CHAPTER XXII
A MAN FROM THE ABYSS
At about the time Sanderson was entering Okar, Alva Dale was lettinghimself into the door of his office at the Bar D ranchhouse. Dale'sthoughts, because of the sensuous longing with which he had alwayslooked upon Peggy Nyland, had become abysmal. Silverthorn had warnedhim that the dragging of a woman into the plot would be fatal to theiraims, but Dale had paid no heed to Silverthorn. During the day he hadkept thinking of the girl until now he could no longer restrainhimself. His face was bestial with passion as he entered his office.
Inside the office he lighted a lamp and seated himself at his desk.There, with a pair of shears and a piece of black cloth, he fashioned amask. He donned the mask and peered at himself in a mirror, grinningwith satisfaction over the reflection. Had he not known himself forAlva Dale he would have been fooled by the covering.
Working swiftly, he changed his clothes. Then, after again looking athis reflection, he put out the light, stepped outside, locked the door,and mounted his horse.
Riding a ridge above a shallow arroyo he came upon a little level neara grove of cottonwood trees. He circled one side of the grove, and ina clearing he saw the Nyland cabin.
He had visited the cabin before, but never had he felt about it as hefelt at this moment. There had always been the presence of Ben Nylandto dampen the romantic thoughts that had beset him--for there had beena time when--if Peggy Nyland had been willing--he would have marriedher.
That time had passed. Dale grinned wickedly as he dismounted andwalked forward.
There was no light showing in any of the windows, and Dale steppedstealthily to the rear door and knocked.
There was no answer; and Dale repeated the blows. Then he grinned Withdelight as he heard Peggy's voice, high-pitched and startled, saying:
"Who's there?"
"It's me--Sanderson," he returned. "I've come for you!"
"What for?" This time there was alarm in the girl's voice, and Daleheard her walk across the floor and halt at the door. He mentallyvisualized her, standing there, one ear against the panel.
"Didn't they tell you?" he said in a hoarse voice, into which hesucceeded in getting much pretended anger. "Why, I sent a man overhere with word."
"Word about what?"
Dale heard the girl fumbling at the fastenings of the door, and he knewthat his imitation of Sanderson's voice had deceived her.
"Word that Ben was hurt," he lied. "The east train hit him as it waspullin' in. He's bad off, but the doc says he'll come around if hegets good nursin', an' that's why I've come----"
While he was talking the door burst open and Peggy appeared in theopening, her eyes wide with concern and eagerness.
She had heard Dale's first knock on the door, and knowing it wassomeone for her--perhaps Ben returning--she had begun to dress,finishing--except for her shoes and stockings--by the time she openedthe door.
In the dim light she did not at first see the mask on Dale's face, andshe was insistently demanding to be told just where Ben's injurieswere, when she detected the fraud.
Then she gasped and stepped back, trying to close the door. She wouldhave succeeded had not Dale thrust a foot into the aperture.
She stamped at his foot with her bare one ineffectually. Dale laughedat her futile efforts to keep him from opening the door. He struck anarm through the aperture, leaned his weight against the door, andpushed it open.
She was at the other side of the room when he entered, having dodgedbehind a table. He made a rush for her, but she evaded him, keepingthe table between them.
There was no word said. The girl's breath was coming in great gaspsfrom the fright and shock she had received, but Dale's was shrill andlaboring from the strength of his passions.
Reason left him as they circled around the table, and with a curse heoverturned it so that it rolled and crashed out of the way, leaving herwith no obstacle behind which to find shelter.
She ran toward the door, but Dale caught her at the threshold. Shetwisted and squirmed in his grasp, scratching him and clawing at hisface in an access of terror, and one hand finally caught the black maskcovering and tore it from his face.
"Alva Dale!" she shrieked. "Oh, you beast!"
Fighting with redoubled fury she forced him against one of the doorjambs, still scratching and clawing. Dale grasped one hand, but thefree one reached his face, the fingers sinking into the flesh andmaking a deep gash in his cheek.
The pain made a demon of Dale, and he struck her. She fell,soundlessly, her head striking the edge of a chair with a deadening,thudding crash.
Standing in the doorway looking down at her, the faint, outdoor lightshining on her face and revealing its ghastly whiteness, Dale suffereda quick reaction. He had not meant to strike so hard, he told himself;he hoped he had not killed her.
Kneeling beside her he felt her pulse and her head. The flesh underhis hand was cold as marble; the pulse--if there was any--was notperceptible. Dale examined the back of her head, where it had struckthe chair. He got up, his face ashen and convulsed with horror.
"Good Lord!" he muttered hoarsely, "she's dead--or dying. I've done itnow!"