Then she turned and, ere he knew, was on her knees before him, had twined soft arms about his neck, and was looking up at him through shining tears.
“Yes, I’m—crying a little! I don’t do it often, dear—tears don’t easily come with me. But now I’m crying because—oh, because I’m so proud—so proud to have won such a wonderful love. Good night—good night! Oh, break your word for once—kiss me, my husband!”
So while she knelt to him thus, he kissed her until she sighed and stirred in his embrace. Then she rose and hand in hand they crossed the room and he opened the door; for a blissful moment they stood there silent in the shadows, but when he would have kissed her again she laughed at him through her tears and fled from him up the wide stairway.
CHAPTER XLIII
HOW SPIKE GOT EVEN
A clock in the hall without struck midnight, but Ravenslee sat on long after the silvery chime had died away, his chin sunk on broad chest, his eyes staring blindly at the fading embers, lost in profound but joyful meditation; once he turned to look where she had stood beside the mantel, and once he reached out to touch the thrice-blessed chair that had held her.
The curtains stirred and rustled at the open window behind him, but he sat looking into the flickering fire, seeing there pictures of the future, and the future was full of a happiness beyond words, for in every picture Hermione moved.
All at once he started and glanced swiftly around, his lounging attitude changing to one of watchful alertness, for he had heard a sound that drew rapidly nearer—the hiss and pant of breath drawn in quick gasps. Silently he arose and turned to see the curtains swing apart and a shapeless something stagger forward and fall heavily. Then he reached out to the switch beside the hearth, and the room was flooded with brilliant light; the figure kneeling just inside the swaying curtains uttered a strangled cry and threw up a hand before his face, a hand dark with spattering blood.
“Oh, Geoff—oh, Geoff!” panted Spike, “I ain’t—come thievin’ this time—honest t’ God, I ain’t!”
“Why, you’re hurt—what’s the matter?”
“They see me down th’ road as I came an’ shot me, but this ain’t nothin’. Out th’ lights, Geoff—out ‘em— quick!”
But Ravenslee had crossed the room, had seized the lad’s arm, and was examining the ugly graze that bled so freely.
“That ain’t nothin’—douse th’ lights, Geoff—out ‘em quick. Bud’s coming here close behind—Bud an’ Heine— they mean t’ plug you—oh, put out th’ lights—”
Instinctively Ravenslee turned, but even as he did so Spike uttered a hoarse cry.
“No, ye don’t, Bud—not this time, by God!” and sprang upon the form that towered between the curtains; came the sound of fierce scuffling, a deafening report, and running forward, Ravenslee caught Spike as he staggered back; heard a rush and trample of feet along the terrace, the sound of blows and fierce curses behind the swaying curtains, heard the Spider’s fierce shout and Joe’s deep roar, two more shots in rapid succession, and the swift patter of feet in flight and pursuit.
“How is it, Spike? Are you hurt, old chap?”
But Spike just then was beyond words, so Ravenslee bore the swooning boy to a settee, and laying him there, began to search hastily for the wound.
But now the door was flung wide and Hermione was beside him.
“Geoffrey—oh, my love! Have they hurt you?”
“No, dear—thanks to Spike, here!”
“Arthur! Oh, thank God—did he—?”
“Took the bullet meant for me, Hermione. I owe your brother my life!”
She was down on her knees and very soon her skilful fingers had laid bare the ugly wound in the lad’s white arm. But now came Mrs. Trapes, looking taller and bonier than ever in a long, very woolly garment, and while she aided Hermione to bandage the wound, Ravenslee brought water and brandy, and very soon Spike sighed and opened his eyes.
“Hello, Hermy!” he said faintly. “Don’t worry, I’m all O. K. Bud shot me an’ I’m glad, because now I can ask you t’ forgive me. Y’ see, he’d have got old Geoff sure if it hadn’t been for me, so you—you will forgive me, won’t you?”
For answer Hermione bent and kissed his pallid cheek.
“I’ll go and ‘phone for the doctor,” said Ravenslee.
“Which,” said Mrs. Trapes, “I done ten minutes ago, Mr. Geoffrey. Doctor’ll be right along.”
Ravenslee turned to Spike.
“How are you now, old fellow?”
“Only a bit sick, like. But say, Geoff—I know I played it low down on you, but—will you—shake an’ try t’ forget?”
Ravenslee took and held the boy’s outstretched hand.
“I think we’re going to be better friends than ever, Spike!”
“Good!” said Spike, smiling wearily, “but say, Geoff—dear old Geoff—if I got t’ die I don’t mind—because I guess this makes us quits at last—don’t it, Geoff?”
CHAPTER XLIV
