CHAPTER XXI
A CRISIS
Like Norton, Virginia found life simplifying itself in a crisis. Uponthree hundred and sixty days or more of the average year eachindividual has before him scores of avenues open to his thoughts or tohis act; he may turn wheresoever he will. But in the supreme momentsof his life, with brief time for hesitation granted him, he may beforced to do one of two things: he must leap back or plunge forward toescape the destiny rushing down upon him like a speeding enginethreatening him who has come to stand upon the crossing. Now Virginiasaw clearly that she must submit to Norton's mastery and remain silentin the King's Palace or she must seek to escape and tell what she knewor . . . Was there a remaining alternative? If so it must presentitself as clearly as the others. Action was stripped down toessentials, bared to its component elements. True vision mustnecessarily result, since no side issues cluttered the view.
She sat upon a saddle-blanket upon the rock floor of the main chamberof the series of ancient dwelling-rooms, staring at the fire whichNorton had builded against a wall where it might not be seen fromwithout. The horses were in the meadow down by the stream; she andNorton had tethered them among the trees where they were fairly freefrom the chance of being seen. Norton was coming up, mounting thedeep-worn steps in the cliff side. He had gone for water; he had notbeen out of sight nor away five minutes. And yet when she looked up tosee him coming through the irregular doorway she had decided.
She saw in him both the man and the gentleman. Her anger had died downlong ago, smothered in the ashes of her distress; now she summoned tothe fore all that she might in extenuation of what he did. She did notblame him for the crimes which she knew he had committed because shewas so confident that the chief crime of all had been the act resultingfrom Caleb Patten's abysmal ignorance. Nor now could she blame Nortonthat, embarked upon this flood of his life, he saw himself forced tomake her his prisoner for a few hours. It was a man's birthright toprotect himself, to guard his freedom. And her heart gave him highpraise that toward her he acted with all deference, that with things asthey were, while he was man enough to hold her here, he was too muchthe gentleman to make love to her. Would she have resisted, would shehave opposed calm argument against a hot avowal? She did not know.
"Virginia," he said gravely as he slumped down upon the far side of thefire, "I feel the brute. But . . ."
Yes, she had decided, fully decided, whether if be for better or forworse. Now she surprised him with one of her quick, bright, friendlysmiles while she interrupted:
"Let us make the best of a bad situation," she said swiftly. "I am notunhappy right now; I have no wish to run half-way to meet anyunhappiness which may be coming our way. You are not the brute towardme; what you do, I do not so much as censure you for. I am not goingto quarrel with you; were I in your boots I imagine I'd do just exactlyas you are doing. I hope I'd be as nice about it, too. And now,before we drop the subject for good and all, let me say this: no matterwhat I do, should it even be the betraying you into the hands of yourenemies, to put it quite tragically, I want you to know that I wish youwell and that is why I do it. Can you understand me?"
"Yes," he said slowly. "It's sweet of you, Virginia. If you got mygun and shot my head off, I don't know who should blame you. Ishouldn't!" he concluded with a forced attempt to match her smile.
"Then we understand each other? As long as each does the best he cansee his way to do, the other finds no fault?" And when he nodded sherose quickly and came to him, putting out her hand as he rose. "RodNorton," she said simply, and her eyes shone steady and clear into his,"I wish you the best there is. I think we should both pray a little toGod to help us to-night. . . . And now, if you will run up to yourTreasure Chamber and bring down the coffee, I'll promise to be herewhen you get back. And to make you a good hot drink; I feel the needof it and so do you."
He went out without an answer, his face grave and troubled again. Asher eyes followed him they were no longer gay but wistful, and thenfilled with a sadness which she had not shown to him, and then suddenlywet. But before he had gone half a dozen steps from the door shedashed a hasty hand across her eyes and went swiftly to the smallest ofthe three black leather cases he had brought up here after her.
"This is the one way out, Rod Norton!" she whispered. "The one way outif God is with us."
Her quick fingers sought and found the tiny phial with its small whitetablets . . . labelled _Hyoscine_ . . . and secreted it in her bosom.She was laying fresh twigs upon the blaze when he came back with thecoffee-pot, can of coffee, and a tin cup. She greeted him with anotherquick smile. He saw that her cheeks were flushed rosily, that therewas subdued excitement in her eyes. And yet matters just as they werewould sufficiently explain these phenomena without causing him to questfarther. He thought merely that he had never seen her so delightfullypretty.
"Virginia Page," he told her as his own eyes grew bright with the newlight leaping up into them, "some day . . ."
"Sh!" she commanded, her color deepened. "Let us wait until that daycomes. Now you just obey orders; lie there and smoke while I make thecoffee."
He wanted to wait on her, but when she insisted he withdrew to the walla few feet away, sat down, filled his pipe, and watched her. And whilehe filled his eyes with her he marvelled afresh. For it seemed to himthat her mood was one of unqualified happiness. She did all of thetalking, her words came in a ceaseless bright flow, she laughed readilyand often, her eyes were dancing, the warm color stood high in hercheeks. That her heart was beating like mad, that the intoxication ofan intent he could not read had swept into her brain, that she wasvastly more in the mood to weep than to smile . . . all of this layhidden to him behind her woman's wit. For, having decided, there wouldbe no going back.
With the coffee boiling in the old black and spoutless pot fromNorton's cache in the Treasure Chamber, she poured what was left of theground coffee from its tin to the flat surface of a bit of stone. Thistin was to serve Norton as his cup.
"It's to be our night-cap," she laughed at him as she put theimprovised cup by the other. "I refuse to sit up any later; asaddle-blanket for bunk, and then to sleep. That is my room yonder,isn't it?" She nodded toward the black entrance to the second of thechambers of the King's Palace. "And you will sleep here? Well, whilethe coffee cools, I'm going to make my bed." She carried her blanketon past him, was gone into the yawning darkness, was back in a moment.
"My bed's ready," she told him gayly. "This kind of housekeeping justsuits me! Now for the coffee. . . . Rod Norton, will you do as youare told or not? You are to sit still and let me wait on you; who'shostess here, I'd like to know?"
While out of his sight she had slipped one of the hyoscine tablets intoher palm; now, as she poured the ink-black beverage, she let it dropinto the tin can which she presented to Norton.
"Don't say it doesn't taste right!" she admonished him in a voice inwhich at last he detected the nervous note.
He stood up, holding his coffee-can in his hand, meeting her strainedlevity with a deep gravity.
"Virginia," he began.
"It's too late to cut in on my monologue!" she cried gayly. "Pledge mein the drink I have made for you, Mr. Norton! Just say: 'Virginia,here's looking at you!' Or: 'I wish you well in all that youundertake.' Or: 'For all that you have said to me, for whatever youmay say or do in the future, I forgive you!' That's all."
"Virginia," he said gently, "I love you, my dear."
She laughed nervously.
"That's the nice way to say everything all at once!" He saw that herhand shook, that a little of her coffee spilled, and that again shegrew steady. "Now our night-cap and good night!"
She drank hurriedly. Thereafter she yawned and made her littlepretense of increased drowsiness.
"It's been such a long day," she said. "You'll forgive me if I tumbleright straight into sleepy-land?"
Again they said good night and she left him, going down among the ee
riedancing shadows to her own quarter, drawing his moody eyes after her.When she had gone, he threw down his own blanket across the mainentrance of the King's Palace, filled his pipe again, and sat staringout into the night.
The fire cast up its red flare spasmodically, licked at the last of thedead branches which, rolling apart, burned out upon the rock floor.The darkness once more blotted out all detail saving the fewsmouldering coals, the knobs of stone in the small flickering circlesof light, the quiet form of the man silhouetted against the lesser darkof the night without. Virginia, rigid and motionless at the spot towhich she had stolen noiselessly, watched him breathlessly.
For only a little he sat smoking. Then, as though he experiencedsomething of that weariness of which she had made pretense, he laid hispipe aside and stretched out upon his blanket, leaning upon an elbow.She heard him sigh, vaguely made out when he let his head slip downupon an arm, saw that he had grown still, and was lying stretched outacross the main threshold.
Now she must stand motionless while every fibre of her being demandedaction; now she must curb impetuosity to the call of caution. As theseconds passed, all but insupportable in their tedious slowness, shestood rigid and tense, waiting. But soon she knew that the drug hadhad its will with him, that he was steeped in deep sleep, that nolonger must she wait, that now at length she might act.
Carrying her saddle-blanket she came to him and stood quietly lookingdown into his upturned face. At last she could let the tears burstinto her eyes unchecked, now she could suddenly go down on her kneesbeside him, for an instant laying her cheek lightly against his in thefirst caress. Would it be the last? He stirred a little and sighedagain. She drew back, still upon her knees again breathlessly rigid.But his stupor clung heavily to him, and she knew that it would holdhim thus for hours.
A score of burning questions clamoring in her mind she disposed ofbriefly, since time was of the essence.
"If I let you have your way, Rod Norton," she whispered, "you will goon from crime to tragedy. If I hand you over to the law, I will bebetraying you for no end; for your type of man finds the way to breakjail and so force his own hand to further violence. There is the oneway out. . . . And God help me to succeed. God forgive me if I fail!"
She stole by him and stepped upon the outer ledge. She was leaving himhelpless . . . the thought presented itself that she would have anotherthing to answer for if one of the many men with such cause to hate himshould come upon him thus. Well, that was but one of the more remotechances she must take. There was scant enough likelihood that any oneshould come here before she could race into Las Estrellas and back.
Then it was that she saw Patten. She did not know at first that it wasPatten, but just that within a few feet of her upon the ledge which shemust travel to the steps a man was standing, his body jerking back,pressed against the rocks as he saw her. She drew back swiftly, herblood in riotous tumult.
But now, above aught else, the one thought in her mind was that therewas no time for loitering, that the dawn would come all too soon, thatthere must be no delay. She stooped quickly and drew from its holsterNorton's heavy revolver. Her saddle-blanket over her left arm, the gungripped in her right hand, she was once more upon the ledge, movingcautiously toward the figure seen a moment ago, gone now.
That it was Patten she knew only when she had gone down the steps andhad overtaken him there. Retreating thus far, reassured when he hadmade out that it was the girl alone, he waited for her. And as shedemanded nervously, "Who is it?" it was Patten's disagreeable laughwhich answered her.
"So," he jeered at her, "this is the sort of thing you do when you aresupposed to be out on a case all night!"
Patten here! Had God sent him . . . or the devil? His insult shepassed over. She was not thinking of herself right now, of convention,of wagging tongues. She was just seeking to understand how this latestincident might simplify or make more complex her problem.
"I've had my suspicions all along," he laughed evilly. "To-night Ifollowed and made sure. And now, my fine little white dove, what haveyou to say for yourself?"
Might she use Patten? She was but now on her way to Las Estrellas foraid. She would operate herself, she would take that upon herself, withno more regard for ethics than for Patten's gossiping tongue. Shebelieved that she could do it successfully; at the least she must makethe attempt, though Norton died under her hand. The right? She hadthe right! The right because she loved him, because he loved her,because his whole future was at stake. But she must have assistance sothat she submit him to no needless danger, so that she give him everychance under such circumstances as these. She would have brought a manfrom Las Estrellas, she would have let him think what pleased him, justsaying that Norton had met with an accident, that an operation wasnecessary. And now Patten was here.
Could she use him?
"You followed us?" she said, gaining time for her thoughts.
"Yes; I followed you. I saw you come here. I watched while heunsaddled, how he came up to you. What I could not see through therock walls I could guess! And now . . ."
"Well, now?" she repeated after him, so that Patten must have marvelledat her lack of emotion. "Now what?"
"Now," he spat at her venomously, "I think I have found the fact toshut Roderick Norton's blabbing mouth for him!"
"I don't understand . . ."
"You don't? You mean that he hasn't done any talking to you about me?"
"Oh!" And now suddenly she did understand. "You mean how you are notCaleb Patten at all but Charles? How you are no physician but liableto prosecution for illegal practising?"
Could she use him or could she not? That was what she was thinking,over and over.
"Where is he?" demanded Patten a little suspiciously. "What is hedoing? What are you doing out here alone?"
"He is asleep," she told him.
Patten laughed again.
"Your little parties are growing commonplace then!"
"Charles Patten," she cut in coolly, "I have stood enough of yourinsult. Be still a moment and let me think."
He stared at her but for a little; his own mind busy, was silent.Could she make use of this blind instrument which fate had thrust intoher hand? She began to believe that she could.
"Charles Patten," she went on, a new vigor in her tone, "Mr. Nortonknows enough concerning you to make you a deal of trouble. Just howlong a term in the State prison he can get for you I don't know.But . . ."
"Haven't I found the way to shut his mouth!" he said sharply.
"I think not. Before your slanders could travel far we could havefound Father Jose and have been married. But let me finish. You havepractised here for upward of two years, haven't you? You have mademoney, you have a ranch of your own. That is one thing to keep inmind. The other is that more than one of your patients have died. Ibelieve, Charles Patten, that it would be a simple matter to have thedistrict attorney convict you of murder. That's the second thing toremember."
Patten shifted uneasily. Then she knew that it had been God who hadsent him. When he sought to bluster, she cut him short.
"In the morning, as soon as there is light enough," she said, wonderingat her own calmness, "I am going to perform a capital operation uponMr. Norton. It will be without his knowledge and consent. If he livesand you will give up your practice and retire to your ranch or whatbusiness pleases you, I will guarantee that he does not prosecute youfor what has passed. If he dies . . ."
"If he dies"--he snatched the words from her--"it will be murder!"
". . . you would be free from prosecution," she continued, quite asthough he had made no interruption, "I rather imagine that I shoulddie, too. And, as you say, I would be liable for murder. He is asleepnow because I have drugged him. I shall chloroform him before hewakes. I should have no defense in the law-courts. Yes, it would bemurder."
He drew a step back from her as though from one suddenly gone mad.
"What are you operating fo
r?" he demanded.
"For your blunder," she said simply. "And you are going to help me."
"Am I?" he jeered. "Not by a damned sight! If you think that I amgoing to let myself in for that sort of thing . . ."
Until now he had not seen the gun in her hand. Her quick gestureshowed it to him.
"Charles Patten," she told him emphatically, "I am risking Mr. Norton'slife; I am therefore risking my own. Understand what that means.Understand just what you have got to win or lose by to-night's work.Consider that I pledge you my word not to implicate you in what you do;that if worse came to worse, you could claim and I would admit that youwere forced at the point of a gun to do as I told you. Oh, I can shootstraight! And finally, I will shoot straight, as God watches me,rather than let you go now and stop what I have undertaken! Think ofit well, Charles Patten!"
Patten, being as weak of mind as he was pudgy of hand, having besidesthat peculiar form of craft which is vouchsafed his type, furthermoremore or less of a coward, saw matters quite as Virginia wished him.Together they awaited the coming of the dawn. The girl, realizing tothe uttermost what lay before her, forced herself to rest, lying stillunder the stars, schooling herself to the steady-nerved action whichwas to have its supreme test.
Just before the dawn they had coffee and a bite to eat from Norton'slittle pack. Close to the drugged man they builded a rude low table bydragging the squared blocks of fallen stone from their place by thewall. Upon this Virginia placed the saddle-blankets, neatly folded.Already Patten was showing signs of nervousness. Looking into her facehe saw that it was white and drawn but very calm. Patten was askinghimself countless questions, many of them impossible of answer yet.She was closing her mind to everything but the one supreme matter.
He helped her give the chloroform when she told him that there wassufficient light and that she was ready. He brought water, placedinstruments, stood by to do what she told him. His nervousness hadgrown into fear; he started now and then, jerking about guiltily, asthough he foresaw an interruption.
Together they got Norton's inert form upon the folded blankets.Patten's hands shook a little; he asked for a sip of brandy from herflask. She granted it, and while Patten drank she cut away the hairfrom the unconscious man's scalp. Long ago her fingers had made theirexamination, were assured that her diagnosis was correct. Her handswere as untrembling as the steel of her knife. She made the firstincision, drawing back the flap of skin and flesh, revealing the boneof the skull. . . .
For forty-five minutes she worked, her hands swift, sure, capable,unerring. It was done. She was right. The under-table of the skullhad been fractured; there was the bone pressure upon the underlyingarea of brain-tissue. She had removed the pressure and with it anytrue pathological cause of the theft impulse.
She drew a bandage about the sleeping eyes. She made Patten bring hisown saddle-blanket; it was fixed across the entrance of the anteroom ofthe King's Palace, darkening it. Then she went to the ledge justoutside and stood there, staring with wide eyes across the littlemeadow with its flowers and birds and water, down the slope of themountain, to the miles of desert. She had now but to await theawakening.