The Last Woman Part 25

"The last woman, Melvin. You don't understand me."

"No, I do not understand you."

"Good G.o.d! Don't you see how it all came about? Don't you know Patricia Langdon?"

"I know that I won't hear a word against her, even now--even from you, Duncan," said the lawyer, with a touch of savagery.

"Don't you understand that, having put her name to a written contract with me, she would not break that contract, or repudiate it? And don't you see that she has intended, all along, to force me into a position where I would be the one to repudiate its terms? You're a poor judge of character, Melvin, if you don't see that. You have never known Patricia Langdon, if you don't understand her, now. And"--he hesitated an instant--"your a.s.sociation with me has taught you mighty little about my character, if you haven't guessed what I will do--now!"

"What will you do, Roderick? What do you mean?" asked the lawyer, alarmed by the deep intensity with which Duncan spoke those last words.

"I shall go to Montana. I shall start to-night. I shall find Patricia Langdon. I shall live up to the terms of the contract I made with her, and I shall compel her to do the same. I shall make her my wife. I shall bring her back to New York, to her father, to her home, as Mrs.

Roderick Duncan. That is what I shall do. That is what I mean."

"G.o.d bless you, boy! But--it can't be done."

"It shall be done."

"But, she will never consent to such an arrangement. She is the last woman in the world to drag your name--"

"The last woman; that is it. She is the last of the Langdon's; she shall be the last of the Duncan's, too. She will keep to the letter of her contract, if I force her to it. I know that. And I will force her to it."

"But the man! What will you do with him?"

Duncan stared a moment. Then, he smiled, as he replied:

"After Patricia Langdon has become Patricia Duncan, I will kill him.

Good-day, Melvin."

CHAPTER XXI

THE REASON WHY

Roderick Duncan traveled westward in a special train made up of his own private car, a regular Pullman, and a diner. With his valet for company, Duncan const.i.tuted the personnel of the first of these; the second was occupied by the Reverend Doctor Moreley, his wife and two daughters. The reverend gentleman was aware of a part of the purpose of that trip; the members of his family were yet to be told of it. A lavish use of the magician, Money, had prepared everything in advance for Duncan, and he had now only to carry out the arrangements he had made. There was a slight delay in making the start, but after that all things moved as smoothly as possible. Ultimately, the special train was sidetracked at a point that was within a few miles of the house and outbuildings of Three-Star ranch.

The state of Montana held no finer ranch and range, no better or more up-to-date buildings, no better outfit in all respects, than Three-Star. The house, set well up along the side of a hill, faced toward the south, and commanded a view which had been the pride of its former owners, before Richard Morton bought up all the rangeland in that locality and converted it into one huge estate of his own. A broad veranda extended from end to end, at the front, and from that vantage point miles upon miles of rich pasture could be seen, dotted with grazing thousands of cattle. Trees, set out with a view to the future, by the creators of the ranch, imparted an aspect of homely comfort, of seclusion, peace and contentment to it all.

Just at sundown when Patricia Langdon came through the wide door and stepped out upon the veranda toward the broad flight of steps which led down to the flowered inclosure in front of the house, she stopped suddenly, her right hand flew toward her throat, and her face, flushed and angry until that instant, went as pale as death itself. She gasped and caught her breath, swayed a second where she stood, and then drew herself upright again; and she stood straight and tall and brave, face to face with Roderick Duncan who appeared at the top step at the instant when Patricia advanced toward it.

For a s.p.a.ce, neither one uttered a word, or made another gesture, save that, in the first instant, Roderick raised his hat in silent salutation, and now stood with it held in his hand.

Patricia's first act was to cast a half-furtive and wholly apprehensive glance over her shoulder, toward the doorway through which she had just pa.s.sed. Then, she sprang forward like a young fawn and darted down the steps toward the pathway.

"Come with me," she threw back at him. "There must be an interview, but it cannot be held here. Follow me."

Duncan obeyed her, but without haste; and she led him into a pathway among the trees, soon emerging upon an open s.p.a.ce in the center of which a rustic pavilion had been erected. It was overgrown by a riot of climbing vines; an inclosure with windows at every side of it, occupied the center of the s.p.a.ce beneath the roof, and inside the inclosure were all the evidences of feminine occupancy. Wicker chairs and chairs of willow, rugs, ha.s.socks, cus.h.i.+ons, pillows with embroidered covers, littered the place. One could discern at a glance that it was a place of retreat and rest for a woman of taste. In reality, it was Patricia Langdon's place of refuge--at least, she so regarded it.

She did not speak again until she had mounted the steps which led up to it; nor did the man who followed her. But then, when they were beneath the roof of the pavilion, she turned about and faced him.

"Now," she said, "why are you here? Why have you dared to come to this place, in search of me?" She spoke without emphasis, but the very absence of all emotion gave her words the more weight and power.

Duncan stood tall and straight before her, calmly facing her. If her face showed no emotion, now that she had regained control over herself, neither did his. Before he replied to her question, he took a folded paper from the breast-pocket of his coat, and held it in his hand.

"I have a doc.u.ment here, which bears your signature, and mine," he said, then. "It recites the terms of a certain contract which you have agreed to fulfill. I am here to insist that you carry out the terms of this agreement. It is time now, for action on your part."

Patricia gasped. She took a single step backward, and rested one hand upon the top of a willow armchair. Her composure seemed about to forsake her utterly, but by a great effort she controlled herself, lifting her free hand to her throat as if something were choking her.

"It--is--impossible--now," she muttered, at last; and she swayed where she stood, as if she might fall.

"Be seated, Patricia," he said, using her name for the first time; and, when she had complied, he pa.s.sed around the chair until he stood behind her. It was a delicate act on his part--a consideration for her feelings which might not have been expected, under all the circ.u.mstances. He thought he understood how terrible this interview must be to her, and he did not wish to compel her to face him, while it endured. Patricia s.h.i.+vered when he pa.s.sed her; otherwise she gave no sign. "It is not impossible," he went on, without perceptible pause. "It has never been impossible; it can never be so. On the contrary, it is imperative; more than ever imperative, now."

She s.h.i.+vered again, and did not reply when he paused. He continued:

"Patricia Langdon, you are not one to refuse the terms of a written contract which you have signed and sealed with a full knowledge of its meaning, particularly when the other party to it insists upon its fulfillment. I am the other party to this contract, and I do insist upon its complete fulfillment. You are the last woman in the world to--"

"I am the last woman in the world--the very last!" she interrupted him, vehemently, but she did not turn her head toward him. He continued as if he had not heard her:

"--to repudiate the distinct terms of an agreement you have knowingly made."

"I have already repudiated them."

"No, you have not. And you shall not."

"Shall not?"

"No."

"Do--do you mean that you would force me to a compliance with the conditions of that agreement you hold in your hand?"

"Yes--if such a course is necessary."

"But you cannot! You cannot!"

"Yes, I can; and I will, Patricia."

"Don't speak my name!" she cried out, hotly. "Don't utter it again!

Don't you dare to do so! Don't you dare!"

"Very well."

"How will you force me? You cannot do it."

"There is a penalty attached to all legally drawn contracts," he lied, glibly enough; and, realizing that she was startled by what he had already said, he did not hesitate to add more to it. "I have come here prepared to insist that you fulfill your obligation. You know that I am not one to relent, once I have set my course. There are officers of the law in this county and state, as well as within the county and state where you made the contract." He stopped a moment when she shrank visibly in her chair, for he was about to say a really cruel thing. He would not have said it, had he not deemed it entirely necessary, in order to coerce her to his will; but he went on, relentlessly: "If you make it needful to do so, I shall not hesitate to send officers here, to take you before a court, there to relate why you will not carry out the conditions of your contract."

Duncan expected that Patricia would fly into a rage, at this; he thought she would leap to her feet, confront him, and defy him. He looked for a tirade of rage, of abuse, or of despair; or, failing these, for an outburst of pleading on her part that he would relent.