CHAPTER XIII
In that moment Kent did not speak. He made no sound. He gave no sign ofwelcome, but stood in the middle of his cell, staring. If life had hungupon speech in those few seconds, he would have died, but everything hewould have said, and more, was in his face. The girl must have seen it.With her two hands she was gripping at the bars of the cell and lookingthrough at him. Kent saw that her face was pale in the lamp glow. Inthat pallor her violet eyes were like pools of black. The hood of herdripping raincoat was thrown partly back, and against the whiteness ofher cheeks her hair glistened wet, and her long lashes were heavy withthe rain.
Kent, without moving over the narrow space between them, reached outhis hands and found his voice. "Marette!"
Her hands had tightened about the bars until they were bloodless. Herlips were parted. She was breathing quickly, but she did not smile; shemade no response to his greeting, gave no sign even of recognition.What happened after that was so sudden and amazing that his heartstopped dead still. Without warning she stepped back from the cell andbegan to scream and then drew away from him, still facing him and stillscreaming, as if something had terrified her.
Kent heard the crash of a chair in the detachment office, excitedvoices, and the running of feet. Marette Radisson had withdrawn to thefar corner of the alcove, and as Carter and Pelly ran toward her, shestood, a picture of horror, pointing at Kent's cell. The two constablesrushed past her. Close behind them followed the special officerdetailed to take Kent to Edmonton.
Kent had not moved. He was like one petrified. Close up against thebars came the faces of Pelly, Carter, and the special constable, filledwith the expressions of men who had expected to look in upon tragedy.And then, behind their backs, Kent saw the other thing happen. Swift asa flash Marette Radisson's hand went in and out of her raincoat, and atthe backs of the three men she was leveling a revolver! Not only didKent see that swift change, but the still swifter change that came intoher face. Her eyes shot to his just once, and they were filled with alaughing, exultant fire. With one mighty throb Kent's heart seemed toleap out through the bars of his prison, and at the look in his faceand eyes Carter swung suddenly around.
"Please don't make any disturbance, gentlemen," said Marette Radisson."The first man that makes a suspicious move, I shall kill!"
Her voice was calm and thrilling. It had a deadly ring in it. Therevolver in her hand was held steadily. It was a slim-barreled, blackthing. The very color of it was menacing. And behind it were the girl'seyes, pools of flame. The three men were facing them now, shocked tospeechlessness. Automatically they seemed to obey her command to throwup their hands. Then she leveled her grim little gun straight atPelly's heart.
"You have the key," she said. "Unlock the cell!" Felly fumbled andproduced the key. She watched him closely. Then suddenly the specialconstable dropped his arms with a coarse laugh. "A pretty trick," hesaid, "but the bluff won't work!"
"Oh, but it will!" came the reply.
The little black gun was shifted to him, even as the constable'sfingers touched his revolver holster. With half-smiling lips, Marette'seyes blazed at him.
"Please put up your hands," she commanded.
The constable hesitated; then his fingers gripped the butt of his gun.Kent, holding his breath, saw the almost imperceptible tensing ofMarette's body and the wavering of Pelly's arms over his head. Anothermoment and he, too, would have called the bluff if it were that. Butthat moment did not come. From the slim, black barrel of the girl'srevolver leaped forth a sudden spurt of smoke and flame, and thespecial constable lurched back against the cell bars, caught himself ashe half fell, and then stood with his pistol arm hanging limp anduseless at his side. He had not made a sound, but his face was twistedin pain.
"Open the cell door!"
A second time the deadly-looking little gun was pointed straight atPelly's heart. The half-smile was gone from the girl's lips now. Hereyes blazed a deeper fire. She was breathing quickly, and she leaned alittle toward Pelly, repeating her command. The words were partlydrowned in a sudden crash of thunder. But Pelly understood. He saw herlips form the words, and half heard,
"Open the door, or I shall kill you!"
He no longer hesitated. The key grated in the lock, and Kent himselfflung the door wide open and sprang out. He was quick to see and seizeupon opportunity and swift to act. The astounding audacity of thegirl's ruse, her clever acting in feigning horror to line the guards upat the cell door and the thrilling decisiveness with which she had usedthe little black gun in her hand set every drop of blood in his bodyafire. No sooner was he outside his cell than he was the old Jim Kent,fighting man. He whipped Carter's automatic out of its holster and,covering Pelly and the special constable, relieved them of their guns.Behind him he heard Marette's voice, calm and triumphant,
"Lock them in the cell, Mr. Kent!"
He did not look at her, but swung his gun on Pelly and the specialconstable, and they backed through the door into the cell. Carter hadnot moved. He was looking straight at the girl, and the little blackgun was leveled at his breast. Pelly and the wounded man did not see,but on Carter's lips was a strange smile. His eyes met Kent's, andthere was revealed for an instant a silent flash of comradeship and anunmistakable something else. Carter was glad! It made Kent want toreach out and grip his hand, but in place of that he backed him intothe cell, turned the key in the lock, and with the key in his handfaced Marette Radisson. Her eyes were shining gloriously. He had neverseen such splendid, fighting eyes, nor the birdlike swiftness withwhich she turned and ran down the hall, calling him to follow her.
He was only a step behind her in passing Kedsty's office. She reachedthe outer door and opened it. It was pitch-dark outside, and a delugeof rain beat into their faces. He observed that she did not replace thehood of her raincoat when she darted out. As he closed the door, herhand groped to his arm and from that found his hand. Her fingers clungto his tightly.
He did not ask questions as they faced the black chaos of rain. Arending streak of lightning revealed her for an instant, her bare headbowed to the wind. Then came a crash of thunder that shook the earthunder their feet, and her fingers closed more tightly about his hand.And in that crash he heard her voice, half laughing, half broken,saying,
"I'm afraid--of thunder!"
In that storm his laugh rang out, a great, free, joyous laugh. Hewanted to stop in that instant, sweep her up into his arms, and carryher. He wanted to shout like an insane man in his mad joy. And a momentbefore she had risked everything in facing three of the bravest men inthe service and had shot one of them! He started to say something, butshe increased her speed until she was almost running.
She was not leading Jim in the direction of the river, but toward theforest beyond Kedsty's bungalow. Not for an instant did she falter inthat drenched and impenetrable darkness. There was something imperativein the clasp of her fingers, even though they tightened perceptiblywhen the thunder crashed. They gave Kent the conviction that there wasno doubt in her mind as to the point she was striving for. He tookadvantage of the lightning, for each time it gave him a glimpse of herbare, wet head bowed to the storm, her white profile, and her slimfigure fighting over the sticky earth under her feet.
It was this presence of her, and not the thought of escape, thatexalted him now. She was at his side. Her hand lay close in his. Thelightning gave him glimpses of her. He felt the touch of her shoulder,her arm, her body, as they drew close together. The life and warmth andthrill of her seemed to leap into his own veins through the hand heheld. He had dreamed of her. And now suddenly she had become a part ofhim, and the glory of it rode overwhelmingly over all other emotionsthat were struggling in his brain--the glory of the thought that it wasshe who had come to him in the last moment, who had saved him, and whowas now leading him to freedom through the crash of storm.
At the crest of a low knoll between barracks and Kedsty's bungalow shestopped for the first time. He had there, again, the almostirresistible impulse to reach ou
t in the darkness and take her into hisarms, crying out to her of his joy, of a happiness that had come to himgreater even than the happiness of freedom. But he stood, holding herhand, his tongue speechless, and he was looking at her when thelightning revealed her again. In a rending flash it cut open the nightso close that the hiss of it was like the passing of a giant rocket,and involuntarily she shrank against him, and her free hand caught hisarm at the instant thunder crashed low over their heads. His own handgroped out, and in the blackness it touched for an instant her wet faceand then her drenched hair.
"Marette," he cried, "where are we going?"
"Down there," came her voice.
Her hand had left his arm, and he sensed that she was pointing, thoughhe could not see. Ahead of them was a chaotic pit of gloom, a sea ofblackness, and in the heart of that sea he saw a light. He knew that itwas a lamp in one of Kedsty's windows and that Marette was guidingherself by that light when she started down the slope with her handstill in his. That she had made no effort to withdraw it made himunconscious of the almost drowning discomfort of the fresh deluge ofrain that beat their faces. One of her fingers had gripped itselfconvulsively about his thumb, like a child afraid of falling. And eachtime the thunder crashed that soft hold on his thumb tightened, andKent's soul acclaimed.
They drew swiftly nearer to the light, for it was not far from theknoll to Kedsty's place. Kent's mind leaped ahead. A little west bynorth from the inspector's bungalow was Kim's Bayou and it wasundoubtedly to the forest trail over which she had gone at least oncebefore, on the night of the mysterious assault upon Mooie, that Marettewas leading him. Questions began to rush upon him now, immediatedemanding questions. They were going to the river. They must be goingto the river. It was the quickest and surest way of escape. Had Maretteprepared for that? And was she going with him?
He had no time to answer. Their feet struck the gravel path leading tothe door of Kedsty's place, and straight up this path the girl turned,straight toward the light blazing in the window. Then, to hisamazement, he heard in the sweep of storm her voice crying out in gladtriumph,
"We're home!"
Home! His breath came in a sudden gulp. He was more than astounded. Hewas shocked. Was she mad or playing an amazingly improper joke? She hadfreed him from a cell to lead him to the home of the Inspector ofPolice, the deadliest enemy the world now held for him. He stopped, andMarette Radisson tugged at his hand, pulling him after her, insistingthat he follow. She was clutching his thumb as though she thought hemight attempt to escape.
"It is safe, M'sieu Jeems," she cried. "Don't be afraid!"
M'sieu Jeems! And the laughing note of mockery in her voice! He ralliedhimself and followed her up the three steps to the door. Her hand foundthe latch, the door opened, and swiftly they were inside. The lamp inthe window was close to them, but for a space he could not see becauseof the water in his eyes. He blinked it out, drew a hand across hisface, and looked at Marette. She stood three or four paces from him.Her face was very white, and she was panting as if hard-run for breath,but her eyes were shining, and she was smiling at him. The water wasrunning from her in streams.
"You are wet," she said. "And I am afraid you will catch cold. Comewith me!"
Again she was making fun of him just as she had made fun of him atCardigan's! She turned, and he ran upstairs behind her. At the top shewaited for him, and as he came up, she reached out her hand, as ifapologizing for having taken it from him when they entered thebungalow. He held it again as she led him down the hall to a doorfarthest from the stair. This she opened, and they entered. It was darkinside, and the girl withdrew her hand again, and Kent heard her movingacross the room. In that darkness a new and thrilling emotion possessedhim. The air he was breathing was not the air he had breathed in thehall. In it was the sweet scent of flowers, and of something else--thefaint and intangible perfume of a woman's room. He waited, staring. Hiseyes were wide when a match leaped into flame in Marette's fingers.Then he stood in the glow of a lamp.
He continued to stare in the stupidity of a shock to which he was notaccustomed. Marette, as if to give him time to acquaint himself withhis environment, was taking off her raincoat. Under it her slim littlefigure was dry, except where the water had run down from her uncoveredhead to her shoulders. He noticed that she wore a short skirt, andboots, adorably small boots of splendidly worked caribou. And thensuddenly she came toward him with both hands reaching out to him.
"Please shake hands and say you're glad," she said. "Don't lookso--so--frightened. This is my room and you are safe here."
He held her hands tight, staring into the wonderful, violet eyes thatwere looking at him with the frank and unembarrassed directness of achild's. "I--I don't understand," he struggled. "Marette, where isKedsty?"
"He should be returning very soon."
"And he knows you are here, of course?"
She nodded. "I have been here for a month."
Kent's hands closed tighter about hers. "I--I don't understand," herepeated. "Tonight Kedsty will know that it was you who rescued me andyou who shot Constable Willis. Good God, we must lose no time ingetting away!"
"There is great reason why Kedsty dare not betray my presence in hishouse," she said quietly. "He would die first! And he will not suspectthat I have brought you to my room, that an escaped murderer is hidingunder the very roof of the Inspector of Police! They will search foryou everywhere but here! Isn't it splendid? He planned it all, everymove, even to the screaming in front of your cell--"
"You mean--Kedsty?"
She withdrew her hands and stepped back from him, and again he saw inher eyes a flash of the fire that had come into them when she leveledher gun at the three men in the prison alcove. "No, not Kedsty. Hewould hang you, and he would kill me, if he dared. I mean that great,big, funny-looking friend of yours, M'sieu Fingers!"
The Valley of Silent Men Page 14
