Page:Weird Tales Volume 5 Number 5 (1925-05).djvu/80

of warning, were danger imminent; and moreover, with him out of the way I knew I could win his fiancée, for she had confessed to liking me less only than him. Truly. I had nothing to be despondent about.

So, as the months passed, I managed to see a great deal of her. Under the guise of proxy, always professing to maintain my old regard for Wesslyn, I saw to it that she did not think overmuch of him.

At first I did no more than visit her at her home, but gradually I prevailed upon her to let me take her out—and we went together the rounds of the rather limited social life in London that winter.

That set people talking, and somehow the rumor must have reached Wesslyn in muddy Flanders, for he wrote her sharply on the subject. Indignantly, she showed me the letter. Then she took off die opal ring and would have laid it aside—when I asked her if I might wear it.

"For," I explained, though he has offended you, my friendship for Wesslyn causes me to fear continually for his safety. Were I to have the ring always by me, I should then be able to watch it, and warn him if it should turn at any time to red."

"So you believe in the silly legend too?"

For a moment disdain showed in her face. Then her eyes softened.

"Very well," she laughed. "Take it."

So I slipped it on my finger, Wesslyn's opal which he had given her in token of engagement. I truly think that had she realized its full significance, had she believed there was anything in the legend, she would never have parted with the ring. He had indeed offended her, but even so, it was no more than a momentary fit of anger. In her own heart she still loved Wesslyn.

"Yet it. is none of my concern," I argued. "I love her madly, and all is fair in love, at least."

So I stilled my conscience and smothered my shame at using my former friend so badly. And had I thought she would have accepted me, then I would have proposed to her on the spot; but I knew that Wesslyn still came first with her, and that what she felt was nothing but a temporary annoyance, and would soon pass.

So, though I hated to think of it thus, I knew that my only hope of winning her lay in Wesslyn's death; and knowing this, I made of the ring an unholy, murderous shrine, watching it, forever watching it, praying that its clear orange hue would in some strange way deepen to red.

And then—would I warn him? Ha, ha! I would remain silent, and let him die. Then I would go to Cynthia and ask her for her hand.

So, through the weeks that followed, I watched and waited, until, chancing to look at the ring one morning as I awoke, I beheld with shameful satisfaction that it had indeed changed its color during the night, for (so help me heaven!) it was now flame-red.

How I ever kept the secret to myself during the days that then ensued, I do not know. Of course, I could not wear the ring. That was out of the question, for its orange opal now burned like a ruby. So I put it carefully away, in a bureau drawer, and to Cynthia I made the excuse that I had discovered its setting was insecure and I was having it fixed. No one else, of course, knew enough about it to notice.

Breathlessly I awaited news from Wesslyn. Each day I scanned the latest casualty reports for word of his death—as an officer having free access to all data of the Information