The Day of the Beast by Zane Grey

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The dark fever, rising from the school yards and the playgrounds and
the streets, subtly poisoning the blood of Bessy Bell, slowly lost its
heat and power for the time being. Bessy lived in the full secret
expression of her girlish adoration. She was worshipping a hero; she
was glorifying in her sacrifice; she was faithful to a man; she was
being a woman. At first she grew pale, tense, quiet, and seemed to be
going into a decline. Then that stage passed; and the roseleaf flush
returned to her cheeks, the purple fire deepened in her eyes, the
quivering life in all her supple young body.

Night after night loneliness had no fears for her. If she heard a
whistle on the avenue, the honk of a car--the familiar old signals of
the boys and girls, she smiled her disdain, and curling comfortably
in her great chair, bent her lovely head over her books.

In the beginning her dreams were all of Daren Lane, of the strangeness
and glory of this soldier who spent so many secret hours with her. And
when the time came that she did not see him so often her dreams were
just as full. But gradually, as the days went by, other figures than
Lane's were limned upon her fancy--vague figures of heroes, knights,
soldiers. He still dominated her romances, though less personally. She
built around him. Every day brought her new strange desires.

One evening in August when Bessy sat alone the telephone bell rang
sharply. She ran to take down the receiver.

"Hello, hello, that you, Bessy?" came the hurried call in a girl's
voice.

"Rose! Oh, how are you?"

"Fine. But say, Angel, I can't take time to talk. Something doing. Are
you alone?"

"Yes, all alone, old girl."

"Listen, then, and get this.... I'm here, you know, telephone girl at
the Exchange. Just heard your father on the wire. Some one has
betrayed the secret of the club. There's a warrant out for the arrest
of the boys. For gambling. You know there's a political vice drive on.
Some time to-night they'll be raided.... But early. Bess, are you
getting this?"

"Sure. Hurry--hurry," replied Bessy, in excitement.

"I tried to get Dick on the wire, but couldn't. Same with two more of
the boys. But I did get wise to this. Gail and Lorna have a date at
the club to-night.... Never mind how I found out. Dick has thrown me
down for Gail. I'm sore as a pup. But I don't want your father to
pinch those girls.... Now, Bess, I'm tied here. But you get a move on.
Don't waste time. You can save them. You must. Do something. If you
can't find somebody, go straight to the club. You know where the key
for the outside entrance is kept. Hurry and it'll be safe. Good-bye."

Bessy stood statue-like for a moment, her big eyes glowing, changing,
darkening with rapid thought, then she flew upstairs to her room,
snatched a veil and a soft hat, and putting these on as she went, she
flew out of the house without putting out the lights or locking the
door.

It was a dark windy night, slightly cool for August, and a fine misty
rain was blowing. Bessy's footsteps pattered softly as she ran block
after block, and she did not slacken her pace till she reached the
house where Daren Lane had his room. In answer to her ring a woman
appeared, who told her Mr. Lane was out.

This was a severe disappointment to Bessy, and left her an alternative
that required more than courage, but she did not vacillate. She sped
swiftly on in the dark, for the electric lights were few and far
between, until the black of the gloomy building, where the boys had
their club, loomed up. On the corner Bessy saw a man standing with his
back to a telegraph pole. This occasioned her much concern; perhaps he
might be watching the building. But he had not seen her, of that she
was certain. The possibility that he might be a spy made her task all
the harder.

Bessy returned the way she come, crossed at the next corner, hurried
round the block and up to the outside stairway that was her objective
point.

By feeling along the brick wall she brought up, with a sudden bump, at
the back of the stairway. Then she deliberated. If she went around to
the front so as to get access to the steps, she might pass in range of
the loiterer whom she mistrusted. That risk she would not incur.
Examining the wall that enclosed the box-like stairway as best she
could in the dark, she found it rickety, full of holes and cracks, and
she decided she would climb it. A sheer perpendicular board wall, some
twelve or fifteen feet high, shrouded in pitchy darkness and
apparently within earshot of a police spy, did not daunt Bessy Bell.
Slipping her strong fingers in crevices and her slim toes in cracks,
she climbed up and up, till she got hold of the railing post on the
first platform. Here she had great difficulty to keep from falling,
but lifting and squirming her supple body, by a desperate effort she
got her knees on the platform, and then pulled herself to safety. Once
on the stairs she ran up the remaining few steps to the landing, where
she rested panting and triumphant.

As she was about to go on she heard footsteps, which froze her. A man
was crossing the street. He came from the direction of the corner
where she had seen the supposed spy. Presently she saw him stop under
one of the trees to scratch a match, and in the round glow of light
she saw him puff at a cigar. Then he passed on with uncertain steps,
as of one slightly under the influence of drink.

Bessy's heart warmed to life and began to beat again. Then she sought
for the key. She had been told where it was, but did not remember.
Slipping her hand under the railing, close to the wall, she felt a
string, and, pulling at it suddenly, found the key in her hand. She
glided into the dim hall, feeling along the wall for a door, until she
found it. With trembling fingers she inserted the key in the lock, and
the door swung inward silently. Bessy went in, leaving the key on the
outside.

Dark as it had been without, it was light compared to the ebon
blackness within. Bessy felt ice form in the marrow of her bones. The
darkness was tangible; it seemed to envelop her in heavy folds. The
sudden natural impulse to fly out of the thick creeping gloom, down
the stairway to the light, strung her muscles for instant action, but
checked by the swiftly following thought of her purpose, they relaxed,
and she took not a backward step.

"Rose did her part and I'll do mine," she cogitated. "I've got to save
them. But what to do--I may have to wait. I know--in the big room--the
closet behind the curtain! I can find that even in this dark, and once
in there I won't be afraid."

Bessy, fired by this inspiration, groped along the wall through the
room to the large chamber, stumbled over chairs and a couch and at
last got her hands on the drapery. She readily found the knob, turned
it, opened the door and stepped in.

"I hope they won't be long," she thought. "I hope the girls come
first. I don't want to burst into a room full of boys. Won't Daren be
surprised when I tell him--maybe angry! But it's bound to come out all
right, and father will never know."

CHAPTER XVI

Early one August evening Lane went out to find a cool misty rain
blowing down from the hills. At the inn he encountered Colonel Pepper,
who wore a most woebegone and ludicrous expression. He pounced at once
upon Lane.

"Daren, what do you think?" he wailed, miserably.

"I don't think. I know. You've gone and done it--pulled that stunt of
yours again," returned Lane.

"Yes--but oh, so much worse this time."

"Worse! How could it be worse, unless you mean some one punched your
head."

"No. That would have been nothing.... Daren, this--this time I--it was
a lady!" gasped Pepper.

"Oh, say now, Pepper--not really?" queried Lane, incredulously.

"It was. And a lady I--I admire very much."

"Who?"

"Miss Amanda Hill."

"The schoolteacher? Nice little woman like that! Pepper, why couldn't
you pick on one of these Middleville gossips or society dames?"

"Lord--I didn't know who she was--until after--and I couldn't have
helped it anyway," he replied, mopping his red face. "When--I saw
her--and she recognized me--I nearly died.... It was at White's
Confectionery Den. And I'm afraid some people saw me."

"Well. You old duffer! And you say you admire this lady very much?"

"Indeed I do. I call on her."

"Colonel, your name is Dennis," replied Lane, with merciless humor.
"It serves you right."

The little man evidently found relief in his confession and in Lane's
censure.

"I'm cured forever," he declared vehemently. "And say, Lane, I've been
looking for you. Have you been at my rooms lately--you know--to take a
peep?"

"I have not," replied Lane, turning sharply. A slight chill went over
him. "I thought that club stuff was off."

"Off--nothing," whispered Colonel Pepper, drawing Lane aside. "Swann
and his strong-arm gang just got foxy. They quit for a while. Now
they're rushing the girls in there--say from four to five--and in the
evenings a little while, not too late. Oh, they're the slick bunch,
picking out the ice cream soda hour when everybody's downtown.... You
run up to my rooms right now. And I'll gamble----"

"I'll go," interrupted Lane, grimly.

Not fifteen minutes before he had seen his sister Lorna and a chum,
Gail Williams, go into White's place. Lane's pulse quickened. As he
started to go he ran into Blair Maynard who grasped at him: "What's
hurry, old scout?"

"Blair, I'm never in a hurry if you want me. But the fact is I've got
rather urgent business. How about to-morrow?"

"Sure. Meet you here. I just wanted to unload on you, Dare. Looks as
if my mother has hatched it up between Margie and our esteemed
countryman, Richard Swann."

It was not often that Lane cursed, but he did so now.

"But Blair, didn't you _tell_ your mother what this fellow is?"
remonstrated Lane.

"Well, I'll say I did," replied Blair, sardonically. "Cut no ice
whatever. She didn't believe. She didn't care for any proofs. All rich
young men had their irregularities!... Good God! Doesn't it make you
sick?"

"But how about Holt Dalrymple?"

"Holt's turned over a new leaf. He's working hard, and I think he has
taken a tumble to himself. Listen to this. He met Margie with Dick
Swann out at one of the lake dances--Watkins' Lake. And he cut her
dead. I'm sorry for Margie. She sure is rank poison these days....
Well, speak of the devil!"

Holt Dalrymple collided with them at the entrance of the inn. The
haggard, sullen, heated look that had characterized him was gone. He
was sunburned, and his dark eyes were bright. He greeted his friends
warmly. They chatted for a moment. Then Lane grew thoughtful, all the
while gazing at Holt.

"What's the idea?" queried that worthy, presently. "Anything wrong
with me?"

"Boy, you're just great. Seeing you has done me good.... You ask
what's the idea. Holt, would you do me a favor?"

"Would I? Listen to the guy," returned young Dalrymple. "Daren, I'd do
any old thing for you."

"Do you happen to know Bessy Bell?" went on Lane.

Dalrymple quickened with surprise. "Yes, I know her. Some little
peach!... I almost ran into her down on West Street a few minutes ago.
She wore a white veil. She didn't see me, or recognize me. But I sure
knew her. She was almost running. I bet a million to myself she had a
date at the club."

"You lose, Holt," replied Lane, shortly. "Bessy Bell is one
Middleville kid who has come clean through this mess."

"Say Dare, I like to hear you talk," responded Blair, half in jest and
half in earnest. "But aren't you getting a trifle unbalanced? That's
how my mother apologizes for me."

"Cut the joshing, boys. Listen," returned Lane. "And don't ever tell
this to a soul. I interested myself in Bessy Bell. I've met her more
times than I can count. I wanted to see if it was possible to turn one
of these girls around. I failed on my sister Lorna. But Bessy Bell is
true blue. She had all this modern tommyrot. She had everything else
too. Brains, sweetness, common sense, romance. All I tried to do was
to make her forget the tommyrot. And I think I did."

"Well, I'll be darned!" ejaculated Blair. "Dare, that was ripping fine
of you.... What'll you do next, I wonder."

"Come on with your favor," added Holt, with a keen bright smile.

"Would you be willing to see Bessy occasionally--and sort of be nice
to her--you know?" asked Lane, earnestly. "I can't keep up my
attention to her much longer. She might miss me. Take it from me,
Holt, back of all this modern stuff--deep in Bessy, and in every girl
who has not been debased--is the simple and good desire to be liked."

"Daren, I'll do that little thing, believe me," returned Holt, warmly.

Shaking hands with his friends, Lane left them, and went on his way.
White's place was full as a beehive. As he passed, Lane found himself
looking for Bessy Bell's golden head, though he knew he would not see
it. He wondered if Holt had really met her, veiled and in a hurry.
That had a strange look. But no shadow of distrust of Bessy came to
Lane. In a few moments he reached the dark stairway leading to Colonel
Pepper's apartment. Lane forgot he was weak. But at the top, with his
breast laboring, he remembered well enough. He went into the Colonel's
rooms and through them without making a light. And when he reached the
place where he had spied upon the club he was wet with sweat and
shaking with excitement. Carefully, so as not to make noise, he stole
to the peep-hole and applied his eye.

He saw a gleam of light on shiny waxed floor, and then, moving to get
the limit of his narrow vision, he descried Swann, evidently just
arrived. With him was Gail Williams, a slip of a child not over
fifteen--looking up at him as if excited and pleased. Next Lane
espied his sister Lorna with a tall, well-built man. Although his back
was toward Lane, he could not mistake the soldierly bearing of Captain
Vane Thesel! Lorna looked perturbed and sulky, and once, turning her
face toward Swann, she seemed resentful. Captain Thesel had his hand
at her elbow and appeared to be talking earnestly.

Lane left his post, taking care to make no noise. But once back in the
Colonel's rooms, he hurried. Feeling in the dark corner where he had
kept the axe ready for just such an emergency as this, he grasped it
and rushed out. Tiptoeing down the hall, he found the narrow door,
stole down the black stairway and entered the main hall. Here he
paused, suddenly checked in his hurry.

"This won't do," he thought, and shook his head. "Much as I'd like to
kill those two dogs I can't--I can't.... I'll smash their faces,
though--and if I ever catch...."

Breaking the thought off abruptly, he passed down the dim hallway to
the door of the club-rooms. He raised the axe and was about to smash
the lock when he espied a key in the keyhole. The door was not locked.
Lane set down the axe and noiselessly turned the knob and peeped in.
The first room was dark, but the door on the opposite side was ajar,
and through it Lane saw the larger lighted room and the shiny floor.
Moving figures crossed the space. Removing the key, Lane slipped
inside the room and locked the door. Then he tip-toed to the opposite
door.

Thesel and Lorna were now so close that Lane could hear them.

"But I thought I had a date with Dick," protested Lorna. Her face was
red and she stamped her foot.

"See here, kiddo. If you're as thick as that I'll have to put you
wise," answered Thesel, good-humoredly, as he tilted back his
cigarette to blow smoke at the ceiling. "Dick is through with you."

"Oh, _is_ he?" choked Lorna.

"Say, Cap, I heard a noise," suddenly called out Swann, rather
nervously.

There was a moment's silence. Lane, too, had heard a noise, but could
not be sure whether it was inside the building or not.

Swann hurried over to join Thesel. They looked blankly at each other.
The air might have been charged. Both girls showed alarm.

Then Lane, with his hand on the gun in his pocket, strode out to
confront them.

"Oh--h!" gasped Lorna, as if appalled at sight of her brother's face.

"Fellows, I'll have to break up your little party," said Lane, coolly.

Thesel turned ghastly white, while Swann grew livid with rage. He
seemed to expand. His hand went back to his right hip.

When Lane got within six feet of them, Swann drew a small automatic
pistol. But before he could raise it, Lane had leaped into startling
activity. With terrific swing he brought his gun down on Swann's face.
Then as swiftly he turned on Thesel. Swann had hardly hit the floor, a
sodden heap, when Thesel, with bloody visage, reeled and fell like a
log. Lane bent over them, ready to beat either back. But both were
unconscious.

"Daren--for God's sake--don't murder them!" whispered Lorna, hoarsely.

Lane's humanity was in abeyance then, but his self-control did not
desert him.

"You girls must hurry out of here," he ordered.

"Oh, Gail is fainting," cried Lorna.

The little Williams girl was indeed swaying and sinking down. Lane
grasped her and shook her. "Brace up. If you keel over now, you'll be
found out sure.... It's all right. You'll not be hurt. There----"

A heavy thumping on the door by which Lane had entered and a loud
authoritative voice from the hall silenced him.

"Open up here! You're pinched!"

That voice Lane recognized as belonging to Chief of Police Bell. For a
moment, fraught with suspense, Lane was at a loss to know what to do.

"Open up! We've got the place surrounded.... Open up, or we'll smash
the door in!"

Lane whispered to the girls: "Is there a place to hide you?"

The Williams girl was beyond answering, but Lorna, despite her terror,
had not lost her wits.

"Yes--there's a closet--hid by a curtain--here," she whispered,
pointing.

Lane half carried Gail. Lorna brushed aside a heavy curtain and opened
a door. Lane pushed both girls into the black void and closed the door
after them.

"Once more--open up!" bellowed the officer in the hall, accompanying
his demand with a thump on the door. Lane made sure some one had found
his axe. He did not care how much smashing the policemen did. All that
concerned Lane then was how to avert discovery from the girls. It
looked hopeless. Then, as there came sudden splintering blows on the
door, Lane espied Swann's cigarettes and matches on the music box.
Lane seldom smoked. But while the officers were breaking in the door,
Lane leisurely lighted a cigarette; and when two of them came in he
faced them coolly.

The first was Chief Bell, a large handsome man, in blue uniform. The
second one was a patrolman. Neither carried a weapon in sight. Bell
swept the big room in one flashing blue glance--took in Lane and the
prone figures on the floor.

"Well, I'll be damned," he ejaculated. "What am I up against?"

"Hello, Chief," replied Lane, coolly. "Don't get fussed up now. This
is no murder case."

"Lane, what's this mean?" burst out Bell.

Lane was rather well acquainted with Chief Bell, and in a way there
was friendship between them. Bell, for one, had always been sturdily
loyal to the soldiers.

"Well, Chief, I was having a little friendly game with Mr. Swann and
Captain Thesel," drawled Lane. "We got into an argument. And as both
were such ferocious fighters I grew afraid they'd hurt me bad--so I
had to soak them."

"Don't kid me," spoke up Bell, derisively. "Little game--hell! Where's
the cards, chips, table?"

"Chief, I didn't say we played the game to-night."

"Lane, you're a liar," replied Bell, thoughtfully. "I'm sure of that.
But you've got me buffaloed." He knelt on the floor beside the fallen
men and examined each. Swann's shirt as well as face was bloody. "For
a crippled soldier you've got some punch left. What'd you hit them
with?"

"I'll tell you Chief. I fetched an axe with me to do the dirty job,
but I decided I should use a dangerous weapon only on men. So I soaked
them with a lollypop."

"Lane, are you really nutty?" demanded Bell, curiously.

"No more than you. I hit them with something hard, so it would leave a
mark."

"You left one, I'll say. Thesel will lose that eye--it's gone now--and
Swann is also disfigured for life. What a damned shame!"

"Chief, are you sure it's any kind of a shame?"

Lane's query appeared to provoke thought. Bell replaced the little
automatic pistol he had picked up beside Swann, and rising he looked
at Lane.

"Swann was a slacker. Thesel was your Captain in the war. Have these
facts anything to do with your motive?"

"No, Chief," replied Lane, in sarcasm. "But when I got into action I
think the facts you mentioned sort of rejuvenated a disabled soldier."

"Lane, you beat me," declared Bell, shaking his head. "Why, I had you
figured as a pretty good chap.... But you've done some queer things in
Middleville."

"Chief, if you're an honest officer you'll admit Middleville needs
some queer things done."

Bell gazed doubtfully at Lane.

"Smith, search the rooms," he ordered, addressing his patrolman.

"We were alone here," spoke up Lane. "And I advise you to hurry those
wounded veterans to a hospital in the rear."

Swann showed signs of recovering consciousness. Bell bent over him a
moment. Lane had only one hope--that the patrolman would miss the
door. But he brushed aside the curtain. Then he grunted.

"See here, Chief--a door--and somebody's holding it from the inside,"
he declared.

"Wait, Smith," ordered Bell, striding forward. But before he got
half-way across the room the door opened. A girl stepped out and shut
it back of her. Lane sustained a singular shock. That girl was Bessy
Bell.

"Hello, Dad--it's Bessy," she said, clearly. She was pale, but did not
seem frightened.

Chief Bell halted in the middle of a stride and staggered a little as
his foot came down. A low curse of utter amaze escaped his lips.
Suddenly he became tensely animated.

"How'd you come here?" he demanded, towering over her.

"I walked."

"What'd you come for?"

"To warn Daren Lane that you were going to raid these club-rooms
to-night."

"Who told you?"

"I won't tell. I got it over the 'phone. I ran over here. I knew
where the key was. I've been here before--afternoons--dancing.... I
let myself in.... But when they--they came I got frightened and hid in
the closet."

Chief Bell seemed about to give way to passion, but he controlled it.
After that moment he changed subtly.

"Is Daren Lane your friend?" he demanded.

"Yes. The best and truest any girl ever had.... Dad, you know mother
told you I had changed lately. I have. And it's through Daren."

"Where'd you see him?"

"He has been coming out to the house in the afternoons."

"Well, I'm damned," muttered the Chief, and wheeled away. Sight of his
gaping patrolman seemed to galvanize him into further realization of
the situation. "Smith, beat it out and draw the other men round in
front. Give me time enough to get Bessy out. Send hurry call for
ambulance.... And Smith, keep your mouth shut. I'll make it all right.
If Mrs. Bell hears of this my life will be a hell on earth."

"Mum's the word, Chief. I'm a married man myself," he replied, and
hurried out.

Lane was watching Bessy. What a wonderful girl! Modern tendencies
might have corrupted the girls of the day, but for sheer nerve, wit
and courage they were immeasurably superior to those of former
generations. Bessy faced her father calmly, lied magnificently, gazed
down at the ghastly, bloody faces with scarcely a shudder, and gave
Lane a smile from her purple eyes, as if to cheer him, to assure him
she could save the situation. It struck Lane that Chief Bell looked as
if he might be following a similar line of thought.

"Bessy, put on your hat," ordered Bell. "And here ... tuck that veil
around. There, now you beat it for home. Lane, go with her to the
stairs. Take a good look in the street. Bessy, go home the back way.
And Lane, you hurry back."

Lane followed Bessy out and caught up with her in the hall. She
clasped his arm.

"Some adventure, I'll say!" she burst out, in breathless whisper. "It
was great until I recognized your voice. Then all inside me went
flooey."

"Bessy, you're the finest little girl in the world," returned Lane,
stirred to emotion.

"Here, Daren, cut that. You didn't raise me on soft soap and mush. If
you get to praising me I'll fall so far I'll never light.... Now,
Dare, go back and fool Dad. You must save the girls. It doesn't matter
about me. He's my Dad."

"I'll do my best," replied Lane.

They reached the landing of the outside stairway. Peering down, Lane
did not see any one.

"I guess the coast is clear. Now, beat it, Bessy."

She lifted the white veil and raised her face. In the dim gray light
Lane saw it as never before.

"Kiss me, Daren," she whispered.

Lane had never kissed her. For an instant he was confused.

"Why--little girl!" he exclaimed.

"Hurry!" she whispered, imperiously.

Some instinct beyond Lane's ken prompted him to do what she asked.

"Good-bye, my little Princess," he whispered. "Don't ever forget me."

"Never, Daren. Good-bye." She slipped down the stairway and in a
moment more vanished in the gray gloom of the misty night.

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