Chapter 9

IN FLAGRANTE DELICTO

A low cry greeted me.  The room was light.  I saw Sally Langdon sitting on her bed in her dressing gown.  Shaking my gun at her with a fierce warning gesture to be silent, I turned to close the door.  It was a heavy door, without bolt or bar, and when I had shut it I felt safe only for the moment.  Then I gazed around the room.  There was one window with blind closely drawn.  I listened and seemed to hear footsteps retreating, dying away.  Then I turned to Sally.  She had slipped off the bed to her knees and was holding out trembling hands as if both to supplicate mercy and to ward me off.  She was as white as the pillow on her bed.  She was terribly frightened.  Again with warning hand commanding silence I stepped softly forward, meaning to reassure her.

“Russ!  Russ!” she whispered wildly, and I thought she was going to faint.  When I got close and looked into her eyes I understood the strange dark expression in them.  She was terrified because she believed I meant to kill her, or do worse, probably worse.  She had believed many a hard story about me and had cared for me in spite of them.  I remembered, then, that she had broken her promise, she had tempted me, led me to kiss her, made a fool out of me.  I remembered, also how I had threatened her.  This intrusion of mine was the wild cowboy’s vengeance.

I verily believed she thought I was drunk.  I must have looked pretty hard and fierce, bursting into her room with that big gun in hand.  My first action then was to lay the gun on her bureau.

“You poor kid!” I whispered, taking her hands and trying to raise her.  But she stayed on her knees and clung to me.

“Russ!  It was vile of me,” she whispered.  “I know it.  I deserve anything—­anything!  But I am only a kid.  Russ, I didn’t break my word—­I didn’t make you kiss me just for, vanity’s sake.  I swear I didn’t.  I wanted you to.  For I care, Russ, I can’t help it.  Please forgive me.  Please let me off this time.  Don’t—­don’t—­”

“Will you shut up!” I interrupted, half beside myself.  And I used force in another way than speech.  I shook her and sat her on the bed.  “You little fool, I didn’t come in here to kill you or do some other awful thing, as you think.  For God’s sake, Sally, what do you take me for?”

“Russ, you swore you’d do something terrible if I tempted you anymore,” she faltered.  The way she searched my face with doubtful, fearful eyes hurt me.

“Listen,” and with the word I seemed to be pervaded by peace.  “I didn’t know this was your room.  I came in here to get away—­to save my life.  I was pursued.  I was spying on Sampson and his men.  They heard me, but did not see me.  They don’t know who was listening.  They’re after me now.  I’m Special United States Deputy Marshal Sittell—­Russell Archibald Sittell.  I’m a Ranger.  I’m here as secret aid to Steele.”