The Dark Star

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XI

  THE BREAKERS

  The east dining-room was almost empty now, though the lobby and thecafe beyond still swarmed with people arriving and departing. Brandes,chafing at the telephone, had finally succeeded in getting Stull onthe wire, only to learn that the news from Saratoga was not agreeable;that they had lost on every horse. Also, Stull had another disquietingitem to detail; it seemed that Maxy Venem had been seen that morningin the act of departing for New York on the fast express; and with himwas a woman resembling Brandes' wife.

  "Who saw her?" demanded Brandes.

  "Doc. He didn't get a good square look at her. You know the hats womenwear."

  "All right. I'm off, Ben. Good-bye."

  The haunting uneasiness which had driven him to the telephonepersisted when he came out of the booth. He cast a slow, almost sleepyglance around him, saw no familiar face in the thronged lobby, then helooked at his watch.

  The car had been ordered for ten; it lacked half an hour of the time;he wished he had ordered the car earlier.

  For now his uneasiness was verging on that species of superstitiousinquietude which at times obsesses all gamblers, and which is known asa "hunch." He had a hunch that he was "in wrong" somehow or other; anoverpowering longing to get on board the steamer assailed him--adesire to get out of the city, get away quick.

  The risk he had taken was beginning to appear to him as an unwarrantedpiece of recklessness; he was amazed with himself for taking such achance--disgusted at his foolish and totally unnecessary course withthis young girl. All he had had to do was to wait a few months. Hecould have married in safety then. And even now he didn't know whetheror not the ceremony performed by Parson Smawley had been an illegallylegal one; whether it made him a bigamist for the next three months oronly something worse. What on earth had possessed him to take such arisk--the terrible hazard of discovery, of losing the only woman hehad ever really cared for--the only one he probably could ever carefor? Of course, had he been free he would have married her. When hegot his freedom he would insist on another ceremony. He could persuadeher to that on some excuse or other. But in the meanwhile!

  He entered the deserted dining-room, came over to where Rue waswaiting, and sat down, heavily, holding an unlighted cigar between hisstubby fingers.

  "Well, little girl," he said with forced cheerfulness, "was I awayvery long?"

  "Not very."

  "You didn't miss me?" he inquired, ponderously playful.

  His heavy pleasantries usually left her just a little doubtful andconfused, for he seldom smiled when he delivered himself of them.

  He leaned across the cloth and laid a hot, cushiony hand over both ofhers, where they lay primly clasped on the table edge:

  "Don't you ever miss me when I'm away from you, Rue?" he asked.

  "I think--it is nice to be with you," she said, hotly embarrassed bythe publicity of his caress.

  "I don't believe you mean it." But he smiled this time. At which thelittle rigid smile stamped itself on her lips; but she timidlywithdrew her hands from his.

  "Rue, I don't believe you love me." This time there was no smile.

  She found nothing to answer, being without any experience ingive-and-take conversation, which left her always uncertain anduncomfortable.

  For the girl was merely a creature still in the making--a soft,pliable thing to be shaped to perfection only by the light touch ofsome steady, patient hand that understood--or to be marred and ruinedby a heavy hand which wrought at random or in brutal haste.

  Brandes watched her for a moment out of sleepy, greenish eyes. Then heconsulted his watch again, summoned a waiter, gave him theparcels-room checks, and bade him have a boy carry their luggage intothe lobby.

  As they rose from the table, a man and a woman entering the lobbycaught sight of them, halted, then turned and walked back toward thestreet door which they had just entered.

  Brandes had not noticed them where he stood by the desk, scratchingoff a telegram to Stull:

  "All O. K. Just going aboard. Fix it with Stein."

  He rejoined Rue as the boy appeared with their luggage; an underporter took the bags and preceded them toward the street.

  "There's the car!" said Brandes, with a deep breath of relief. "Heknows his business, that chauffeur of mine."

  Their chauffeur was standing beside the car as they emerged from thehotel and started to cross the sidewalk; the porter, following, settheir luggage on the curbstone; and at the same instant a young andpretty woman stepped lightly between Rue and Brandes.

  "Good evening, Eddie," she said, and struck him a staggering blow inthe face with her white-gloved hand.

  Brandes lost his balance, stumbled sideways, recovered himself, turnedswiftly and encountered the full, protruding black eyes of Maxy Venemstaring close and menacingly into his.

  From Brandes' cut lip blood was running down over his chin and collar;his face remained absolutely expressionless. The next moment his eyesshifted, met Ruhannah's stupefied gaze.

  "Go into the hotel," he said calmly. "Quick----"

  "Stay where you are!" interrupted Maxy Venem, and caught thespeechless and bewildered girl by the elbow.

  Like lightning Brandes' hand flew to his hip pocket, and at the sameinstant his own chauffeur seized both his heavy, short arms and heldthem rigid, pinned behind his back.

  "Frisk him!" he panted; Venem nimbly relieved him of the dull blackweapon.

  "Can the fake gun-play, Eddie," he said, coolly shoving aside theporter who attempted to interfere. "You're double-crossed. We got thegoods on you; come on; who's the girl?"

  The woman who had struck Brandes now came up again beside Venem. Shewas young, very pretty, but deathly white except for the patches ofcosmetic on either cheek. She pointed at Brandes. There was blood onher soiled and split glove:

  "You dirty dog!" she said unsteadily. "You'll marry this girl beforeI've divorced you, will you? And you think you are going to get awaywith it! You dog! You dirty dog!"

  The porter attempted to interfere again, but Venem shoved him out ofthe way. Brandes, still silently struggling to free his imprisonedarms, ceased twisting suddenly and swung his heavy head toward Venem.His hat had fallen off; his face, deeply flushed with exertion, wassmeared with blood and sweat.

  "What's the idea, you fool!" he said in a low voice. "I'm not marriedto her."

  But Ruhannah heard him say it.

  "You claim that you haven't married this girl?" demanded Venem loudly,motioning toward Rue, who stood swaying, half dead, held fast by thegathering crowd which pushed around them from every side.

  "Did you marry her or did you fake it?" repeated Venem in a loudervoice. "It's jail one way; maybe both!"

  "He married her in Gayfield at eleven this morning!" said thechauffeur. "Parson Smawley turned the trick."

  Brandes' narrow eyes glittered; he struggled for a moment, gave it up,shot a deadly glance at Maxy Venem, at his wife, at the increasingthrong crowding closely about him. Then his infuriated eyes met Rue's,and the expression of her face apparently crazed him.

  Frantic, he hurled himself backward, jerking one arm free, tripped,fell heavily with the chauffeur on top, twisting, panting, strugglingconvulsively, while all around him surged the excited crowd, shouting,pressing closer, trampling one another in eagerness to see.

  Rue, almost swooning with fear, was pushed, jostled, flung aside.Stumbling over her own suitcase, she fell to her knees, rose, and,scarce conscious of what she was about, caught up her suitcase andreeled away into the light-shot darkness.

  She had no idea of what she was doing or where she was going; theterror of the scene still remained luridly before her eyes; theshouting of the crowd was in her ears; an indescribable fear ofBrandes filled her--a growing horror of this man who had denied thathe had married her. And the instinct of a frightened and bewilderedchild drove her into blind flight, anywhere to escape this hideous,incomprehensible scene behind her.

  Hurrying on, alternately confused
and dazzled in the patches ofdarkness and flaring light, clutched at and followed by a terriblefear, she found herself halted on the curbstone of an avenue throughwhich lighted tramcars were passing. A man spoke to her, came closer;and she turned desperately and hurried across a street where otherpeople were crossing.

  From overhead sounded the roaring dissonance of an elevated train; oneither side of her phantom shapes swarmed--figures which movedeverywhere around her, now illumined by shop windows, now silhouettedagainst them. And always through the deafening confusion in her brain,the dismay, the stupefaction, one dreadful fear dominated--the fear ofBrandes--the dread and horror of this Judas who had denied her.

  She could not drive the scene from her mind--the never-to-be forgottenpicture where he stood with blood from his cut lip striping his fatchin. She heard his voice denying her through swollen lips thatscarcely moved--denying that he had married her.

  And in her ears still sounded the other voice--the terrible words ofthe woman who had struck him--an unsteady, unreal voice accusing him;and her brain throbbed with the horrible repetition: "Dirty dog--dirtydog--dirty dog----" until, almost out of her mind, she dropped her bagand clapped both hands over her ears.

  One or two men stared at her. A taxi driver came from beside his carand asked her if she was ill. But she caught up her suitcase andhurried on without answering.

  * * * * *

  She was very tired. She had come to the end of the lighted avenue.There was darkness ahead, a wall, trees, and electric lights sparklingamong the foliage.

  Perhaps the sudden glimpse of a wide and star-set sky quieted her,calmed her. Freed suddenly from the canon of the city's streets, theunreasoning panic of a trapped thing subsided a little.

  Her arm ached; she shifted the suitcase to her other hand and lookedacross at the trees and at the high stars above, striving desperatelyfor self-command.

  Something had to be done. She must find some place where she could sitdown. Where was she to find it?

  For a while she could feel her limbs trembling; but gradually theheavy thudding of her pulses quieted; nobody molested her; nobody hadfollowed her. That she was quite lost did not matter; she had alsolost this man who had denied her, somewhere in the depths of theconfusion behind her. That was all that mattered--escape from him,from the terrible woman who had struck him and reviled him.

  With an effort she checked her thoughts and struggled forself-command. Somewhere in the city there must be a railroad stationfrom which a train would take her home.

  With the thought came the desperate longing for flight, and a rush oftears that almost choked her. Nothing mattered now except her mother'sarms; the rest was a nightmare, the horror of a dream which stillthreatened, still clutched at her with shadowy and spectral menace.

  For a moment or two she stood there on the curb, her eyes closed,fighting for self-control, forcing her disorganized brain to duty.

  Somebody must help her to find a railroad station and a train. Thatgradually became clear to her. But when she realised that, a young mansauntered up beside her and looked at her so intently that hercalmness gave way and she turned her head sharply to conceal thestarting tears.

  "Hello, girlie," he said. "Got anythin' on tonight?"

  With head averted, she stood there, rigid, dumb, her tear-drenchedeyes fixed on the park; and after one or two jocose observations theyoung man became discouraged and went away. But he had thrust the fearof strangers deep into her heart; and now she dared not ask any manfor information. However, when two young women passed she foundsufficient courage to accost them, asking the direction of therailroad station from which trains departed for Gayfield.

  The women, who were young and brightly coloured in plumage, displayeda sympathetic interest at once.

  "Gayfield?" repeated the blonder of the two. "Gee, dearie, I neverheard of that place."

  "Is it on Long Island?" inquired the other.

  "No. It is in Mohawk County."

  "That's a new one, too. Mohawk County? Never heard of it; did you,Lil?"

  "Search me!"

  "Is it up-state, dearie?" asked the other. "You better go over toMadison Avenue and take a car to the Grand Central----"

  "Wait," interrupted her friend; "she better take a taxi----"

  "Nix on a taxi you pick up on Sixth Avenue!" And to Rue, curiouslysympathetic: "Say, you've got friends here, haven't you, little one?"

  "No."

  "What! You don't know anyone in New York!"

  Rue looked at her dumbly; then, of a sudden, she remembered Neeland.

  "Yes," she said, "I know one person."

  "Where does your friend live?"

  In her reticule was the paper on which he had written the address ofthe Art Students' League, and, as an afterthought, his own address.

  Rue lifted the blue silk bag, opened it, took out her purse and foundthe paper.

  "One Hundred and Six, West Fifty-fifth Street," she read; "Studio No.10."

  "Why, that isn't far!" said the blonder of the two. "We are going thatway. We'll take you there."

  "I don't know--I don't know him very well----"

  "Is it a man?"

  "Yes. He comes from my town, Gayfield."

  "Oh! I guess that's all right," said the other woman, laughing. "Yougot to be leery of these men, little one. Come on; we'll show you."

  It was only four blocks; Ruhannah presently found herself on the stepsof a house from which dangled a sign, "Studios and BachelorApartments to Let."

  "What's his name?" said the woman addressed as Lil.

  "Mr. Neeland."

  By the light of the vestibule lantern they inspected the letter boxes,found Neeland's name, and pushed the electric button.

  After a few seconds the door clicked and opened.

  "Now, you're all right!" said Lil, peering into the lighted hallway."It's on the fourth floor and there isn't any elevator that I can see,so you keep on going upstairs till your friend meets you."

  "Thank you so much for your great kindness----"

  "Don't mention it. Good luck, dearie!"

  The door clicked behind her, and Rue found herself alone.

  The stairs, flanked by a massive balustrade of some dark, polishedwood, ascended in spirals by a short series of flights and landings.Twice she rested, her knees almost giving way, for the climb upwardseemed interminable. But at last, just above her, she saw a skylight,and a great stair-window giving on a court; and, as she toiled up andstood clinging, breathless, to the banisters on the top landing, outof an open door stepped Neeland's shadowy figure, dark against thehall light behind him.

  "For heaven's sake!" he said. "What on earth----"

  The suitcase fell from her nerveless hand; she swayed a little whereshe stood.

  The next moment he had passed his arm around her, and was halfleading, half carrying her through a short hallway into a big,brilliantly lighted studio.