CHAPTER XII
It was after ten the next morning when Armstrong entered his own home.
Wearily, he discarded his things and turned to the living room, where he glimpsed the figure of Dorothy. Why she had not come to meet him, he did not know or care. He thought only of the news he bore, hesitating to face her with word of complete defeat. He was overwhelmed by a sense of futility. Even though the defeat were temporary, even though his conscience were clear, even though that indictment were certain to be dismissed—what was being gained by a prolonged fight?
"I might still get out of it, turn over my Consolidated stock to Findlater, and be rid of it all," he thought in despondency. "I've failed at every point, and might better acknowledge it. I could go to work at something else—"
So the temptation gnawed, as he came forward to join his wife. He was too dejected even to observe her manner or the distinct challenge of her greeting. He threw himself into a chair and stared at the fire.
"I've failed," he said abruptly. "Macgowan has beaten us all along the line, lady. Last night we tried to compromise, and failed. We've lost, but he's beaten us illegally; we'll fight on and in the end, we'll win. But that's not the worst news I have."
Dorothy did not answer. Armstrong stole a glance, found her gaze fastened steadily upon him. Something in her eyes frightened him. He realized that she had not welcomed him home.
"Dot! What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she responded calmly. "I'm sorry you were beaten, Reese. I have some news for you, too, but finish what you have to say."
The dreadful quietude of her manner shook him to the depths. One blow after another had reached him; now he began to fear something vaster and deeper—he knew not what.
"I've been indicted in Illinois for perjury, in connection with Food Products stock," he said. "Macgowan got the indictment in order to discredit me. He got it fraudulently and it'll be dismissed. But it's one more thing."
"I know."
Armstrong jerked up his head. "You know?"
"Yes. A man was here to warn you. He told me. I learned other things, too. That is not the only indictment you'll have to face; Macgowan is going to push you to the wall. And, Reese, I'm afraid he can do it."
"What do you mean, Dot? What do you know?"
"I know everything." A hot torrent of words broke from her. "Everything, Reese! I know how you've deceived me all this time; I've suspected it a long while, but now I know it. How you planned everything, took advantage of our wedding-day, even postponed our wedding in order that you might steal father's company from him. I've stuck by you through it all, Reese. I've tried to do my duty by you, tried to make my love and faith blind to everything; but now a time has come to speak. You must give up this fight against Macgowan, at once, to-day!"
"Stop, stop!"' cried out Armstrong. The agonized incredulity of his voice made her wince, but her steely eyes remained steady. "Dot, you don't know what you're saying! Good heavens, girl—do you realize what you're charging me with? It's preposterous!"
Sudden anger blazed in Dorothy's face.
"Can you deny that you planned to take father's company away from him? Can you deny that it was all arranged in advance, with this same Macgowan? Can you deny that at the very hour we were to be married, you were robbing my father of his life-work—basely striking him in the back? And then you dared to complain when Macgowan turned on you and did the same to you, after I had given you warnings! Poor father, there was none to warn him."
"Dot!" exclaimed Armstrong, in bewildered horror of her words. "Don't say—"
"Can you deny these things?" she persisted coldly.
"Absolutely!" Armstrong came to his feet. "It's a lie, all of it! A cursed lie! Dot, I give you my word of honor—"
"Don't," she said coldly. "I don't believe you."
These words delivered the worst blow that Armstrong had ever received. For a moment he actually reeled under their impact, disbelieving his own senses. He stared at Dorothy from distended eyes; then a rush of frightful anger flamed into his face.
"You don't believe me!" he repeated. "God forgive you for saying such a thing—"
"Oh, let's have no heroics, Reese," she intervened. Her savage and relentless cruelty stung him to the very soul. "I've discovered the whole affair, and now I am laying a choice before you. I know why you are fighting Macgowan so desperately. I know why you pretend to fight on behalf of the sixteen thousand investors—"
"Pretend!" he uttered in a strangled voice. "Pretend!"
"—and now it is going to end." She was cold, inexorable, emotionless. "You may as well learn that if you keep up this fight, you'll end by being branded as a felon. I would stick by you through that disgrace, Reese, if it were achieved in a just cause. Now that I know the truth, now that I know retribution is upon you for what you did to my father—it's all ended for me."
She paused an instant, then went on.
"Go and see Macgowan. It may be too late, but at least make the effort. Give up this fight. Abandon this righteous pose of yours, and be done with it. Either that, or I shall leave this house immediately."
Armstrong was stupefied. He could only stand staring at her like a man paralyzed.
The most frightful part of it was his absolute ignorance of what had so aroused her anger and bitterness. He could not imagine how she had gained this idea that he had stolen her father's company, that retribution for such a theft was facing him. This was all so preposterous to him that he could not even view the accusation in any correct perspective.
And then the scorn of her words reached to the quick, seared him intolerably. That she should so turn upon him in this hour of defeat and black despair, evoked from him a passionate fury.
"Tell me what's behind all this!" he demanded hotly. "Out with it, Dot! What basis have you for uttering such damnable lies about me?"
He received a frigid glance.
"That is gentlemanly language to use, Reese," was her response. "I was not brought up to hear such words addressed to me—but I shan't argue with you. Do you intend to give up this fight or not?"
"Dot, listen to me!" he broke out frantically, desperately. "Whatever has come over you, at least listen to me! Surely you can't ask such a thing, in all sanity? Oh, the devil himself must be in this! You can't mean it, Dot; you've been with me from the first, helping and backing me—and now you ask that I submit! You know I'm not fighting for myself alone—"
Her eyes, dark with anger, flashed at this.
"I thought it was not for yourself, but I've learned better. I've learned that you are using these investors as a shield for yourself. Do you think it's for myself alone that I'm making this demand? No, no! It's not for my sake that I want this mad obstinacy of yours abandoned!"
The wild vehemence of her words frightened him, sent him into a cold chill of stark terror. He had never seen her in so blazing an anger, so passionate a fury—he had not dreamed such a condition would be possible to Dorothy Armstrong.
"I'll not have my child branded the child of a felon!" she rushed on in an impetuous burst. "I know better than you yourself where you are heading; so far as I'm concerned, it ends now! My marriage vow to you has ended. My obligations to you have ended. What I now have to do, is to live and act and hope for the child that I shall bring into the world. If you persist in your course, the blame is not mine but yours. I am giving you your chance."
Armstrong was absolutely stunned, as much by the savage conviction of her manner as by what she said. He comprehended that she was speaking from a terrible sincerity—but he could not understand it.
"Dot—" He checked himself, paused, forced himself into a semblance of calmer speech. "Dot, I swear before heaven that I don't know what you're talking about! Somehow, Macgowan must have reached you—"
"He has not. Will you give up this fight, or give me up?" she demanded coldly.
He was terrified afresh by her air.
"I can't talk about it now, Dot. I'm all unstrung—in no shape to think or speak calmly. I can only hope that what you've said is assignable to your condition, that you can't realize what you are saying—"
"You dare to attack my sanity, do you?" she burst forth.
Armstrong made a despairing gesture. "I'm not attacking you—for heaven's sake, Dot, try and be calm!" The cry was wrenched from him. "We'll take this thing up again after luncheon, dear; I'll have to learn what's in your mind. You know I'll not give up this fight. You know I simply can't give up, abandon the people who trust and look to me! I'll not do it, no matter who asks it."
"Very well. If that's your decision—"
"It is my decision—and I'll not change it!" he exclaimed in a gust of anger. "It's bitterly wrong of you to ask such a thing. But let all that go now, Dot; we'll take it up after luncheon and thrash it out calmly. I'll have to get calmed down a bit."
He turned and strode from the room, and so upstairs.
There in his own room, he strove desperately to get himself in hand. The touch of cold water on his skin cooled his blood, but only made him more aware of the awful chaos into which he was plunged. Who was responsible for this attitude on the part of Dorothy? What had caused it?
He changed his clothes, his brain in tumult. Dorothy seemed to know as much as he did about this indictment. He was frightened, too; in her condition she was receptive to delusion, obsession, madness! This thought made him frantic in his very solicitude for her, and lessened his resentment of her words and manner. It was not his wife who had been speaking downstairs—it was the woman who carried a child under her heart, the woman whose entire physical and nervous system was for the moment thrown out of balance.
He was longer than usual about dressing, but at length descended the stairs. At their foot, he encountered the maid, and thought that she regarded him with a singular air. He halted her curtly.
"Who was here yesterday or the day before?"
"Nobody, sir, but a Mr. Slosson, I think the name was—yesterday morning early."
"Slosson!" The name broke from Armstrong. He clenched his lips for an instant, and flung an appearance of calm into his reply. "Very well. You may serve luncheon whenever it's ready."
"It's ready now, sir." The maid's face was frightened. "If—if Mrs. Armstrong is coming back—"
"Coming back?" Armstrong looked at the maid with terrible eyes. "What do you mean?"
"She called the car and went out, just after you went upstairs, sir. And—and she had her traveling-bag—"
Armstrong put out a hand to the stair-rail. For a moment he stood speechless, his face gray as death. The maid started forward to stay him from falling, then she shrank back from his burning gaze.
"Never mind luncheon," he said thickly.