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Page 60
She shrank away from him terrified, wild-eyed. "Oh, you forget,
you forget!"
"For seven years I have tried to forget. I have been mad, but
to-night I am sane."
"I trusted you, I trusted you!" she moaned.
Nicol Brinn clenched his teeth grimly for a moment, and then,
holding her averted face very close to his own, he began to speak
in a low, monotonous voice. "For seven years," he said, "I have
tried to die, because without you I did not care to live. I have
gone into the bad lands of the world and into the worst spots of
those bad lands. Night and day your eyes have watched me, and I
have wakened from dreams of your kisses and gone out to court
murder. I have earned the reputation of being something more than
human, but I am not. I had everything that life could give me
except you. Now I have got you, and I am going to keep you."
Naida began to weep silently. The low, even voice of Nicol Brinn
ceased. He could feel her quivering in his grasp; and, as she
sobbed, slowly, slowly the fierce light faded from his eyes.
"Naida, my Naida, forgive me," he whispered.
She raised her face, looking up to him pathetically. "I came to
you, I came to you," she moaned. "I promised long ago that I
would come. What use is it, all this? You know, you know! Kill me
if you like. How often have I asked you to kill me. It would be
sweet to die in your arms. But what use to talk so? You are in
great danger or you would not have asked me to come. If you don't
know it, I tell you--you are in great danger."
Nicol Brinn released her, stood up, and began slowly to pace
about the room. He deliberately averted his gaze from the settee.
"Something has happened," he began, "which has changed
everything. Because you are here I know that--someone else is
here."
He was answered by a shuddering sigh, but he did not glance in
the direction of the settee.
"In India I respected what you told me. Because you were strong,
I loved you the more. Here in England I can no longer respect the
accomplice of assassins."
"Assassins? What, is this something new?"
"With a man's religion, however bloodthirsty it may be, I don't
quarrel so long as he sincerely believes in it. But for private
assassination I have no time and no sympathy." It was the old
Nicol Brinn who was speaking, coldly and incisively. "That--
something we both know about ever moved away from those Indian
hills was a possibility I had never considered. When it was
suddenly brought home to me that you, you, might be here in
London, I almost went mad. But the thing that made me realize it
was a horrible thing, a black, dastardly thing. See here."
He turned and crossed to where the woman was crouching, watching
him with wide-open, fearful eyes. He took both her hands and
looked grimly into her face. "For seven years I have walked
around with a silent tongue and a broken heart. All that is
finished. I am going to speak."
"Ah, no, no!" She was on her feet, her face a mask of tragedy.
"You swore to me, you swore to me!"
"No oath holds good in the face of murder."
"Is that why you bring me here? Is that what your message means?"
"My message means that because of--the thing you know about--I am
suspected of the murder."
"You? You?"
"Yes, I, I! Good God! when I realize what your presence here
means, I wish more than ever that I had succeeded in finding
death."
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