The Mark of Cain

“Would we take Eleanor Black with us?” The brown eyes looked straight at him, challenging him to declare himself for or against the one Avice felt to be a rival.

“If you like,” and Landon smiled teasingly at her. “Go on, Avice, fly in a rage, I love to see you angry.”

“’Deed I won’t! I’ve nothing to rage about. If you admire Eleanor, I can only say I admire your taste. She is certainly beautiful.”

“Bravo! Good for you, little girl! Now, just for that I’ll tell you that in my opinion she can’t hold a candle to you for beauty.”

“Your compliments are so subtle, Kane! I suppose that’s due to your western training.”

“And your sarcasm is that known as the withering variety. Oh, Avice, don’t let’s fence. You are beautiful, and you are very dear to me. If I weren’t – if they didn’t – oh, pshaw! if I were free of all suspicion in this horrid matter, would you, – could you – ”

“Kane,” she said, looking at him seriously; “you didn’t do it, did you?”

“I will not tell you.”

“That can mean either of two things; one, which I hope, that you are innocent, and so, resent my question; the other, which I fear, that you are – ”

“Guilty,” supplemented Kane.

“Yes; oh, Kane, why won’t you tell me?”

“Would you care? Avice, would you really care whether I’m guilty or not?”

The girl looked up at him, a sudden light in her big, dark eyes; “Oh, yes, Kane, I do care.”

“Do you mean it, Avice? My little girl, do you mean it!”

Impulsively, Landon took her hand, and drew her to him, looking deep into her eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, and there was a thrill in his voice Avice had never heard there before, “I will clear myself of these awful matters, and then I can ask you – ”

“But, Kane, you know the note from John Hemingway – ”

“Bother John Hemingway! Avice, do you take me for a fool?”

Landon crushed her to him in a desperate embrace, and then held her off and looked at her with a strange expression on his face.

“Dear heart!” he said, and gently kissing her downcast, frightened eyes he went swiftly from the room.

Going to the window, Avice watched him stride down the street. His swinging walk was a splendid thing in itself, and the girl felt a thrill of pride in the strong, well-proportioned figure, so full of life and energy.

“But I can’t understand him,” she thought, “he acts so queer every time he talks about Uncle’s death. And then, he pretends to love me, – and he’s all mixed up with Eleanor, – I wish I could get up courage to ask him about her, – but I’m – oh, I’m not really afraid of Kane – but, – well, he is strong, – every way.”

She sank into a chair and gave herself up to day dreams.

“A bright, new, Lincoln penny for your thoughts,” said a deep voice, and Avice looked up to see Judge Hoyt smiling down at her.

For the first time in her life, she felt an aversion to him. She knew she was not in love with her elderly suitor, but always she had felt great friendship and esteem for him. Now, the esteem was still there, but the remembrance of Landon’s caress so recent, she experienced a shrinking from the passion she could not fail to read in the eyes now bent upon her.

Leslie Hoyt was a man whose physical presence dominated any group of which he was a member. Towering some inches above most of his fellow men, his fine head was carried proudly and with an air of aristocracy that gave him especial prestige. Few had ever seen his grave, scholarly face aglow with emotion of any sort, but Avice knew well the light that love kindled in those deep, dark eyes, and though not entirely responding to it, she had gratefully appreciated it, and had tacitly accepted her uncle’s plan that she should marry the judge. But that was during her uncle’s lifetime, and before Kane Landon had come home from the West.

In a swift mental picture, Avice contrasted the two men. Landon, too, was tall and big and strong. Hoyt was far superior in manner, and in that indefinable effect given by cultured associations. Landon had the advantage of youth and the careless grace of that lack of self-consciousness, so often the result of western life. The self-possession of both men was complete, but Landon’s was somewhat that of bravado and Hoyt’s that of experience.

Without detailing these thoughts to herself, Avice was quite aware of them and of their value, and she knew that she was going to choose between two of the finest specimens of men she had ever seen.

“I’m thinking about Kane Landon,” she said in answer to the remark of her new visitor. Avice was naturally mischievous, and well knew the effect of her aggravating speeches.

The kindly look in Judge Hoyt’s eyes gave way to an ironic gleam, as he said “Then I offered you full value, I think.”

“That’s so clever that I forgive its mean spirit,” and Avice smiled at him. “Yes, my thoughts were penny-wise, which is far better than if they had been pound-foolish.”

“Think pound-foolish ones of me – ”

“Of you! Why, Leslie, I can’t connect you and foolishness in my mind!”

“I’m foolishly in love with you, I know that! What is there about you, Avice, that makes me lose my head entirely the moment I see you?”

“Do you really? It seems incredible! I’d like to see dignified Judge Hoyt in that state commonly described as having lost his head!”

“Would you?” and a dangerous fire blazed in Hoyt’s eyes as he took a step nearer to her.

“No, no!” cried Avice, really alarmed, “not now. I mean some other time.”

“There’ll be times enough. You’ll have to spend the rest of your life getting used to seeing me headless. But Avice, I came to talk to you about that Hemingway note.”

“Yes, do. Will it clear Kane?”

“Why?” said the lawyer, a sudden anger coming into his eyes. “Do you love him?”

Avice looked at him. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Then he shall not be cleared!” and Hoyt’s voice was full of deep hatred. “Do you know it rests with me to free him from suspicion or not! Do you know that I hold his life in my hands?”

Avice looked at him in horror. “Do you mean,” she cried “that you would let him be suspected, knowing he is innocent?”

“On the contrary,” and Hoyt looked at her meaningly, “I know the only hope of freedom Landon has, is that letter found in your uncle’s desk. And I know, – ” he paused.

“You know what?” said Avice, grasping a chair for support, as she felt herself giving away.

“I know who wrote that letter.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You wrote that letter yourself. Oh, it was a fine scheme to save a guilty man, but it didn’t deceive me.”

“How do you know?”

“I know because I am familiar with all your uncle’s papers and business matters. I know, because it is not written on a style of paper that he ever used. Because it is not in his style of diction. Because, moreover, you ‘discovered’ it, just after you were told that only another suspect could save Kane Landon. And you concluded to invent that other suspect! Oh, it was clever, my girl, but it didn’t deceive me! Now, why did you do it? Because you love that man?”