whereabouts of the men who were supposed to be at the meeting tonight but they will take the word of--fancy ladies. And I think that between the word of honor of a Scalawag and a dozen fancy ladies, we may have a chance of getting the men off."
There was a sardonic grin on his face at the last words but it faded as Melanie turned up to him a face that blazed with gratitude.
"Captain Butler, you are so smart! I wouldn't have cared if you'd said they were in hell itself tonight, if it saves them! For I know and every one else who matters knows that my husband was never in a dreadful place like that!"
"Well--"began Rhett awkwardly, "as a matter of fact, he was at Belle's tonight."
Melanie drew herself up coldly.
"You can never make me believe such a lie!"
"Please, Miss Melly! Let me explain! When I got out to the old Sullivan place tonight, I found Mr. Wilkes wounded and with him were Hugh Elsing and Dr. Meade and old man
Merriwether--"
"Not the old gentleman!" cried Scarlett.
"Men are never too old to be fools. And your Uncle Henry--"
"Oh, mercy!" cried Aunt Pitty.
"The others had scattered after the brush with the troops and the crowd that stuck together had come to the Sullivan place to hide their robes in the chimney and to see how badly Mr.
Wilkes was hurt. But for his wound, they'd be headed for Texas by now--all of them--but he
couldn't ride far and they wouldn't leave him. It was necessary to prove that they had been somewhere instead of where they had been, and so I took them by back ways to Belle Watling's."
"Oh--I see. I do beg your pardon for my rudeness, Captain Butler. I see now it was
necessary to take them there but--Oh, Captain Butler, people must have seen you going in!"
"No one saw us. We went in through a private back entrance that opens on the railroad tracks. It's always dark and locked."
"Then how--?"
"I have a key," said Rhett laconically, and his eyes met Melanie's evenly.
As the full impact of the meaning smote her, Melanie became so embarrassed that she
fumbled with the bandage until it slid off the wound entirely.
"I did not mean to pry--"she said in a muffled voice, her white face reddening, as she hastily pressed the towel back into place.
"I regret having to tell a lady such a thing."
"Then it's true!" thought Scarlett with an odd pang. Then he does live with that dreadful Watling creature! He does own her house!"
"I saw Belle and explained to her. We gave her a list of the men who were out tonight and she and her girls will testify that they were all in her house tonight. Then to make our exit more conspicuous, she called the two desperadoes who keep order at her place and had us dragged downstairs, fighting, and through the barroom and thrown out into the street as brawling drunks who were disturbing the place."
He grinned reminiscently. "Dr. Meade did not make a very convincing drunk. It hurt his dignity to even be in such a place. But your Uncle Henry and old man Merriwether were
excellent. The stage lost two great actors when they did not take up the drama. They seemed to enjoy the affair. I'm afraid your Uncle Henry has a black eye due to Mr. Merriwether's zeal for his part. He--"
The back door swung open and India entered, followed by old Dr. Dean, his long white
hair tumbled, his worn leather bag bulging under his cape. He nodded briefly but without words to those present and quickly lifted the bandage from Ashley's shoulder.
Too high for the lung," he said. "If it hasn't splintered his collar bone it's not so serious.
Get me plenty of towels, ladies, and cotton if you have it, and some brandy."
Rhett took the lamp from Scarlett and set it on the table as Melanie and India sped about, obeying the doctor's orders.
"You can't do anything here. Come into the parlor by the fire." He took her arm and propelled her from the room. There was a gentleness foreign to him in both hand and voice.
"You've had a rotten day, haven't you?"
She allowed herself to be led into the front room and though she stood on the hearth rug
in front of the fire she began to shiver. The bubble of suspicion in her breast was swelling larger now. It was more than a suspicion. It was almost a certainty and a terrible certainty. She looked up into Rhett's immobile face and for a moment she could not speak. Then:
"Was Frank at--Belle Watling's?"
"No."
Rhett's voice was blunt.
"Archie's carrying him to the vacant lot near Belle's. He's dead. Shot through the head."