There was absolute silence in the library after the turning of the switch that brought the pall of darkness.Long seconds passed, then a little noise--the knob of the passage door turning.As the door swung open, there came a gasping breath from Mary, for she saw framed in the faint light that came from the single burner in the corridor the slender form of her husband, **** Gilder.In the next instant he had stepped within the room and pulled to the door behind him.And in that same instant Chicago Red had pounced on his victim, the huge hand clapped tight over the young man's mouth.Even as his powerful arm held the newcomer in an inescapable embrace, there came a sound of scuffling feet and that was all.Finally the big man's voice came triumphantly.
"I've got him."
"It's ****!" The cry came as a wail of despair from the girl.
At the same moment, Garson flashed his torch, and the light fell swiftly on young Gilder, bowed to a kneeling posture before the couch, half-throttled by the strength of Chicago Red.Close beside him, Mary looked down in wordless despair over this final disaster of the night.There was silence among the men, all of whom save the captor himself were gathered near the fireplace.
Garson retired a step farther before he spoke his command, so that, though he held the torch still, he like the others was in shadow.Only Mary was revealed clearly as she bent in alarm toward the man she had married.It was borne in on the forger's consciousness that the face of the woman leaning over the intruder was stronger to hold the prisoner and to prevent any outcry than the might of Chicago Red himself, and so he gave the order.
"Get away, Red."
The fellow let go his grip obediently enough, though with a trifle of regret, since he gloried in his physical prowess.
Thus freed of that strangling embrace, **** stumbled blindly to his feet.Then, mechanically, his hand went to the lamp on the table back of the couch.In the same moment Garson snapped his torch to darkness.When, after a little futile searching, **** finally found the catch, and the mellow streamed forth, he uttered an ejaculation of stark amazement, for his gaze was riveted on the face of the woman he loved.
"Good God!" It was a cry of torture wrung from his soul of souls.
Mary swayed toward him a little, palpitant with fear --fear for herself, for all of them, most of all for him.
"Hush! hush!" she panted warningly."Oh, ****, you don't understand."****'s hand was at his throat.It was not easy for him to speak yet.He had suffered severely in the process of being throttled, and, too, he was in the clutch of a frightful emotion.To find her, his wife, in this place, in such company--her, the woman whom he loved, whom, in spite of everything, he had honored, the woman to whom he had given his name! Mary here! And thus!
"I understand this," he said brokenly at last."Whether you ever did it before or not, this time you have broken the law." Asudden inspiration on his own behalf came to him.For his love's sake, he must seize on this opportunity given of fate to him for mastery.He went on with a new vehemence of boldness that became him well.
"You're in my hands now.So are these men as well.Unless you do as I say, Mary, I'll jail every one of them."Mary's usual quickness was not lacking even now, in this period of extremity.Her retort was given without a particle of hesitation.
"You can't," she objected with conviction."I'm the only one you've seen.""That's soon remedied," **** declared.He turned toward the hall door as if with the intention of lighting the chandelier.
But Mary caught his arm pleadingly.
"Don't, ****," she begged."It's--it's not safe.""I'm not afraid," was his indignant answer.He would have gone on, but she clung the closer.He was reluctant to use over-much force against the one whom he cherished so fondly.
There came a diversion from the man who had made the capture, who was mightily wondering over the course of events, which was wholly unlike anything in the whole of his own rather extensive housebreaking experience.
"Who's this, anyhow?" Chicago Red demanded.
There was a primitive petulance in his drawling tones.
**** answered with conciseness enough.
"I'm her husband.Who are you?"
Mary called a soft admonition.
"Don't speak, any of you," she directed."You mustn't let him hear your voices."**** was exasperated by this persistent identification of herself with these criminals in his father's house.
"You're fighting me like a coward," he said hotly.His voice was bitter.The eyes that had always been warm in their glances on her were chill now.He turned a little way from her, as if in instinctive repugnance."You are taking advantage of my love.
You think that because of it I can't make a move against these men.Now, listen to me, I----""I won't!" Mary cried.Her words were shrill with mingled emotions."There's nothing to talk about," she went on wildly.
"There never can be between you and me."
The young man's voice came with a sonorous firmness that was new to it.In these moments, the strength of him, nourished by suffering, was putting forth its flower.His manner was masterful.
"There can be and there will be," he contradicted.He raised his voice a little, speaking into the shadows where was the group of silent men.
"You men back there!" he cried."If I give you my word to let every one of you go free and pledge myself never to recognize one of you again, will you make Mary here listen to me? That's all Iask.I want a few minutes to state my case.Give me that.
Whether I win or lose, you men go free, and I'll forget everything that has happened here to-night." There came a muffled guffaw of laughter from the big chest of Chicago Red at this extraordinarily ingenuous proposal, while Dacey chuckled more quietly.
**** made a gesture of impatience at this open derision.
"Tell them I can be trusted," he bade Mary curtly.
It was Garson who answered.
