The Streets of Ascalon

Even the men who found them there in the morning could scarcely drive away the half-crazed brute. And the little daughter of the gardener, who had discovered what was there in the pasture, cowered in the fence corner, crying her heart out for her father's dead master who had spoken kindly to her since she had grown up and who had even taken her into his arms and kissed her the day before when she had brought him a rare orchid from the greenhouse.

Every newspaper in America gave up the right-hand columns to huge headlines and an account of the tragedy at South Linden. Every paper in the world chronicled it. There were few richer men in the world than Langly Sprowl. The tragedy moved everybody in various ways; stocks, however, did not move either way to the surprise of everybody. On second thoughts, however, the world realised that his wealth had been too solidly invested to cause a flurry. Besides he had a younger brother financing something or other for the Emperor of China. Now he would return. The great race would not become extinct.

That night Quarren went back to the Wycherlys and found Molly waiting for him in the library.

"What on earth did Mary Ledwith want of Jim this evening?" she asked.

"Sprowl was in the house."

"What!"

"That's why the poor child telephoned. She was probably afraid of him, and wanted Jim there."

Molly's teeth clicked:

"Jim would have half-killed him. It's probably a good thing he was in town. What did you do?"

"Nothing. Sprowl went all right."

"What did Mary say to you?"

"I didn't see her."

"You didn't see her?"

"No."

Molly's eyes grew rounder:

"Where is Chester Ledwith? He didn't go with you into the house, did he?"

"Yes, he did."

"But where is he? You – you don't mean to say – "

"Yes, I do. He went upstairs and didn't return… So I waited for a while and then – came back."

They sat silent for a while, then Molly lifted her eyes to his and they were brimming with curiosity.

"If they become reconciled," she said, "how are people going to take it, Rix?"

"Characteristically I suppose."

"You mean that some will be nasty about it?"

"Some."

"But then – "

"Oh, Molly, Molly," he said, smiling, "there are more important things than what a few people are likely to think or say. The girl made a fool of herself, and the man weakened and nearly went to pieces. He's found himself again; he's disposed to help her find herself. It was only one of those messes that the papers report every day. Few get out of such pickles, but I believe these two are going to… And somehow, do you know – from something Sprowl said to-night, I don't believe that she went the entire limit – took the last ditch."

Molly reddened: "Why?"

"Because, although they do it in popular fiction, men like Sprowl never really boast of their successes. His sort keep silent – when there's anything to conceal."

"Did he boast?"

"He did. I was sure he was lying, and I – " he shrugged.

"Told him so?"

"Well, something of that sort."

"I believe he was lying, too… It was just like that romantic little fool to run off to Reno after nothing worse than the imprudence of infatuation. I've known her a long while, Rix. She's too shallow for real passion, too selfish to indulge it anyway. His name and fortune did the business for her – little idiot. Really she annoys me."

Quarren smiled: "Her late husband seems to like her. Fools feminine have made many a man happy. You'll be nice to her I'm sure."

"Of course… Everybody will on Mrs. Sprowl's account."

Quarren laughed again, then:

"Meanwhile this Ledwith business has prevented my talking to Strelsa over the telephone," he said.

"Oh, Rix! You said you were going to surprise her in the morning!"

"But I want to see her, Molly. I don't want to wait – "

"It's after ten and Strelsa has probably retired. She's a perfect farmer, I tell you – yawns horribly every evening at nine. Why, I can't keep her awake long enough to play a hand at Chinese Khan! Be reasonable, Rix. You had planned to surprise her in the morning… And – I'm lonely without Jim… Besides, if you are clever enough to burst upon Strelsa's view in the morning when the day is young and all before her, and when she's looking her very best, nobody can tell what might happen… And I'll whisper in your ear that the child has really missed you… But don't be in a hurry with her, will you, Rix?"

"No," he said absently.

Molly picked up her knitting.

"If Chester Ledwith doesn't return by twelve I'm going to have the house locked," she said, stifling a yawn.

At twelve o'clock the house was accordingly locked for the night.

"It's enough to compromise her," said Molly, crossly. "What a pair of fools they are."

CHAPTER XVII

Strelsa, a pink apron pinned about her, a trowel in her gloved hand, stood superintending the transplanting of some purple asters which not very difficult exploit was being attempted by a local yokel acting as her "hired man."

The garden, a big one with a wall fronting the road, ran back all the way to the terrace in the rear of the house beyond which stretched the western veranda.

And it was out on this veranda that Quarren stepped in the wake of Strelsa's maid, and from there he caught his first view of Strelsa's garden, and of Strelsa herself, fully armed and caparisoned for the perennial fray with old Dame Nature.

"You need not go down there to announce me," he said; "I'll speak to Mrs. Leeds myself."