Initials Only [101]
He had but to pull a cord and a veil would fall before his treasure, concealing it as effectually as an Eastern bride is concealed behind her yashmak.
Stepping to the wall, he drew that cord, then with an impatient sigh, returned to the door.
Another quiet but insistent knock greeted him. In no fury now, but with a vague sense of portent which gave an aspect of farewell to the one quick glance he cast about the well-known spot, he fitted the key in the lock, and stood ready to turn it.
"I ask again your name and your business," he shouted out in loud command. "Tell them or -" He meant to say, "or I do not turn this key." But something withheld the threat. He knew that it would perish in the utterance; that he could not carry it out. He would have to open the door now, response or no response. "Speak!" was the word with which he finished his demand.
A final knock.
Pulling a pistol from his pocket, with his left hand, he turned the key with his right.
The door remained unopened.
Stepping slowly back, he stared at its unpainted boards for a moment, then he spoke up quietly, almost courteously:
"Enter."
But the command passed unheeded; the latch was not raised, and only the slightest tap was heard.
With a bound he reached forward and pulled the door open. Then a great silence fell upon him and a rigidity as of the grave seized and stiffened his powerful frame.
The man confronting him from the darkness was Sweetwater.
XXXV
THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT
An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; then, Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the pistol lightly remarked:
"Mr. Challoner and other men at the hotel are acquainted with my purpose and await my return. I have come -" here he cast a glowing look at the huge curtain cutting off the greater portion of the illy-lit interior -" to offer you my services, Mr. Brotherson. I have no other motive for this intrusion than to be of use. I am deeply interested in your invention, to the development of which I have already lent some aid, and can bring to the test you propose a sympathetic help which you could hardly find in any other person living."
The silence which settled down at the completion of these words had a weight which made that of the previous moment seem light and all athrob with sound. The man within had not yet caught his breath; the man without held his, in an anxiety which had little to do with the direction of the weapon, into which he looked. Then an owl hooted far away in the forest, and Orlando, slowly lowering his arm, asked in an oddly constrained tone:
"How long have you been in town?"
The answer cut clean through any lingering hope he may have had.
"Ever since the day your brother was told the story of his great misfortune."
"Ah! still at your old tricks! I thought you had quit that business as unprofitable."
"I don't know. I never expect quick returns. He who holds on for a rise sometimes reaps unlooked-for profits."
The arm and fist of Orlando Brotherson ached to hurl this fellow back into the heart of the midnight woods.
But they remained quiescent and he spoke instead I have buried the business. You will never resuscitate it through me."
Sweetwater smiled. There was no mirth in his smile though there was lightness in his tone as said:
"Then let us go back to the matter in hand. You need a helper; where are you going to find one if you don't take me?"
A growl from Brotherson's set lips. Never had he looked more dangerous than in the one burning instant following this daring repetition of the detective's outrageous request. But as he noted how slight was the figure opposing him from the other side of the threshold, he was swayed by his natural admiration of pluck in the physically weak, and lost his threatening attitude, only to assume one which Sweetwater secretly found it even harder to meet.
"You are a fool," was the stinging remark he heard flung at him. "Do you want to play the police-officer here and arrest
Stepping to the wall, he drew that cord, then with an impatient sigh, returned to the door.
Another quiet but insistent knock greeted him. In no fury now, but with a vague sense of portent which gave an aspect of farewell to the one quick glance he cast about the well-known spot, he fitted the key in the lock, and stood ready to turn it.
"I ask again your name and your business," he shouted out in loud command. "Tell them or -" He meant to say, "or I do not turn this key." But something withheld the threat. He knew that it would perish in the utterance; that he could not carry it out. He would have to open the door now, response or no response. "Speak!" was the word with which he finished his demand.
A final knock.
Pulling a pistol from his pocket, with his left hand, he turned the key with his right.
The door remained unopened.
Stepping slowly back, he stared at its unpainted boards for a moment, then he spoke up quietly, almost courteously:
"Enter."
But the command passed unheeded; the latch was not raised, and only the slightest tap was heard.
With a bound he reached forward and pulled the door open. Then a great silence fell upon him and a rigidity as of the grave seized and stiffened his powerful frame.
The man confronting him from the darkness was Sweetwater.
XXXV
THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT
An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; then, Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the pistol lightly remarked:
"Mr. Challoner and other men at the hotel are acquainted with my purpose and await my return. I have come -" here he cast a glowing look at the huge curtain cutting off the greater portion of the illy-lit interior -" to offer you my services, Mr. Brotherson. I have no other motive for this intrusion than to be of use. I am deeply interested in your invention, to the development of which I have already lent some aid, and can bring to the test you propose a sympathetic help which you could hardly find in any other person living."
The silence which settled down at the completion of these words had a weight which made that of the previous moment seem light and all athrob with sound. The man within had not yet caught his breath; the man without held his, in an anxiety which had little to do with the direction of the weapon, into which he looked. Then an owl hooted far away in the forest, and Orlando, slowly lowering his arm, asked in an oddly constrained tone:
"How long have you been in town?"
The answer cut clean through any lingering hope he may have had.
"Ever since the day your brother was told the story of his great misfortune."
"Ah! still at your old tricks! I thought you had quit that business as unprofitable."
"I don't know. I never expect quick returns. He who holds on for a rise sometimes reaps unlooked-for profits."
The arm and fist of Orlando Brotherson ached to hurl this fellow back into the heart of the midnight woods.
But they remained quiescent and he spoke instead I have buried the business. You will never resuscitate it through me."
Sweetwater smiled. There was no mirth in his smile though there was lightness in his tone as said:
"Then let us go back to the matter in hand. You need a helper; where are you going to find one if you don't take me?"
A growl from Brotherson's set lips. Never had he looked more dangerous than in the one burning instant following this daring repetition of the detective's outrageous request. But as he noted how slight was the figure opposing him from the other side of the threshold, he was swayed by his natural admiration of pluck in the physically weak, and lost his threatening attitude, only to assume one which Sweetwater secretly found it even harder to meet.
"You are a fool," was the stinging remark he heard flung at him. "Do you want to play the police-officer here and arrest