The Rose in the Ring

G >> George Barr McCutcheon >> The Rose in the Ring

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"We'll wait for Dick," observed the Colonel coolly. He took his time
to light a long cigar, the hunchback looking on with curiosity and
doubt in his shifty eyes. Then he handed a cigar to his guest. "Have a
cigar. I'd offer you a drink, only I don't believe in drinking between
friends. Only enemies drink to each other, Ernie. Bear that in mind.
Unconscious enemies."

"I don't drink," was the surly rejoinder.

Precisely ten minutes later Colonel Grand got up from his chair. In
three strides he was at the door; he turned the key and--

There was Dick Cronk leaning against the wall on the opposite side of
the hallway, his hands in his pockets, his long legs crossed, his
"dicer" on the back of his head. There was no evidence of surprise or
confusion in his face; he was as composed, as serene, as if the
expected had occurred. A bland smile greeted the triumphant Colonel.

"Evening, Colonel. Have you seen anything of a lost boy around here?"

The other stood aside, giving him a fair view of the room. "Come in,
Dick. I've been expecting you," he said quietly.

Dick stared for a second or two longer than he might have done under
less trying conditions.

"No, thanks. I'll wait out here," he said dryly. He did not change his
attitude in the least.

"We've been waiting for you," said the Colonel. "We can't proceed
without you. Do me the honor to step into my parlor." He bowed very
deeply.

"'Said the spider to the fly,'" quoth Dick, shifting his foot.

Ernie appeared behind Colonel Grand. He indicated by a significant
motion of his head that Dick was to enter, and without delay. Slowly
the long pickpocket unwound his legs. He then removed his hands from
his pockets, after which he coolly strode into the room. The door was
closed quickly after him. There was an inscrutable smile on his face,
even before the sharp exclamation of concern fell from the lips of
Colonel Grand.

"I've got the key here in my hand, Colonel," he observed, with his
gentlest smile. The older man glared for a moment and then broke into
a short, even admiring laugh.

"You are a wonder, Dick. You must have wished it out of the door. I'll
swear my hand hasn't been off the knob since I opened it a minute ago.
How do you do it?"

"Simple twist of the wrist--_presto visto_, as the feller'd say. Don't
worry. I'll leave it in the door when I depart. And say, while we're
exchanging compliments, allow me to hand you one. You're something of a
wizard, too. I don't wonder you always win at poker if you can see
through an oak door as easy as all that."

"We'd better lock the door," urged the other, paying no heed to the
remark.

"All right. But, if you don't mind, I'll keep the key." He locked the
door and then turned toward Ernie, sudden comprehension in his face.
"Oh, you told him I came over with you. That explains it." Ernie
protested. He would have repeated the entire conversation that had
taken place if the Colonel had not stopped him with considerable
acerbity.

"You can talk that over afterwards," he said sharply. Ernie winced.
Grand did not observe the ugly gleam that flickered for an instant in
Dick Cronk's eyes. "I've got a proposition to make to you fellows."

"What has it got to do with Tom Braddock?" demanded Dick bluntly. He
sat on the edge of the table, one foot touching the floor.

The Colonel came to the point without delay.

"There's no sense in beating about the bush with you, I see," he
remarked. "I want to get this man Braddock out of the way for good and
all. He's a menace to me and I'm willing to pay to have him completely
blotted out. You fellows are out for the coin of the realm. You, Dick,
get it in dribs by plundering the unwary. It's slow work and
dangerous. Ernie lives off of you with something of the voracity of a
leech--no offense intended, Ernie. Now, why not turn your hand to
something big and definite and safe?" He paused to let the idea sink
into Ernie's avaricious soul.

Dick drew a long breath. "Why don't you kill him yourself?" he asked,
shooting a quick, apprehensive look at his brother's face. Ernie's
eyes were glistening.

"I didn't mention a killing, did I?" retorted Grand, momentarily
disturbed. "If I had that in mind, Dick, I daresay I could accomplish
it without calling on you for aid. What I want is to see him landed in
Sing Sing for a long term of years--the limit, you might say."

"See here, Grand, you've called in the wrong stoolpigeon this time.
I'm not in that kind of business. Never in all my life have I put up a
job on a pal, never have I done a trick as dirt-mean as that. I guess
you'll have to count me and Ernie out."

"Don't go off half-cocked, Dick," admonished the Colonel easily.
"You're no fool, nor is Ernie. It's worth just ten thousand between
you if Tom Braddock is landed to-night, with the goods on him, so to
speak. Two thousand down, the balance--"

"You infernal beast!" snarled Dick, standing squarely in front of him
and glaring into his eyes with a scorn so shriveling that the other
drew back with an oath. "So that's what you wanted with Ernie, is it?
Through him you hoped to get me to do the trick, eh? Well, you've
slipped up good and hard on _me_. I--"

Ernie, his lips twitching, his fingers working, seized his brother's
arm and pulled him back.

"Wait a minute, Dick,--listen to me," he fairly croaked in his
excitement. "Let's hear what his plan is. Maybe we can see a way to
help him. Le' me talk, Dick. Leave it to me. I'm smart and sensible.
You're off your nut to-night. Just le' me do the talking."

"That's right," cried the Colonel quickly. He recognized an asset in
Ernie's despicable greed.

Dick shook off his brother's hand. "No! This is no business of yours,
Ernie. I'm the one he wants to dicker with. You can't put up a job on
Brad and he knows it. He's just using you to land me. Not for ten
million, Grand. Do you get that?"

"Don't shout so that they can hear you in the street," cried Grand,
scowling deeply. "Let me have a few words with Ernie."

"Yes, Dick, you'd better shut up," added Ernie eagerly. "I'll just
talk it over with the Colonel. If we find we can't do it, why, we'll
tell him so, that's all. I tell you ten thousand's a lot of money. We
could open the nicest kind of a cigar stand with that, and live like
honest, respectable men ever afterward."

Dick sank back against the table and studied his brother's livid face
with the darkest despair in his eyes. His shoulders drooped suddenly.

"Honest and respectable?" he said, passing his hand over his eyes.
"You mean, _you_ could be all of that, but where would I come in?
Would you let me stand behind the showcase in your fine store? Would I
ever get so much as a pipeful of tobacco out of it? No! Don't try to
argue with me, Ernie; my mind's made up. I came here to-night just to
save you from a game like this. I knowed you'd be for it strong, and
I'd just have to do it if I wasn't here in the beginning to cork it.
Look here, Grand, I don't know just what your plan is, but I'll tell
you this: I'll blow on you as sure as I'm alive if you try to carry it
out. Tom Braddock is an honest man these days. He's not a whiskey-
soaked bum any longer. He cracked me over the head this morning--you
can see the plaster there--but I don't hold it up against him. He
considers me his friend because I swore I'd stand by him if he'd hold
back on getting you right away. He trusts me and he thinks you're all
right, too, Ernie. Now, once and for all, I'm not in on this dirty
work. _And neither is Ernie!"_

Colonel Grand sat motionless before the angry young man, quietly
tapping on the table with his long, white fingers, a faint smile on
his half-crescent mouth.

"We'll see," he said deliberately. "Perhaps you'd better let Ernie do
the talking. I don't believe you are as wise and discreet as you might
be, Dick."

Dick whirled upon Ernie, who stood behind him. The hunchback was
staring at him with a strange, unfamiliar expression in his face. It
was a look of combined wonder and awe.

"Come on, Ernie. Let's get out of here."

"Just a moment, Ernie," interposed the Colonel. "Sit down and listen
to what I have to say."

But, for the first time since it entered his body, Ernie's soul arose
above the sordid flesh. It came as from a great distance and slowly,
but it came to take its frightened, subdued stand beside its kin.

"I guess I'll be going," he said, and even as he uttered the words he
wondered why he did so. "Ten thousand's a lot of money, but if Dick
thinks it's too dirty for us to touch, why, I'm with him. You can
count me out." He put on his hat and started toward the door.

Dick could hardly believe his ears. "Great Scott, Ernie, you--you--
Well, you're just great, kid!"

"Just a minute," said Grand, arising slowly, an ominous glitter in his
eyes. He towered above the hunchback, who was near the door. "I don't
intend to let you go until you've heard _all_ I have to say."

"Get out of the way, Grand," said the pickpocket, his fingers clenched
so tightly that the backs of his hands were white.

"There's only one way to handle swine of your breed," sneered Grand;
"and that is with a club. You are a fine, virtuous pair, you are. I've
got a job for you to do to-night, and I have the means of compelling
you to do it. You must not get it into your heads that I did not
prepare myself for either view you might take of the matter. I'm not
such an idiot as all that. Now we'll indulge in a little plain talk.
You are a couple of low-down sneak thieves, both of you. Of the--"

"Hold on, Grand!" snapped Dick. "None of that!"

"Of the two, Ernie is the lower. You miserable, misshapen scoundrel,
you are worse than the vilest thief that ever lived. Dick is an angel
compared--" "I'll get you for that!" quavered Dick, so shaken by rage
that he could scarcely hold himself erect.

"No, you won't," squeaked Ernie. "I'll get him! I'll cut his heart
out!"

Grand reached out with his left hand and touched a button in the wall.
In the other hand gleamed a revolver.

"If I press either the button or the trigger it will mean the end of
you, you dogs. Now, listen to me. At the foot of the stairs are two
policemen and a couple of detectives. They were duped into coming here
by the word that a sucker was to be fleeced in Broadso's rooms to-
night. All I have to do is to press the button and call for help. This
hallway will swarm with waiters and men from all the rooms, and the
cops will come on the run. I have nothing to do but to turn you over
to them as a couple of thieves who came here to rob me. Trust me to
make out a case against you."

"I'm no thief!" shouted Ernie. Dick was looking about, like a rat in a
trap, his teeth showing in the desperation of alarm. "You fellows will
come to terms with me inside of two minutes or I'll land you both in
the pen so quickly you won't know it's been done. I want this man
Braddock put out of the way. I've got two men waiting to go with you,
so don't imagine that you can play me false after you leave this room.
It is all cut and dried. You are to carry out a plan I have for
landing Braddock. The police will--"

"I'll see you hanged first," grated Dick Cronk. "You are the king of
crooks, you are."

"Don't let him call the police, Dick," whined Ernie, shrinking back
against the wall. "I'm no thief. I won't go to jail! I won't!"

"Well, that's just where you'll land, my handsome bucko," said the
malevolent Colonel. "Dick won't mind it, but it will be a new
experience for you, your reverence. 'Gad, you toad!"

"Let me go!" cried Ernie. "Keep Dick here, but let me out. Dick will
help you, honest he will. I'm no thief. You wouldn't send me to jail!"

"Oh, I wouldn't, eh?" snarled the other. "You'll look fine in
stripes, you will. And nothing under the sun can save you if I push
this button. Ten years, that's what it will be. The Cronk brothers!
The _sick_ brothers! Why, a jury would give you the full limit.
It will please your brother, after all these years, to see you doing
time--Here! Drop that, curse you!"

There was a deafening report, a blinding flash and a cloud of smoke.
Then a gurgling groan, the scraping of a heavy body against the wall,
and Colonel Grand slid to the floor, his arms and legs writhing in the
last tremendous spasm of death.

Neither of the Cronks moved for a full half-minute. They gazed as if
stupefied at the bloody face of the great gambler; they saw his legs
stiffen and his chest swell widely and then collapse.

"Give me the key!" It was a whispered shriek that leaped from the lips
of the hunchback. "Good God, he's dead! They'll hang us!"

He sprang to Dick's side and snatched the door key from his stiff
fingers. As he leaped toward the door, through the powder-smoke, he
stumbled over the body of the dead man. He crashed to the floor but
was up again in a flash, gasping, groaning with terror. An instant
later he was in the hall. Like a cat he sped past the still closed
doorways beyond and reached the stairway before a human being appeared
in sight.

Half-way down stairs he met men rushing upward, attracted by the
pistol shot. He actually tried to clear their heads in a frantic leap.
He was caught in the air, struggling and kicking furiously, to be
borne down and held by strong arms. Shrieking with rage and terror, he
fought like a wild cat.

"I didn't do it!" he screamed, over and over again, foaming at the
mouth. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me! Oh, God! Oh, God!"

Some one struck him a violent blow on the mouth. The foam was red from
that time on. In the hallway above there were shouts and the sounds of
rushing footsteps. Loud oaths of amazement came ringing down the
corridor. A man in his shirt sleeves appeared at the top of the
stairs, his face livid with excitement.

"Hang on to him!" he shouted. "Don't let him get away. We've got the
other one!"

"What's the matter up there?" grunted one of the two officers holding
Ernie, whose feet were now braced against the steps in the effort to
keep them from dragging him upward.

"I didn't do it!" he panted between his teeth.

"Search me! See if I have a revolver! I never carry a gun. Dick always
carries one. Let me go! Let me go! Why don't you go and get Dick?"

"Shut up, you!"

They dragged him to the door of No. 5. He caught sight of his brother
standing between two men near the body of Colonel Grand, beside which
a coatless man was kneeling. Another man was going through the pockets
of the tall, glassy-eyed prisoner.

From an inner pocket the searcher drew forth a revolver. With nervous
fingers he broke the weapon. A cry fell from his lips.

"Here's the gun. One shell empty. Barrel still hot. You low-lived
scoundrel!"

Dick's eyes never left the bloody face of the murdered man. He was
breathing heavily, as if in pain or extreme terror.

"Is he dead?" he whispered through his bloodless, motionless lips.
Just then he looked up and saw Ernie at the doorway, bloody-faced,
cringing, wide-eyed with dread. Two burly policemen were dangling his
ill-favored body almost clear of the floor.

"Dead as a door-nail," said the kneeling man. "Here's his gun with all
the chambers full. He didn't have a chance to shoot. Say, this is the
worst thing I've ever heard of. You'll swing for this, you dog!"

Ernie sent up a shriek. "Swing for it! I didn't do it! You can't prove
anything on me. Can they, Dick? What are you holding me for? Let go!
I'm an honest, respectable citizen of New York. I'm--"

"Call a wagon," shouted one of the officers to a newcomer. "Nasty job
here. We've got the murderer all right." Dick straightened up at this.
He turned to look at the condemning pistol in the hand of the man who
had taken it from his pocket. A great shudder shook his frame.

"You got me all right," he said. "You won't believe it, of course, but
he pulled a gun first. I had to shoot. Get me out of this. If you
don't I'll kick his face to a jelly. I've always wanted to." He
glanced at Ernie, a crooked smile on his lips.

"Well, Ernie, I guess it's going to come true. I always said it
would."

CHAPTER IX

IN THE LITTLE TRIANGULAR "SQUARE"

Jenison did not seek the warrant for Grand's arrest. He remained in
the Portman house until the middle of the afternoon, vastly exercised
by the fainting spell that had come over Christine. The household was
considerably upset by the occurrences of the morning; old Mr. Portman
was the only person about the place who appeared to be in ignorance of
impending peril and disaster. He went out for his drive at two, but
was not accompanied by his daughter, a defection which surprised and
irritated him not a little.

Christine was herself again in a little while. She stayed in her room,
attended by the entertaining Miss Noakes, who struggled manfully, so
to speak, in her efforts to shatter the depression that surrounded the
young girl like a blank wall.

Downstairs Mary Braddock listened to David's earnest eager plea for an
immediate marriage. Now that Braddock had promised to leave at once
for the far West, never to return, it seemed to David that all of
their problems were solved. She had told him that her husband was to
depart by the midnight train, and that it was her intention to go with
him to the depot. David begged her to take him along with her, but she
was firm in her determination to go alone. Braddock had made it a
condition, and she could not break faith with him.

Shortly after the noon hour she drove up town to the bank. On her
return she informed David that she had drawn out a sum of money to be
delivered to Braddock before the train pulled out. She would not say
how much she had drawn, except that it was sufficient to start the man
out afresh in the world, and to keep him comfortable for a long time
to come, if he should adhere to his decision to eschew drink and cards
for the remainder of his life.

"Where is he going, Mrs. Braddock?"

She shook her head. "I will not tell you that, David. Only he and I
are to know."

"And you are to send him money from time to time?"

"No, I am not to send him a penny."

"He goes to-night--positively?"

"He goes to-night, positively."

"And he refuses to see Christine?"

"Why should he see her?"

"Well, I don't know," said he dubiously. "It seems rather hard, don't
you think?"

"Yes. He worships her, David. Yes, it is hard. He is going in this way
because it makes it easier--for both of them, he says. You see, David,
he is doing it for her sake, not for his own. If he were to do things
just now for his own sake, he would kill Grand instead of running away
from him."

"He's a good deal of a man, after all, Mrs. Braddock."

"A good deal of a man," she repeated.

"He wishes Christine to be my wife. He told you so, but she won't
consent until you tell her that it is all right. It's silly of her.
I'm never going to give her up, and she knows it."

She faced him suddenly. "You ask me why the marriage cannot take place
to-morrow, David. Would you be just as eager to have it take place if
her father decided to change his mind and remain here, with all the
consequences such an act might create?"

"Certainly," he replied promptly.

"You do not forget what he is, what he has been, what he may yet
become?"

"That has nothing to do with it. I love Christine."

"Would you be willing to stand at his side, the husband of his
daughter, and say, 'I am content to be called your son'--would you?"

David stared hard at the floor for a moment. "I think that is rather
an unfair question, Mrs. Braddock, when we stop to recall the fact
that both you and Christine have denied him for years. I will call
myself his son when you call him husband and Christine speaks of him
as father--to the world. You can hardly expect me to be proud of what
you are ashamed to own."

She bowed her head in sudden humility. "I was wrong," she said. "I
deserve the rebuke."

"I have hurt you. Forgive me."

She placed her hand on his. He observed that it was as cold as ice.
"While it is true that we have denied him, my dear David, nevertheless
we do belong to him. She is his daughter. That is what I am trying to
make plain to you."

"If she chooses to call herself his daughter, I am perfectly content
to call myself his son."

"I wanted to hear you say that, David. You must take her as Thomas
Braddock's daughter, quite as much as you do as Albert Portman's
granddaughter."

"I am not deceiving myself," he said with a smile.

"Then I am ready to give my consent to an immediate marriage," she
said. For the first time since their interview began she spoke
hurriedly. A feverish light came into her eyes, burning bright and
dry.

He sprang to his feet, triumphant. "Come with me to her! She will name
the day if you--"

"I shall name the day, David," she said evenly. "It must be to-night,
--this very night,--before her father goes away."

"Are you in earnest?" he cried, scarcely believing that he heard
aright.

"She loves you with all her soul, and you love her. You are her
protector, the stone wall between her and all the unkind things of
life. She needs you now. Tomorrow may bring the hour of trial. It is
best that she should have you to lean upon. It must be to-night. Come;
we will go to her. It is nearly three o'clock. There is much to be
done between now and the time that your train starts for Richmond. I
want her to be in Jenison Hall to-morrow."

Together they went to Christine. Half an hour later he hurried away
from the house, a dozen imperative duties to be performed between that
time and seven o'clock. He went with a joyous spirit, a leaping heart,
and with the will to accomplish all that was required of him in that
short space of time.

At seven Christine and he were to be married in the huge, old-
fashioned drawing-room; at eight-thirty they would be on board the
train, bound for Jenison Hall. He was to take her away with him, far
from all the ugly possibilities that crept up from all sides to
threaten her. Mary Braddock refrained from telling Christine even so
much as she had told David concerning the plans of her husband. The
girl was allowed to believe that the man was already on his way to the
far West. There was a rather trying scene when Christine learned that
it would be impossible for her to see her father. She broke down and
wept, crying out bitterly that she might have been able to comfort him
if she had been given the opportunity. It was with some difficulty and
the exercise of considerable patience that her mother convinced her
that they had acted for the best.

"Some day I shall go to see him, mother," she had said with a
resoluteness that brought a strange gleam to the eyes of the older
woman. "I am sorry for him. He needs some one to love him. I am sure
he is not so wicked as--"

"You must be guided by what David says, my child. Remember that you
will have more than yourself to consider," was the evasive remark of
Mary Braddock.

Brooks was sent off with a letter to Dr. Browne, the rector,
requesting him to conduct the marriage ceremony. Maid-servants packed
Christine's trunks, all enjoined to secrecy. Ruby Noakes and old Joey
attended to a few of the many preparations that were being hurried
through with such nervous haste.

All through the long afternoon Mary Braddock lived under the most
intense strain of suspense and apprehension. Uppermost in her mind was
the question: had he succeeded in eluding the watchers who were on his
trail?

At four o'clock she went to her father, prepared to tell him all that
had transpired during the past thirty-six hours. She held nothing back
from the old man, not even Braddock's gruesome design. They were
closeted together for more than an hour. That which passed between
father and daughter went no farther than the walls of the secluded
little room that he called his study. She came forth from the trying
interview with her head high and her heart low.

The old man's last tremulous words to her were these: "Well, Mary, God
shows all of us the way. Sometimes the way is hard, but we reach the
end if we look neither to the right nor the left,--nor behind. What
you have just told me is terrible. Is it the only way?"

"Yes, it is the only way."

He bowed his head and said no more. She kissed his gray hair and
passed out from the room, closing the door gently behind her.

David and Christine were married at seven o'clock. The shadow which
hung over the household, the grievous exigency which made haste so
imperative, did much toward suppressing the joy and gladness that
under other conditions would have filled the house and the hearts of
all therein. Mr. Portman, gray-faced and taciturn, gave the bride in
marriage. There were but three witnesses outside of the family. Joey
Noakes and Ruby were there and a single college friend to whom David
had gone in the stress of necessity.

Mother and daughter said their farewells in private. Christine sobbed
in her mother's arms, imploring her to come away with them at once, to
be happy forever. Mary Braddock's eyes were dry and burning, her hands
were cold, her heart like ice.

"I will come some time, my darling, but--not now. You must make your
home before I come to see you in it. I shall go abroad, as I told you
this afternoon. Father agrees with me that it is the thing to do under
the circumstances. When I return, my child, I will come to see you in
Jenison Hall. You will be its true mistress by that time. You will
have discovered the true happiness of life. Until then, my darling,
you will not have lived. Even I found joy and happiness in their
fullest estate before I came to know bitterness and unrest. You are to
be very, very happy. I will come to you in the midst of it all."

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