# When the Winner Lost/Chapter 11

pp. 69–73.

### CHAPTER XI.
#### THREATENED HOMICIDE.

A QUICK surge of anger carried me to my feet, and I glared at Latisse. He seemed to shrink down in his chair, but I noted that his hand did not seek his revolver as upon that former occasion.
“What is that, insult?” I demanded. “I can tell you right now, Charles Latisse, that I have been with men long enough not to be very sensitive about myself, but Elise is different. I want you to understand that even you can't cast aspersions——”
He stopped me with a ghastly smile and a gesture with a hand trembled visibly. “For Heaven's sake, Trask, don't jump at conclusions!” he protested. “You care something about my sister, don't you?”
I was tongue-tied. Even in this ridiculous situation I could not tell him that I was madly in love with Elise.
“You do like her awfully well, at least, don't you?” he persisted, almost pitifully.
“Yes, damn it, I do!” I burst out. “What that has to do with your insane proposal, though I can't see. Your sister scarcely knows me from Adam.”
“But she likes you!” he broke in. “A dozen times she has said she admires you. She has wanted me to get you to go into business with me, or something like that.” He cackled a laugh that was entirely devoid of mirth.
“What is wrong?” I demanded. “Why do you come to me?”
“Everything is wrong,” he answered, wetting his thin lips. “I—I think I shall go to South America.”
“Never mind about yourself!” I interrupted. “What has happened to Elise?”
“Nothing—yet. Oh, Trask, I just can't explain!”
“You have to, now you've gone so far,” I retorted grimly. “Out with it!”
His teeth clenched desperately. “I want to save her from something—something worse than death. She does not even suspect that anything threatens her. She must not know. When I go you just tell her anything you want to tell. Say I forged a check, or stole, or anything.”
“Just what have you done?”
He glanced at me affrightedly. “Nothing. That is, the law isn't after me.”
“Is it after her?”
“No. I don't want you to question me, Trask. If things go on Elise will either kill herself or—or worse than that will happen. If she marries you, and you go back to Auckland——”
“That's nonsense! First, she wouldn't marry me. Second, I'm not going back to New Zealand, perhaps for years.”
“But you'll ask her? You'll try? Even if you stay here she will be better protected. Elise is a good girl, and she is beautiful. You never could find a better wife.”
“I had almost decided as much,” I answered dryly, “but I don't believe my qualification as an impromptu husband are as apparent.”
“They are! Elise would accept you. Maybe you'd have to argue to get her to marry you to-morrow, but——”
“Yes, I guess so! No, Latisse; I can't consider the idea at all! In the course of time when Elise gets to know me better, I may ask her that question, but not now.”
He rose unsteadily. “Then you never will see her again!” he declared with a solemnity that could come only from sincere belief.
“Why do you say that?” I cried. “Can't you protect her yourself against this danger, whatever it may be?”
He shook his head. “No one can—unless, maybe, her husband.”
“It's something connected with the club!” I cried with sudden divination. Instantly I could have bitten my tongue off at the root, for Latisse started, shaking from a new palsy of terror.
“No!” he cried; but I knew from the expression on his face that he was lying. “No, something else!”
“Well, do you seriously think I could save her, even if she married me?” I asked, just in order to get his mind off my slip of tongue.
“Yes, I think so,” he replied, but I noticed that he was watching me furtively.
“Then I'll do it!” Something inside had been urging me all the while to make the attempt, for on principle I hate to buck against providence. Elise was undoubtedly the girl for me; if this was the manner preordained for our courtship there could be no use in attempting to dodge the issue. In the excitement of the moment the matter of supporting a wife entirely slipped my mind.
Latisse grasped my hand instantly. “Wait here!” he said hoarsely. “I'll call her.”
“Now?” I questioned incredulously. “At three o'clock in the morning?”
He had gone, however. In that second terror seemed to grip my heart. I did not dare tell her this preposterous story. As the seconds passed I paced the little room, cold perspiration starting on my brow. After a moment I opened the door and listened for her step.
She was slow in coming, or so it seemed. Every minute sapped my nerve somewhat. I tried to focus my mind on the mysterious danger that threatened her, but I could do nothing but listen with strained attention for her coming.
Fifteen of the longest minutes of my life passed before I heard the tap-tap of her satin mules on the stairs. Then I went to meet her. Consternation! The woman who lifted her serious eyes to mine was a dazzling vision in a dainty pink silk! Though I had admired her intensely even in semi-military attire I now saw how blind I had been. I think it must have been the fact that she wore a kimono that befuddled my wits most. It had been so long since I had spoken to a girl of any kind in aught but conventional attire, that I felt really embarrassed. Through my head whirled the phrase, “Oh, the beauty of her!” and my tongue seemed paralyzed. This was the girl I was being urged to marry!
“Elsie!” I faltered, forgetting to release the hand she had given to me in greeting.
“Mr. Trask! I—Charlie said that you wished to see me on some matter you said was important. Is it——”
“Oh, I am so sorry to get you up at this hour,” I blundered. “It really wasn't so import—yes, I mean, it is important to me, but you probably won't think—— Oh, I don't know what I am saying!”
She almost smiled, but the serious expression returned. “Come into the den,” she invited. “We can talk there.”
I did so, and by the time I had her seated and had drawn my own chair close my wits had returned more nearly to normal.
“Has something happened to Charlie?” she queried.
“No. It's something personal, Miss Latisse,” I answered, positive now that I was making perhaps the greatest mistake of my life. “I know that you will think me insane, but I am not. Something has come up that I cannot explain that makes it necessary for me to act most strangely. I have come to ask you to marry me, Elise!” Then, as I saw her eyes widen and the color leave her cheeks, my tongue loosened and I told her of my love. For the life of me I cannot recall the things I said, for I watched her eyes. From fright and wonder they changed to bewilderment, and then—and I despaired—to something akin to anger. For a time she had listened to me, but at the last she was only waiting to speak. I stopped short, feeling the chill of her hastily summoned reserve.
“I'm sure that I am highly honored Mr. Trask,” she replied; and I knew that I had lost. “I feel like complimenting you upon your delivery, also, but of course you cannot reasonably expect me to accede to your proposal. Just why, now have you asked me to marry you?”
“I—I love you,” I replied thoroughly miserable.
“I don't believe you,” she retorted calmly, though I saw the flesh was white beneath her finger nails from her grip upon the chair arm. “You are not the sort of man to ask as unreasonable a thing without some compelling motive. What caused you to come? Will you win a fortune from some relative's will by marrying by to-morrow?”
I winced. “I have told nothing but the truth, Elise,” I said humbly, “though I don't blame you for doubting me.” I saw the flush of anger fading from her cheeks, but she did not speak. “You were right, of course, in supposing that I—I had a motive for wanting to make sure of you right away If you will only believe me when I tell you that this motive has nothing in the world to do with myself! In the ordinary course of events I would have asked you to marry me, but not for at least a month. Before that I should have tried earnestly to make you love me. The way it has come about, though——”
“What?”
“Circumstances!” I replied, desperate now. “Dearest, if you care anything at all for me marry me to-morrow—or this morning, I mean. I give you my word of honor that I will not lay one finger upon you, ever, if you say. If, after a month or two goes by, you wish to be released I promise that I shall make no contest of your suit for divorce. The life of one, perhaps two people, hangs in the balance!”
She rose to her feet. “What are you saying?” she cried. “What sort of mummery is this? I am to save the lives of two people by marrying you to-morrow?”
“To-day.”
“Well, to-day, then.”
“Yes.”
“Well,” and her voice was shaking now, “may I be so impertinent as to inquire just whose life I am saving?”
I bowed my head. There was only one way out. “You are one of the two, Elise, dear,” I said. “Please don't ask me to explain. The secret is not mine.”
Her breath escaped in a short gasp. “I?” she echoed, and laughed. “Mr. Trask, I must say you are audacious! I am in no danger, real or fancied.” She must just then have read truth in the misery of my expression, for she paled and the mocking note left her voice. “Even if there were some truth in what you say,” she went on, “I would far rather face the danger than run into a marriage to escape it. I really must decline your offer definitely!”
The door swung open, and Charles Latisse stepped to her side. “You must, Elise!” he cried, and his face worked from nervousness and emotion. “I asked him to do it!”
For a second I thought she would collapse. “Oh, you asked him to propose to me!” she replied, enunciating with difficulty. “Well, now nothing in the whole world could get me to consider the offer for one single second!” Head up, she swept from the room
I said nothing, for my self-reproach and bitterness were too deep for words To my intense surprise, however Charles Latisse seemed quieter. He shut and locked the door, and then walked across the room and seated himself at the desk. From his pocket he withdrew his automatic. I was so sick at heart that I made no move to get at my own. “Shoot and be damned!” I muttered.
“Exactly!” he replied, grinning with ghastly humor. Then as calmly as if he had not been distraught for an instant, he lifted the revolver to his own forehead!
A small desk dictionary lay on the table beside my elbow. As I saw his finger tightening on the trigger I picked up the book and hurled it at the weapon. By sheer luck it caught the muzzle squarely, knocking the revolver spinning from his hand.
“For God's sake why?” I queried, catching his arms before he could pick up the automatic again. It had been a narrow escape for me, for locked in that narrow room with him would have meant only one thing to any jury. Besides, Selwyn Trask would have been exposed immediately.
“The jig's up,” he answered dully. “You might as well let me finish it.”
“I should not! Look here! If you're a brave enough coward to take your own life, why don't you spend your life in some useful way? Why not lose it protecting your sister?” In that second he bowed forward and surrendered to an hysteria of sobbing. Knowing that I could do little or nothing with him in that state, and that not for some time, at least, would he be able to summon sufficient nerve for suicide, I left him—I am ashamed to say with the shred of a hope that he would finish the job sooner or later. I thoroughly detested Charles Armand Latisse even when he showed the single admirable quality of a sort of love for his sister.