CHAPTER XXXI.For a second Mona's courage fails her, and then it returns with threefold force. In truth, she is nearer death at this moment than she herself quite knows.
"Put down your pistol, sir," she says, hastily. "Would you fire on a woman?" Her tone, though hurried, is not oppressed with fear. She even advances a few steps in his direction. Her words, her whole manner, fill him with . The extreme courage she betrays is, indeed of any man's laudation, but the implied trust in his touches Paul Rodney more than anything has ever had power to touch him before.
He lowers the weapon at her command, but says nothing. Indeed, what is there to say?
"Place it on the table," says Mona, who, though rich in presence of mind, has yet all a woman's horror of anything that may go off.
Again he obeys her.
"Now, perhaps, you will explain why you are here?" says Mrs. Geoffrey, speaking as sternly as her soft voice will permit. "How did you get in?"
"Through the window. I was passing, and found it open." There is some note in his voice that might well be termed mocking.
"Open at this hour of the morning?"
"Wide open."
"And the lamp, did you find it burning?"
"Brilliantly."
He lifts his head here, and laughs aloud, a short, unmirthful laugh.
"You are lying, sir," says Mona, contemptuously.
"Yes, deliberately," returns he, with recklessness.
He moves as though to take up the pistol again; but Mona is beforehand with him, and, closing her fingers round it, holds it firmly.
"Do you think you are stronger than I am?" he says, amusement blended with the old admiration in his eyes.
"No, but they are," she says, pointing to her two faithful companions, who are staring hungrily at Rodney and evidently only awaiting the word from Mona to fling themselves upon him.
She to them, and, rising slowly, they advance towards Rodney, who involuntarily moves back a little. And in truth they are formidable , with their bloodshot eyes, and coats, and huge that, being now parted, show the gleaming teeth within.
"On guard," says Mona, whereupon both the upon the ground right before Rodney, and fix him seriously and menacingly with their eyes.
"You are certainly too strong for me," says Rodney, with a frown and a smile.
"As you have refused to explain your presence here to me, you shall remain where you now are until help arrives," says Mona, with evident determination.
"I am content to stay here until the day dawns, if you keep me company," replies he, easily.
", sir, is perhaps another part of your role," returns she, with cold but excessive anger.
She is clad in a long white dressing-gown, loose, yet clinging, that betrays each curve of her , figure. It is bordered with swansdown, and some rich white lace, that sits high to her neck and falls over her small hands. Her hair is back into a loose knot, that looks as if it would tumble down her back should she shake her head. She is pale, and her eyes are peculiarly large and dark from excitement. They are upon Rodney with a gaze that all idea of fear, and her lips are compressed and somewhat dangerous.
"Is truth insolence?" asks Rodney. "If so, I demand your pardon. My speech, no doubt, was a betise, yet it came from my heart."
"Do not trouble yourself to make any further excuse," says Mona, icily.
"Pray sit down," says Rodney, politely: "if you insist on spending your evening with me, let me at least know that you are comfortable." Again the comicality of the whole strikes him, and he laughs aloud. He takes, too, a step forward, as if to get her a chair.
"Do not stir," says Mona, hastily, pointing to the bloodhounds. Allspice has risen—so has the hair on his back—and is looking thunder-claps at Paul. A low breaks from him. He is plainly upon reducing to reason whosoever shall dispute the will of his beloved mistress. "The dogs know their orders, and will obey me. Down, Allspice, down. You will do well, sir, to remain exactly where you are," continues Mona.
"Then get a chair for yourself, at least, as you will not permit me to go to your aid," he . "I am your prisoner,—perhaps," in a low tone, "the most willing captive that ever yet was made."
He hardly realizes the extent of his subjection,—is blind to the extreme awkwardness of the situation. Of Geoffrey's absence, and the chance that he may return at any moment, he is altogether ignorant.
Mona takes no notice of his words, but still stands by the table, with her hands folded, her long white robes clinging to her, her eyes lowered, her whole like that of some mediæval saint. So thinks Rodney, who is gazing at her as though he would forever upon his brain the remembrance of a vision as pure as it is perfect.
The moments come and go. The fire is dying out. No sound but that of the falling comes to disturb the stillness that within the library. Mona is , wondering what the end of it all will be. And then at last the silence is broken. A noise upon the outside, a quick rush up the balcony steps; some one emerges from the gloom of the night, and comes into the room through the open window. Mona utters a cry of relief and joy. It is Geoffrey!
Perhaps, just at first, surprise is too great to permit of his feeling either or indignation. He looks from Paul Rodney to Mona, and then from Mona back to Rodney. After that his gaze does not wander again. Mona, running to him, throws herself into his arms, and there he holds her closely, but always with his eyes fixed upon the man he deems his enemy.
As for the Australian, he has grown pale indeed, but is quite self-possessed, and the usual line round his mouth has deepened. The dogs have by no means relaxed their vigil, but still crouch before him, ready for their deadly spring at any moment. It is a picture, almost a lifeless one, so motionless are all those that help to form it. The fading fire, the brilliant lamp, the open window with the night beyond, Paul Rodney upon the hearthrug with folded arms, his dark insolent face lighted up with the excitement of what is yet to come, gazing at his cousin, who is staring back at him, pale but . And then Mona, in her soft white gown, somewhat in the foreground, with one arm (from which the loose sleeve of the dressing-gown has fallen back, leaving the fair rounded flesh to be seen) thrown around her husband's neck, is watching Rodney with an expression on her face that is half , half nervous . Her hair has loosened, and is over her shoulders, and down far below her waist; with her disengaged hand she is holding it back from her ear, hardly knowing how and striking is her attitude, and how it betrays each perfect curve of her lovely figure.
"Now, sir speak," she says, at length in rather tremulous tones growing fearful of the silence. There is a dangerous in the arm that Geoffrey has round her, that gives her warning to make some change in the scene as soon as possible.
For an instant Rodney turns his eyes on her, and then goes back to his examination of Geoffrey. Between them the two dogs still lie, quiet but eager.
"Call off the dogs," says Geoffrey to Mona, in a low tone; "there is no longer any necessity for them. And tell me how you come to be here, at this hour, with this—fellow."
Mona calls off the dogs. They rise , and, walking into a distant corner, sit there, as though still awaiting a chance of taking some active part in the coming . After which Mona, in a few words, explains the situation to Geoffrey.
"You will give me an explanation at once," says Geoffrey, slowly, addressing his cousin. "What brought you here?"
"Curiosity, as I have already told Mrs. Rodney," returns he, lightly. "The window was open, the lamp burning. I walked in to see the old room."
"Who is your ?" asks Geoffrey, still with studied calmness.
"You are pleased to talk conundrums," says Rodney, with a . "I confess my self dull to have never guessed one."
"I shall make myself plainer. What servant did you to leave the window open for you at this hour?"
For a brief instant the Australian's eyes flash fire; then he lowers his lids, and laughs quite easily.
"You would turn a into a tragedy," he says, mockingly, "Why should I bribe a servant to let me see an old room by midnight?"
"Why, indeed, unless you wished to possess yourself of something in the old room?"
"Again I fail to understand," says Paul; but his very lips grow livid. "Perhaps for the second time, and with the same you used at first, you will to explain."
"Is it necessary?" says Geoffrey, very in his turn. "I think not. By the by, is it your usual practice to prowl round people's houses at two o'clock in the morning? I thought all such habits were confined to burglars, and blackguards of that order."
"We are none of us infallible," says Rodney, in a curious tone, and speaking as if with difficulty. "You see, even you . Though I am neither burglar nor blackguard, I, too enjoy a walk at midnight."
"!" says Geoffrey between his teeth, his eyes fixed with deadly upon his cousin. "Liar—and thief!" He goes a few steps nearer him, and then waits.
"Thief!" echoes Paul in a terrible tone. His whole face quivers, A murderous light creeps into his eyes.
Mona, seeing it, moves away from Geoffrey, and, going stealthily up to the table, lays her hand upon the pistol, that is still lying where last she left it. With a quick gesture, and unseen she covers it with a paper, and then turns her attention once more upon the two men.
"Ay, thief!" repeats Geoffrey, in a voice low but fierce, "It was not without a purpose you entered this house to-night, alone and uninvited. Tell your story to any one foolish enough to believe you. I do not. What did you hope to find? What help towards the gaining of your unlawful cause?"
"Thief!" interrupts Rodney, repeating the word again, as though deaf to everything but this degrading . Then there is a faint pause, and then——
Mona never afterwards could say which man was the first to make the attack, but in a second they are locked in each other's arms in a deadly embrace. A desire to cry aloud, to summon help, takes hold of her, but she beats it down, some inward feeling, clear, yet undefined, telling her that on such a matter as this will be .
Geoffrey is the taller man of the two, but Paul the more and . For a moment they sway to and fro; then Geoffrey, getting his fingers upon his cousin's throat, forces him backward.
The Australian struggles for a moment. Then, finding Geoffrey too many for him, he looses one of his hands, and, thrusting it between his shirt and waistcoat, brings to light a tiny , very flat, and lightly .
Fortunately this dagger refuses to be shaken from its hold. Mona, feeling that fair play is at an end, and that treachery is asserting itself, turns to her faithful allies the bloodhounds, who have risen, and, with their hair standing straight on their backs, are .
Cold, and half wild with horror, she yet retains her presence of mind, and, to one............