Zane Grey - The Day of the Beast

“But Blair, didn't you tell your mother what this fellow is?” remonstrated Lane.

“Well, I'll say I did,” replied Blair, sardonically. “Cut no ice whatever. She didn't believe. She didn't care for any proofs. All rich young men had their irregularities!... Good God! Doesn't it make you sick?”

“But how about Holt Dalrymple?”

“Holt's turned over a new leaf. He's working hard, and I think he has taken a tumble to himself. Listen to this. He met Margie with Dick Swann out at one of the lake dances—Watkins' Lake. And he cut her dead. I'm sorry for Margie. She sure is rank poison these days.... Well, speak of the devil!”

Holt Dalrymple collided with them at the entrance of the inn. The haggard, sullen, heated look that had characterized him was gone. He was sunburned, and his dark eyes were bright. He greeted his friends warmly. They chatted for a moment. Then Lane grew thoughtful, all the while gazing at Holt.

“What's the idea?” queried that worthy, presently. “Anything wrong with me?”

“Boy, you're just great. Seeing you has done me good.... You ask what's the idea. Holt, would you do me a favor?”

“Would I? Listen to the guy,” returned young Dalrymple. “Daren, I'd do any old thing for you.”

“Do you happen to know Bessy Bell?” went on Lane.

Dalrymple quickened with surprise. “Yes, I know her. Some little peach!... I almost ran into her down on West Street a few minutes ago. She wore a white veil. She didn't see me, or recognize me. But I sure knew her. She was almost running. I bet a million to myself she had a date at the club.”

“You lose, Holt,” replied Lane, shortly. “Bessy Bell is one Middleville kid who has come clean through this mess.”

“Say Dare, I like to hear you talk,” responded Blair, half in jest and half in earnest. “But aren't you getting a trifle unbalanced? That's how my mother apologizes for me.”

“Cut the joshing, boys. Listen,” returned Lane. “And don't ever tell this to a soul. I interested myself in Bessy Bell. I've met her more times than I can count. I wanted to see if it was possible to turn one of these girls around. I failed on my sister Lorna. But Bessy Bell is true blue. She had all this modern tommyrot. She had everything else too. Brains, sweetness, common sense, romance. All I tried to do was to make her forget the tommyrot. And I think I did.”

“Well, I'll be darned!” ejaculated Blair. “Dare, that was ripping fine of you.... What'll you do next, I wonder.”

“Come on with your favor,” added Holt, with a keen bright smile.

“Would you be willing to see Bessy occasionally—and sort of be nice to her—you know?” asked Lane, earnestly. “I can't keep up my attention to her much longer. She might miss me. Take it from me, Holt, back of all this modern stuff—deep in Bessy, and in every girl who has not been debased—is the simple and good desire to be liked.”

“Daren, I'll do that little thing, believe me,” returned Holt, warmly.

Shaking hands with his friends, Lane left them, and went on his way. White's place was full as a beehive. As he passed, Lane found himself looking for Bessy Bell's golden head, though he knew he would not see it. He wondered if Holt had really met her, veiled and in a hurry. That had a strange look. But no shadow of distrust of Bessy came to Lane. In a few moments he reached the dark stairway leading to Colonel Pepper's apartment. Lane forgot he was weak. But at the top, with his breast laboring, he remembered well enough. He went into the Colonel's rooms and through them without making a light. And when he reached the place where he had spied upon the club he was wet with sweat and shaking with excitement. Carefully, so as not to make noise, he stole to the peep-hole and applied his eye.

He saw a gleam of light on shiny waxed floor, and then, moving to get the limit of his narrow vision, he descried Swann, evidently just arrived. With him was Gail Williams, a slip of a child not over fifteen—looking up at him as if excited and pleased. Next Lane espied his sister Lorna with a tall, well-built man. Although his back was toward Lane, he could not mistake the soldierly bearing of Captain Vane Thesel! Lorna looked perturbed and sulky, and once, turning her face toward Swann, she seemed resentful. Captain Thesel had his hand at her elbow and appeared to be talking earnestly.

Lane left his post, taking care to make no noise. But once back in the Colonel's rooms, he hurried. Feeling in the dark corner where he had kept the axe ready for just such an emergency as this, he grasped it and rushed out. Tiptoeing down the hall, he found the narrow door, stole down the black stairway and entered the main hall. Here he paused, suddenly checked in his hurry.

“This won't do,” he thought, and shook his head. “Much as I'd like to kill those two dogs I can't—I can't.... I'll smash their faces, though—and if I ever catch....”

Breaking the thought off abruptly, he passed down the dim hallway to the door of the club-rooms. He raised the axe and was about to smash the lock when he espied a key in the keyhole. The door was not locked. Lane set down the axe and noiselessly turned the knob and peeped in. The first room was dark, but the door on the opposite side was ajar, and through it Lane saw the larger lighted room and the shiny floor. Moving figures crossed the space. Removing the key, Lane slipped inside the room and locked the door. Then he tip-toed to the opposite door.

Thesel and Lorna were now so close that Lane could hear them.

“But I thought I had a date with Dick,” protested Lorna. Her face was red and she stamped her foot.

“See here, kiddo. If you're as thick as that I'll have to put you wise,” answered Thesel, good-humoredly, as he tilted back his cigarette to blow smoke at the ceiling. “Dick is through with you.”

“Oh, is he?” choked Lorna.

“Say, Cap, I heard a noise,” suddenly called out Swann, rather nervously.

There was a moment's silence. Lane, too, had heard a noise, but could not be sure whether it was inside the building or not.

Swann hurried over to join Thesel. They looked blankly at each other. The air might have been charged. Both girls showed alarm.

Then Lane, with his hand on the gun in his pocket, strode out to confront them.

“Oh—h!” gasped Lorna, as if appalled at sight of her brother's face.

“Fellows, I'll have to break up your little party,” said Lane, coolly.

Thesel turned ghastly white, while Swann grew livid with rage. He seemed to expand. His hand went back to his right hip.

When Lane got within six feet of them, Swann drew a small automatic pistol. But before he could raise it, Lane had leaped into startling activity. With terrific swing he brought his gun down on Swann's face. Then as swiftly he turned on Thesel. Swann had hardly hit the floor, a sodden heap, when Thesel, with bloody visage, reeled and fell like a log. Lane bent over them, ready to beat either back. But both were unconscious.

“Daren—for God's sake—don't murder them!” whispered Lorna, hoarsely.

Lane's humanity was in abeyance then, but his self-control did not desert him.

“You girls must hurry out of here,” he ordered.

“Oh, Gail is fainting,” cried Lorna.

The little Williams girl was indeed swaying and sinking down. Lane grasped her and shook her. “Brace up. If you keel over now, you'll be found out sure.... It's all right. You'll not be hurt. There——”

A heavy thumping on the door by which Lane had entered and a loud authoritative voice from the hall silenced him.

“Open up here! You're pinched!”

That voice Lane recognized as belonging to Chief of Police Bell. For a moment, fraught with suspense, Lane was at a loss to know what to do.