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Page 71
He rose with her, stood still, regarding her with eyes like drills.
Then he shook his head.
"You are wrong, Virginia, dead wrong," he told her with quiet emphasis.
"You have called me a thief? Well, perhaps I am. You have given your
explanation; let me give mine."
He paused, shaping the matter in mind. His face was stern and very,
very grave. Presently, his lowered voice guarded against any chance
ears, he continued.
"I lay on my bed a week, a long, utterly damnable week. I could do
nothing but think. So I thought, as I told you, of everything. Most
of all I thought of you, Virginia Page. Shall I tell you why? No;
we'll let that go until we understand each other. I thought of myself,
of my life, of my eternal striving with Jim Galloway. Some day I
should get Galloway or he would get me. In either case, what good?
Was not Galloway a wiser man than I? He took what he wanted; I merely
wasted my time chasing after such bigger men as he. If he desired a
thousand dollars or five, ten thousand, he went out for it like a man
and took it. Why shouldn't he? Oh, I tell you I had the time to dwell
upon the little meaningless words of honesty and dishonesty, honor and
dishonor, and all of their progeny and forebears! They are empty;
empty, I tell you, Virginia! When I stood on my feet again I was a
free man. I knew it then, I know it now. Free, I tell you. Free,
most of all from shackles of empty ideas. What I wanted I would take."
She looked at him helplessly, his dominant vigor for the moment seeming
a thing not to be restricted or tamed.
"What you have done," she told him gently, "is to find argument to
bolster up impulse. That is generally very easy to do, isn't it? If
one wants a thing, it is not hard convincing himself that it is right
that he should have it."
"At least I have decided sanely what I wanted, there is no call for
hospitals."
"You sustained a fracture of the skull. That fracture had improper
treatment. It is a wonder you did not die. The wound healed and there
remains a pressure of a bit of bone upon the brain. Until that
pressure is removed by an operation you are doomed to be a criminal. A
kleptomaniac," she said steadily, "if not much worse."
"I believe that you mean what you say. You are just mistaken, that is
all. I'd know if there were anything physically wrong."
She came closer, laid her hand upon his arm, and lifted her eyes
pleadingly to his.
"I have had the best of medical training," she said slowly. "I have
specialized in brain disorders, interested in that branch of my work
until I decided to bring Elmer out here. I know what I am saying.
Will you at least promise to do as I ask? Have a thorough examination
by a specialist? And have the operation if he advises it?"
"Such an operation is a serious matter?"
"Yes. It must be. But think . . ."
"A man might die under the hands of the surgeon?"
"Yes. There is always the danger, there is always the chance of death
resulting from any but the most minor of operations. But you are not
the man to be afraid, Rod Norton. I know that."
"You say that you have specialized In this sort of thing." He was
probing for her thoughts with keen, narrowed eyes. "Would you be
willing to perform that operation for me?"
She shrank back suddenly, her hand dropping from his arm.
"No," she cried. "No, no."
He smiled triumphantly.
"Then we'll let it go for a while. If you wouldn't care to do it,
afraid that I might die under your knife, I guess I don't want it done
at all. I am quite content with things as they are. I see the way to
gain the ends I desire; I am gaining them; if there is a brain
pressure, well, I'm quite ready to thank God and Moraga for it! Which
you may take as absolutely final, Dr. Page!"
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