THE DEMONESS AT BAY.
When he reached the yard of the mews, the uproar had nothing abated.
But when he cried out to Kelpie, through it all came a whinny of
appeal, instantly followed by a scream. When he got up to the lanterns,
he found a group of wrathful men with stable-forks surrounding the poor
animal, from whom the blood was streaming before and behind. Fierce as
she was, she dared not move, but stood trembling, with the sweat of
terror pouring from her. Yet her eye showed that not even terror had
cowed her. She was but biding her time. Her master’s first impulse was
to scatter the men right and left, but on second thoughts, of which
he was even then capable, he saw that they might have been driven to
apparent brutality in defence of their lives, and besides he could not
tell what Kelpie might do if suddenly released. So he caught her by the
broken halter, and told them to fall back. They did so carefully--it
seemed unwillingly. But the mare had eyes and ears only for her master.
What she had never done before, she nosed him over face and shoulders,
trembling all the time. Suddenly one of her tormentors darted forward,
and gave her a terrible prod in the off hind quarter. But he paid
dearly for it. Ere he could draw back, she lashed out, and shot him
half across the yard with his knee joint broken. The whole set of them
rushed at her.
“Leave her alone,” shouted Malcolm, “or I will take her part. Between
us we’ll do for a dozen of you.”
“The devil’s in her,” said one of them.
“You’ll find more of him in that rascal groaning yonder. You had better
see to him. He’ll never do such a thing again, I fancy. Where is
Merton?”
They drew off and went to help their comrade, who lay senseless.
When Malcolm would have led Kelpie in, she stopped suddenly at the
stable-door, and started back shuddering, as if the memory of what
she had endured there overcame her. Every fibre of her trembled. He
saw that she must have been pitifully used before she broke loose and
got out. But she yielded to his coaxing, and he led her to her stall
without difficulty. He wished Lady Clementina herself could have been
his witness how she knew her friend and trusted him. Had she seen how
the poor bleeding thing rejoiced over him, she could not have doubted
that his treatment had been in part at least a success.
Kelpie had many enemies amongst the men of the mews. Merton had gone
out for the evening, and they had taken the opportunity of getting into
her stable and tormenting her. At length she broke her fastenings; they
fled, and she rushed out after them.
They carried the maimed man to the hospital, where his leg was
immediately amputated.
Malcolm washed and dried his poor animal, handling her as gently as
possible, for she was in a sad plight. It was plain he must not have
her here any longer: worse to her at least was sure to follow. He went
up, trembling himself now, to Mrs Merton. She told him she was just
running to fetch him when he arrived: she had no idea how ill he was.
But he felt all the better for the excitement, and after he had taken
a cup of strong tea, wrote to Mr Soutar to provide men on whom he
could depend, if possible the same who had taken her there before, to
await Kelpie’s arrival at Aberdeen. There he must also find suitable
housing and attention for her at any expense until further directions,
or until, more probably, he should claim her himself. He added many
instructions to be given as to her treatment.
Until Merton returned he kept watch, then went back to the chamber of
his torture, which, like Kelpie, he shuddered to enter. The cook let
him in, and gave him his candle, but hardly had he closed his door when
a tap came to it, and there stood Rose, his preserver. He could not
help feeling embarrassed when he saw her.
“I see you don’t trust me,” she said.
“I do trust you,” he answered. “Will you bring me some water. I dare
not drink anything that has been standing.”
She looked at him with inquiring eyes, nodded her head, and went. When
she returned, he drank the water.
“There! you see I trust you,” he said with a laugh. “But there are
people about who for certain reasons want to get rid of me: will you be
on my side?”
“That I will,” she answered eagerly.
“I have not got my plans laid yet; but will you meet me somewhere near
this to-morrow night? I shall not be at home, perhaps, all day.”
She stared at him with great eyes, but agreed at once, and they
appointed time and place. He then bade her good night, and the moment
she left him lay down on the bed to think. But he did not trouble
himself yet to unravel the plot against him, or determine whether the
violence he had suffered had the same origin with the poisoning. Nor
was the question merely how to continue to serve his sister without
danger to his life; for he had just learned what rendered it absolutely
imperative that she should be removed from her present position. Mrs
Merton had told him that Lady Lossie was about to accompany Lady
Bellair and Lord Liftore to the continent. That must not be, whatever
means might be necessary to prevent it. Before he went to sleep things
had cleared themselves up considerably.
He woke much better, and rose at his usual hour. Kelpie rejoiced him by
affording little other sign of the cruelty she had suffered than the
angry twitching of her skin when hand or brush approached a wound. The
worst fear was that some few white hairs might by and by in consequence
fleck her spotless black. Having urgently committed her to Merton’s
care, he mounted Honour, and rode to the Aberdeen wharf. There to
his relief, time growing precious, he learned that the same smack in
which Kelpie had come was to sail the next morning for Aberdeen. He
arranged at once for her passage, and, before he left, saw to every
contrivance he could think of for her safety and comfort. He warned the
crew concerning her temper, but at the same time prejudiced them in her
favour by the argument of a few sovereigns. He then rode to the Chelsea
Reach, where the Psyche had now grown to be a feature of the river in
the eyes of the dwellers upon its banks.
At his whistle, Davy tumbled into the dinghy like a round ball over
the gunwale, and was rowing for the shore ere his whistle had ceased
ringing in Malcolm’s own ears. He left him with his horse, went on
board, and gave various directions to Travers; then took Davy with
him, and bought many things at different shops, which he ordered to be
delivered to Davy when he should call for them. Having next instructed
him to get everything on board as soon as possible, and appointed to
meet him at the same place and hour he had arranged with Rose, he went
home.
A little anxious lest Florimel might have wanted him, for it was now
past the hour at which he usually waited her orders, he learned to his
relief that she was gone shopping with Lady Bellair, upon which he set
out for the hospital, whither they had carried the man Kelpie had so
terribly mauled. He went, not merely led by sympathy, but urged by a
suspicion also which he desired to verify or remove. On the plea of
identification, he was permitted to look at him for a moment, but not
to speak to him. It was enough: he recognised him at once as the same
whose second attack he had foiled in the Regent’s Park. He remembered
having seen him about the stable, but had never spoken to him. Giving
the nurse a sovereign, and Mr Soutar’s address, he requested her to let
that gentleman know as soon as it was possible to conjecture the time
of his leaving. Returning, he gave Merton a hint to keep his eye on the
man, and some money to spend for him as he judged best. He then took
Kelpie for an airing. To his surprise she fatigued him so much that
when he had put her up again he was glad to go and lie down.
When it came near the time for meeting Rose and Davy, he got his
things together in the old carpet-bag, which held all he cared for,
and carried it with him. As he drew near the spot, he saw Davy already
there, keeping a sharp look out on all sides. Presently Rose appeared,
but drew back when she saw Davy. Malcolm went to her.
“Rose,” he said, “I am going to ask you to do me a great favour. But
you cannot except you are able to trust me.”
“I do trust you,” she answered.
“All I can tell you now is that you must go with that boy to-morrow.
Before night you shall know more. Will you do it?”
“I will,” answered Rose. “I dearly love a secret.”
“I promise to let you understand it, if you do just as I tell you.”
“I will.”
“Be at this very spot then to-morrow morning, at six o’clock. Come
here, Davy. This boy will take you where I shall tell him.”
She looked from the one to the other.
“I’ll risk it,” she said.
“Put on a clean frock, and take a change of linen with you and your
dressing things. No harm shall come to you.”
“I’m not afraid,” she answered, but looked as if she would cry.
“Of course you will not tell anyone.”
“I will not, Mr MacPhail.”
“You are trusting me a great deal, Rose; but I am trusting you too
--more than you think.--Be off with that bag, Davy, and be here at six
to-morrow morning, to carry this young woman’s for her.”
Davy vanished.
“Now, Rose,” continued Malcolm, “you had better go and make your
preparations.”
“Is that all, sir?” she said.
“Yes. I shall see you to-morrow. Be brave.”
Something in Malcolm’s tone and manner seemed to work strangely on the
girl. She gazed up at him half frightened, but submissive, and went at
once, looking, however, sadly disappointed.
Malcolm had intended to go and tell Mr Graham of his plans that same
night, but he found himself too much exhausted to walk to Camden Town.
And thinking over it, he saw that it might be as well if he took the
bold measure he contemplated without revealing it to his friend, to
whom the knowledge might be the cause of inconvenience. He therefore
went home and to bed, that he might be strong for the next day.