If Nelly Lebrun had consigned him mentally to the worms, that thought made not the slightest impression upon Donnegan. A chance for action was opening before him, and above all a chance of action in the eye of Lou Macon; and he welcomed with open arms the thought that he would have an opportunity to strike for her, and keep Landis with her. He went arrowy straight and arrowy fast to the cabin on the hill, and he found ample evidence that it had become a center of attention in The Corner. There was a scattering of people in the distance, apparently loitering with no particular purpose, but undoubtedly because they awaited an explosion of some sort. He went by a group at which the chestnut shied, and as Donnegan straightened out the horse again he caught a look of both interest and pity on the faces of the men.
Did they give him up so soon as it was known that Lord Nick had entered the lists against him? Had all his display in The Corner gone for nothing as against the repute of this terrible mystery man? His vanity made him set his teeth again.
Dismounting before the cabin of the colonel, he found that worthy in his invalid chair, enjoying a sun bath in front of his house. But there was no sign of Lord Nick--no sign of Lou. A grim fear came to Donnegan that he might have to attack Nick in his own stronghold, for Jack Landis might already have been taken away to the Lebrun house.
So he went straight to the colonel, and when he came close he saw that the fat man was apparently in the grip of a chill. He had gathered a vast blanket about his shoulders and kept drawing it tighter; beneath his eyes, which looked down to the ground, there were violet shadows.
"I've lost," said Donnegan through his teeth. "Lord Nick has been here?"
The invalid lifted his eyes, and Donnegan saw a terrible thing--that the nerve of the fat man had been crushed. The folds of his face quivered as he answered huskily: "He has been here!"
"And Landis is gone?"
"No."
"Not gone? Then--"
"Nick has gone to get a horse litter. He came up just to clear the way."
"When he comes back he'll find me!"
The glance of the colonel cleared long enough to survey Donnegan slowly from head to foot, and his amusement sent the familiar hot flush over the face of the little man. He straightened to his full height, which, in his high heels, was not insignificant. But the colonel was apparently so desperate that he was willing to throw caution away.
"Compared with Lord Nick, Donnegan," he said, "you don't look half a man--even with those heels."
And he smiled calmly at Donnegan in the manner of one who, having escaped the lightning bolt itself, does not fear mere thunder.
"There is no fool like a fat fool," said Donnegan with childish viciousness. "What did Lord Nick, as you call him, do to you? He's brought out the yellow, my friend."
The colonel accepted the insult without the quiver of an eyelid. Throughout he seemed to be looking expectantly beyond Donnegan.
"My young friend," he said, "you have been very useful to me. But I must confess that you are no longer a tool equal to the task. I dismiss you. I thank you cordially for your efforts. They are worthless. You see that crowd gathering yonder? They have come to see Lord Nick prepare you for a hole in the ground. And make no mistake: if you are here when he returns that hole will have to be dug--unless they throw you out for the claws of the buzzards. In the meantime, our efforts have been wasted completely. I hadn't enough time. I had thrown the fear of sudden death into Landis, and in another hour he would have signed away his soul to me for fear of poison."
The colonel paused to chuckle at some enjoyable memory.
"Then Nick came. You see, I know all about Nick."
"And Nick knows all about you?"
For a moment the agate, catlike eyes of the colonel clouded and cleared again in their unfathomable manner.
"At moments, Donnegan," he said, "you have rare perceptions. That is exactly it--Nick knows just about everything concerning me. And so--roll your pack and climb on your horse and get away. I think you may have another five minutes before he comes."
Donnegan turned on his heel. He went to the door of the hut and threw it open. Lou sat beside Landis holding his hand, and the murmur of her voice was still pleasant as an echo through the room when she looked and saw Donnegan. At that she rose and her face hardened as she looked at him. Landis, also, lifted his head, and his face was convulsed with hatred. So Donnegan closed the door and went softly away to his own shack.
She hated him even as Landis hated him, it seemed. He should have known that he would not be thanked for bringing back her lover to her with a bullet through his shoulder. Sitting in his cabin, he took his head between his hands and thought of life and death, and made up his mind. He was afraid. If Lord Nick had been the devil himself Donnegan could not have been more afraid. But if the big stranger had been ten devils instead of one Donnegan would not have found it in his soul to run away.
Nothing remained for him in The Corner, it seemed, except his position as a man of power--a dangerous fighter. It was a less than worthless position, and yet, once having taken it up, he could not abandon it. More than one gunfighter has been in the same place, forced to act as a public menace long after he has ceased to feel any desire to fight. Of selfish motives there remained not a scruple to him, but there was still the happiness of Lou Macon. If the boy were taken back to Lebrun's, it would be fatal to her. For even if Nelly wished, she could not teach her eyes new habits, and she would ceaselessly play on the heart of the wounded man.
It was the cessation of all talk from the gathering crowd outside that made Donnegan lift his head at length, and know that Lord Nick had come. But before he had time to prepare himself, the door was cast open and into it, filling it from side to side, stepped Lord Nick.
There was no need of an introduction. Donnegan knew him by the aptness with which the name fitted that glorious figure of a man and by the calm, confident eye which now was looking him slowly over, from head to foot. Lord Nick closed the door carefully behind him.
"The colonel told me," he said in his deep, smooth voice, "that you were waiting for me here."
And Donnegan recognized the snakelike malice of the fat man in drawing him into the fight. But he dismissed that quickly from his mind. He was staring, fascinated, into the face of the other. He was a reader of men, was Donnegan; he was a reader of mind, too. In his life of battle he had learned to judge the prowess of others at a glance, just as a musician can tell the quality of a violin by the first note he hears played upon it. So Donnegan judged the quality of fighting men, and, looking into the face of Lord Nick, he knew that he had met his equal at last.
It was a great and a bitter moment to him. The sense of physical smallness he had banished a thousand times by the recollection of his speed of hand and his surety with weapons. He had looked at men muscularly great and despised them in the knowledge that a gun or a knife would make him their master. But in Lord Nick he recognized his own nerveless speed of hand, his own hair-trigger balance, his own deadly seriousness and contempt of life. The experience in battle was there, too. And he began to feel that the size of the other crushed him to the floor and made him hopeless. It was unnatural, it was wrong, that this giant in the body should be a giant in adroitness also.
Already Donnegan had died one death before he rose from his chair and stood to the full of his height ready to die again and summoning his nervous force to meet the enemy. He had seen that the big man had followed his own example and had measured him at a glance.
Indeed the history of some lives of action held less than the concentrated silence of these two men during that second's space.
And now Donnegan felt the cold eye of the other eating into his own, striving to beat him down, break his nerve. For an instant panic got hold on Donnegan. He, himself, had broken the nerve of other men by the weight of his unaided eye. Had he not reduced poor Jack Landis to a trembling wreck by five minutes of silence? And had he not seen other brave men become trembling cowards unable to face the light, and all because of that terrible power which lies in the eye of some? He fought away the panic, though perspiration was pouring out upon his forehead and beneath his armpits.
"The colonel is very kind," said Donnegan.
And that moment he sent up a prayer of thankfulness that his voice was smooth as silk, and that he was able to smile into the face of Lord Nick. The brow of the other clouded and then smoothed itself deftly. Perhaps he, too, recognized the clang of steel upon steel and knew the metal of his enemy.
"And therefore," said Lord Nick, "since most of The Corner expects business from us, it seems much as if one of us must kill the other before we part."
"As a matter of fact," said Donnegan, "I have been keeping that in mind." He added, with that deadly smile of his that never reached his eyes: "I never disappoint the public when it's possible to satisfy them."
"No," and Lord Nick nodded, "you seem to have most of the habits of an actor--including an inclination to make up for your part."
Donnegan bit his lip until it bled, and then smiled.
"I have been playing to fools," he said. "Now I shall enjoy a discriminating critic."
"Yes," remarked Lord Nick, "actors generally desire an intelligent audience for the death scene."
"I applaud your penetration and I shall speak well of you when this disagreeable duty is finished."
"Come," and Lord Nick smiled genially, "you are a game little cock!"
The telltale flush crimsoned Donnegan's face. And if the fight had begun at that moment no power under heaven could have saved Lord Nick from the frenzy of the little man.
"My size keeps me from stooping," said Donnegan, "I shall look up to you, sir, until the moment you fall."
"Well hit again! You are also a wit, I see! Donnegan, I am almost sorry for the necessity of this meeting. And if it weren't for the audience--"
"Say no more," said Donnegan, bowing. "I read your heart and appreciate all you intend."
He had touched his stock as he bowed, and now he turned to the mirror and carefully adjusted it, for it was a little awry from the ride; but in reality he used that moment to examine his own face, and the set of his jaw and the clearness of his eye reassured him. Turning again, he surprised a glint of admiration in the glance of Lord Nick.
"We are at one, sir, it appears," he said. "And there is no other way out of this disagreeable necessity?"
"Unfortunately not. I have a certain position in these parts. People are apt to expect a good deal of me. And for my part I see no way out except a gunplay--no way out between the devil and the moon!"
Astonishment swept suddenly across the face of the big man, for Donnegan, turning white as death, shrank toward the wall as though he had that moment received cold steel in his body.
"Say that again!" said Donnegan hoarsely.
"I said there was no way out," repeated Lord Nick, and though he kept his right hand in readiness, he passed his left through his red hair and stared at Donnegan with a tinge of contempt; he had seen men buckle like this at the last moment when their backs were to the wall.
"Between--" repeated Donnegan.
"The devil and the moon. Do you see a way yourself?"
He was astonished again to see Donnegan wince as if from a blow. His lips were trembling and they writhed stiffly over his words.
"Who taught you that expression?" said Donnegan.
"A gentleman," said Lord Nick.
"Ah?"
"My father, sir!"
"Oh, heaven," moaned Donnegan, catching his hands to his breast. "Oh, heaven, forgive us!"
"What the devil is in you?" asked Lord Nick.
The little man stood erect again and his eyes were now on fire.
"You are Henry Nicholas Reardon," he said.
Lord Nick set his teeth.
"Now," he said, "it is certain that you must die!"
But Donnegan cast out his arms and broke into a wild laughter.
"Oh, you fool, you fool!" he cried. "Don't you know me? I am the cripple!"
