The Bells of San Juan

by Jackson Gregory

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE BEGINNING OF THE END

  When Norton stirred and would have opened his eyes but for the bandagedrawn over them, she was at his side. She had been kneeling there fora long time, waiting. Her hand was on his where it had crept softlyfrom his wrist.

  "You must lie very still," she commanded gently. "I am with you andeverything is all right. There was . . . an accident. No, don't tryto move the cloth; please, Roderick." She pushed his hand back down tohis side. "We are in the King's Palace, just you and I, and everythingis all right."

  He was feverish, and she soothed him; sick, and she mothered him andnursed him; troubled, uncertain, perplexed, and she comforted him. Atthe first she went no further than saying that there had been anaccident; that already she had sent to San Juan for all that was neededto make him comfortable; that Mr. Engle had been instructed to speed aman to the railroad for further necessities; that now for his own sake,for her sake, he must just lie very still . . . try not even to think.

  He was listless, seeming without volition, quite willing to surrenderhimself into her keeping. What dazed thoughts were his upon this firstawakening were lost, forgotten in the brief doze into which shesucceeded in luring him. When again he stirred and woke she was stillat his side, kneeling upon the hard rock floor beside him. . . . Shehad had Patten help her to lift him down from the table before shedespatched Patten with the note for John Engle. Again she pleaded withhim to lie still and just trust to her.

  He was very still. She knew that he was trying to piece together hisfragmentary thoughts and impressions, seeking to bridge over from lastnight to to-day. So she talked softly with him, soothing him alikewith the tenderness of her voice and the pressure and gentle stroke ofher hand upon his hand and arm. He had had an accident but was goingto be all right from now on. But he must not be moved for a little.Therefore Engle would come soon, and perhaps Mrs. Engle with him. Anda wagon bringing a real bed and fresh clean sheets and all of thosearticles which she had listed. It would not be very long now untilEngle came.

  But at last when she paused his hand shut down upon hers and he askedquietly:

  "I didn't dream it all, did I, Virginia? It is hard to know just whatI did and what I dreamed I did. But it seems more than a dream. . . .Was it I who robbed Kemble of the Quigley mines?"

  "Yes," she told him lightly, as though it were a matter of smallmoment. "But you were not responsible for what you did."

  "And there were other robberies? I even tried to steal from you?"

  "Yes," she answered again.

  "And you wanted to have me submit to an operation? And I would not?"

  "Yes."

  "And then . . . then you . . . you did it?"

  So she explained, feeling that certainty would be less harmful to himnow than a continual struggle to penetrate the curtain of semidarknessobscuring his memory.

  "I took it upon myself," she told him at the end. "I took the chancethat you might die; that it might be I who had killed you. Perhaps Ihad no right to do it. But I have succeeded; I have drawn you backfrom kleptomania to your own clear moral strength. You will get well,Rod Norton; you will be an honest man. But I took it upon myself totake the chances for you. Now . . . do you think that you can forgiveme?"

  He appeared to be pondering the matter. When his reply came it wascouched in the form of a question:

  "Would you have done it, Virginia . . . if you didn't love me a littleas I love you?"

  And her answer comforted him. He was sleeping when the Engles came.

  Later came the big wagon, one of Engle's men driving, Ignacio Chavezand two other Mexicans accompanying on horseback. Virginia hadforgotten nothing. Quick hands did her bidding now, altering theanteroom of the King's Palace into a big airy bedroom. There was agreat rug upon the floor, a white-sheeted and counterpaned bed, freshpajamas, table, chair, alcohol-stove, glasses and cups andwater-pitchers. There were cloths for fresh bandages, wide palm-leaffans . . . there was even ice and the promise of further ice to come.The sun was shut out by heavy curtains across the main entrance and thebroken-out holes in the easterly wall.

  "My dear," said Mrs. Engle, taking both of Virginia's hands into herown, "I don't know just what has happened and I don't care to knowuntil you get good and ready to tell me about it. But I can see bylooking at you that you are at the end of your tether. I'm going totake care of Roddy now while you sleep at least a couple of hours."

  She and Engle had asked themselves the question as soon as Virginia'snote came to them: "What in the world were she and Norton doing on themountainside at that time of night?" But they had no intention ofasking it of any one else. Rather John Engle hastened to answer it forothers.

  "_Muchachos_" he said to the men when he sent them back to San Juan,"there was an accident last night. Senor Norton had a fall from hishorse, striking his head. My cousin, Miss Page, together with SenorNorton and Senor Patten, was taking a short cut this way to make a callat Pozo. Senor Patten and Miss Page succeeded in getting Senor Nortonhere, where they had to operate upon him immediately. He is doing wellnow, thanks to their prompt action; he will be well soon. You may tellhis friends."

  And then, seeing little that he could do here and much that he mightaccomplish elsewhere, John Engle rode on his spurs back to San Juan tolay down the law to Patten.

  Throughout the days and nights which followed, Virginia and Mrs. Englenursed Norton back into a semblance of strength. One of them wasalways at his side. When at last the bandage might be removed from theblindfolded eyes Norton's questing glance found Virginia first of all.

  "Virginia," he said quietly, "thanks to you I can start in all overnow."

  She understood. So did Mrs. Engle. For Norton had explained to boththe banker and his wife, holding nothing back from them, telling themfrankly of crimes committed, of his attempted abduction of the girl whoin turn had "abducted him." He had restitutions to make without theleast unnecessary delay. He must square himself and he thanked Godthat he could square himself, that his crimes had been bloodless, thathe had but to return the stolen moneys. And, to wipe his slate clean,he stood ready to pay to the full for what he had done, to offer hisconfession openly, to accept without a murmur whatever decree the courtmight award him.

  Again John Engle did his bit. He went to the county-seat and saw thedistrict attorney, an upright man, but one who saw clearly. The lawyerlaid his work aside and came immediately with Engle to the King'sPalace.

  "Any court, having the full evidence," he said crisply, "would hold youblameless. Give me the money you have taken; I shall see that it isreturned and that no questions are asked. And if you've got anyidiotic compulsion about open confession . . . Well, think of somebodybesides yourself for a change. Try thinking about the Wonder Girl alittle, it will be good for you."

  For he never called her anything but that, the Wonder Girl. When hehad heard everything, he came to her after his straightforward fashionand gripped her hand until he hurt her.

  "I didn't know they made girls like you," he told her before she evenknew who he was.

  It was he who, summoning all of his forensic eloquence, finally quietedNorton's disturbed mind. Norton in his weakened condition was all formaking a clean breast before the world, for acknowledging himself unfitfor his office, for resigning. But in the end when he was told curtlythat he owed vastly more to the county than to his stupid conscience,that he had been chosen to get Jim Galloway, that that was his job,that he could do all the resigning he wanted to afterward, and thatfinally he was not to consider his own personal feelings until he hadthought of Virginia's, Norton gave over his regrets and merely waxedimpatient for the time when he could finish his work and go back to LasFlores rancho. For it was understood that he would not go alone.

  "I'll free del Rio because I have to, not because I want to," said thelawyer at the end. "Trusting to you to bring him in again later. Heis one of Galloway's crowd and I know it, despite his bi
g bluffs.Galloway is away right now, somewhere below the border. Just what heis up to I don't know. I think del Rio does. When Galloway gets backyou keep your eye on the two of them."

  After the county attorney's departure Rod Norton rested more easily.He was making restitution for all that he had done, he was getting welland strong again, he had been given such proof as comes to few men ofthe utter devotion of a woman. Through many a bright hour he andVirginia, daring to look confidently ahead, talked of life as it mightbe lived upon Las Flores when the lake was made, the lower landsirrigated, the big home built.

  "And," she confessed to him at the last, her face hidden against hisbreast, "I never want to see a surgeon's lancet again in all of mylife, Rod Norton!"

  When at length the sheriff could bestride a horse he wonderedimpatiently what it could be that kept Jim Galloway so long away. Andif he was never coming back. But he knew that high up among thecliffs, hidden away in the ancient caves, Jim Galloway's rifles werestill lying.