With that she turned about with the sweep and step of a tragedy queen, and so left him. Huey was half sorry he had so spoken, and even yet had he followed her and pleaded pardon, his crime of jealousy might have been forgiven; for Bertha was one of those who, even while they resent, feel the covert flattery of jealous accusation. But he did not stir, but stood there angry and raging, cursing his fate, cursing his fortune; and, above all, cursing Alec Booth. Without doubt Alec was his happy rival, that brainless trickster, that vain, boasting bully had scored again; and he, Huey, was to lose all—money, race, wife, all were taken from him.
“No! It shall not be!” he declared to himself. “While I live I will struggle—I will fight! She is rightfully mine. I saw her first, loved her first, and she is foolish and dazzled by his winnings. But out of defeat I will learn success, fairly if possible; then, if not, in such a way as may be necessary,” he added darkly.
And he turned on his heel and walked moodily away.
CHAPTER XXI
THE ABDUCTION
A day later. It was ten o’clock at night. Bertha was busy serving the crowd of customers with drinks, when a lad came into the bar and asked for Miss Summerhayes. Bertha spoke to him. He said a gentleman outside wished to speak to her on a matter of great importance. Without hesitation Bertha took her hat and went to the door. Here she was accosted by a bushy-whiskered man, who demanded in a gruff voice if she was Miss Summerhayes?
“Yes, to be sure. But what’s the matter?”
“A Mr. Norris sent me for you. He is very ill, and must see you at once. Look, I have a cab; there is no time to lose, hurry in!”
Before she had time to think Bertha was in the vehicle, and it was plunging off at a rapid rate. Bertha was full of questions, and her interrogations came so quickly one after the other that for a time her companion had an excuse for not replying.
“What is the matter with him? What has happened to dear old Pro? He seemed all right yesterday. I never remember his being sick before.”
“It’s what they call a stroke,” the bushy-whiskered man replied gruffly.