Chapter 11

A PLEASANT WELCOME

It was an old-fashioned living room into which we entered, the floor unswept, the chairs faded and patched. Curtains were drawn closely at the windows, while the single oil lamp stood on a center table littered with old newspapers. I dropped the grips on the carpet, not so much interested in my surroundings as in the appearance of the man in charge. The shading of the light gave me only a partial view of the fellow, but he was big, loose-jointed, having enormous shoulders, his face so hidden by a heavy mustache, and low drawn hat brim, I could scarcely perceive its outline. He appeared a typical rough, wearing high boots, with an ugly-looking Colt in a belt holster.

"Where are you from?" I asked, surprised at this display of firearms.

"Texas," with a grin, not altogether pleasant. "That's an ol' friend."

"No doubt, but I see no sense in wearing it here. What are you afraid of?"

He stroked his mustache, eyeing me.

"Wal, personally, stranger, I ain't greatly feerd o' nuthin', but I wus hired fer to keep people outer this shebang. There ain't no work goin' on, so I don't hav' no niggers to keep folks out."

"Who employed you?"

"That don't make no difference. Those wus my orders--not to talk, nor let enybody hang 'round except you folks."

"Then we were expected?" in surprise.

"Sure; I reckon yer 'd a been hoofin' it up the road long afore this otherwise. Still, I dunno," with a suggestive wink, "I 've got a likin' fer pretty girls."

I glanced at her, where she had sank down on a dilapidated sofa, but no expression of her face told me she had overheard. It was the man's wink, more than his language, which angered me.

"Cut out your references to the lady," I said in a low tone, "unless you are starting in for trouble."

"Oh, skittish, hey! Wal, stranger, I never run away frum no troble yet, an' I reckon I don't begin now. Besides, yer need n't ride no high hoss with me. I 'm on ter your game."

His words sufficed to silence my batteries. I felt no fear of the man, big as he was and armed, but the thought that he might have been sent there by either Neale or Vail, and informed of the conspiracy, made me cautious about angering him. I must discover first the exact situation before locking horns with this Texas steer.

"Oh, do you!" I returned carelessly. "All right, then, we 'll let it go at that; only please remember the lady is under my protection. What is your name?"

"Coombs," in better humor, feeling he had bluffed me. "Bill Coombs."

"Can we have a bit of lunch?"

"I reckon yer can. Ol' Sally is a rustlin' some grub now. I stirred her up when I furst cum in."

He sat down cross-legged on a chair the other side the littered table, and stared at us, his hat still drawn down over his eyes. Whether the fellow knew no better or was deliberately insolent, I could not clearly determine. However, it was easy to perceive the girl was alarmed, and my thought was with her. This unmannerly brute could wait until we were alone for his lesson. I had handled worse men than him in my time, and I proposed finding out before we retired who was master. So when he even rolled and lit a cigarette, eyeing me closely during the operation, I pretended to take no notice, but spoke to her quietly, in a voice which would not carry across the room.

"Don't mind him," I whispered. "He's only a rough-neck trying to bully a bit. I'll teach him his place before tomorrow."

"It is not the man so much," she replied, giving me a glimpse of her eyes. "But it is all so desolate and gloomy. I have never been superstitious, but that negro's fear actually gave me the creeps. I have been seeing shadows ever since."

I laughed lightly, touching her hand.

"Still we 've found nothing else than live ones. Shadows won't hurt us, and this place will look better by daylight."

"You have n't any nerves."

"Oh, yes, I have; only they are trained. I didn't anticipate an easy job when I came down here. It's assumed a different form, that's all."

"You do not like it?"

"Not altogether," I admitted. "I am beginning to wonder if those fellows were square, if they gave me the straight story. Coombs' words would seem to indicate that he knows I 'm a fraud. Perhaps he did n't mean that, but it sounded so. Why should they tell that rough-neck their plans, and send him down here? I 'll find out what he knows, and how he knows it, before another ten hours. If he 's here to spy on us I 'll make him earn his money."

She did not look around.

"Are--are you just beginning to doubt what those men told you?"

"Doubt!" in surprise. "No; I don't know that I do. But I don't like to be mistrusted and watched. Why? Do you think they are double-crossing us?"

"I 've--I 've taken your word," she said quickly. "But it has never seemed quite right to me. I--I hardly know why I consented to come, only I was so miserable, anything seemed better than the life I was leading."

"You saw all the papers," I interposed, "and they bear out every statement."

"Yes, but could they not be forged? Why should any honest lawyer advise a client to undertake such a fraud?"

"Why, really I do not know," I returned, looking at her in astonishment. "Of course it does seem queer, but the case is a peculiar one, and, perhaps, can be solved in no strictly legal way. If you felt so about it, why did you not say so before?"

"Don't get angry--please. I hardly think I was myself then. It was just an impulse I could not resist to get away from the past. I was desperate enough then for anything. I don't think I cared whether it was right or wrong. But on the train I lay awake and thought it all over, and--and I would have gone back then if I could. I am sorry, so sorry, but I am thoroughly ashamed of myself--here, as I am."

"You mean, pretending to be my wife?"

"Yes; that--that is bad enough, surely. I must have been crazy to ever consent. Even if the truth is never known I can no longer respect myself. But--but that is not all--we are actually criminals, engaged in a criminal plot. Because the plan was concocted by a lawyer makes no difference. We could be arrested, imprisoned."

"I supposed you understood."

"No doubt I did, but my brain was numbed; I could not comprehend. It was not your fault, but mine; I do not blame you. Only, must we go on?"

"We shall have to play out the game tonight, at least," I said, startled by her earnestness. "I will talk with Coombs, and will tell you the result tomorrow. Your nerves are all unstrung, and the affair may appear different by daylight."

She put her hand in mine, her eyes on my face.

"No; it is not my nerves. See, my hand does not tremble; I am not afraid physically. I 've simply come to myself; I 'm convinced we 're doing wrong."

"But you will wait until morning? until I have talked with Coombs?" I asked anxiously.

"Yes," after an instant's hesitation. "There is nothing else I can do."

The Texan got noisily to his feet, and swaggered across the floor.

"If you all hav' got through yer whisperin'," he said roughly, "I reckon Sally 's got ther grub laid out."

I bit my lips to keep back a hot reply, feeling the restraint of her eyes, and we followed him into the next room. The table was set for two, and I could distinguish the shadow of a woman standing motionless in the farther corner. The dim light barely revealed her outlines.

"Yer kin talk it out yere," announced Coombs, waving one hand, "cause I won't be present, havin' et already. I reckon Sally won't interfere none."

He slammed the door viciously going out, causing the lamp to sputter. Then the woman came silently forward, a coffeepot in her hand. She was a mulatto perhaps sixty years of age, her face scarred by smallpox, and with strangely furtive eyes. Somehow she fitted into the scene, and I saw my companion gazing at her almost with horror, as she flitted about us silently as a specter. I endeavored to talk, while eating heartily, for I was hungry, but found it difficult to arouse Mrs. Bernard to any response, and she merely toyed with her food. In despair I turned to the other, hopeful that a question or two might dissolve the spell.

"You are the housekeeper, I believe?"

She favored me with a single glance of surprise.

"Yes."

"Have you been here some time?"

"No."

"You probably knew the old Judge?"

"No."

Her monosyllabic answers were perfectly colorless, and, with this last, she picked up an empty dish, and vanished. I endeavored to laugh, but there was no response in the eyes of the woman opposite. She dropped her fork, and pushed back her chair.

"Oh, I simply cannot stand this place!" she exclaimed. "There is something perfectly horrid about it, and--and the people. How shall I ever get through the night?"

"That is nothing," I soothed, although hardly at ease myself. "She is evidently of the taciturn sort. We don't need to keep these servants, you know. I 'll hunt up some more cheerful in town tomorrow. Why, by Jove, it's ten o'clock already. Have you finished?"

"I could n't choke down another mouthful."

"Well, don't be afraid. They mean well enough, no doubt. Sallie!"

She came gliding in, her back to the door.

"Are you the one who is to show us to our rooms?"

"Yes."

She picked up the lamp and went out, and Mrs. Bernard followed instantly, evidently afraid to be left in the dark. I followed with the grips, trailing up the stairs, having seen nothing of Coombs in the front room. In the upper hall our guide threw open two doors, going into the rooms and lighting lamps, thus giving glimpses of the interiors. The one in the corner was the larger, and better furnished.

"This will be yours," I said, placing her valise on the floor. "You can feel safe enough there with the door locked--yes, there is a key--and I will be right opposite if you need anything."

She gave me her hand, but I felt it tremble.

"You are still afraid?"

"Yes, I am--but--but I am not going to be such a fool."

As her door closed I turned to the mulatto, who still stood there, lamp in hand. I was not sleepy, and I wanted most of all to have an understanding with Coombs. I could not talk with the fellow in the presence of Mrs. Bernard, for he was the kind to be handled roughly for results, but now I was ready to probe him to the bottom. "Is the overseer downstairs?"

"No."

"See here, Sallie," I insisted warmly, "I 'm master of this house and I want some kind of answer besides yes, and no. Where is he?"

"Ah reckon he's out in one o' ther cabins, sah--he done don't sleep in the house nohow."

"He does n't sleep here! Why?"

"Ah spect it 's cause he 's afeerd too, 'sah," she replied, her snaky eyes showing. "Ah 's a voo-doo, an' ah don't care 'bout 'em tall, but good Lor', dar ain't no white man wants ter stay in des yere house mor'n one night."

She laughed, a weird, grating laugh, and started downstairs. I stood still, watching her light disappear. Then, swearing at myself for a coward, stepped back into my own room, and closed the door.