Part 53 (1/2)

David cut him short with an exclamation. Then he walked out to the curb, opened the cab door and coolly motioned for Colonel Grand to step down and enter.

Mary Braddock waited no longer. She sped down the steps, pa.s.sing the slow-moving, stupefied Colonel, and ruthlessly shoved Roberta Grand to one side, taking her stand in front of her husband, facing his foe.

”It isn't necessary for my husband to s.h.i.+eld himself behind your flesh and blood, Colonel Grand,” she said, her head erect. ”Now, if you care to shoot, you have both of us at your mercy.”

”I came to propose a peaceful--” began the Colonel, baffled.

”Step lively, Colonel Grand!” commanded Jenison. ”Permit me, Miss Grand.”

”Don't touch me,” hissed Roberta, disdaining his a.s.sistance. The look she bestowed upon her father, as she pa.s.sed him, was not a pleasant one. He had promised her a different reception at the Portman home, secretly depending on his power to force Mrs. Braddock to welcome an armistice, no matter how distasteful it may have been to her. He had not antic.i.p.ated the outcome. Miss Grand accompanied him, meanly it is true, in the hope that she might gloat over the Braddocks in their humiliation.

She entered the cab, frightened and dismayed. Her father, still grasping his pistol, followed her. He cast a defeated, almost appealing glance at the uncompromising face of the young man who held open the door.

”You can't obtain a warrant for me,” he said nervously. ”I have the law on my side. I can prove that this man threatened--”

”Drive on, cabby,” said David relentlessly. ”I've taken your number.

You will be called on as a witness. Don't argue! I mean it!”

Muttering excitedly, the driver, without the customary ”where to?”

started off down the street. Colonel Grand leaned forward to send a menacing scowl toward the group on the sidewalk. He smiled sardonically when he saw that Mary Braddock still kept her place in front of her husband, evidently afraid that he would fire from the window of the departing cab. Then he called out his instructions to the driver and settled back in the seat.

The gritting of Tom Braddock's teeth did not escape the tortured ears of his wife. She looked up quickly. He was glaring after the cab, a look of appalling ferocity in his face.

”Come into the house, Tom,” she said quickly.

He turned on her with a snarl.

”I won't keep you long,” he grated. ”I've got other business on hand.”

It occurred to him to tender David his meed of praise. ”That was pretty sharp in you, David, staving him off like that. I owe you something for doing that.”

”I knew you were unarmed. You would have had no chance.”

They were going up the steps, Braddock between the others. Brooks, the footman, was holding the door open. He had been a politely interested witness to the startling encounter.

Braddock seemed to be studying each successive slab of stone as he ascended. The muscles of his jaw were working. He seemed to have formed a habit of jamming his hands far down into his coat pockets.

”That was the only chance _he'll_ ever have,” was his sententious remark. No other word was uttered until they were inside the house, Mrs. Braddock's gasp of relief could not have been called a sigh.

”Thank G.o.d!” she breathed, sinking upon the hall seat and clasping her clenched hands to her breast.

Braddock shot a quick glance up the broad stairway. The surroundings were strange to him,--he had never been inside the home of his father-in-law before,--but he knew that Christine was somewhere overhead.

”How's Christine, Mary?” he asked roughly.

”She is wretchedly unhappy, Tom.”

”Umph!” was the way he received it, but a close observer might have seen the flutter of his eyelids and the sharp, convulsive movement in the coat pockets. ”I don't want her to see me,” he said.

”She wants to see you--”