The Dain Curse · Part II · Chapter 11 (2/2)

“Who calls Joseph, a name that is no more?” he asked, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that, standing there⁠—for I had halted ten feet from him, with Collinson beside me⁠—looking at him, listening to his voice, I didn’t begin to feel that perhaps, after all, nothing very terrible had been about to happen. “There is no Joseph,” he went on, not waiting for an answer to his question. “You may now know, as the world shall soon know, that he who went among you as Joseph was not Joseph, but God Himself. Now that you know, go.”

I should have said, “Bunk,” and jumped him. To any other man, I would have. To this one I didn’t. I said: “I’ll have to take Miss Leggett and Mrs. Haldorn with me,” and said it indecisively, almost apologetically.

He drew himself up taller, and his white-bearded face was stern.

“Go,” he commanded; “go from me before your defiance leads to destruction.”

Aaronia Haldorn spoke from where she lay tied on the step, spoke to me:

“Shoot. Shoot now⁠—quick. Shoot.”

I said to the man:

“I don’t care what your right name is. You’re going to the can. Now put your knife down.”

“Blasphemer,” he thundered, and took a step towards me. “Now you will die.”

That should have been funny. It wasn’t.

I yelled, “Stop,” at him. He wouldn’t stop. I was afraid. I fired. The bullet hit his cheek. I saw the hole it made. No muscle twitched in his face; not even his eyes blinked. He walked deliberately, not hurrying, towards me.

I worked the automatic’s trigger, pumping six more bullets into his face and body. I saw them go in. And he came on steadily, showing in no way that he was conscious of them. His eyes and face were stern, but not angry. When he was close to me the knife in his hand went up high above his head. That’s no way to fight with a knife; but he wasn’t fighting: he was bringing retribution to me, and he paid as little attention to my attempts to stop him as a parent does to those of a small child he’s punishing.

I was fighting. When the knife, shining over our heads, started down I went in under it, bending my right forearm against his knife-arm, driving the dagger in my left hand at his throat. I drove the heavy blade into his throat, in till the hilt’s cross stopped it. Then I was through.

I didn’t know I had closed my eyes until I found myself opening them. The first thing I saw was Eric Collinson kneeling beside Gabrielle Leggett, turning her face from the glaring light-beam, trying to rouse her. Next I saw Aaronia Haldorn, apparently unconscious on the altar step, with the boy Manuel crying on her and pulling with too nervous hands at her bonds. Then I saw that I was standing with my legs apart, and that Joseph was lying between my feet, dead, with the dagger through his neck.

“Thank God he wasn’t really God,” I mumbled to myself.

A brown body in white brushed past me, and Minnie Hershey was throwing herself down in front of Gabrielle Leggett, crying:

“Oh, Miss Gabrielle, I thought that devil had come alive and was after you again.”

I went over to the mulatto and took her by the shoulder, lifting her up, asking her: “How could he? Didn’t you kill him dead?”

“Yes, sir, but⁠—”

“But you thought he might have come back in another shape?”

“Y‑yes, sir. I thought he was⁠—” She stopped and worked her lips together.

“Me?” I asked.

She nodded, not looking at me.