Read Ebook: The master criminal by Paternoster G Sidney Post Charles Johnson Illustrator

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Ebook has 1563 lines and 85579 words, and 32 pages

"Myra--Myrrha," he half-mused, turning the name about, "a good name for a love-potion, there's a foreshadowing of the bitterness of love in it."

Her brow clouded and she turned away. "You are always mocking me," she muttered.

"No," he said, and he stepped across the room to her side. There was something strange about his walk. He passed across the room with the swift, stealthy swing of a panther--a wounded panther, for one foot dragged after the other and robbed his progress of complete grace. He came to her side and laid his hand on her arm.

Myra's countenance cleared and a happy smile shone on her face. She looked up at him expectantly.

"You can tell me how much you care for him," he continued. "I shall not reveal your confidence to Guy."

She dropped her eyes.

"I cannot tell anyone," she whispered with a strange shyness.

Hora smiled whimsically. "What liars love makes of us all," he said. "Yet perhaps you are speaking truthfully. You cannot tell me what you do not know."

"I could die--die happily--for him," she murmured softly.

"Not that, no, not that!" The cry was wrung from her lips. "You would not condemn me to that, Commandatore?"

"Hush, Myra," he said. "I was merely speaking of possibilities which might arise in the future."

"I thought," she faltered, "that some scheme had crossed your brain, which would necessitate--I could not do it now."

"I have thought of no scheme," he replied reassuringly, "which would wither this new flower which has blossomed in your heart."

"You are mocking again," she remarked.

"I am speaking seriously," he retorted, "of possibilities which might occur. Guy's mate must be prepared for anything--for everything. You must remember that I am not to be turned aside from the object I have in view. Nor is Guy to be turned aside either. His will is as inflexible as mine. The woman who mates with him must be at one with him in his purpose, and, if need be, must be ready to sacrifice herself. Tell me now, Myra, if you can do that, or must I find a mate for him who will?"

"To weaken him with your woman fears," Hora interpolated.

"No," she cried. "He would never know that I feared for his safety. Let me try, Commandatore. Give a fair chance--only that!"

He meditated a while, then he tapped Myra's arm with his finger.

"You shall have your chance," he said. "But remember it is your business to keep him to his profession. He has no time for lovemaking. You shall have your chance, but be sure you use it wisely. If you do, the day may come when I shall say to Guy, there is your wife--and the wife will be the child I have picked from the gutter and educated and treated as my own."

There was a brooding menace in the tone in which he finished, and the woman feared to waken him to speech again. At last, he said harshly:

"Have you no thanks, Myra?"

"You frighten me sometimes, Commandatore," she answered timidly. "I cannot understand you."

"You will do so some day," he replied. He seemed amused at the idea, for he laughed and spoke good-humouredly. "If you make good use of your chances, my girl, everything will become clear to you. You have wit as well as beauty, Myra. Make use of them both. He is of an age to be caught."

Through the open window the voice of Big Ben solemnly tolled three.

The light died out of the woman's face. "Cruel," she murmured in a tense, hoarse whisper. "It was cruel to mock me so. Something has happened to him. The hour has passed. Oh! Guy, Guy!"

Lynton Hora turned upon her fiercely. "Is this a specimen of your self-control?" he said. "Haven't you learned that in the profession Guy has adopted a thousand trivial events may supply reason for delay? Mind, if I have any snivelling I withdraw my promise."

Myra was constrained into silence. She went to the window. Already the black night had given place to the grey mists of coming dawn. She looked out over the park. Uprising from the sea of shadows objects began to emerge. From the near distance the music of violins and harps throbbed to a waltz measure. She stood there unheeding while the light strengthened, and the dawn came up from the east in a glory of crimson and gold. She stood there unseeing, her heart throbbing with agony, yet with face schooled to complete apathy.

The rose and the gold faded from the sky. Another day had begun. She had forgotten Hora's presence, forgotten everything. She closed the window and lifted her hand to pull down the blinds and shut out the day. Hora's voice awakened her.

"Listen," he said, and, rising swiftly from his chair, he pushed Myra aside and threw open the casement again. The sharp sound of the bell of an electric brougham entered that window on the eighth storey just as the voice of Big Ben proclaimed four.

"Only somebody's brougham," said Myra listlessly.

"My brougham," replied Hora curtly. "Bringing Guy home."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Coming back without him, most likely," she said. Still, in spite of the remark, hope showed itself in her expression. The carriage stopped. For five minutes a strained silence endured. It was broken by the sound of an outside door opening and shutting. Another pause! Both were looking towards the door of the apartment in which Myra and Hora stood expectantly. Hora held up his finger warningly to his companion.

The door opened and there entered a young man in evening clothes, his coat was over his arm, upon which an umbrella was hooked, and his hat was in his hand.

"Hullo! I didn't expect anyone to be waiting up for me," he remarked cheerfully. "I thought that was a privilege reserved for the reprobate sons of evangelical households. I suppose you haven't been praying for the success of my undertaking."

He laughed joyously. His high spirits seemed infectious. Hora smiled responsively. Joy illuminated Myra's expressive features like sunlight on the woodlands after an April shower.

"You surely did not think that I should fail?" he asked, looking from one to another.

"I did not," replied Hora drily. "Myra scarcely shared my confidence though. She seemed to think that it was brutal of me to give you a chance of showing what you could do, when working on your own account."

The young man laughed again.

"These women--these women," he said. Then he turned to Myra. "I thought that you, at least, would have had confidence in me." He tossed his coat on to a chair, and going to her, encircled her waist with his arm. "Did you really think I should fail in my first coup?" he asked.

"No--no--no," she cried vehemently. "But, oh, Guy! I was afraid. If I could only have come with you--to have shared in the danger."

He turned to Hora and there was a proud gleam in his eyes. "You must set me a more difficult task next time, Commandatore," he said.

"Then you have secured the picture?" asked the elder man eagerly.

For reply, Guy lifted the umbrella from the table where he had laid it down. To all appearance it was merely a specimen of the article it pretended to be, but in the young man's hands the handle unscrewed, revealing the fact that it was a sham. Instead of an umbrella, a long narrow case was revealed, and from within it Guy coaxed with infinite care a roll of canvas.

"It was rather a tight fit," he remarked, "but I don't think I have damaged the picture." He unrolled the canvas carefully on the table.

Hora's eyes sparkled as he looked down upon the painting.

"How I have longed for a genuine Greuze to add to my collection," he remarked, "and this--this is the most perfect specimen in the world. My dear Guy, how can I ever be grateful enough to you?"

Was there a dash of sarcasm in his voice? If so, the young man did not notice it. He was moved to genuine emotion.

"It is a little thing in return for all you have done for me," he replied earnestly. He laid his hand on the elder man's arm as he continued, "There's nothing I would not do which would add to your happiness--you have given me so much."

Hora shook off the grasp.

"The air is overcharged with sentiment," he said lightly. "Myra here might have been trained in an English boarding school for young ladies, she is so full of it. And now you." He held up his hands in derision.

Guy laughed gaily. He was used to Hora's moods.

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