.
She was studying him now with new terror-stricken eyes. Never had she seen his jaw look so big and brutal. Never had the droop of his eyelids suggested such menace. Never had the contrast of his slender hands and feet suggested such hideous possibilities.
“Merciful God! No! No!” she kept repeating in her soul while her dilated eyes stared at him in sheer horror of the suggestion which the jewels had roused.
She drew a deep breath and strangled the idea by her will.
“I'll at least be as fair as a jury,” she thought grimly. “I'll not condemn him without a hearing.”
Jim suddenly became aware of the menace of her silence. She had not moved a muscle, spoken or made the slightest sound since he had entered. He had merely taken in the room at a glance and had seen her standing in precisely the same place beside the table.
He saw now that she was leaning heavily against it.
He raised his head and faced her with a sudden, bold stare, and his voice rang in tones of sharp command.
“Well?”
She tried to speak and failed. She had not yet sufficiently mastered her emotions.
“What's the matter?” he growled.
“Jim——” she gasped.
He took a step toward her with set teeth.
“You've been in that bag—Well?”
Her face was white, her voice husky.
“Those jewels, Jim——”
A cunning smile played about his mouth and he shook his head.
“I tried to keep my little secret from you till Christmas morning; but you're on to my curves now, Kiddo, and I'll have to 'fess up——”
“You bought them for me?” she asked with trembling eagerness.
“Who else do you reckon I'd buy 'em for? I was going to surprise you, too, tomorrow morning. You've spoiled the fun.”
She had slipped close to his side and he could hear her quick intake of breath.
“That's—so—sweet of you, Jim. I'm sorry—I—spoiled the surprise—you'd—planned——”
“Oh, what's the difference!” he broke in carelessly. “It's all the same five minutes after, anyhow. Well, don't you like 'em? Why don't you say something?”
“They're wonderful, Jim. Where—where—did you buy them?”
He held her gaze in silence for an instant and fenced.
“Isn't that a funny question, Kiddo?” he said in low tones. “I once heard the old man I worked with in the shop say that you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“I just want to know,” she insisted.
“I'm not going to tell you!” he said with a dry laugh.
“Why not?”
“Because you keep asking.”
“You wish to tease me?”
“Maybe.”
“Please!”
“Why do you want to know? Are you afraid they're fakes?”
“No, they're beautiful—they're wonderful.”
“Well, if you don't want them,” he broke in angrily, “I'll keep them. I'll sell them.”
“Don't tease me, Jim!” she begged. “I don't mind if you bought them at a pawn-shop—if that's why you won't tell me. That is the reason, isn't it? Honestly, isn't it?”
She asked the question with eager intensity. She had persuaded herself that it was so and the horror had been lifted. She pressed close with smiling, trembling lips:
“I don't mind that, Jim! You got them from a pawn-broker, of course, didn't you?”
He looked at her with a puzzled expression and hesitated.
“Didn't you?” she repeated.
“No—I didn't!” was the curt answer.
“You didn't?” she echoed feebly.
“No!”
With a quick breath she unconsciously drew back and he glared at her angrily.
“Say, what'ell's the matter with you, anyhow? Have you gone crazy?”
“You—won't—tell me—where you bought them?” she asked slowly.
He faced her squarely and spoke with deliberate contempt:
“It's—none—of your business!”
She held his gaze with steady determination.
“That string of pearls belongs to the man who once lived in the front room of my old building in New York. He moved uptown with my landlady. A few months ago a burglar robbed and shot him——”
She stopped, seized his arm and cried with strangling horror:
“Jim! Jim! Where did you get them?”
“Now I know you've gone crazy! You don't suppose that's the only string of pearls in the world, do you? Did you count 'em? Did you weigh 'em?”
“Where did you get them?” she demanded.
“What put it into your head that that string of pearls belonged to your old boarder?”
“I saw him write the stanza of poetry on the satin lining of that case. I've heard him recite it over and over again in his piping voice: `Each bead a pearl—my rosary!' I KNOW that they belonged to him!”
His mouth twitched angrily and he faced her, speaking with cold, brutal frankness.
“I might keep on lying to you, Kiddo, and get away with it. But what's the use? You've got to know. It's just as well now—I did that job——Yes!”
Her face blanched.
“You—a—burglar—a murderer!”
Jim followed her with quick, angry gestures.
“All I wanted was his money! He fought—it was his life or mine——”
“A murderer!”
“I just went after his money—I tell you—besides, he didn't die; he got well. If he'd kept still he wouldn't have lost his pearls and he wouldn't have been hurt——”
“And I stood up for you against them all!” she answered in a dazed whisper. “They told me—Jane Anderson with brutal frankness, Ella with the heart-rending, timid confession of her own tragic life—they told me that you were bad. I said they were liars. I said that they envied our happiness. I believed that you were big and brave and fine. I stood by you and married you!”
She paused and looked at him steadily. In a rush of suppressed passion she seized his arm with a violence that caused his heavy eyelids to lift in amused surprise.
“Oh, Jim—it's not true! It's not true—it's not true! For God's sake, tell me that you're joking!—that you're teasing me! You can't mean it! I won't believe it—I won't believe it!”
Her head sank until it rested piteously against his breast. He stood with his face turned awkwardly away and then moved his body until she was forced to stand erect.
He touched her shoulder gently and spoke soothingly:
“Come, now, Kid, don't take on so. I'll quit the business when I make my pile.”
She drew back instinctively and he followed:
“I'll never touch another penny of yours. There's blood on it!”
“Rot!” he went on soothingly. “It's good Wall Street cash—got it exactly like they got theirs—got it because I was quicker and smarter than the fellow that had it. I use a jimmy, they use a ticker—that's all the difference.”
She drew her figure to its full height.
“I'm going—Jim——”
“Where?”
His voice rasped like a file against steel.
“Home!”
“Your home's with me.”
“I won't live with a thief!”
He stepped squarely before her and spoke with deliberate menace.
“You're—not—going!”
“Get out of my way!” she cried defiantly.
His big jaw closed with a snap and his figure became rigid. The candle's yellow light threw a strange glare on his face, convulsed. The blue flames of hell were in the glitter of his steel eyes.
Her heart sank in a dull wave of terror. She tried to gauge the depth of his brutal rage. There was no standard by which to measure it. She had never seen that look in his face before. His whole being was transformed by some sinister power.
She was afraid to move, but her mind was alert in this moment of supreme trial. She hadn't used her last weapon yet. The fact that he held her with such terrible determination was proof of the spell she had cast over him. She might save him. He couldn't have been a criminal long. She formed her new battle-line with quick decision.
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg