XI. FROM THE POTS AND PLANTS
The broad veranda, which faced the avenue and terminated at thecorner of the house in a huge circle, not unlike an openconservatory, afforded a secluded and comparatively cool retreat forthe diners later in the evening. Banked along the rails were therarest of tropical plants; shaded incandescent lamps sent their glowfrom somewhere among the palms, and there was a suggestion offairy-land in the scene. If Quentin had a purpose in beingparticularly assiduous in his attentions to Mlle. Gaudelet, he didnot suspect that he was making an implacable foe of Henri deCartier, the husband of another very charming young woman.Unaccustomed to the intrigues of Paris, and certainly not aware thatBrussels copied the fashions of her bigger sister across the borderin more ways than one, he could not be expected to know that deCartier loved not his wife and did love the pretty Louise. Nor couldhis pride have been convinced that the young woman at his side wasenjoying the tete-a-tete chiefly because de Cartier was fiercelycursing the misfortune which had thrown this new element intoconflict. It may be unnecessary to say that Mrs. Garrison wasdelighted with the unmistakable signs of admiration manifested bythe two young people.
It was late when Quentin reluctantly arose to make his adieux. Hehad finished acknowledging the somewhat effusive invitations to thehouses of his new acquaintances, and was standing near Dorothy,directly in front of a tall bank of palms. From one point of viewthis collection of plants looked like a dense jungle, so thicklywere they placed on the porch at its darkest end. The light from adrawing-room window shone across the front of the green mass, butdid not penetrate the recess near the porch rail. He was takingadvantage of a very brief opportunity, while others were movingaway, to tell her that Mile. Louise was fascinating, when her handsuddenly clasped his arm and she whispered:
"Phil, there is a man behind those palms." His figure straightened,but he did not look around.
"Nonsense, Dorothy. How could a man get--" he began, in a very lowtone.
"I saw the leaves move, and just now I saw a foot near the rail. Becareful, for heaven's sake, but look for yourself; he is near thewindow."
Like statues they stood, she rigid under the strain, but braveenough and cool enough to maintain a remarkable composure. She feltthe muscle of his forearm contract, and there swept over her astrange dread. His eyes sought the spot indicated in a perfectlynatural manner, and there was no evidence of perturbation in hisgaze or posture. The foot of a man was dimly discernible in theshadow, protruding from behind a great earthen jar. Without a wordhe led her across the porch to where the others stood.
"Good-night, Mrs. Garrison," he said, calmly, taking the hand sheproffered. Dorothy, now trembling like a leaf, looked on in mutesurprise. Did he mean to depart calmly, with the knowledge that theyneeded his protection? "Good-night, Miss Garrison. I trust I shallsee you soon." Then, in a lower tone: "Get the people around thecorner here, and not a word to them."
The ladies were quite well past the corner before he ventured totell the men, whom he held back on some trifling pretext, that therewas a man among the plants. The information might have caused asmall panic had not his coolness dominated the nerves of the others.
"Call the gendarmes," whispered de Cartier, panic stricken. "Callthe servants."
"We don't want the officers nor the servants," said Philip, coolly."Let the ladies get inside the house and we'll soon have a look atour fellow guest."
"But he may be armed," said the count, nervously.
"Doubtless he is. Burglars usually are. I had an experience with anarmed burglar once on a time, and I still live. Perhaps a few palmswill be damaged, but we'll be as considerate as possible. There isno time to lose, gentlemen. He may be trying to escape even now."
Without another word he turned and walked straight toward the palms.Not another man followed, and he faced the unwelcome guest alone.Faced is the right word, for the owner of the telltale foot hadtaken advantage of their momentary absence from that end of theporch to make a hurried and reckless attempt to leave his crampedand dangerous hiding-place. He was crowding through the outer circleof huge leaves when Quentin swung into view. The light from thewindow was full in the face of the stranger, white, scared, dogged.
"Here he is!" cried Quentin, leaping forward. "Come on, gentlemen!"
With a frantic plunge the trapped stranger crashed through theplants, crying hoarsely in French as he met Quentin in the open:
"I don't want to kill you! Keep off!"
Quentin's arm shot out and the fellow went tumbling back among thepots and plants. He was up in an instant. As the American leapedupon him for the second blow, he drove his hand sharply,despairingly, toward that big breast. There came the ripping ofcloth, the tearing of flesh, and something hot gushed over Phil'sshoulder and arm. His own blow landed, but not squarely, and, as hestumbled forward, his lithe, vicious antagonist sprang aside, makinganother wild but ineffectual sweep with the knife he held in hisright hand. Before Quentin could recover, the fellow was dashingstraight toward the petrified, speechless men at the end of theporch, where they had been joined by some of the women.
"Out of the way! Out of the way!" he shrieked, brandishing hisknife. Through the huddled bunch he threw himself, unceremoniouslytoppling over one of them. The way was clear, and he was down thesteps like a whirlwind. It was all over in an instant's time, butbefore the witnesses to the encounter could catch the second breath,the tall form of Philip Quentin was flying down the steps in closepursuit. Out into the Avenue Louise they raced, the fugitive with aclear lead.
"Come back, Phil!" cried a woman's voice, and he knew the tonebecause of the thrill it sent to his heart.
He heard others running behind him, and concluded that his fellowguests had regained their wits and were in the chase with him. Ifthe pursued heard the sudden, convulsive laugh of the man behind himhe must have wondered greatly. Phil could not restrain the wilddesire to laugh when he pictured the sudden and precipitous halt hisvaliant followers would be compelled to make if the fugitive shoulddecide to stop and show fight. One or more of them would doubtlessbe injured in the impossible effort to run backward while stillgoing forward.
Blood was streaming down his arm and he was beginning to feel anexcruciating pain. Pedestrians were few, and they made no effort toobstruct the flight of the fugitive. Instead, they gave him a wideberth. From far in the rear came hoarse cries, but Quentin wasuttering no shout. He was grinding his teeth because the fellow hadworsted him in the rather vainglorious encounter on the porch, andwas doing all in his power to catch him and make things even. To hisdismay the fellow was gaining on him and he was losing his ownstrength. Cursing the frightened men who allowed the thief to passon unmolested and then joined in the chase, he raced panting onward.The flying fugitive suddenly darted into a narrow, dark street,fifty feet ahead of his pursuer, and the latter felt that he hadlost him completely. There was no sign of him when Quentin turnedinto the cross street; he had disappeared as if absorbed by theearth.
For a few minutes Philip and the mob--quite large, inquisitive andeager by this time--searched for a trace of the man, but withoutavail. The count, de Cartier and the Honorable Mr. Knowlton, withseveral of Mrs. Garrison's servants, came puffing up and, to hisamazement and rage, criticised him for allowing the man to escape.They argued that a concerted attack on the recess amongst the palmswould have overwhelmed the fellow and he would now be in the handsof the authorities instead of as free as air. Quentin endured theexpostulations of his companions and the fast-enlarging mirth of thecrowd for a few moments in dumb surprise. Then he turned suddenly toretrace his steps up the avenue, savagely saying:
"If I had waited till you screwed up nerve enough to make a combinedattack, the man would not have been obliged to take this long andtiresome run. He might have called a cab and ridden away in peaceand contentment."
A laugh of derision came from the crowd and the two Frenchmen lookedinsulted. Mr. Knowlton flushed with shame and hurried after his tallcountryman.
"You are r
ight, Quentin, you're right," he wheezed. "We did notsupport you, and we are to blame. You did the brave and properthing, and we stood by like a lot of noodles--"
"Well, it's all over, Knowlton, and we all did the best we could,"responded Philip, with intense sarcasm which was lost on Mr.Knowlton. Just then a sturdy little figure bumped against him and helooked down as the newcomer grasped his arm tightly.
"Hello, Turk! It's about time you were showing up. Where the devilhave you been?" exclaimed he, wrathfully.
"I'll tell y' all about it w'en I gits me tires pumped full agin.Come on, come on; it's private--strictly private, an' nobody's nex'but me." When there was a chance to talk without being overheard bythe three discomfited gentlemen in the rear, Turk managed to givehis master a bit of surprising news.
"That guy was Courant, that's who he was. He's been right on yourheels since yesterday, an' I just gits nex' to it. He follers you upto th' house back yonder an' there's w'ere I loses him. Seems likehe hung aroun' the porch er porticker, er whatever it is over here,watchin' you w'en you wuz inside. I don't know his game, but he'sth' guy. An' I know w'ere he is now."
"The dickens you do! You infernal little scoundrel, take me there atonce. Good Lord, Turk, I've got to catch him. These people willlaugh at me for a month if I don't. Are you sure he is Courant? Howdo you know? Where is he?" cried Phil, excited and impatient.
"You ain't near bein' keen. He doubled on you, that's w'at he done.W'en you chased him off on that side street he just leaps over th'garden wall an' back he comes into a yard. I comes up, late asusual, just in time t' see him calmly prance up some doorsteps an'ring th' bell. Wile th' gang an' you wuz lookin' fer him in th'gutters an' waste paper boxes, he stan's up there an' grinscomplackently. Then th' door opens an' he slides in like a fox."
"Where is the house? We must search it from top to bottom."
"Can't do that, Mr. Quentin. How are you goin' to search that housewithout a warrant? An' w'at are you goin' to find w'en you do searchit? He's no common thief. He's in a game that we don't know nothin'about, an' he's got cards up his sleeve clear to th' elbow. Th'people in that house is his friends, an' he's safe, so w'at's th'use? I've got th' joint spotted an' he don't know I am nex'. It's apoint in our favor. There wuz a woman opened the door, so she's inth' game, too. Let's lay low, Mr. Quentin, an' take it cool."
"But what in thunder was he doing behind those palms? That wasn't avery sensible bit of detective work, was it?"
"Most detectives is asses. He was hidin' there just to earn hismoney. To-morrow he could go to th' juke an' tell him how slick he'dbeen in hearin' w'at you said to th' young lady w'en you thoughtnobody was listenin'. Was he hid near a window?'
"Just below one--almost against the casing."
"Easy sailin'. He figgered out that some time durin' th' night youan' her would set in that window an' there you are. See? But Iwonder w'at he'll say to th' juke to-morrow?"
"I hate to give this job up," growled Phil. "But I must get back tothe hotel. The villain cut me with a knife."
By this time they were in front of the Garrison home, and in anundertone he bade Turk walk on and wait for him at the corner below.
"Did he escape?" cried Dorothy from the steps.
"He gave us the slip, confound him, Dorothy."
"I'm glad, really I am. What could we have done with him if he hadbeen caught? But are you not coming in?"
"Oh, not to-night, thank you. Can't you have some one bring out myhat and coat?" He was beginning to feel faint and sick, andpurposely kept the bloody arm from the light.
"You shall not have them unless you come in for them. Besides, wewant you to tell us what happened. We are crazy with excitement.Madame de Cartier fainted, and mamma is almost worried to death."
"Are you not coming up, Mr. Quentin?" called Mrs. Garrison, from theveranda.
"You must come in," said de Cartier, coming up at that moment withthe count and Mr. Knowlton.
"Really, I must go to the hotel, I am a little faint after thatwretched run. Let me go, please; don't insist on my coming in," hesaid.
"Mon dieu!" exclaimed the count. "It is blood, Monsieur! You arehurt!"
"Oh, not in the least--merely a--"
"Phil!" cried Dorothy, standing in front of him, her wide eyeslooking intently into his. "Are you hurt? Tell me!"
"Just a little cut in the arm or shoulder, I think. Doesn't amountto anything, I assure--"
"Come in the house at once, Philip Quentin!" she exclaimed. "Mr.Knowlton, will you ask Franz to telephone for Dr. Berier?" Then shesaw the blood-stained hand and shuddered, turning her face away."Oh, Phil!" she whispered.
"That pays for this cut and more, if necessary," he said, in a lowvoice, as he walked at her side up the steps.
"Lean on me, Phil," she said. "You must be faint." He laughedmerrily, and his eyes sparkled with something not akin to pain.
Dr. Berier came and closed the gash in his shoulder. An hour laterhe came downstairs, to find Mrs. Garrison and Dorothy alone.
"You were very brave, Mr. Quentin, but very foolhardy," said Mrs.Garrison. "I hope from my heart the wound will give you littletrouble."
His good right hand closed over hers for an instant and then claspedDorothy's warmly, lingeringly.
"You must let us hear from you to-morrow," said she, softly.
"Expect me to fetch the message in person," said he, and he was offdown the steps. He did not look back, or he might have seen herstanding on the veranda, her eyes following him till he was joinedby another man at the corner below.
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