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His thin, handsome face was calm; though he stared down at the pale-gold hair, the violet eyes of a famous beauty, he appeared unmoved. I stood there myself once, long ago—twenty-five years ago. We've traveled all the way from London together— I never dreamed Of course, my name is a stage name too. Out toward the reef twinkled the lights of Japanese fishing boats; just above the horizon hung the Southern Cross. Life must be beautiful here—and old age always round the corner—the corner one never needs to turn." "I was born in that house," he told her. It's home, and I love it." "I love it, too," she told him. Just once in a lifetime—at the crossroads." "It's a wonderful night, for me at least," said Maynard. Maynard gasped in amazement as he looked about that usually quiet and peaceful room, for he saw the marks of a terrific struggle. In another moment Wayne broke away; he raised the pistol and pointed it at his panting antagonist. He leaped forward, and after a moment of brief effort, wrenched the weapon away.
A famous beauty, yes, he was thinking, but a beauty past her noontime. Yes, I was at the crossroads, and one word—one little word—decided my course for ever after." "How was that? "Twenty-seven years ago, to be exact," Wayne went on. " "He was my elder brother, the one my father had driven from home before I left." "Not really? If I'd mentioned sooner that I was Redfield—" "Redfield? A cool breeze swept in from the sea, and the hau tree dropped a yellow blossom in her lap.
" He knelt by her chair, but she looked away, down the deck, at a middle-aged man who stood by the rail, idly swinging a monocle over the side and staring off to where the sun dipped down into a sea as crimson as his own complexion. "Sir James enters on the word 'terrace'" she explained. Wayne found it difficult to take his eyes from her face, and seemingly Dan Maynard was in the same predicament. We must have a talk about this, my friend—a long talk." Sibyl Clay had risen; she stood tall and fair and shining. Maynard, the time is going so quickly, and you have promised to show me Waikiki in the moonlight." "Of course," cried Maynard, leaping up. In—in a moment, please." He buried his head in his arms. Her eyes were cold; hard lines had appeared about her mouth. Some sort of feud grew up between them—" "It's a lie! "Until finally this swine shot poor old Bertie in the back." "A lie, I tell you! "Shot him in the back, like the yellow coward he is, and then reported poor Bertie had died of a fever." "Mr.
"Your word is law." He took out a pencil and scribbled something on the script. And doubtless it won't matter particularly—in Australia." Two young people came suddenly upon them—a slender girl with sleek, bobbed, coal-black hair, an English boy with rosy cheeks and frank gray eyes. Hundreds of people here would have been thrilled to meet you, but I'm being very selfish." "I'm glad you are," she smiled. Just you and I—and Waikiki." Wayne and Thatcher felt rather out of it, but cocktails restored them. The silver of the Maynard family, famous for generations, sparkled no brighter than her violet eyes; the linen was no whiter than her slim, girlish shoulders. The actor's hand trembled as he reached for it; the glass tinkled against his teeth. For a time he drifted about down there, and finally settled down as a trader on the lonely island of Apiang. The missionary wrote it all to me." "This happened a long time ago?
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Passengers were appearing on deck with that air of bright expectancy those on shipboard wear as the dinner hour approaches. Through a gateway and along a drive that skirted a garden all crimson and gold, and so up to Dan Maynard's big front door. "A shot in the back—that's your specialty." "You lie!
I don't suppose I could say— " The ship's clock spoke sharply, four times. I must dress, even for one of these beastly dinners." Her face lighted suddenly with a charming smile. A good-looking, tanned man of thirty-five or so was drawing near. Did she realize that she had passed the hilltop, that she was coasting down, that her days of fame were numbered? They rolled along between rows of tall coconut palms, over the lowlands, past rice fields and taro patches, and came presently to Waikiki, with its huge hotels and its vast rambling houses.