The Spider Strain | Page 2

Silvia Rodney declared, pouting a bit--and she turned half away from him and looked at the river sparkling in the bright sunshine.
John Warwick managed to glance at her from the corners of his eyes--and sighed.
Silvia Rodney was the niece of The Spider. When Warwick first joined the supercriminal's band, he had made a pretense of paying a great deal of attention to her--it gave him an excuse for visiting so much at the mansion on American Boulevard where The Spider had his home and headquarters. This acquaintance had developed into love with a speed that was truly amazing. John Warwick, a man of society, hunter of big game, world roamer in days gone by, the man many women had sought for husband and could not capture, had fallen in love with the sweet, unassuming girl--and had been forced through circumstances to hold his tongue.
For from Silvia Rodney had been kept the knowledge of her uncle's true character. She had been taught to believe that he was the representative of a certain European power, and that he was working in the interests of humanity.
John Warwick was too honest to speak to her of love without telling her that he was a criminal of a sort--and The Spider had forbidden him doing that. He knew that Silvia Rodney returned his love, and was wondering why he did not ask her to become his wife.
Warwick had been a ruined man when he had joined The Spider's band. But, because of his excellent work, he had gathered a small fortune again; and The Spider, by way of reward, also had engineered a campaign on the Stock Exchange that had netted Warwick almost a quarter of a million dollars.
Warwick was all right financially now, yet he remained true to The Spider, not through fear of what might happen to him if he left the supercriminal's band, but out of gratitude to The Spider for his help.
There were times when John Warwick wished that he might marry Silvia Rodney and cease his nefarious work. It had not been so very nefarious at that. The Spider and his followers committed thefts, but generally on the side of right. Ill-gotten gains were what they generally took from their victims; and now and then The Spider contracted to obtain and return something that had been procured by improper means from its rightful owner. There were worse criminals than The Spider and his people, but nevertheless, what they did was outside the law.
Warwick stopped the roadster in a grove beside the highway and helped Silvia Rodney out.
"Dear young lady," he said, "we will walk about one hundred feet through these woods and come to a high place overlooking a bend in the river. It is the most beautiful spot in the entire state, especially at this time of the year."
Warwick led the way through the brush, and finally they emerged on the top of a giant rock at the river's edge. Silvia gave a little cry of delight at the scene that unfolded before them.
A great river was at their feet, curving into the distance, and the woods on both shores were dressed in red and brown and gold. In the far distance, they could see the city.
They sat down on a fallen log to watch the scene--and John Warwick sighed again.
"Why--why not say it, John?" Silvia Rodney whispered to him, after a time.
"Pardon?"
"Must I say it?" she asked.
"My word! Whatever can you mean?"
"John Warwick, there seems to be some deep and dark mystery about you," the girl said. "Perhaps it is forward of me to speak in this way, but I flatter myself that I am a modern young woman, not bound by every silly and narrow-minded convention--and I always like to have mysteries solved. John Warwick, you have been in--in love with me for a year!"
"Certainly, my dear little lady!" Warwick replied. "What man would not be?"
"John Warwick, I want you to know that I am speaking seriously. A woman always can tell when a man really is in love with her. And--and I should think--that a big, wise man--could tell when a girl--was really in love with him."
"My word!"
"And you know that I--well, that I am!" she gasped. "And yet you--you never speak of it. I suppose that it must be because I am not good enough for you."
"Oh, my word! You're a great girl--and I'm a regular rotter, really."
"I know better than that--you are nothing of the sort!" she declared. "And I'll not have you defaming yourself in that way! Perhaps it isn't at all nice for me to speak in this way, but I must have an explanation, John. I--I cannot go on in this way! Is it that you don't--want me?"
"Oh, my dear girl!"
John Warwick turned away from her and looked up the broad