THE ONLY WAY

It was something of a shock to Tom that Audry emerged so readily from the spell of his narrative and came right down to the main point.

“I don’t see how you can ask me what you ought to do—if that is what you mean.”

Tom sensed what she meant and tried to hold off the shock of it by pretending not to understand. “You mean I ought to speak to him? To tell him I know who he is? And ask him if he really did it?”

Audry was at least more honest than he in her straightforwardness. “What do you mean, tell him? Do you mean warn him?”

“N—no, not just exactly—”

“Of course he did it,” Audry said. “But it isn’t a question of whether he did it or not; not as far as you’re concerned. He’s a fugitive from justice. He has a charge hanging over him. Any good citizen who knows the whereabouts of a person indicted for murder will notify the authorities. Is that what you wanted to ask my advice about?”

“Y—yes,” said Tom weakly. He felt ashamed, wretched. “That’s what I—it’s hard—that’s why I wanted to—sort of to ask you. I—I know you don’t like him.”

“I don’t see that it’s a question of liking—”

“Oh yes, it is too,” Tom flared up in a burst of sentiment and loyalty. “It’s a question of liking with me anyway. Do you think I forget how he saved my life? Do you think I forget his—the way he’s treated me? Hard? It’s so hard I won’t do it—I can’t do it. Gee, Audry, don’t ask me to do that,” he added weakening. “I’d do anything you said but don’t ask me to do that. It’s because I like you so much and I know you’re so much smarter than I am—that’s why I came to you. You can see now how much I care about you, can’t you? There must be something—”

She laid her hand on his where it rested on the rock and the act was not without feeling.

“Something—there must be some way,” he almost pled.

“Listen, Tom,” she said. “And please don’t think it’s because I don’t like him.” She closed her hand on his a little. “You won’t think that, will you?”

He did not answer.

“You went to war, didn’t you—Tom? You had to shoot men—to kill them. Didn’t you? It was no pleasure for you, I know that. It was just your duty, and you conquered your feelings and did it. Didn’t you, Tom?”

He nodded assent.

“You didn’t think about your own feelings, or your own danger, did you?”

“Neither did he,” said Tom, his voice breaking.

But she ignored this. “The nation, the government, the law, justice,—all those things are more important than you or I. Aren’t they—Tom?”

“I suppose so.”

“If men cared more for their mothers and their wives and their sweethearts—listen, Tom—if men cared more for their mothers and their wives and their sweethearts than they did for their duty as citizens—Tom—there wouldn’t have been any of our boys over there.”

“You—you don’t like him—I know.”

“Listen, Tom—please listen. I like you, isn’t that enough? I like you so much I’m not going to be disappointed in you. Yes, I mean it. I wouldn’t have told you except for this. And if you don’t be strong and manly—a good scout—”

“Scout?” sneered Tom, his voice rising in defiance. “You want me to go and squeal on the one that saved my life! Scout! How do I know he did it anyway? I can’t swear absolutely that he’s the man; I don’t know he’s Anson Dyker. Anyway maybe he’s innocent. No siree, you don’t get me to—”

“Now you’re being dishonest with yourself,” she said calmly. “If he’s innocent, he has nothing to fear.”

“Then I’ll talk to him and get him to go to Kingston and—”

“No, you won’t do that, Tom, because that would give him the chance to escape. If a fellow is strong enough to sacrifice his life he is certainly strong enough to sacrifice a friendship. He is not going to let sentiment stand in the way of his duty.”

“A lot of sentiment you have,” he sneered.

“I have more than you think,” she said, looking at him earnestly.

“I suppose you’d like me to take the reward too,” he sneered. “I won’t do that—I tell you right now I won’t do that—I’m not a—a—a—skunk.”

“That would be for you to decide—”

“Yes, well it’s already decided.”

“You might show your friendship by accepting it,” she said.

“Some friend!” he said in a tone of bitter mockery.

“Two thousand dollars might help him at his trial,” she said, with intelligence and fairness which struck Tom. “But that’s your own affair.”

“Do you think he’d take it?” Tom asked bitterly.

“Tom,” she said not unkindly, “what’s the use of talking about it? If you knew what you wanted to do—”

“It isn’t a question of what I want to do.”

“Of course it isn’t. I want you to feel just as you do—so there. I’m glad you do feel that way. You’re splendid, Tom. I always knew it.”

He looked straight at her now as if she were his strength, his refuge. His eyes were haggard, strained. “Go on, what is it?” he said.

As if in reward for his docility she closed her hand again on his where it rested on the rock. It seemed to give him strength—strength to follow, to obey.

“Listen, Tom; are you listening? An indictment—you know what an indictment is, don’t you?” she said kindly. “It’s an accusation—by the state. You and I are part of the state; do you see? It’s our accusation—no, no no, please don’t be angry, Tom—I just mean that it isn’t a question between you and Mr. Whalen and the state, see? Because we’re a part of the state—you and I.”

It cheered and consoled him to hear her couple their two names in this way. It made them seem like—like partners.

“That indictment stands, Tom; it stands until it’s answered. Running away and hiding somewhere else doesn’t answer it. Don’t you see? And it is not for you and me to set ourselves up as judges. It’s just a question of good citizenship, Tom, that’s all. I wish now you had read the book I asked you to read.

“You have to go to Kingston and tell them, the authorities; because there’s a stigma on you till you do. You have to think of your highest duty and that is your duty as a citizen. Then when they—when the case comes to trial you have a right to help him all you can. And you will try to, I know you will. I just thought that if you took the two thousand dollars you could hire a lawyer with it maybe—because I know he’s poor.”

“Poor,” Tom whispered in pitiful, broken tones; “Yop.”

“You can be a good citizen if you will, and then a good friend if he’ll let you. Please don’t, Tom—oh please—no, no, listen, Tom. I just want you to do your duty. Listen,” she pled. “I will have the money that Niel pays me for helping him—about three hundred dollars—and you can have that too. We’ll chip in to help him, Tom. And then—maybe—he’ll be freed—he’ll have his freedom in the right way. Free just like you and me. Don’t you see, Tom?”

He nodded his head in reluctant assent.

“You must go and tell them, Tom, you must tell them that he is here. If we disrespect the law we can’t expect the law to protect us. Do you know what an indictment says, Tom? How it begins? It says, ‘We the people.’ Tom—poor Tom—I’m sorry, oh, so sorry. But you’ll do what’s brave and right, won’t you? Yes, you will. You came to ask me and I have to tell you. It’s just like—I know—it’s just like going to war and shooting mothers’ sons, Tom. But you were a soldier and a scout and that means you’re a citizen. Aren’t you, Tom? And you’ll do your plain duty, won’t you? You asked me, Tom, and I’m telling you—you’ll—I knew you would....”

Yes, she knew he would because he hung his head, then of a sudden clasped his hands before his face. It was only for just a moment....