A STRUGGLE FOR FREEDOM.
After some days of outward calm, came a ripple upon the surface of
events.
It had been a dull, cloudy day, with occasional gusts of wind and
rain; wind that chilled to the very marrow, and rain that froze as it
fell.
The three men, Davlin, Percy and the Professor, had been constrained
to abandon their customary morning walk, with cigar accompaniment, up
and down the terrace. And the well-borers had been obliged to stop
their work.
Mrs. Arthur had kept her room and her bed all day long, afflicted by a
raging toothache. Strong was kept at her side, almost constantly
applying hot water, laudanum and various other local applications. As
the day advanced, the sufferer seemed growing worse; and when Madeline
came in to administer consolation, and see if the woman were really
ill, Cora sent for Dr. Le Guise, vowing she would have the tooth out,
and every other one in her head, if the pain did not stop. But when
the Professor arrived, her courage failed her. She drew back at the
sight of the formidable forceps, saying that she would "try and endure
it a little longer; it seemed a bit easier just then."
All this Madeline noted. Retiring from the room she signaled to Strong
to follow her out. "What do you think of her?" questioned Madeline of
the latter, as the door closed between them and Cora.
Strong looked dubious. "I really don't know what to think, Miss
Payne," she said. "If it is shamming, it is the best I ever saw."
"True," answered Madeline; "I am at a loss. You had better apply some
test, Strong, and--keep all your medicines out of her reach. Don't let
her get any laudanum, or anything; and presently report to me. She
must not be left alone, however; when I send Joliffe in, do you come
to me."
Madeline passed on to her own room, and Strong returned to her
patient.
When Joliffe went to her relief, Strong presented herself before
Madeline, saying: "I can't think she is shamming, Miss Payne. I
suggested a mustard blister, and she never made a murmur. I put it on
awful strong, and she declared that it was nothing to the pain. When I
took it off her cheek was red as flannel, and she wanted it put on
again. She says it relieves her, and thinks if the pain don't come
back she will sleep. I made sure of the bottles all the same," added
Strong. "I have used a lot of chloroform on her, but of course some
would evaporate." And she held up to view a half-filled chloroform
vial.
She was right; full half an ounce had "evaporated," during the brief
minute when she had stood in the hall to confer with Madeline.
Altogether, Strong had a hard day.
Cora kept her continually on her feet. The blinds must be opened, and
shut again, every fifteen minutes. The room was too hot, and the fire
must be smothered. Then it was too cold, and the fire must be
stimulated to a blaze. And no one could wait upon her but Strong.
As night came on, the paroxysms of pain returned in full force, and
Strong was implored once more to apply the soothing mustard.
When Madeline looked in at ten o'clock, Cora was groaning in misery,
and Strong was applying a blister. When she again looked in, an hour
later, the invalid, with blistered face and fevered eyes, feebly
declared herself a "trifle easier," and Strong was bathing her head
with _eau de Cologne_.
Madeline soon retired to her room, and her couch. But for half an
hour longer, Cora kept the now yawning Strong at her side. Then she
said:
"Go now and get some rest, Strong. Leave the mustard on my face, and
then I think I can sleep. I am getting drowsy now."
Strong replaced the mustard, and raked up the fire. Then she looked
carefully to the fastenings of the doors, and returned to the bedside.
Already her mistress was in a heavy slumber.
Putting in her pocket the keys of both doors, Strong retired to the
dressing-room and, loosening her garments, threw herself down wearily
upon a couch, and was soon sleeping the sleep of the just, and
breathing heavily.
For some moments after the loud breathing told that her maid was
asleep, Cora lay quietly, but with eyes wide open. Then she stirred,
making a slight noise, but the heavy breathing continued as before.
Cora now raised herself up on her elbow and again listened. Still the
heavy breathing. Again she moved audibly, at the same time calling
softly: "Strong!"
But Strong slumbered on.
Quickly snatching the bandages from her much enduring face, Cora
sprang lightly from the bed. Taking something from under her pillows,
she stole noiselessly into the dressing-room and up to the couch of
the sleeping Strong. In another instant there was a pungent odor in
the room, and something white and moist lay over the musical proboscis
of the slumbering giantess.
In five minutes more, Cora Arthur stood arrayed in a dark traveling
suit, with a pair of walking boots in one hand, and the key of her
chamber door in the other. Swiftly and silently as a professional
house-breaker, she opened the door and passed out, closing it quietly
behind her.
Like a shadow she glided down the now unlighted stairway, and through
the dark and silent hall, in the direction of the dining-room. Turning
to the left, she paused before a side door, the very door through
which Madeline had escaped on a certain eventful June night, and
noiselessly undid the fastenings. In another moment she was outside,
and the door had closed behind her.
She drew a long breath of relief, and sat down to put on her shoes.
Her escape was well timed; the train for the city, the midnight
express, was due in twenty minutes. Strong would hardly waken before
that time, and then--she would be flying across the country at the
heels of the iron horse.
Rising to her feet, she took one step in the darkness--only one. Then
a light suddenly flashed before her eyes, a heavy hand grasped her
arm, and a gruff voice said: "This is a bad night for ladies to be
abroad. You had better go back, ma'am!"
Cora made a desperate effort to free herself, but the hand held her as
in a vise, and the bull's eye of the dark lantern flashed in her face
as the speaker continued:
"Yes, you are the identical one I am looking for. Got a red
face--toothache didn't make you a trifle lightheaded, did it? Come,
turn about, quick!"
And Cora knew that Madeline Payne had not been as blind as she had
seemed. It was useless to struggle, useless to protest. The strong
hand pushed her toward the entrance. The man gripped the lantern in
his teeth, while he opened the door, and pushing her through, followed
after. Closing the door again, and never once releasing his hold upon
her, he forced her unwilling feet to retrace their steps, saying, as
they ascended the stairs:
"Show the way to your own room, if you don't want me to rouse the
house."
Quivering with rage, Cora pointed to the door, and was immediately
ushered, with more force than politeness, back into her own
dressing-room and the presence of her still insensible maid.
"Now, then," said her tormentor, "where is Miss Payne's room? No
nonsense, mind; I'm not a flat."
Cora, thoroughly convinced of the truth of this statement, sullenly
directed him to Madeline's door.
"Stand where you are," was the next command of the man; "it might jar
your tooth to move."
And Cora stood where he had left her, while he aroused Miss Payne and
communicated to her the news of the night's exploit.
In a very few moments Joliffe appeared, and without so much as casting
a glance at Cora, set herself to arouse the stupefied Strong--a feat
which was soon accomplished, for the woman had nearly exhausted the
effects of her sleeping potion. A moment later, and Madeline appeared
upon the threshold. After surveying the scene in silence for an
instant, she entered the room, closed the door, and said with a laugh
that set Cora's blood boiling: "So you were tired of our society, and
fancied that you could outwit me? Undeceive yourself, madame; it is
not in your power to escape from my hands, and whatever fate I choose
to adjudge you."
Then turning to the man, she said: "You have done well, Morris; this
kind of work you will find more profitable than well-boring. You may
go now."
The man bowed respectfully, and silently quitted the room.
Then Madeline addressed Joliffe: "You will stay here the remainder of
the night. Let Strong sleep; she is not to blame for permitting her
charge to escape, and she will be more wary in future."
[Illustration: "This is a bad night for ladies to be abroad!"--page
393.]
Then turning again to Cora, who had flung herself in a chair and sat
gazing from one to the other in sullen silence, she said, with a smile
on her lips: "You should not work against your own interests, Mrs.
Arthur. Had you succeeded in escaping on the midnight express, who,
think you, would have been summoned to meet you on your arrival in the
city?"
"Doubtless an officer," replied the woman, doggedly. "I might have
known you for a sleuth hound who would guard every avenue."
"Thanks; you do me honor. I should not have summoned an officer,
however; there is some one else waiting anxiously to welcome you
there."
"Indeed," sarcastically; "who?"
"_Old Verage._"
Cora started up in her chair. "For God's sake, _what_ are you?"
"A witch," said the girl, demurely. "I am as old as the world, and can
fly through the air on a broomstick, so don't think to escape me
again, step-mamma. I trust you will enjoy your brief repose, for it
will soon be morning, and if I don't see your fair face at the
breakfast table, I shall not be content."
Cora put two fingers to her blistered cheek, saying: "You can't ask me
to come down with this face."
"True, I can't. Good-night, step-mamma; it would have been better if
you had let the doctor pull that tooth."
And Miss Payne swept away, leaving the would-be fugitive to her own
reflections.