Chapter XXXI

“_I loved her better than my life,_ _And better than my soul._”

On the veranda of Harding’s bungalow Leslie was sitting. Over two months had passed since, away in the wilds, Essel, Earl of Alglenton, the man known as the Hyena, had died. The previous day, in Fletcher’s charge, the girl had returned to Calabar. Now, as the Major’s guest, she was awaiting the arrival of the steamer that was to take her back to England and civilization.

To Leslie, the time that had elapsed since Molly’s marriage had assumed the aspect of some ghastly nightmare from which she had emerged with the shadow of sin upon her. She could not make up her mind which of her cousin’s two confessions was the true one; there was so much for and against each.

Yet Captain Fletcher, who was generally right about things, always voted in favor of the last.

The mere idea that her father might not be responsible for Lebrassa’s crimes had lifted the cloud of despair that had settled on the girl.

As she sat there brooding, another problem confronted her--the problem of a living. In a listless manner she was going through a pile of papers on a table beside her, too full of other thoughts to realize they were more than a month old.

From this occupation a step roused her, and sent her eyes to the big sunburnt man coming along the veranda.

Now, where Leslie was concerned, Fletcher had no nervousness. She was the woman he loved, who loved him, and who deliberately shut herself away from him behind the barrier of her father’s possible crimes.

Halting at her side, he eyed the newspaper she was scanning, which was open at the “help wanted” page.

“Why are you looking at that?” he asked.

“I must get something to do when I return to England.”

Leslie was not looking forward to taking up life again. For two years she had been more or less out of things, and she knew the future was not going to be any too pleasant or easy.

“There’s only one job open for you now, and that’s marrying me,” he said firmly.

“I’d marry you to-morrow, dear, if--”

She broke off, the blighted look he now knew very well again on her face.

Before Fletcher there arose the picture of a dim room in a far-away marble palace, a mangled form on a low couch, the anxiety in its tainted eyes, and his promise to a dying man.

“My darling, I know your cousin’s second confession was the true one, everything points to it,” he said tenderly.

“But my father wasn’t my idea of an honorable man, Lindsay.”

“Any man would go to pieces if he had to give up everything and fly for his life.”

Earnestly she looked at him.

“Do you _really_ think Essel was speaking the truth when he said my father was not to blame? You know he’d endure anything, tell any lie to save me.”

In his own mind Fletcher had no doubt which was the real culprit. For all that he was adding brick after brick to the wall of deception Lebrassa had endeavored to raise between the girl and the truth, hoping it would soon be high enough to screen from her the deeds that some men will do in their lust for power and position and money.

“Of course he was, my darling,” he said firmly. “Haven’t I said so a thousand times. And have you ever caught me in a lie?” he added bravely.

Leslie took one of his sunburnt hands and pressed it to her cheek.

“You’ve been so good to me, Lindsay,” she whispered. “And sometimes I almost think you’re right about--my father not being to blame.”

“Give me some proof of your faith by marrying me. Don’t spoil both our lives because of a fancy.”

“I wish I could really think it was a fancy.”

“That’s all it is, darling. A fancy that, if you’re not careful, is going to make a mess of both our lives.”

“I do so want you to be happy,” she said, suddenly weakening. “And if you really think--”

Fletcher did not give her time to finish her sentence.

“Think! I know,” he exclaimed, catching her into his arms.

He kissed the small, white, anxious face and the wide, blue eyes that were looking into his as if trying to read the truth in his soul.

“He was a hero, that cousin of yours,” he said hoarsely, a few minutes later. “A far braver man than you know, Leslie. Braver than I could have been under the same conditions.”

Leslie liked to hear him praise her cousin, and she tried to think his words referred to the tortures Lebrassa had undergone for her sake, which Fletcher had accounted for by saying the Kalluians had objected to their Sultan’s marrying a white woman.

But to Fletcher, now, the wall of deception he had built round Leslie was a monument raised to the memory of a brave man whom Fate and circumstances had driven mad.

THE END

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. bloodthirsty/blood-thirsty, market-square/market square, etc.) have been preserved.

Alterations to the text:

Formatting: abandon the use of drop-caps and left-align the chapter epigraphs.

Fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings.

Add ToC.

[Chapter II]

Change “I can see your _ear_ eyes opening when you receive this” to _dear_.

[Chapter III]

“In the lounge hall of the _hotle_ the visitors were assembling” to _hotel_.

[Chapter IV]

“but quite another to dine tête-à-tête _wtih_ a” to _with_.

[Chapter VI]

“He leaves for England the day after _tomorrow_” to _to-morrow_.

[Chapter VIII]

“Presently, approaching _foosteps_ made her glance round” to _footsteps_.

[Chapter XXIV]

“a slim girl, like a golden reed, _drapped_ in the garment of the” _draped_.

“As if brooding on the _long dead_ past, Lebrassa paused again” to _long-dead_.

[Chapter XXVII]

“knew that beyond lies a secret _pasage_ leading to the heart” to _passage_.

[End of text]