The man bent forward. His fingers tightened on the edge of the table
with a clutch which drove the blood back under his nails. It was a hard
fight to retain his self-control. His question broke from him in a low,
almost savage voice.
"Cara!" he demanded. "Cara, is there any price too high to pay for
happiness?"
"What do you mean?" The intensity of his eyes held hers, and for a
moment she feared for his reason. Her own question was low and
steadying, but he answered in an unnatural voice.
"I hardly know--perhaps I have less right to speak now than
ever--perhaps more. I don't know, I only know that I love you--and that
the world seems reeling."
Something caught in his throat.
"I'm a cur to talk of it now. I want to think of--of--something else. I
ought to think only what a splendid sort he was--but I can realize only
one thing--I love you."
"Only one thing," she repeated softly. Then as she looked again into the
feverishly bright eyes under his scowl, the meaning which lay back of
his words broke suddenly upon her.
"Was!" she echoed in startled comprehension. "Was!--did you say
was?"
The man remained silent.
"You mean that--?" she said the three words very slowly and stopped,
unable to go on.
"You mean--that--he--?" With a strong effort she added the one word,
then gave up the effort to shape the question. Her hand closed
convulsively.
Benton slowly nodded his head. The girl leaned forward toward him. Her
lips parted, her eyes widened.
The next instant they were misty with tears. Not hypocritical tears for
an unloved husband, but sincere tears for a generous friend.
"Delgado escaped," he explained simply. "Karyl was captured." Again he
spoke in few words. It seemed that he could not manage long sentences.
"Then he tried to escape," he added.
She pressed her fingers to her temples, and leaned forward, speaking
rapidly in a half-whisper that sometimes broke.
"Oh, it's not fair! It's not fair! I want to think only how splendid he
was--how unselfish--how brave! I want to think of him always as he
deserves, lovingly, fondly--and I've got to remember forever how little
I could give him in return!"
"Yes, I guess he was the whitest man--" Benton stopped, then blurted out
like a boy. "Oh, what's the use of my sitting here eulogizing him. I
guess he doesn't need my praises. I guess he can stand on his own
record."
"It's monstrous!" she said, and then she, too, fell back on silence.
Suddenly she rose to her feet, carried one hand to her heart and swayed
uncertainly for a moment, steadying herself with one hand on the table.
The man turned, following her half-hypnotic gaze, in time to see Colonel
Von Ritz bending over her hand. With recognition, Benton started up,
then his jaw dropped and, doubting his own sanity, he fell back into his
chair and sat gazing with blank eyes.