The Deaves Affair

"It's not a bullet that waits you, but jail," said Evan grimly. "No grand-stand finish, but endless dragging days in a four-by-ten cell! Come on, give up the loot. You'll have to anyhow, and go to jail in the bargain!"

"It's not loot!" she cried. "It's mine! By every rule of justice and right, it's mine. Simeon Deaves robbed my father. Beggared him and brought him to his grave!"

"Ha!" cried Evan, "I might have guessed there was something personal here! But someone has to lose in the warfare of business."

"This was not the chance of warfare. This was malice, cold and calculated. I'll tell you. It spoiled my childhood. Deaves and my father were workers in the same church. You didn't know, did you, that Deaves was a religious man. Oh, yes, always a pillar of some church until his avarice grew so upon him that he could no longer bring himself to subscribe. My father learned that he was using his position in our church to lend money to other members at usurious interest, and to collect it under threats of exposure. My father showed him up, and Deaves was put out of the church. He set about a cold and patient scheme of revenge, but we didn't learn this until the crash came a couple of years afterwards. He bought up, – what do you call it? – all my father's paper, the notes every merchant has to give to carry on his business. At last he presented all my father's outstanding indebtedness at once with a demand for instant payment, and when my father couldn't meet it, Deaves sold him out, and we were ruined. It killed my father and embittered my mother's few remaining years.

"That was what I grew up with. I don't know when it started, but the determination to punish him grew and grew in my mind until it crowded out every other thought. I planned for years before I did anything. I followed him. I learned all about him. His avarice went to such lengths at last that I began to see my chance to show him up. I met Dordess and the others, and the idea of the Avengers slowly took shape. There was something fine to us in the idea of making him pay to bring pleasure and health to the poor. None of us would spend a cent of his filthy money on ourselves. What have I done to Deaves to repay the crushing blows he dealt to me and mine? – a few pin-pricks, that's all. Well, it is my life. I cannot change it now."

Evan was more softened than he cared to show. "I understand," he said. "It excuses your heart, but not your head. It was so foolish to try to buck the law!"

"I can't help it," she said. "I would rather die than return what I have made that old robber disgorge. I have worked too long for this!"

Evan inwardly groaned. To reason with her seemed so hopeless. "You can't live outside the pale of the law," he said. "No man can, let alone a woman. Only wretchedness can come of it!"

"I'll take my chance," she said with curling lip. "Thank God, I have friends who are not so timid."

Evan changed his tone. "Well, never mind the right and the wrong of it," he said earnestly. "Do it because I love you. I love you with all my heart. We quarrel, but my heart speaks to yours. You must hear it. I have endured from you what I believe no man ever forgave a woman. But I forgive you. If you go to jail my life will be a desert. But go to jail you shall, unless you make restitution!"

Corinna laughed mirthlessly. "Funny kind of love!" she said.

"It is the best kind of love. I have sense enough left to realise that if I give in to you on a clear question of right it would ruin us both. We would despise each other."

"I have promised to trouble the Deaves no further," she said. "They're satisfied."

"The bonds must go back."

"I had already decided to break up the Avengers, too. Isn't that enough?"

He shook his head.

She turned away. "You ask the impossible," she said. "I'd rather die!"

"But to go to jail," he said relentlessly, "to have your beautiful hair cut off" (he was not at all sure of this, but he supposed she was not either), "to wear the hideous prison dress, to have the sickly prison pallor in your clear cheeks, and your eyes dimmed. Your best years, Corinna!"

This went home. She paled; her breath came unevenly. "You say you love me," she murmured, "and you'd hand me over to that."

"I must!"

Corinna said very low: "I love you. Isn't that enough? Costs me something to say it. Costs me my pride. It would have been more merciful to beat me with a club. I cannot entreat you. I never learned how. But – but I am entreating you. Love me, Evan. Let us begin from now. Let the past be past."

Evan was tempted then. His senses reeled. But something held fast. "I can't!" he said.

She shrank sharply. "It is useless, then," she muttered. "I will not be a repentant sinner!"

"For the sake of our love, Corinna!"

"You do not love me. You want to master me."

He groaned in his helplessness.

Suddenly an ominous peremptory knock on the front door rang through the empty house.

"The police!" gasped Evan.

"Then it's over!" said Corinna, desperately calm.

"No!" he cried. "Quick! Write! I'll get you out!"

She dragged him towards the door. "Ah, come! come!" she beseeched him.

The very heart was dragged out of his breast, but he resisted her. "Choose!" he whispered. "A living death or happiness!"

For an instant their desperate eyes contended. Corinna read in his that he would never give in. She ran to the box and scribbled three lines. The knock was repeated below.

She handed him the sheet with averted head. Evan blew out the lamp. Hand in hand they ran softly down-stairs. The knock was repeated for the third time and a gruff voice commanded:

"Open the door or we'll break it down!"

Aunt Liza was in the lower hall whimpering: "Lawsy! What you gwine do, Miss?" And behind her they heard Simeon Deaves muttering confusedly: "What's the matter? What's the matter?"

Evan breathed in Corinna's ear. "The cellar door under the stairs. You lead the woman."

He felt for Simeon Deaves, and got his hand. "Follow me," he whispered. "I'll save you."

Deaves came unresistingly, his old wits in a daze. As Evan got the cellar door open the blows were falling on the front door. He flashed his light to show his little party the way down. He came last and closed the door. As he did so the front door went in with a crash. Joining the others, Evan whispered:

"Take it easy. They'll search the rooms first."

The old man whispered tremulously: "What's the matter? I don't understand."

"Be very quiet," returned Evan. "We're taking you home now. Be quiet and there will be no publicity."

It was a magical suggestion. They heard no more from Deaves.

Meanwhile heavy feet were tramping overhead. Doors were flung open. One man ran up-stairs. There were at least three men. Evan did not think it possible they had come in sufficient force to completely surround the house. It was safe enough to flash his light in the depths of the cellar. He led the way to the foot of the stone steps. The stars showed through the broken door overhead.

Making them wait behind him, he cautiously parted the thick screen of bushes and looked out. Nothing was stirring on this side of the house. The grass and weeds were waist high down to the edge of the woods. It was less than fifty yards to shelter. Evan whispered to his little party:

"Hands and knees through the grass. Take it slow. Each one keep a hand on the ankle of the one in front. Corinna, you go first."

It was done as he ordered. Surely a more oddly-assorted party of fugitives never acted in concert to escape the law: girl, negress, multi-millionaire, and artist. Like a snake with four articulations, they wound through the grass. In the most sophisticated man lingers a wild strain; the stiff-jointed millionaire took to this means of locomotion as naturally as the negress.

As they left the house behind them they came more within the range of vision of those who were presumably watching the front and back. At any rate, while they were still fifty feet from the trees, a hoarse voice was raised from the front: "There they go!" And an answering shout came from the rear.

The four fugitives of one accord rose to their feet and dashed for the trees. Gaining the shadows, Corinna whispered:

"We must separate. You take Deaves."