“Good God!” he exclaimed aloud. “Give me back the name and the uniform I had then, and see how gladly I’ll tell these new masters to go to hell!”
Startled at the sound of his own voice arguing with a fantasy as with a fact, the man sank back again into his chair and covered his face with his spread hands. But shutting out sight did not serve to shut out the images of his fancy.
He saw himself hired out to “practical” overlords and sent to prey on friends, then he rose and stood confronting the empty stool where the dream-accuser in uniform had stood and once more he spoke aloud. As he did so it seemed that the figure returned and stood waiting, stern and noncommittal, while he addressed it.
“Give me the success I need, and the independence it carries, and I’ll spend my life exonerating my name. I’ll go back to the islands and live among the natives till I find a man who will tell the truth. I’ll move heaven and earth—but that takes money. I’ve always stood, in this business, with wealth just beyond my grasp—always promised, never realized. Let me realize it and be equipped to fight for vindication. These men I serve have the prizes to dispense, but I am bound hand and foot to them. They take their pay in advance. Once victorious I can break with them.”
“And these people who have befriended you,” questioned the mentor voice, “what of them?”
“I love them. They are her people. I shall seem to plunder them, but if my plans succeed I shall be in a position to make terms—and my terms shall be theirs. Until I succeed I must seem false to them. God knows I’m paying for that too. I love Glory!”
Suddenly Spurrier wiped a hand across a clammy forehead and stood looking about his room, empty save for himself. He seemed a man who had been through a delirium. But he reached no conclusion, and when twilight found him tramping toward the Cappeze house it was with a heart that beat with anticipation—while it sought refuge in postponed decision.
When Glory received him in the lamp-lighted room he halted in amazement, for the girl who stood there with a mischievous smile on her lips no longer looked at him out of eyes violet-blue, but black as liquid jet.
“How did you do that?” he demanded in a voice blank with astonishment. “It’s a sheer impossibility!”