THE ONE CHANCE
The dim light began to creep into the darkened brain at last. Norton's eyes opened wider and the long arms felt their way on the floor until they touched a rug and then a chair. He tried to think what had happened and why he was lying there. It seemed a dream, half feverish, half restful. His head was aching and he was very tired.
"What's the matter?" he murmured, unable to lift his head.
He was whirling through space again and the room faded. Once before in his life had he been knocked insensible. From the trenches before Petersburg in the last days of the war he had led his little band of less than five hundred ragged, half-starved, tatterdemalions in a mad charge against the line in front. A bomb from a battery on a hilltop exploded directly before them. He had been thrown into the air and landed on a heap of dead bodies, bruised and stunned into insensibility. He had waked feeling the dead limbs and wondering if they were his own.
He rubbed his hands now, first over his head, and then over each limb, to find if all were there. He felt his body to see if a bomb had torn part of it away.
And then the light of memory suddenly flashed into the darkened mind and he drew himself to his knees and fumbled his way to a chair.
"Married? Married already!" he gasped. "O, God, it can't be true! And he said, 'married an hour before you dragged me away in that campaign'"—it was too hideous! He laughed in sheer desperation and again his brain refused to work. He pressed his hands to his forehead and looked about the room, rose, staggered to the bell and rang for Andy.
When his black face appeared, he lifted his bloodshot eyes and said feebly:
"Whiskey——"
The negro bowed:
"Yassah!"
He pulled himself together and tried to walk. He could only reel from one piece of furniture to the next. His head was on fire. He leaned again against the mantel for support and dropped his head on his arm in utter weariness:
"I must think! I must think!"
Slowly the power to reason returned.
"What can I do? What can I do?" he kept repeating mechanically, until the only chance of escape crept slowly into his mind. He grasped it with feverish hope.
If Tom had married but an hour before leaving on that campaign, he hadn't returned until to-day. But had he? It was, of course, a physical possibility. From the nearby counties, he could have ridden a swift horse through the night, reached home and returned the next day without his knowing it. It was possible, but not probable. He wouldn't believe it until he had to.
If he had married in haste the morning he had left town and had only rejoined Helen to-night, it was no marriage. It was a ceremony that had no meaning. In law it was void and could be annulled immediately. But if he were really married in all that word means—his mind stopped short and refused to go on.
He would cross that bridge when he came to it. But he must find out at once and he must know before he saw Tom again.
His brain responded with its old vigor under the pressure of the new crisis. One by one his powers returned and his mind was deep in its tragic problem when Andy entered the room with a tray on which stood a decanter of whiskey, a glass of water and two small empty glasses.
The negro extended the tray. Norton was staring into space and paid no attention.
Andy took one of the empty glasses and clicked it against the other. There was still no sign of recognition until he pushed the tray against Norton's arm and cleared his throat:
"Ahem! Ahem!"
The dazed man turned slowly and looked at the tray and then at the grinning negro:
"What's this?"
Andy's face kindled with enthusiasm:
"Dat is moonshine, sah—de purest mountain dew—yassah!"
"Whiskey?"
"Yassah," was the astonished reply, "de whiskey you jis ring fer, sah!"
"Take it back!"
Andy could not believe his ears. The major was certainly in a queer mood. Was he losing his mind?
There was nothing to do but obey. He bowed and turned away:
"Yassah."
Norton watched him with a dazed look and cried suddenly:
"Where are you going?"
"Back!"
"Stop!"
Andy stopped with a sudden jerk:
"Yassah!"
"Put that tray down on the table!"
The negro obeyed but watched his master out of the corners of his eye:
"Yassah!"
Again Norton forgot Andy's existence, his eyes fixed in space, his mind in a whirl of speculation in which he felt his soul and body sinking deeper. The negro was watching him with increasing suspicion and fear as he turned his head in the direction of the table.
"What are you standing there for?" he asked sharply.
"You say stop, sah."
"Well, get away—get out!" Norton cried with sudden anger.
Andy backed rapidly:
"Yassah!"
As he reached the doorway Norton's command rang so sharply that the negro spun around on one foot:
"Wait!"
"Y—yas—sah!"
The master took a step toward the trembling figure with an imperious gesture:
Andy approached gingerly, glancing from side to side for the best way of retreat in case of emergency:
"What's the matter with you?" Norton demanded.
Andy laughed feebly:
"I—I—I dunno, sah; I wuz des wonderin' what's de matter wid you, sah!"
"Tell me!"
The negro's teeth were chattering as he glanced up:
"Yassah! I tell all I know, sah!"
Norton fixed him with a stern look:
"Has Tom been back here during the past four weeks?"
"Nasah!" was the surprised answer, "he bin wid you, sah!"
The voice softened to persuasive tones:
"He hasn't slipped back here even for an hour since I've been gone?"
"I nebber seed him!"
"I didn't ask you," Norton said threateningly, "whether you'd 'seed' him"—he paused and dropped each word with deliberate emphasis—"I asked you if you knew whether he'd been here?"
Andy mopped his brow and glanced at his inquisitor with terror:
"Nasah, I don't know nuttin', sah!"
"Haven't you lied to me?"
"Yassah! yassah," the negro replied in friendly conciliation. "I has pér-var-i-cated sometimes—but I sho is tellin' you de truf dis time, sah!"
The master glared at him a moment and suddenly sprang at his throat, both hands clasping his neck with a strangling grip. Andy dropped spluttering to his knees.
"You're lying to me!" Norton growled. "Out with the truth now"—his grip tightened—"out with it, or I'll choke it out of you!"
Andy grasped the tightening fingers and drew them down:
"Fer Gawd's sake, major, doan' do dat!"
"Has Tom been back here during the past weeks to see Miss Helen?"
Andy struggled with the desperate fingers:
"Doan' do dat, major—doan' do dat! I ain't holdin' nuttin' back—I let it all out, sah!"
The grip slackened:
"Then out with the whole truth!"
"Yassah. Des tell me what ye wants me ter say, sah, an' I sho say hit!"
"Bah! You miserable liar!" Norton cried in disgust, hurling him to the floor, and striding angrily from the room. "You're all in this thing, all of you! You're all in it—all in it!"
Andy scrambled to his feet and rushed to the window in time to see him hurry down the steps and disappear in the shadows of the lawn. He stood watching with open mouth and staring eyes:
"Well, 'fore de Lawd, ef he ain't done gone plum crazy!"