The Crimson Gardenia and Other Tales of Adventure. Rex Beach

this, Van Dam swore mildly at the luck that prevented him from appraising his companion's good looks, now that her mask was off. From the courtyard below sounded voices. The girl clutched him nervously; her hand was shaking. He could feel her shiver, so he slipped an arm about her waist. He did this merely to steady her, he told himself. He reasoned further that such a familiarity could scarcely be offensive in the dark. As she yielded gratefully to his embrace, her soft body palpitating against his own, he ceased reasoning and drew her closer. It was very agreeable to discover that she made no resistance; he could not recollect any sensation quite like this! As yet he had done nothing improper, in view of the fact that it was every gentleman's bounden duty to succor beauty in distress. He wondered if his friends at the Grunewald had missed him, then realized with relief that Miss Banniman never allowed his presence or his absence to interfere in the slightest with her arrangements. They were probably finishing their drinks by now. This would make an entertaining story, later in the evening; they would never guess what he was doing.

      "Who is that speaking?" he inquired.

      "François, the Spider," whispered the girl. "Eh, God! How they all have come to hate you!"

      Roly reasoned from these words that his enemies numbered more than one or two, and involuntarily he asked: "Hate me? What for?"

      The girl trembled. "As if you did not know."

      "And what would happen if they found me—us?" he persisted, feeling vaguely for some hint.

      "Ah!" Her breath caught. "Hush!" She laid her fingers over the lips of his mask.

      Van Dam yielded to an ungovernable impulse and kissed them through the stiff, harsh cloth, whereat she said in wonderment:

      "Heaven guard us! You are actually laughing. That you are wild, I knew; but—you are—you act very strangely, m'sieu."

      "Perhaps I'm intoxicated," he murmured, and pressed her slender waist meaningly; whereupon she seemed to feel his arm for the first time. She drew away, but as she disengaged his embrace her hand encountered his.

      "It is wet—bloody—where you struck the Black Wolf."

      "That was a good wallop, wasn't it?" Van Dam chuckled, with satisfaction, while she felt for her handkerchief and dabbled at his bruised knuckles. "I wondered if I could put him out."

      Then they ceased whispering, for some one was entering the stable beneath them. After a time the stairs creaked to a heavy tread, a hand tried the door, and they could feel a presence within arm's-length. They stood motionless, not daring even to shift their weight upon the crazy floor, until the fellow began to explore the other portion of the loft.

      "That is the Spider himself," breathed the girl, close to Van Dam's ear. "He thinks he has me in his web; but—"

      "Yes?"

      "I would die before I married him."

      A sudden dislike for spiders in general awoke in Roly's breast.

      "I hate him. I would kill him if I dared, but he frightens me—" She broke off and caught at her companion, gasping: "God! What are you doing?"

      He had turned the key softly and was opening the door. To be quite truthful, Roly Van Dam did not know exactly what he intended doing, but some reckless impulse moved him to action. He was invaded by a sudden desire to lay hands upon this Spider person who went about terrorizing pretty girls. Having been reared to a habit of doing exactly as impulse dictated, he felt no hesitation now. Away back in his mind, however, something told him calmly that he had gone quite mad, that the magic of adventure had sent his wits a-flying and had played havoc with his common sense. And a change really had come over him with the very beginning of this enterprise, although he had not stopped to notice it. The flaring rage that had answered to the Wolf's assault upon the girl, the joyful sensation of setting his fist into the fellow's face, the excitement of the flight and the pursuit, had all combined to upset his equilibrium. Then, too, the presence of this bewitching creature close beside him in the darkness, the pressure of her body in his arms, the scent of her warm breath—all this helped to completely electrify him. He felt the dawning of new and utterly absurd desires. Away with discretion! To the winds with prudence! This maiden's cause was his. Here was the one glad moment of his life.

      "François!" he called in a low voice. He slipped the girl's hand from his arm, thrust her back into the shadows, and stepped out upon the landing.

      "Oui! In a moment!" The Spider came stumbling toward him. "She is not here." Van Dam saw a tall man in a domino like his own. "Sacré! She has disappeared; and that devil's spawn is with her. You found no trace in the yard below?"

      "Sst! Listen," breathed Roly. He sank his fingers into his palms and measured the distance carefully. Then, as François turned his head attentively, Roly braced himself and swung. It may have been due to the uncertain light, or to the narrow eyelet-holes through which he peered; at any rate, Van Dam's blow went short.

      The Spider uttered a cry of fury and surprise. Roly felt himself hugged by a pair of thin, iron-muscled arms; then his hands felt in beneath the man's disguise, and the cry changed to a gurgle. They strained and rocked against each other briefly; the floor sagged and creaked; the door behind them flew open. François was groping with one free hand at his waist; but his domino was like a shirt, and he could not find that for which his hungry fingers searched. As for Van Dam, a delicious ferocity was flaming through his veins. Here was an enemy bent upon his quick destruction. No game he had ever played was half so exhilarating as this. He could feel the fellow writhe and the breath bursting through beneath his fingers; he could feel the man's cords harden until they were like wire. Strange to say, with every wrench and every surge his own abysmal fury increased. But the Spider was no weakling; he fought desperately until, in a burst of blind anger that was like some diabolic glee, Van Dam lifted him bodily and hurled him at the opening in the floor. The fellow missed his footing, clawed wildly, then fell backward headlong into the light below. The next instant Van Dam, too, had lost his balance and followed, bumping from step to step until he fetched up at the foot with a jar that drove the breath out of him.

      He sat up in a moment, still dazed; then he heard a rustle, and beheld above him a pair of frightened, dark eyes gazing into his. Although he could see nothing of the girl's face—she had replaced her mask—he knew that she was racked with anxiety.

      "Are you killed?" she queried.

      "No; just abominably twisted," he said. Then, with a wry face: "Ouch! That was an awful bump." As he felt himself over gingerly he stopped short at the sight of his mask lying crumpled beside him. He realized that the jig was up and began to formulate an explanation of his deception, only to hear her exclaim, tremulously:

      "God be praised! You are unhurt."

      He sat still, staring at her, amazed that no outburst followed her glimpse of his face.

      "How did you dare—?" She turned to the figure of François, which Roly discovered motionless an arm's-length away.

      The Spider was sprawled loosely in the litter. His head was twisted upon his shoulders in a peculiar way, and his mask, having slipped to the back, stared upward with a placid, waxlike smile that was horrible under the circumstances.

      Still lost in wonderment, Van Dam arose, dusted off his clothing, and picked up his own disguise. Was it possible that she did not know the person she had gone to meet? It seemed so, indeed, for she was hanging upon him anxiously, as if still doubting his safety, while she half sobbed her admiration of his bravery and her gratitude at his escape. Roly began to fear he had been imposed upon, after all, else how could she fail to realize that he was an utter stranger? But the girl's honesty was compelling; he found that he could not doubt the sincerity of her gaze.

      He felt an unaccountable lack of compunction regarding the Spider. In fact, he experienced a sense of satisfaction at the completeness of his victory over the ruffian, and she seemed to share the feeling.

      He heard her urging him to make haste, and before he had fully regained his wits he found himself following her out into the sunlight. Underneath the wagon-shed