Fate Knocks at the Door by Will Levington Comfort

W >> Will Levington Comfort >> Fate Knocks at the Door

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26

"To think a stranger must lose or win caste in Equatoria, on the glance
of that Tired-eyed," he mused. "I really must master this atmosphere."

Bedient thought of _Treasure Island Inn_, in the lower city, where a
stranger would probably go, if denied entrance at _The Pleiad_.
"Infested" was the word Captain Carreras had once used to depict its
denizens.... A few minutes before eight Bedient left the room and
descended. From the staircase, he perceived that the guests had,
indeed, gathered at this hour. The company was not large, but rather
distinguished at first glance. So various were the nationalities
represented that Bedient thought the picture not unlike a court-ball
with attaches present. The hum of voices was quickened with half the
tongues of Europe, and now and then an intonation of Asia. There were
more men than women, but this only accentuated the attractions of the
latter, of which there were two or three sense-stirring blooms.

For just an instant on the staircase, Bedient stood among the
punkah-blown palms to scan the faces below. Framtree was not there, but
Miss Mallory appeared in a discussion with an elderly gentleman, and
her usual animation was apparent. Bedient was struck with the fact that
he had been singularly remiss. In the thirty hours which had passed
since their parting, her likeness had not once entered his mind, and he
had offered to see that she was comfortably ensconced. Her eyes turned
to him now, but as quickly turned away. He had tried to bow.... And at
this moment, Bedient perceived the languid eye of the man at the desk,
cooling itself upon him. Crossing the tiles from the stairs toward this
gentleman, moreover, he was covered with glances from the guests, eyes
of swift, searching intensity. "How interested they are in a stranger,"
he thought. There was a sharpness of needles and acid in the air.

Low chimes from an indefinite source now struck the hour of eight. A
Chinese stepped up to the desk beside Bedient.

"You are dining with Senor Rey?" the manager inquired lazily.

Bedient nodded, and turned to greet Miss Mallory. She caught his eye
and intent, and promptly turned her back. For the first time, Bedient
felt himself a little inadequate to cope with the psychological
activities of this establishment. Reverting to the desk, the manager
appeared dazed and absent-minded as usual.

"The boy," he said, indicating the Chinese, "will show you to the
Shield Room."

Bedient trailed the soft-footed oriental through the bewildering hall,
until he saw Senor Rey standing in a doorway--and behind him a low-lit
arcanum of leather and metal.... The face of the Spaniard was
startling, like the discovery of a crime. It was lean and livid as a
cadaver. The pallor of the entire left cheek, including the corner of
the lips, had the shine of an old burn, the pores run together in a
sort of changeless glaze. In the haggard, bloodless face, eyes shone
with black brilliance. The teeth were whole and prominent, as was the
entire bony structure of the face and skull. Senor Rey had a tall,
attenuated figure, with military shoulders. He moved with great
difficulty, as if lacking control of his lower limbs, but in his hands
was the contrast--long, white, swift and perfectly preserved. The
scarred face and ruffled throat united to form in Bedient's mind the
hideous suggestion that the Spaniard had once been tortured
_full-length_--his flesh once thrawned in machinery of the devil....
Bedient's hand was grasped in a cold bony grip, and his eyes held for
an instant in the bright unquiet gaze of the Spaniard.

"I welcome you, Mr. Bedient.... Do you plan to be with us some little
time?" The Senor spoke in a low, monotonous way. His English was but
little colored by native speech.

"I cannot tell yet," said Bedient. "I have long wanted to see your
wonderful house, but this particular moment, I came to find a certain
man----"

Bedient noted the yellow eyelids of the other droop a little. He
understood perfectly that there were many men now at _The Pleiad_ who
were badly wanted.

"Don't mistake me, Senor Rey," he added. "The man I wish to talk with
can only prosper for my coming."

"Frequently it happens that the one searched for in Equatoria--is the
last found," the Spaniard observed.

Linen, silver, crystal and candle-radiance were superbly blended upon
the small round table between them. Rey, as a talker, was artful and
inspiriting. His disordered body seemed an ancient classic volume, done
in scarred vellum--a book of perils, named Celestino Rey--and all
things about, the spears, guns, skins, shields, even the grim shadows,
were but references to the text. The dinner was perfect. A tray of
wines and a sheaf of cheroots were placed upon the balcony, at length,
with two chairs covered with puma skins. The Chinese assisted Rey
thither, and when they were alone, he said:

"Do you feel at all like discussing the affair which really brings you
to _The Pleiad_?... You neither eat nor drink nor smoke--perhaps you
talk."

Bedient laughed. "Wouldn't it be the simplest way to believe me?" he
asked. "I want to see Jim Framtree, and I heard he was here. The matter
has nothing to do with Equatoria, the present unrest, nor with any
relation of his or mine to the Island or to _The Pleiad_. You can make
it possible for me to see him at once."

"Unfortunately, I cannot. My province in _The Pleiad_ is to cut down
tension to a minimum. So many gentlemen present are of a highly nervous
temperament. My best procedure many times is to act negatively....
Doubtless Dictator Jaffier was very glad of your return to the
dreamiest of climates----"

"Yes," said Bedient.

"I noted this morning that he dispatched a convoy to your _hacienda_,
bearing doubtless the official welcome----"

"Yes, I met the party."

Bedient perceived that the Spaniard missed little that was going on in
the city and Island; also that he believed Jaffier's convoy had
something to do with his own presence at _The Pleiad_; and finally that
Celestino Rey was not trained to truth. In fact, Bedient had done more
to disconcert the master of the establishment by stating the exact
facts, than by any strategy he might have evolved.... Bedient arose at
length and took the cold hand. He could not forbear a laugh.

"I am flexible enough to appreciate your position," he said. "As an
acknowledged resource of the government, I suppose it is rather hard to
see me--at this particular moment in the history of Equatoria--as
carrying anything so simple as a friendly token."

"You are very absorbing to me, Mr. Bedient," the Senor said delicately.
"An old man may express his fondness.... I am glad _The Pleiad_ pleases
you. I have built it out of the clods that the world has hurled at me,
and have preserved enough vitality to laugh at it all. I find it best
to keep down the tension----"

The younger man assisted the Spaniard to his feet.

"Ah, thank you," said the Senor, bowing. "I am dead below the knees."

Bedient strolled a bit in the gardens. Framtree, if anywhere in the
establishment, did not show himself outside, nor in the buffet,
library, billiard-hall, nor lobby. The extent and grandeur of the house
was astonishing, as well as the extreme efficiency of the service. A
Chinese was within hand-clap momentarily. There seemed scores of them,
fleet, silent, immaculate, full of understanding. Their presence did
not bore one, as a plethora of white servants might have done. Bedient
reflected that the Chinese have not auras of the obtruding sort.... In
his room finally, he drew a chair up to the window, and sat down
without turning on light.

He had never felt wider awake than now, and midnight struck. He could
not keep his thoughts upon the different facets of the present
adventure, but back they carried him through the studio-days, one after
another, steadily, relentlessly toward the end. It was like the beating
of the bass in one of those remorseless Russian symphonies.... The
ride--the halt upon the highway at high noon--the kiss in that glorious
light--her wonderful feminine spirit ... and then the blank until they
were at her mother's house. He never could drive his thoughts into that
woodland path. From the first kiss to the tragedy and the open door,
only glimpses returned, and they had nothing to do with his will ... He
felt his heart in an empty rapid activity, and his scalp prickled. The
captive that would not die was full of insane energy that night....

Once Bedient went to the door, following an inexplicable impulse. At
the far end of the hall, fully seventy yards away, stood Jim Framtree
talking with a woman. A Chinese servant hurried forward to Bedient, as
if risen from the floor.... Framtree and the woman separated. Bedient
took a gold coin from his pocket, and thrust it hastily into the hand
of the servant, saying: "Ask that gentleman to come here for a moment."
The Chinese did not return, nor did Framtree call that night.

But even this slight development could not hold his thoughts....
Bedient wondered if the captive would ever die; and if he should die,
would he not rise again at the memory of that first kiss in the June
sunlight?... And so he sat, until the day. Then he noted another letter
had been slipped under his door. It was of course from Senor Rey:

May I trouble you, my really delightful friend (it read), not to
bestow any favors larger than a _peso_ upon my servants? They are
really very well paid, and do not expect it. Ten dollar
gold-pieces for any slight service are disorganizing and increase
the tension. I beg to be considered,

In a really mellowing friendship,

CELESTINO REY.

TWENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER

THE ART OF MISS MALLORY

Bedient was not a student of disease. Perhaps he would have granted
that destructive principles are pregnant with human interest in the
abstract, but his intelligence certainly was not challenged by these
dark systems of activity. He saw that even if his mind were not held in
anguish, he lacked the equipment to cope with _Pleiad_ affairs. As it
was, his attention positively would not concentrate upon the rapid
undercurrents, where the real energy of the habitues seemed to operate.
It was all like a game of evil children, or rather of queer unfinished
beings, a whirring everywhere of the topsy-turvy and the perverse--sick
and insane to his weary brain.

It was clear that the Chinese had not carried the message to Framtree,
but had consulted the Spaniard instead. Had Bedient told Rey that he
had come to _The Pleiad_ to find Jenkins, or Jones, or Judd, he would
doubtless have been permitted to see Framtree at once.

None of the matters made the impression upon his mind as that one
glimpse of Jim Framtree at the far-end of the hall. It was not that he
was in the building, though this was of course important; but the
magnificent figure of the man in evening wear was the formidable
impression _The Pleiad_ furnished. This concerned his real life; the
rest was without vitality.

By this time, however, Bedient was willing to grant that _The Pleiad_,
and even Coral City, formed a nervous system of which Celestino Rey was
the brain.... He had given up hope of writing a note to Jim Framtree,
realizing it would have no more chance of getting past the Spaniard
than a clicking infernal-box.

Framtree was nowhere abroad when Bedient went below. The former moved
apparently in a forbidden penetralia of this house of mystery. But
surely he could not continue miraculously to disappear.... Bedient
strolled down into the city. He sadly faced the fact that the
_hacienda_ had no call for him; little more than _The Pleiad._ He
turned in _Calle Real_ to look back at the great dome of the Spaniard's
establishment. It was a gorgeous attraction of morning light.... A
Chinese slipped into a fruit-shop--one of the house-servants. Bedient
made his way to the water-front. The _Hatteras_ was out there in the
harbor, surrounded by lighters, preparing for the return voyage to New
York. This was the lure. It came with a pang that disordered all other
mental matters for a space.

Presently he found himself wandering along the water-front. With an
exoteric eye (for the deeps of the man were in communion) he regarded
the faces of all nations. Coral City held as complete a record of
crime, cruelty, and debauchery as one could find in the human indices
of any port. Many were closing their annals of error in decrepitude and
beggary; others were well-knit studies of evil, with health still
hanging on, more or less, and much deviltry to do. A blue blouse, or a
bit of khaki; British puttees and a flare of crimson; Russian boots and
a glimpse of sodden gray; or an American campaign-hat crowning a motley
of many services,--explained that the soldiers of the world found
Equatoria desirable in not a few cases for finishing enlistments. It
was quite as evident, too, that the criminal riff-raff of this world
and hour found lodging in the lower city, as did its aristocracy in
_The Pleiad_.

"A couple of hundred such as these," Bedient reflected, "led by some
cool devil of a humorist, could loot the Antilles and get away before
the intervention of the States. What an army of incorrigibles--an
industrious adventurer could recruit here!"

Then the truth came to his mind. These belonged to Senor Rey's army.
Only the Spaniard could command this part of the city to desperate
endeavor. His _pesos_ and influence, like alcohol, penetrated and
dominated the mass.... Signs vehemently proclaimed that American beer
was important among the imports of Equatoria; and in a certain street
he encountered pitiful smiles and furtive gestures from the upper
balconies.

"Strange," he thought, "wherever lawless men gather, their mates fly
after them from court and slum. It is not men alone who love to
venture--and venture to love!"

Bedient was ascending _Calle Real_ once more, when his cheek was
flicked by a tiny wad of paper which fell at his feet. A _carometa_ was
toiling up the slope from the water-front. He observed Miss Mallory's
profile in the seat. She had not deigned to look, but with the
dexterity of a school-boy the pellet had been snapped from her
direction. He pocketed the message and laughed at her innocent and
unconcerned expression. A little later he managed to read at a glance:

Meet the old military man you saw me with last evening. Perhaps
he'll introduce us.

How quick she had been to sense the profundities of the Spaniard's
establishment! Bedient was glad that she held nothing against him, and
a bit surprised again that he had forgotten all about her reversal of
form at his approach the night before.... He had little difficulty in
making the acquaintance of Colonel Rizzio during the day, and was
formally presented to Miss Mallory at dinner that evening.

"I have heard it's quite the mode here to have names as well as
costumes for the climate," she said. "My wardrobe is limited, and I am
Miss Mallory--as in New York."

It was an hour before they were alone together.

"My friend," she said, "you are looking ill--more than ever ill....
Isn't there anything I can do? Isn't there something you might tell
_me_?"

Bedient felt her real kindness. "You are good," he answered. "I'm all
right, hardly know what it means not to be fit.... And now tell me how
you find things."

They stood in the centre of the coffee-room, so no one could listen
without being observed. Yet their voices were inaudible five feet away.

"It was clear to me at once," she said, "that I had better not meet you
as a friend. They probably knew we both came down on the _Hatteras_,
but that's no reason for our being acquainted."

"And now we must be casual acquaintances--if your work would prosper,"
Bedient said.

"I suppose so."

"The more I think of it, the plainer it becomes that I've sort of
disorganized Rey and his intimates. It really is odd for me to be
here----"

Miss Mallory searched his face in her keen, swift way.

"When I came to understand at all," she said, "I didn't expect to see
you here.... It isn't about the war, is it?"

"No," he replied. Then it occurred to him that she might meet the man
he wished to see, and he added: "I have a message for a man named
Framtree. Senor Rey apparently thinks this man would not be safe in my
hands. At least, I'm not allowed to see him alone----"

"And he's here?"

"Yes, I'm sure of that."

"I haven't met anyone of that name."

"You couldn't mistake. In my opinion, Miss Mallory, he's easily the
best-looking man on the Island."

"I'm sure I haven't met him."... She hesitated, smiling-queerly. "But
if I should, is there any way I can help you?"

"Not by speaking to him about me. That would yoke you with my
fortunes."

"How, then?"

Her eagerness appealed to him. "If you could tell me at any time just
where I might find this Framtree--yes, that would help," he said, with
a laugh.

"I'd be proud to help you in any way.... It's the most fascinating
place I've ever been in," she added with an effort. "I haven't heard a
thing about war, but the whole establishment is buzzing with
conspiracies and mystery. There isn't any rest. Everyone is afraid of
his neighbor; no one trusts himself to fall asleep in peace, for fear
someone will pry his secret away--a terrible atmosphere--but what an
adventure if it breaks into war before my eyes.... And I've met the
Glow-worm----"

Her whole manner changed for an instant. Miss Mallory was now an
emancipated creature, living to the very rim of her being. She belonged
to the tropics, and was playing a game all spiced with enchantments....
Bedient remembered what Captain Carreras had said about the Glow-worm,
on the day of his first coming to Equatoria. The story attached was
that Celestino Rey had found this woman among the red lights of Buenos
Aires, and had forced her to come with him. Bedient was not
particularly interested, but Miss Mallory's study of the hidden-flamed
creature, Senora Rey, and what she told him, adjusted easily to what he
had already heard of the woman from South America.

"She's pure mother-earth and nothing besides," Miss Mallory went on.
"Olive skin, yellow eyes with languid lids, lazy gestures, and a regal
head of yellow hair. Something about her suggests that she might turn
into an explosive at certain contacts, but she's horribly afraid. It
really gives one a thrill to hear her speak of South America. She
fondles the syllables and points strangely over her shoulder, at every
mention of her land. She's dying the slow terrible death of
nostalgia----"

"But of what is she 'horribly afraid'?" Bedient asked.

"Of the Spaniard--her husband. Somehow he has managed to madden her
with fear. She trembles at his name or approach like a horse that has
been cruelly beaten."

Only for a moment had Miss Mallory revealed the depth of her interest
in the affairs of _The Pleiad_. An observer would have taken the pair
for the merest acquaintances. The coffee-room murmured with many
undertones. They arranged to meet at luncheon the following day and
quickly separated. Miss Mallory was now aware that her avenues of
action would be closed, if it were noted that she had more than a
casual interest in Andrew Bedient.

The latter saw nothing further of Senor Rey for two days, and did not
catch even a second glimpse of Jim Framtree. His hours of darkness and
daylight were given over to the old destructive monotony--the dark
drifting of his mind, all the constellations of love and labor and life
shut off by the black mass of nimbus. His identity became lost to all
order; the forces of his being seemed in some process of fermentation.
His hours alone were animate with psychic experiences, but he attached
no significance to them, because he believed them the direct result of
physical weakness. Again and again he turned upon himself fiercely,
discovering that an hour had passed, while he had been tranced in
strange attention for the recurrence of some voice in his brain.
Angrily, he would brush the whole phantasmagoria away, force himself
back into the world of Equatoria, stride out of his rooms, if it were
day, and down into the city; but the pressure of the deeper activities
of his mind would steal back and command him. His physical nature was
sunk into a great ennui, and the other forces were the mightier.

Bedient comprehended this descent; even wondered how far down a man
could go--and live. It was the first thing that ever mastered him. The
temptation to leave Framtree and to take even a flying trip to
India--since New York was not for him--this was tangible, and he
whipped it, though the conflict used up all his power. He had nothing
left to combat the vague psychic thrall that appeared to be destroying
his life. An understanding friend, as David Cairns had come to be,
would have perceived startling changes in Andrew Bedient, and forthwith
would have contended with the enemy for every inch of advance. Bedient
was a bit awed by his great weakness. His physical deterioration did
not trouble him, but his anchorage in the great work of his time had
given way. He had to stop and think hard, to recall the least and
simplest of his conceptions of service. His sense of shame was
consuming in that all the good within him was gone, because he was
destined to be denied a human mate.

As to his exterior fortunes, there was substance in the matters
pertaining to the Glow-worm, which Miss Mallory brought, but they
hardly held him past the moments of their telling. They had met for
luncheon. She was unable to speak for a moment. Bedient wondered if he
looked so badly as that. The woman summoned all her powers to compel
his mind with what was so absorbing to her. He was not a little
impressed by her exceeding kindness. They were seated opposite at a
small table in the very centre of the luncheon-room.

"It's all right," she said lightly. "Senor Rey knows I am to have
luncheon with you. We had a long talk this morning, and I think I left
him in excellent spirits.... Oh, yes, he's an artist with the probe. I
didn't give him a chance to talk about you, because I asked the first
questions."

Her resourcefulness was delightful. "A friend's fortunes are truly safe
in your hands," he said. "And now please tell me all about it."

TWENTY-EIGHTH CHAPTER

A FURTHER NOTE FROM REY

"I had a long mental work-out this morning in the room before
breakfast," she began. "I even thought about what brings you here, and
about my long talk with the Glow-worm last night, which I'll get to--if
you are a very interested listener. After breakfast, I walked for an
hour in the grounds. Have you been over to the Inlet, where Senor Rey's
beautiful sailing-yacht lies--the _Savonarola_?"

"I've seen it from the road," Bedient answered.

"A stairway goes down from the bluff under the road, a hundred steps or
more to the water of the cove. In fact, the tall spars of the
_Savonarola_ aren't nearly so high as the level of the bluff. I love a
sailing-ship, and on the way back I met Senor Rey in his wheel-chair,
and told him how the wonderful little harbor and his thorough-bred,
lying there, had appealed to me. He inclined his head benignly. His
yacht, I said, had the effective lines of her namesake's profile--and
that pleased him. Followed, a technical discussion of different
sailing-ships that once swept the waters of the world, I furnishing
enthusiasm and a text-book inquiry now and then. This brought not only
an invitation to sail within a few days, but also an invitation to a
private dinner this evening in the Flamingo Room, 'with Senora Rey and
a few most cherished guests.' And--I must not forget--the Senor
informed me that his wife was very fond of me....

"I observed that the 'Flamingo Room' had a most enticing sound. He
hoped I would find it so; said the idea was his own, and that, to him,
the tint of a flamingo feather was the fairest of all tints--save one,
to be found in the cheeks of an American girl. I answered that it was
very clear to me now whose sense of beauty had made _The Pleiad_ and
its gardens the rarest delight of my travels."

Miss Mallory regarded Bedient's amusement appreciatively for a moment,
and went on swiftly:

"Then I walked beside his wheel-chair through the shadowy, scented
paths, and presently I mentioned you and Colonel Rizzio among the
interesting people I had met. He declared you were a true
gentleman--spoke feelingly--a stranger at _The Pleiad_, though not to
the Island. I explained how you had kept aloof on the ship coming down,
how you seemed to be the prey of some devouring grief.... All that I
said, he regarded with that terribly bright attention of his. It made
me think of a pack of hounds tossing and tearing at a morsel, the way
his faculties caught my sentences, hounds playing a hare at the end of
a run. Oh, devious and winding are the ways of the Spaniard--and past
finding out! But I frankly confessed my interest in you, and that you
were absolutely self-contained; indeed, it was because of that I
appealed to him. I am sure he found that my sayings balanced in the
most sensitive scales of his mind; and decided I was too young to be
artistic with the fine tools of untruth.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26