CHAPTER XXIV. THE POWER OF LOVE.
Old Dan did keep on his pins till the play was over. In some manner he played his part fairly well, although he got tangled in his lines once or twice. In one place it was necessary for him to say to the villain of the piece:
"Now, Hubert Bancroft, the prison door that once closed on me opens to receive you."
Instead of saying that, he twisted it after this fashion:
"Now, Bubert Hancroft, the prison door that once opened to close on me now closes to open to close on you."
Then, thinking some one else was wrong, he turned to one of the other people on the stage and demanded, sotto voce:
"What in thunder are you saying, anyway?"
Of course that broke up the actor spoken to for a moment, and he was forced to turn his back on the audience to keep them from seeing that he was laughing.
It was all over at last, and Frank breathed a deep sigh of relief when the final curtain fell.
The audience had not expected too much, and they departed fairly satisfied.
Sargent was not on the stage at the close of the play, and it was found that he had removed his make-up and departed before the piece was over.
"It's a good thing for him!" declared Havener. "I've been getting hotter and hotter, and I'm just longing to punch that fellow. I'll get at him too!"
Then he went away somewhere to look for Sargent.
Two minutes later there came a sudden scream from one of the dressing rooms, followed by the sound of a hoarse, excited voice.
Everyone gasped and turned toward that room.
The scream was repeated.
"Don't, pop—please don't hit me again! Oh—oh, pop!"
Then came old Dan's voice:
"Blab, will ye—blow on me! You hussy—you ungrateful girl! Take that, dern ye!"
Then there was a blow and a fall.
Frank Merriwell made a rush for the door of the dressing room.
It was fastened on the inside.
From within the room came groans and sobs.
"Oh, pop—don't kick me, pop! You are killing me! Oh, Heaven! Oh, oh, oh!"
Frank backed off, leaped forward, planted his shoulder against the door.
Crash!—it fell before him, and he burst into the room.
On the floor lay Cassie, face downward, while over her stood her father, the picture of insane rage, his foot lifted to kick her again.
Forward shot Merriwell, catching the mad actor by the neck, snatching him aside, pinning him against the partition.
"You miserable old devil!" grated Frank, quivering with such emotion as he had not felt before in many months. "You sodden old brute! You deserve to be hanged!"
Old Dan gasped for breath.
The rest of the company, with the exception of Sargent and Havener, came pouring into the little room, or crowded to the door to look in.
"She's an ungrateful hussy!" snarled old Dan. "She deserved it! She told you I was drinking! You took the stuff away, but I got it back. I had a friend, and he told me where you put it."
On a shelf the empty bottle was standing.
"Who did it?" demanded Frank. "Who told you?"
"A friend."
"Give me his name—give me his name, or by the eternal skies, I'll choke it out of you! Who was the miserable cur who told you where I placed that stuff?"
"Don't—don't!" whined old Dan. "You—you hurt!"
"His name!" thundered Frank, his eyes blazing, his face showing such fury that the intoxicated man trembled and cowered.
"It—it was Sargent," faltered the old actor.
"I thought so!" came from Merriwell. "It was what I might expect of him! The wretch! See what he has done! See what you have done! Look at that poor girl!"
"She blabbed!"
"Silence! You struck her, knocked her down, kicked her! You should spend the rest of your days in prison for that! Oh, what devilish stuff whisky is!"
"That's right—that's right!" fluttered the father, eagerly catching at Frank's words. "It was the whisky did it! Why, I wouldn't strike my girl—my poor little girl! It was the cursed whisky did it!"
Cassie had not stirred; she still lay face downward, curled in a position of pain. She did not seem to breathe.
"She's badly hurt!" said the leading lady, bending over the little soubrette. "Somebody bring water. She's fainted!"
Outside the door of the dressing room there was a shout.
"What's this? Cassie hurt? Back—let me in! Get away!"
Roscoe Havener tore a way through to the door and came panting into the room. In a moment he was kneeling on the floor, and had gathered the little soubrette in his arms. Her head hung back, the blonde wig falling off and showing her black hair beneath. Her eyes, lined along the lashes with a black pencil, were closed. The paint on her cheeks hid the pallor of her face, but she looked ghastly even then.
A great groan broke from Havener's heart.
"She is dead," he cried. "Oh, my darling—my own little sweetheart!"
Old Dan stared at them with red eyes.
"Eh?" grunted the old man. "What's that. What'd he call her? He ain't no right to——"
The old actor struggled as if he'd jump on the stage manager, but Frank held him in check.
"Steady!" Merry commanded.
"See—can't you see!" panted old Dan. "Havener—he's got her in his arms! He's callin' her his darling! Can't you see?"
"Yes."
"He's married! He ain't no right to touch her! I'm the one to hold her!"
"You should be placed where you could never see her again, you old brute!" declared Frank, his feelings getting the best of him. "There is no manhood left in your old body when you have been drinking."
Before them all, Havener kissed Cassie's painted lips again and again, sobbing like a child.
"Oh, my dear little girl—my own little girl! Dead! dead! dead!"
"She ain't dead!" cried old Dan, hoarsely. "She can't be dead! I know better! I won't have it!"
"Keep still!" ordered Frank. "See what you have done!"
"I didn't mean to—I didn't mean to do it!" whimpered the miserable old actor, beginning to tremble. "It was the whisky—you know it was the whisky! Why, my little pet, I wouldn't hurt her for the world! I love her so—love her so! She's the sunshine of my life—she's all I have left to live for! Oh, you all know how much I love her!"
"You have shown your love!"
"I swear I didn't know what I was doing!"
"That won't save you from the gallows if you have killed her!"
"The gallows!" whispered old Dan, his eyes, bloodshot, wide and staring. "The gallows!"
"It will be what you deserve."
"The gallows! Oh, God! not that—not that! She can't be dead! I won't believe it! Let me take her in my arms! Let me talk to her! I'll bring her back to life!"
"Back, old man!" came fiercely from Havener, as old Dan tried to kneel beside the girl. "You have done your work! Here it is! Now she is mine!"
"By what right?" weakly asked the wretched father.
"By the right of my love for her! Let everybody know—who cares! Once she forgave you when you had nearly murdered her; she'll not do it again, if she lives."
"She'll not forgive me!" muttered old Dan. "My girl will not forgive me, do you say? She'll hate me—she'll curse me! And she's all I have in the world. Oh, God! then I'll be ready to die!"
Cassie opened her eyes, looked up at him, faintly whispered:
"Pop—poor old pop! He didn't mean to do it! Don't—don't be too hard on him!"
Frank could hold old Dan no longer. With a wild cry he tore himself free, flung himself on his knees, snatched Cassie from Havener's arms, and strained her to his bosom.