The Dark Tower

She saw what she had expected to see. It was Winn’s revolver; upon it lay a snap-shot of Peter. He always kept them together.

Claire took out the revolver. Winn watched her, with his hands in his pockets.

“Be careful,” he said; “it’s loaded.”

She brought it to him and said:

“Now take all the things out of it.” Winn laughed, and unloaded it without a word. “Now open the window,” she ordered, “and throw them into the snow.” Winn obeyed. When he came back she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Now I’ll go,” she said.

“All right,” agreed Winn, gently. “Wait for me in the cloak-room, and I’ll take you across. But, I say, look here — will you ever forgive me? I’m afraid I’ve been a most fearful brute.”

Then Claire knew she couldn’t stand any more. She turned and ran into the passage. Fortunately, the cloak-room was empty. She pressed herself against a fur coat and sobbed as Winn had sobbed up-stairs; but she had not his arms to comfort her. She had not dared to cry in his arms.

They walked hand in hand across the snow from his hotel to the door of hers.

Claire knew that she could say anything she liked to Winn now, so she said what she had made up her mind to say.

“Winn dearest, do you know what I came down for this evening?”

He held her hand tighter and nodded.

“I guessed,” he said. “That was, you know, what rather did for me. You mean you aren’t going to let me come with you down the pass?”

“We mustn’t,” Claire whispered; and then she felt she couldn’t be good any more. It cost too much. So she added, “But you can if you like.” But there wasn’t any real need for Claire to be good now; Winn was good instead.

“No,” he said; “it’s much wiser not. You look thoroughly done up. I’m not going to have any more of this. Let’s breakfast together. You come over at eight sharp and arrange with Maurice to take you down at ten. That’s quite enough for you.”

Claire laughed. Winn stared at her, then in a moment he laughed, too.

“We’d better not take any more chances,” he explained. “Next time it might happen to us both together. Then you’d really be had! Thanks awfully for seeing me through. Good night.”

She went into the hotel without a word, and all her heart rebelled against her for having seen him through.

CHAPTER XXVII

The hour of parting crept upon them singularly quietly and slowly. They both pretended to eat breakfast, and then they walked out into Badrutt’s Park. They sat in the nearest shelter, hand in hand, looking over the gray, empty expanse of the rink. It was too early for any one to be about. Only a few Swiss peasants were sweeping the ice and Winn hardly looked upon Swiss peasants as human.

He asked Claire exactly how much money she had a year, and told her when she came of age what he should advise her to suggest to her trustees to put it in.

Then he went through all the things he thought she ought to have for driving down the pass. Claire interrupted him once to remind him about going to see Dr. Gurnet. Winn said he remembered quite well and would go. They both assured each other that they had had good nights. Winn said he thought Maurice would be all right in a few years, and that he didn’t think he was shaping for trouble. He privately thought that Maurice was not going to have any shape at all, but he omitted this further reflection.

He told her how much he enjoyed his regiment and explained laboriously how Claire was to think of his future, which was to be, apparently, a whirl of pleasure from morning till night.

They talked very disconnectedly; in the middle of recounting his future joys, Winn said:

“And then if anything was to happen to me, you know, I hope you’d think better of it and marry Lionel.”

Claire did not promise to marry Lionel, but she implied that even without marriage she, like Winn, was about to pass into an existence studded with resources and amusements; and then she added:

“And if you were to die, or I was, Miss Marley could help us to see each other just at the last. I asked her about it.” Despite their future happiness, they seemed to draw more solid satisfaction out of this final privilege.

The last ten minutes they hardly talked at all. Every now and then Winn wanted to know if Claire’s feet were warm, and Claire asked him to let her have a photograph of Peter.

Then Maurice came out of the hotel, and a tailing party stood in the open doorway and wondered if it was going to snow. The sleigh drove up to the hotel, jingling in the gayest manner, with pawing horses. Winn walked across the courtyard with her and nodded to Maurice; and Maurice allowed Winn to tuck Claire up, because, after he’d looked at Winn’s eyes, it occurred to him that he couldn’t do anything else.

Winn reduced the hall porter, a magnificent person in gold lace, with an immense sense of dignity, to gibbering terror before the lift-boy and the boots because he had failed to supply the sleigh with a sufficiently hot foot-warmer.