The Just Men of Cordova · Chapter 10 (2/2)

“I shall arrest you,” he went on determinedly. “I don’t care what happens to me afterwards. I will trump up any charge against you. I will take you to the station, through the streets, and put you in the iron dock as though you were a common thief. I’ll do it because I love you,” he said passionately, “because you are the biggest thing in the world to me⁠—because I love you better than life, better than you can love yourself, better than any man could love you. And do you know why I will take you to the police-station?” he went on earnestly. “Because you will be safe there, and the women who look after you will allow no dog like this fellow to have communication with you⁠—because he dare not follow you there, whatever else he dare. As for him⁠—”

He turned savagely about as a resplendent Black entered the room. Black stopped at the sight of the other’s face and dropped his hand to his pocket.

“You look out for me,” said Frank, and Black’s face blanched.

The girl had recovered her speech.

“How dare you⁠—how dare you!” she whispered. “You tell me that you will arrest me. How dare you! And you say you love me!” she said scornfully.

He nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, quietly enough. “I love you. I love you enough to make you hate me. Can I love you any more than that?”

His voice was bitter, and there was something of helplessness in it too, but the determination that underlay his words could not be mistaken.

He did not leave her until Black had taken his leave, and in his pardonable perturbation he forgot that he intended searching the colonel for a certain green bottle with a glass stopper.

Colonel Black returned to his flat that night to find unmistakable evidence that the apartment had been most systematically searched. There existed, however, no evidence as to how his visitors had gained admission. The doors had been opened, despite the fact that they were fastened by a key which had no duplicate, and with locks that were apparently unpickable. The windows were intact, and no attempt had been made to remove money and valuables from the desk which had been ransacked. The only proof of identity they had left behind was the seal which he found attached to the blotting-pad on his desk.

They had gone methodically to work, dropped a neat round splash of sealing-wax, and had as neatly pressed the seal of the organization upon it. There was no other communication, but in its very simplicity this plain “IV” was a little terrifying. It seemed that the members of the Four defied all his efforts at security, laughed to scorn his patent locks, knew more about his movements than his most intimate friends, and chose their own time for their visitations.

This would have been disconcerting to a man of less character than Black; but Black was one who had lived through a score of years⁠—each year punctuated, at regular intervals, with threats of the most terrible character. He had ever lived in the shadow of reprisal, yet he had never suffered punishment.

It was his most fervent boast that he never lost his temper, that he never did anything in a flurry. Now, perhaps for the first time in his life, he was going to work actuated by a greater consideration than self-interest⁠—a consideration of vengeance.

It made him less careful than he was wont to be. He did not look for shadowers that evening, yet shadowers there had been⁠—not one but many.