"Yes, I do. Why? I want to marry her, I tell you. I mean to. I'm taking no chances that some hick will do it while I'm away. I'm going to stay right here."

"And when the new car comes?"

"I'll keep her humming between here and Saratoga."

"And then what?"

Brandes' greenish eyes rested on the car and he smoked in silence for a while. Then:

"Listen, Ben. I'm a busy man. I got to be back in town and I got to have a wedding trip too. You know me, Ben. You know what I mean.

That's me. When I do a thing I do it. Maybe I make plenty of mistakes.

h.e.l.l! I'd rather make 'em than sit pat and do nothing!"

"You're crazy."

"Don't bet on it, Ben. I know what I want. I'm going to make money.

Things are going big with me----"

"You tinhorn! You always say that!"

"Watch me. I bet you I make a killing at Saratoga! I bet you I make good with Morris Stein! I bet you the first show I put on goes big! I bet----"

"Ah, can it!"

"Wait! I bet you I marry that little girl in two weeks and she stands for it when I tell her later we'd better get married again!"

"Say! Talk sense!"

"I am."

"What'll they do to you if your wife makes a holler?"

"Who ever heard of her or me in the East?"

"You want to take a chance like that?"

"I'll fix it. I haven't got time to wait for Minna to shake me loose.

Besides, she's in Seattle. I'll fix it so she doesn't hear until she gets her freedom. I'll get a license right here. I guess I'll use your name----"

"What!" yelled Stull.

"Shut your face!" retorted Brandes. "What do you think you're going to do, squeal?"

"You think I'm going to stand for that?"

"Well, then, I won't use your name. I'll use my own. Why not? I mean honest. It's dead level. I'll remarry her. I want her, I tell you. I want a wedding trip, too, before I go back----"

"With the first rehearsal called for September fifteenth! What's the matter with you? Do you think Stein is going to stand for----"

"_You'll_ be on hand," said Brandes pleasantly. "I'm going to Paris for four weeks--two weeks there, two on the ocean----"

"You----"

"Save your voice, Ben. That's settled."

Stull turned upon him a dead white visage distorted with fury:

"I hope she throws you out!" he said breathlessly. "You talk about being on the level! Every level's crooked with you. You don't know what square means; a square has got more than four corners for you! Go on! Stick around. I don't give a d.a.m.n what you do. Go on and do it.

But I quit right here."

Both knew that the threat was empty. As a shadow clings to a man's heels, as a lost soul haunts its slayer, as d.a.m.nation stalks the d.a.m.ned, so had Stull followed Brandes; and would follow to the end.

Why? Neither knew. It seemed to be their destiny, surviving everything--their bitter quarrels, the injustice and tyranny of Brandes, his contempt and ridicule sometimes--enduring through adversity, even penury, through good and bad days, through abundance and through want, through shame and disgrace, through trickery, treachery, and triumph--nothing had ever broken the occult bond which linked these two. And neither understood why, but both seemed to be vaguely conscious that neither was entirely complete without the other.

"Ben," said Brandes affably, "I'm going to walk over to Gayfield. Want to come?"

They went off, together.

CHAPTER VII

OBSESSION

By the end of the week Brandes had done much to efface any unpleasant impression he had made on Ruhannah Carew.

The girl had never before had to do with any mature man. She was therefore at a disadvantage in every way, and her total lack of experience emphasised the odds.

n.o.body had ever before pointedly preferred her, paid her undivided attention; no man had ever sought her, conversed with her, deferred to her, interested himself in her. It was entirely new to her, this attention which Brandes paid her. Nor could she make any comparisons between this man and other men, because she knew no other men. He was an entirely novel experience to her; he had made himself interesting, had proved amusing, considerate, kind, generous, and apparently interested in what interested her. And if his unfeigned preference for her society disturbed and perplexed her, his a.s.siduous civilities toward her father and mother were gradually winning from her far more than anything he had done for her.

His white-faced, odd little friend had gone; he himself had taken quarters at the Gayfield House, where a car like the wrecked one was stabled for his use.

He had already taken her father and mother and herself everywhere within motoring distance; he had accompanied them to church; he escorted her to the movies; he walked with her in the August evenings after supper, rowed her about on the pond, fished from the bridge, told her strange stories in the moonlight on the verandah, her father and mother interested and attentive.

For the career of Mr. Eddie Brandes was capable of furnishing material for interesting stories if carefully edited, and related with discretion and circ.u.mspection. He had been many things to many men--and to several women--he had been a tinhorn gambler in the Southwest, a miner in Alaska, a saloon keeper in Wyoming, a fight promoter in Arizona. He had travelled profitably on popular ocean liners until requested to desist; Auteuil, Neuilly, Vincennes, and Longchamps knew him as tout, bookie, and, when fitfully prosperous, as a plunger. Epsom knew him once as a welcher; and knew him no more.

He had taken a comic opera company through the wheat-belt--one way; he had led a burlesque troupe into Arizona and had traded it there for a hotel.

"When Eddie _wants_ to talk," Stull used to say, "that smoke, _Oth.e.l.lo_, hasn't got nothing on him."

However, Brandes seldom chose to talk. This was one of his rare garrulous occasions; and, with careful self-censorship, he was making an endless series of wonder-tales out of the episodes and _faits divers_ common to the experience of such as he.

So, of moving accidents by flood and field this man had a store, and he contrived to make them artistically innocuous and perfectly fit for family consumption.

Further, two of his friends motored over from Saratoga to see him, were brought to supper at the Carews'; and they gave him a clean bill of moral health. They were, respectively, "Doc" Curfoot--suave haunter of Peac.o.c.k Alley and gentleman "capper"--whom Brandes introduced as the celebrated specialist, Doctor Elbert Curfoot--and Captain Harman Quint, partner in "Quint's" celebrated temple of chance--introduced as the distinguished navigating officer which he appeared to be. The steering for their common craft, however, was the duty of the eminent Doc.

They spent the evening on the verandah with the family; and it was quite wonderful what a fine fellow each turned out to be--information confidentially imparted to the Reverend Mr. Carew by each of the three distinguished gentlemen in turn.