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CHAPTER XXXV
STRAIGHT TALK

If Garth had appeared two minutes earlier, he need have suffered no uncertainty about Marise. But unfortunately she was not in these days the romantic heroine of a stage play. Characters did not come on or go off at just the right instant to work up her scenes in life. Therefore this unrehearsed effect ended with an anti-climax. Whether Severance were cast for hero or villain remained doubtful: and whether she had acted the noble wife or the weak lover was left vague: or at least, it was vague to the mind of Garth. He had no idea what Marise had done. He was sure only that Severance had done as much as she would let him do. By and by he expected to learn a great deal more: through the process of deduction.

"Good gracious, if I had called out, he would have heard me!" thought Marise; and was thankful that she hadn't. To yell for John Garth to rescue her from Tony Severance! That would have been too inane, too ridiculous. Nevertheless, a picture flashed vividly across her brain: Garth as he had looked that night at Mothereen's house when hearing her shriek he had bounded to her bedside from behind the screen. His collar had been off, his strong throat bare, his hair rumpled. It had occurred to Marise as she peeped from between her lashes that he'd make a fine model for a young Samson, newly sheared by Delilah.

The man's quiet voice and his drawled "Good afternoon, Severance," frightened her a little. She had seen him angry, but never violent. She felt convinced, somehow, that the angrier he was, the more quiet he would be – deadly quiet. Just why she felt that, she couldn't have explained, for she did not know him well – indeed, she knew him hardly at all. Yet she was sure – very sure. And she was sure also that his "good afternoon" didn't express Garth's real emotion at sight of Severance with her on the terrace of Vision House.

"What had I better do?" she wondered. "Go – or stay?"

She decided to stay, and keep peace between the two men if need be. Besides, she must hear what they would say to each other!

Severance had no conventional answer for Garth's "Good afternoon." He stood silent, staring and frowning, fingering his small black moustache.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked his host.

Severance had never been able to forget the scene between himself and Garth at the latter's hotel in New York. He was at heart more Greek than British; and the days are long past since Greeks were aggressive fighters. He shrank from any repetition of his experience at the Belmore, and had come to Vision House meaning not to rouse Garth to violent issues. That cool question was too much, however, for his prudence. Anyhow, even Garth wouldn't be brute enough to attack him before Marise!

"I have come to bring Miss Sorel a message from her mother, who wants her at Los Angeles," he said sharply.

"That might do if she were Miss Sorel," returned Garth. "But she isn't."

"She is professionally," said Severance.

"She's ceased to be a professional."

"Temporarily."

"Oh! Your point is that she's the temporary wife of a temporary gentleman, and that as such her time with the T.G. is up. Is that it?"

"Precisely."

"I see. You've come to wind up the arrangement?"

"I have. You must have been expecting me."

"I didn't let my mind dwell on you. How are you going to pay me my million – in banknotes, bonds or a cheque? Because I may as well inform you, I shall refuse to accept a cheque."

"I don't mean to offer you one."

"Very well. Have you got the million on you?"

"I have not! I haven't got it anywhere – that is, all of it. I shall pay you by instalments."

"I can't agree to accept the money like that."

"You'll have to!" exploded Severance. "There's nothing else you can do."

"You think so? We shall see. But it occurs to me that one instalment deserves another. You pay me by instalments: I allow my wife to go to her mother by instalments. Some of her trunks can go first."

"For God's sake don't joke about this thing!" broke out Severance. "It's too coarse – even for you."

"Strikes me that it would be coarser to take it seriously," said Garth. "And there's no need of doing that any more."

"What do you mean?" the other asked sharply.

"As I pointed out before, the 'bargain's' smashed to bits."

"Nothing of the sort!" Severance flung at him. "There wasn't a word spoken about handing you the whole million in a bunch."

"There was something said about handing it over in advance. It wasn't handed over."

"That was Marise's fault, not mine. She rushed on the marriage out of childish pique against me, never stopping to dream of the consequences."

"Which, however, haven't been very disastrous for her," said Garth. "Have they, Marise?"

"No – o," she murmured. "But oh, please, both of you – don't lose your heads!"

"Mine's on my shoulders," returned Garth calmly. "And I see an excrescence of some sort protruding from Severance's. You need have no fear for either of us. Still, if you prefer to wait indoors, we can get on without you for awhile."

"No, I'd rather stop where I am." Marise chose.

"To go back then," said Garth; "the fault, if it was a fault, anyhow wasn't mine. I obeyed the lady's commands and married her without haggling for money down. As there was no 'bargain' to stick to, I stuck to my post, the post of dummy husband, to oblige her, not for any mercenary reason. I shall go on sticking to it, if not to please her, or myself, just because I've got into the habit. I can't break that even for Mrs. Sorel; certainly not for you."

"I'm not talking of myself now," barked Severance. "I'm talking of Marise. She wants to be free. Surely you won't hold her against her will."

"Surely she can speak for herself!" said Garth.

Marise did not speak. Her senses began to whirl. She did not know what was to become of her. She couldn't tell what she wished would become of her! She felt as if a wave had swept over her head. She was drowning.

"No!" snapped Garth, when she remained silent, looking at neither, but gazing anxiously out towards the Canyon. "No, I agreed to play the dummy hand during your absence for the sum of a million dollars. I haven't got the million. But even if I had got it, I should have demanded a second million to clear out. There was nothing specified on that score in New York."

"It was taken for granted, of course!" said Severance. "There was no other meaning possible. We trusted to your honour."

"We?"

"Miss Sorel and I – and her mother."

"That's news to me. Perhaps I shall appreciate it as a compliment when I'm old – ninety or so. I don't now. I simply don't believe it."

"You think we lie?"

"First person singular, please! Marise hasn't spoken."

"Damn you!" broke out Severance, at the end of his tether, and for once reckless of consequences. "You refuse to let her go – you refuse equally to leave her."

"That's so," said Garth, with an exaggerated nasal twang which made Severance want to kill him for his insolence. He started forward, itching to strike; but something he saw in Garth's eyes brought him to a standstill. That confounded tooth episode was always "throwing itself up at him," so to speak! Fortunately, however, he remembered something at that instant – a weapon which he had almost overlooked, though it was within his grasp. He calmed himself with a kind of mental and physical stiffening.

"If you don't intend to carry out your agreement – I insist, your agreement– ! why have you brought that secretary girl, Miss Marks, all the way from New York to El Toyar Hotel?" he hurled at Garth. "When I heard she was there and that you were constantly riding over from your place to see her, I supposed it was done on purpose to give Marise an easy chance to get her divorce. As it is – "

"As it is," Garth cut him short, "the affair is not your business."

"It's Marise's business, if it doesn't mean what I thought."

"Then let her attend to it. She's quite capable of doing that," said Garth. "And now, unless you can produce a million dollars at sight, or still better, two million, don't you think you'd be wise to blow back to your hotel? It'll soon be too dark to walk."

Severance turned furiously to the pale girl. "Marise – can you stand by and see me ordered away like this?"

She looked at him with a strange look which he could not read at all. "This is his house, Tony," she answered, in an odd, dull voice. "Not mine."

"I think you'd best go, for your own sake," said Garth. "But come back, of course, when you've got the money. If we're here then, we'll be glad to see you."

Severance turned without another word, even to Marise, and walked away as he had come, passing through the drawing-room. Garth started to follow, but Marise ran to him and stopped him with a small, ice-cold hand on his arm. "Why are you going after Lord Severance?" she whispered, her lips dry.

"Only to see that he doesn't lose himself somewhere in the house and hide under a table or sofa," Garth explained.

Her hand dropped. She let him go.

There was no fear of anything melodramatic, she saw. Yet she was not relieved. She felt as if she had some black, hollow, worn-out thing in her breast instead of a heart. It was heavy and useless, and hardly beat.

"That horrid girl!" she said half aloud when Garth had gone. "I always knew, really, she would be here. I believe he did give her the jewels, and Mothereen wangled them away from her somehow. He's pretending to follow Tony, and see him out. But he doesn't mean to come back here to me."

As she thought this, Garth came back.

CHAPTER XXXVI
STUMBLING IN THE DARK

After all, Severance had hardly expected a more brilliant result from his bluff. The one real failure was in losing his temper, which, when discussing his plan with Mums, he'd meant to preserve like a jewel of price.

Only the short preliminary round had been played. The game proper was all before him. He'd tested Marise to begin with. She had not been completely satisfying. That is, she hadn't thrown herself into his arms and sighed, "Take me away, darling Tony!" which would have been the ideal thing. But on the other hand, she hadn't very actively repelled him. If Garth had not appeared on the scene like a stage demon, all might have been different. The fellow was a bully, and had cowed the girl. Heaven knew to what means he had resorted in these last weeks to break her high spirit. But of course there was no doubt that she wanted to free herself, and the best service Severance could give his dear lady-love was to take her (ostensibly) against her will.

That brought him back mentally to the plan he had explained to Mary Sorel at Bell Towers – the plan she had approved. He must carry it out at once. And Zélie Marks's presence at the hotel might help, he began dimly to see now.

By the time he had reached El Toyar he saw with more clearness. At the hotel desk he scribbled on one of his visiting cards, "Please grant me a short interview. I come to you from Mrs. John Garth." This card he slipped into an envelope and closed down the flap. Then he addressed it, and requested the clerk, "Kindly have this sent up immediately to Miss Marks."

While he awaited an answer, or the arrival of Zélie, Severance debated whether or no to wire Mary Sorel.

She had suggested his doing so, to prevent any danger of scandal in the working out of the plan. But in his heart Tony had no longer the holy terror of that bogey which had chilled him while Œnone was alive.

Then, the least whisper of gossip connecting him with Miss Sorel, or even Mrs. Garth, might have ruined the prospect of marriage with his cousin: and that would have been, indirectly, as harmful to Marise as himself. Now, however, when there was nothing further to be gained or lost for either of them from Constantine Ionides, Severance need think only of himself and Marise; and he thought of himself first.

His intention was to take Marise away from Garth, who had no right to the girl and was keeping her against her true wish. If necessary, Severance would take her by force, for her own good, because then the thing would be done and over with: there would be no going back. But – anyhow – he would take her!

Mums had urged him to wire, if his first attempt failed, and Garth refused to see reason as presented to him with mild bluff. She wanted to fly to the Grand Canyon and be on the spot – ready for emergencies – to stand by her daughter. But Severance wasn't sure even now, as things had turned out, whether he would be wise in furthering this wish.

It was natural, of course. But just as scandal would have been fatal before, it might be useful in the present situation. If her "Mums" were close at hand, Marise might in the first confusion of her mind seek refuge under the maternal wing, from the man she loved. If she did anything futile like that, it would give Garth time to act: whereas, if Marise had no refuge but her lover – oh, distinctly it would be tempting Providence to telegraph to Mums!

"Well?" said Garth, when Marise stood statuelike in the blue dusk.

"I don't think it is very well," she answered slowly.

"I warned you fairly that I'd not stand out of Severance's way," Garth reminded her, his face so grey and grim in the twilight that the girl remembered how she had thought it looked carved from rock.

"Yet only a few minutes ago you offered to leave me, for a bribe of a second million."

"There can't be a 'second' million till there's been a first."

"The principle is the same."

"There's where you're mistaken. I think now the time has come for you to understand. But I had a sneaking idea that perhaps you did understand, already. You have a sense of humour – a strong one, for a woman."

"Has a sense of humour anything to do with – this affair?"

"Yes. A grim one. But if you don't see it – "

"Sometimes for a minute I've wondered if I did see – something."

"What did you think you saw?"

"I – hardly care to put it into words."

"All right. I'll do it for you. But if I do, you must answer honestly."

"I will – if I answer at all."

"Very well, I'll risk your answering. You wondered pretty often and by flashes if the question of money ever had anything to do with my accepting the damnable and disgusting offer Severance made to me. Was that it?"

"Ye-es. Though what else could it be, when you showed in every way that your love – if it was love – had turned to – to actual hate, before you married me?"

"Oh, not so bad as that!" Garth protested, something like a queer, suppressed laugh, shaking his voice.

"Dislike, then."

"That sounds as if I hadn't treated you decently."

"No, for you have. You've been very decent indeed – except that you've forced me to do lots of things I haven't wanted to do, like living in that suite at the Plaza and – and coming out here, and all that."

"Wasn't it necessary, as you were so anxious to avoid scandal?"

"There might have been other ways."

"I didn't see them. Anyhow, it's done now. It can't be undone. And as things were, I've tried to treat you as you want to be treated, all through. As to the money, I will defend myself there, since it seems that you have seen to the bottom of the well – where truth lies! – only in those short flashes. If Severance had ever tried to hand me a million dollars or any other sum for what I've done, I'd have thrown it in his face, and knocked the face in after it. That's what I meant from the first. So now you know."

"But – if you'd stopped wanting me? Why – why? You said yourself I didn't seem to be a judge of how much it took to kill love."

"Yes, I said that."

"And you said other things. You said a million was always useful to anyone – "

"There I banked again on your sense of humour. Or perhaps a little on your judgment of character."

"I must confess I've tried to judge yours!" Marise exclaimed, almost in spite of herself. "But I can't – I'm always stumbling against things – in the dark."

"Well, there's plenty of 'dark'! I admit that," said Garth. "Many people would say that of me. Perhaps the only one who wouldn't is little Mothereen, and we can't count her, can we? There are all sorts of horrid possibilities in the dark, where a character's concerned. My motive, though not mercenary, might have been revenge punishment!"

"That's often seemed to me the most likely!" cried Marise. "Especially now."

"Especially now? Explain, please."

"Now, when you've brought that girl out here, close to this house. You did bring her, didn't you? You asked me to be honest. Be honest yourself!"

"By my request she came."

"You paid for her to come?"

"Yes, I couldn't let her give up a good job in New York, even for awhile, and travel so far on my business, at her own expense – could I?"

"On your business?"

"Yes. I told you once that Miss Marks was an old friend. We've known each other for years. She used to live at Albuquerque. Cath and Bill, whom you met, are her cousins – or rather, Cath is. Mothereen is fond – "

"Ah, now I'm sure of something I only wondered about before!"

"Will you tell me what that is?"

"A note for Meesis Garth from the Hotel El Tovar," announced the voice of the half-breed maid.

"Bring it to me!" Marise ordered.

The girl, instinctively aware that she'd interrupted a "scene," tripped across the terrace with an apologetic air. Marise almost snatched an envelope from a little silver tray and tore it open. Her strong young eyes could just make out through the dusk a few lines of written words.

"This is from Zélie Marks!" she exclaimed, looking up at Garth. "She wants me to come over at once and see her at the hotel. She says she has been ill, and that's the reason she's staying on there."

"She tells the truth. She had appendicitis. They thought there'd have to be an operation, but they cured her up – or nearly – without. Why does she ask to see you?"

"She says she'll explain everything when I get there."

"Do you intend to go?"

"Yes. I'd like to hear – her story."

"All right – go. You shall have the car, of course. But there are a few things I'd prefer to tell you myself first."

"I'd rather hear everything from her."

Garth gave a shrug. "Very well. As you please. But you and she both seem to forget dinner-time. You'll be hungry if – "

"I won't be hungry!" cried Marise. "I want to start now."

"I'll see to it for you," said Garth, with that quiet, rather heavy air which irritated Marise sometimes and always puzzled her. For that was one of the things about him which upset her judgment of his character.

CHAPTER XXXVII
ZÉLIE GETS EVEN

"Will you step into Miss Marks's sitting-room? She's expecting you," Marise was greeted, arriving at the hotel.

"A private sitting-room! And Jack Garth's money pays for it," she thought dully. But of course it was nothing to her. At least, it would have been nothing if, while keeping it secret, he was not bent on driving away the man who loved her – Marise. Oh, and that reminded her of an important thing! It had been on her lips to accuse him of giving Zélie the jewels, but she had been interrupted, or had forgotten. Then the note had come from the hotel… She would have the truth out of Zélie herself.

The sitting-room was on the ground floor, and had a loggia all its own, lit by a red-shaded electric lamp, like an illuminated poppy. Zélie was there in a huge American rocking-chair, gazing Canyonward under the moon, when Mrs. Garth was shown into the room. Instantly the girl jumped up, and Marise saw her framed in the door. She looked pale, and thinner than she had been in New York. But the change wasn't unbecoming.

The conventional thing would have been for Zélie to say, "How good of you to come! I hope you didn't mind my sending for you, as I've been ill." Whereupon Marise would naturally have answered, "Not at all."

But nothing of the kind happened. The two girls eyed each other like fencers, or even like cats. Then Marise said, "You see, I've come."

"Yes," replied Zélie, "I supposed you would, after what Lord Severance told me."

Marise was startled. "Lord Severance! What did he tell you?"

"That you suspected your husband and me of all sorts of unmentionable things, and that you wouldn't be satisfied until you'd had it out with me. Well – now you can have it out with me. Fire away, Mrs. Garth. I've nothing to be ashamed of. It's all the other way round."

"What do you mean?" gasped Marise.

"Well, frankly, I mean that you should be ashamed of suspecting him. You ought to know him better."

"I said not one word to Lord Severance about suspecting my – Major Garth," Marise broke out in self-defence.

"Didn't you?" echoed Zélie. "Well, that's funny, since he sent up his card and told me you were wild. He urged and urged, if I had any friendship for Jack Garth, to write and get you here."

"That's very strange," said Marise. "But I suppose – one must suppose! – he meant well. Now I am here, if you have anything to tell me you might as well tell it."

"Does Jack know you've come?" asked Zélie quietly.

"He does. We were talking about you when your note arrived. You see, Lord Severance mentioned that you were at the hotel."

"Then why did you want to talk with me? Surely you'd believe Jack? I shouldn't think anyone ever accused him of lying!"

"I never did! But I – well, when your note came I thought I'd rather hear everything from you. It wouldn't have occurred to me otherwise."

"You mean you wouldn't have proposed coming over here if I hadn't written?"

"I shouldn't even have thought of it."

"Then it's a game of Lord Severance's we seem to be playing."

"I don't see his object," puzzled Marise.

"Neither do I," replied Zélie – "yet. But as you say – now you are here, we might as well talk. Won't you sit down?"

"No, thank you," said Marise. "I'd rather stand."

"Well, if you don't mind, I'll sit. I'm not very strong yet, as I told you in my letter, that's why I'm still here."

"Oh, please do sit down!" cried Marise, more gently. "In that case I will sit, too."

"In justice to Jack I ought to tell you the whole story of why I came out," said Zélie. "He and I decided it would be best for you not to know. At least, I decided, because I'm a woman and realise how a woman feels about such things. However, as he let you come here to see me, he must have expected you to hear the truth. Goodness knows, it's simple enough, and won't take long in the telling! The morning after you were married he called early to see me, and asked if I'd do him a big favour. Of course I said yes. The favour was, to start out West at once, buy pretty things to decorate your room at Vision House, get the whole place in apple-pie order, and engage servants from somewhere – no matter where, and no matter what wages. Mothereen wasn't strong enough to have the whole work thrown on her shoulders, though she'd have loved it. But when I'd finished a lot of commissions at Kansas City, I stopped at Albuquerque and told her about you."

"I wonder what you told?" Marise laughed a little nervously.

"What Jack would have wanted me to tell, not what you deserved."

Mrs. John Garth stiffened. "Are you the judge of what I deserve?"

"God help you if I were! All I know about you is, that you're the most spoiled, conceited girl I ever saw, and that you're not capable of appreciating Jack Garth – no, not capable!"

"You don't know in the least what I'm capable of!" The cheeks of Marise were burning now. They felt as if they had been slapped. "I never showed my real self to you. Why should I?"

"Why, indeed? But you showed me all your gladdest rags, and your jewels and newspaper notices, and let me answer lots of your love-letters, meaning to make the poor secretary envious."

"What horrid thoughts you had of me! I never meant that."

"Subconsciously, if not consciously, that's just what you did mean."

"I won't dispute with you, Miss Marks. But speaking of jewels – since you're being so frank – tell me if Major Garth didn't make a present to you of a rope of pearls, an emerald laurel wreath, a sapphire and diamond pendant – "

Zélie was strongly tempted to answer bluntly "Yes." If she did, and left it at that, Marise would be furious. She would go back to Vision House and quarrel with Jack, even if the two hadn't quarrelled irrevocably already, and the divorce which might give Jack to her would come soon. But no, she had vowed to herself that she would be loyal to Jack through everything. She had vowed, too, that she would "get even" with Marise Sorel some day – and now was the day when she could "bring off the stunt," as she said to herself. But she wouldn't get even in a way to hurt Jack. If possible, she'd do it in a way to help him.

"He gave me those things to take out to Mothereen and ask her to keep them for you, till you came," lied Zélie. And lying, she looked more indignantly virtuous than when she had been telling the simple truth.

Marise believed her.

"Is there anything more you want to know?" inquired

Miss Marks. "Because if you do, I can't think of much which would especially concern or interest you, except that Mothereen – Mrs. Mooney – came to the Grand Canyon with me and helped as much in the work as she was strong enough to do. So you needn't imagine she told you any fibs. If there were reservations, I'm responsible. She'd have blabbed out everything if I hadn't warned her you wouldn't be pleased to hear that I'd been Jack's chosen messenger. You didn't like me much, I said. You and your mother thought I was rather forward and above my place. You'd think so a heap more if you knew. Mothereen promised to hold her tongue. It must have been a struggle for her. She's as ingenuous as a child. So is Jack in some ways. He'd have told you all about me if I hadn't made him see it wouldn't do."

"You seem to have been awfully solicitous on my account," said Marise.

"It was on Jack's account really," explained Zélie.

"I didn't want his apple-cart to be upset – no matter what I thought of the apples. I didn't care a hang for them personally."

Marise laughed. "The apples were me."

"That's it. Pretty, good-smelling apples, with pink cheeks and satin skin. But at heart – r-o-t-t-e-n!"

"Thanks!" choked Marise, and got up. "Thank you for all your frankness. I could return some of it, but you've been ill, and I don't like being rude. I must just say one thing, however, before I go. You've given yourself away dreadfully."

Zélie stumbled to her feet. "How?"

"By showing me exactly what your feeling is for Major Garth."

"I'm his pal from the beginning to the end."

Marise ignored the evasion. "You needn't be afraid that I'll be cad enough to go and tell him what I think about you. He probably knows your feelings and returns them, but – "

"He doesn't. Are you a damn fool, or are you only pretending?"

"I daresay I'm a damn fool," repeated Marise sweetly. "In any case, I'm not pretending."

"Then you're doubly a fool!" shrilled Zélie. "A damned fool not to know how Jack feels for you, and a damneder one not to know enough to feel right towards him. Jack's the salt of the earth. There's more courage and good faith and everything noble and big in his little finger than in your whole lovely body. So now you can go home. And put that in your pocket!"

Marise went. She shut the door softly, so softly and considerately that it hurt worse than a loud slam.

"I did get even with her!" Zélie thought. And plumped down on the sofa with a sob.