The Splendid Outcast. Gibbs George

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СКАЧАТЬ I see. You read them," he frowned and then, "Barry Quinlevin's too?"

      "Yes – his too. I had to have facts. I got them – some I wasn't looking for – "

      "About – ?"

      "About the Duc de Vautrin," Jim broke in dryly. "That's one of the reasons why I'm still Harry Horton and why I'm going to stay Harry Horton – for the present."

      If Jim had needed any assurance as to his brother's share in this intrigue he had it now. For Harry went red and then pale, refusing to meet his gaze.

      "I see," he muttered, "Quinlevin's been talking."

      "Yes," said Jim craftily, "he has. It's a pretty plan, but it won't come off. You always were a rotter, Harry. But you're not going to hurt Moira, if I can prevent."

      It was a half-random shot but it hit the mark.

      "Moira," muttered Harry somberly. "I see. You haven't been wasting any time."

      "I'm not wasting time when I can keep her – or even you – from getting mixed up in dirty blackmail. That's my answer. And that's why I'm not going to quit until I'm ready."

      Harry Horton frowned at the soiled table cover, his fingers twitching at his fork, and then reached for the coffee pot and quickly poured himself another cup.

      "Clever, Jim," he said with a cynical laugh. "I take off my hat to you. I never would have thought you had it in you. But you'll admit that living in my wife's apartment and impersonating her husband is going a bit too far."

      The laughter didn't serve to conceal either his fear or his fury. But it stopped short as Jim's fingers suddenly closed over his wrist and held it in a grip of iron.

      "Don't bring her into this," he whispered tensely. "Do you hear?" And after a moment of struggle with himself as he withdrew his hand, "You dared to think yourself worthy of her. You!"

      "Be careful what you say to me," said Harry, trying bravado. "She's my wife."

      "She won't be your wife long, when I tell her what I know about you," finished Jim angrily.

      He saw Harry's face go pale again as he tried to meet his gaze, saw the fire flicker out of him, as he groped pitiably for Jim's hand.

      "Jim! You – you wouldn't do that?" he muttered.

      Jim released his hand, shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

      "Not if you play straight with me – and with her. You want me to pay the penalty of what I did for you – to go out into the world – an outcast in your place. Perhaps I owe it to you. I don't know. But you owe me something too – promotion – the Croix de Guerre– "

      "The Croix de Guerre! Me – ?"

      "Lieutenant Harry G. Horton to be gazetted captain – me!" put in Jim, with some pride. "Not you."

      A brief silence in which Harry rubbed his scrawny beard with his long fingers.

      "That might be difficult to prove to my Company captain," he said at last.

      "You forget my wounds," laughed Jim. "Oh, they're my wounds all right." And then, with a shrug, "You see, Harry, it won't work. You're helpless. If I chose to keep on the job, you'd be left out in the cold."

      "You won't dare – "

      "I don't know what I'd dare. It depends on you."

      "What do you mean?" broke in Harry with some spirit. "I couldn't be any worse off than I am now, even if I told the truth."

      Jim laughed. "I tried to tell in the hospital and they thought I was bug-house. Try it if you like."

      Harry frowned and reached for another cigarette.

      And then after awhile, "Well – what do you want me to do?"

      His brother examined him steadily for a moment, and then went on.

      "I don't know whether you've learned anything in the army or not. But it ought to have taught you that you've got to live straight with your buddy or you can't get on."

      "Straight!" sneered Harry, "like you. You call this straight – what you're doing?"

      "No," Jim admitted. "It's not straight. It's crooked as hell, but if it wasn't, you'd have been drummed out of the Service by now. I don't want you to think I care about you. I didn't – out there. It was only the honor of the service I was thinking about. I'd do it again if I had to. But I do care about this girl you've bamboozled into marrying you – you and Quinlevin. And whatever the dirty arrangement between you that made it possible, I want to make it clear to you here and now that she isn't going to be mixed up in any of your rotten deals. She isn't your sort and you couldn't drag her down to your level if you tried. I'll know more when Quinlevin gets back and then – "

      Jim Horton paused as he realized that he had said too much, for he saw his brother start and then stare at him.

      "Ah, Barry Quinlevin – is away!"

      Jim nodded. "Yes," he said, "in Ireland."

      Harry had risen, glowering.

      "And you think I'm going to slink off to-night to my kennel and let you go back to the studio. You in my uniform – as me– to Moira."

      Jim Horton thought deeply for a moment and then rose and coolly straightened his military blouse.

      "Very well," he said, "we'll go back to her together."

      He took out some money and carelessly walked toward the bar in the front room. But Harry followed quickly and caught him by the arm.

      "Jim," he muttered, "you won't do that!"

      "We'll tell her the truth – I guess you're right. She ought to know."

      "Wait a minute – "

      His hand was trembling on the officer's sleeve and the dark beard seemed to make the face look ghastly under its tan.

      "Not yet, Jim. Not to-night. We – we'll have to let things be for awhile. Just sit down again for a minute. We've got to find a way to straighten this thing out – to get you back into your old job – "

      "How?" dryly.

      "I – I don't know just now, but we can work it somehow – "

      "It's too late – "

      "You could have been captured by the Boches. We can find a way, when you let me have my uniform."

      Jim Horton grinned unsympathetically.

      "There are two wounds in that too, Harry," he said. "Where are yours?"

      And he moved toward the door.

      "Listen, Jim. We'll let things be as they are for the present. Barry Quinlevin mustn't know – you've got to play the part. I see. Come and sit down a minute."

      His brother obeyed mechanically.

      "Well," he said.

      "I'll СКАЧАТЬ