CENTURIES TO FORGET
"My lord," said Saunders the next day, appearing before his lordship
after an agitated hour of preparation, "it's come to a point where
something's got to be done." He got that far and then turned quite
purple; his collar seemed to be choking him.
"Quite right, Saunders," said Deppingham, replacing his eyeglass
nervously, "but who's going to do it and what is there to be done?"
"I'm--er--afraid you don't quite understand, sir," mumbled the little
solicitor, glancing uneasily over his shoulder. "If what Mr. Chase says
is true, we've got a precious short time to live. Well, we've--we've
concluded to get all we can out of the time that's left, my lord."
"I see," said the other, but he did not see.
"So I've come to ask if it will be all right with you and her ladyship,
sir. We don't want to do anything that would seem forward and out of
place, sir."
"It's very considerate of you, Saunders; but what the devil are you
talking about?"
"Haven't you heard, sir?"
"That we are to die? Certainly."
"That's not all, sir. Miss--Miss Pelham and I have decided to
get--er--get married before it is too late."
Deppingham stared hard for a moment and then grinned broadly.
"You mean, before you die?"
"That's it exactly, my lord. Haw, haw! It _would_ be a bit late,
wouldn't it, if we waited till afterward? Haw, haw! Splendid! But
seriously, my lord, we've talked it all over and it strikes us both as a
very clever thing to do. We had intended to wait till we got to London,
but that seems quite out of the question now. Unless we do it up pretty
sharp, sir, we are likely to miss it altogether. So I have come to ask
if you think it will interfere with your arrangements if--if we should
be married to-night."
"I'm sure, Saunders, that it won't discommode me in the least," said his
lordship genially. "By all means, Saunders, let it be to-night, for
to-morrow we may die."
"Will you kindly speak to her ladyship, sir?"
"Gladly. And I'll take it as an honour if you will permit me to give
away the bride."
"Thank you, my lord," cried Saunders, his face beaming. His lordship
shook hands with him, whereupon his cup of happiness overflowed,
notwithstanding the fact that his honeymoon was likely to be of scarcely
any duration whatsoever. "I've already engaged Mr. Bowles, sir, for half
past eight, and also the banquet hall, sir," he said, with his frank
assurance.
"And I'll be happy, Saunders, to see to the wedding supper and the
rice," said his lordship. "Have you decided where you will go on your
wedding journey?"
"Yes, sir," said Saunders seriously, "God helping us, we'll go to
England."
The wedding took place that night in the little chapel. It was not an
imposing celebration; neither was it attended by the gladsome revelry
that usually marks the nuptial event, no matter how humble. The very
fact that these two were being urged to matrimony by the uncertainties
of life was sufficient to cast a spell of gloom over the guests and high
contracting parties alike. The optimism of Hollingsworth Chase lightened
the shadows but little.
Chase deliberately took possession of the Princess after the hollow
wedding supper had come to an end. He purposely avoided the hanging
garden and kept to the vine-covered balcony overlooking the sea. Her
mood had changed. Now she was quite at ease with him; the taunting gleam
in her dark eyes presaged evil moments for his peace of mind.
"I'm inspired," he said to her. "A wedding always inspires me."
"It's very strange that you've never married," she retorted. She was
striding freely by his side, confident in her power to resist sentiment
with mockery.
"Will you be my wife?" he asked abruptly. She caught her breath before
laughing tolerantly, and then looked into his eyes with a tantalising
ingenuousness.
"By no means," she responded. "I am not oppressed by the same views that
actuated Miss Pelham. You see, Mr. Chase, I am quite confident that we
are _not_ to die in two weeks."
"I could almost wish that we could die in that time," he said.
"How very diabolical!"
"It may seem odd to you, but I'd rather see you dead than married to
Prince Karl." She was silent. He went on: "Would you consent to be my
wife if you felt in your heart that we should never leave this island?"
"You are talking nonsense," she said lightly.
"Perhaps. But would you?" he insisted.
"I think I shall go in, Mr. Chase," she said with a warning shake of her
head.
"Don't, please! I'm not asking you to marry me if we _should_ leave the
island. You must give me credit for that," he argued whimsically.
"Ah, I see," she said, apparently very much relieved. "You want me only
with the understanding that death should be quite close at hand to
relieve you. And if I were to become your wife, here and now, and we
should be taken from this dreadful place--what then?"
"You probably would have to go through a long and miserable career as
plain Goodwife Chase," he explained.
"If it will make you any happier," she said, with a smile in which there
lurked a touch of mischievous triumph, "I can say that I might consent
to marry you if I were not so positive that I will leave the island
soon. You seem to forget that my uncle's yacht is to call here, even
though your cruisers will not."
"I'll risk even that," he maintained stoutly.
She stopped suddenly, her hand upon his arm.
"Do you really love me?" she demanded earnestly.
"With all my soul, I swear to you," he replied, staggered by the abrupt
change in her manner.
"Then don't make it any harder for me," she said. "You know that I could
not do what you ask. Please, please be fair with me. I--I can't even
jest about it. It is too much to ask of me," she went on with a strange
firmness in her voice. "It would require centuries to make me forget
that I am a princess, just as centuries were taken up in creating me
what I am. I am no better than you, dear, but--but--you understand?" She
said it so pleadingly, so hopelessly that he understood what it was that
she could not say to him. "We seldom if ever marry the men whom God has
made for us to love."
He lifted her hands to his breast and held them there. "If you will just
go on loving me, I'll some day make you forget you're a princess." She
smiled and shook her head. Her hair gleamed red and bronze in the kindly
light; a soft perfume came up to his nostrils.
* * * * *
The next day three of the native servants became violently ill, seized
by the most appalling convulsions. At first, a thrill of horror ran
through the château. The plague! The plague in reality! Faces blanched
white with dread, hearts turned cold and sank like lead; a hundred eyes
looked out to sea with the last gleam of hope in their depths.
But these fears were quickly dissipated. Baillo and the other natives
unhesitatingly announced that the men were not afflicted with the "fatal
sickness." As if to bear out these positive assertions, the sufferers
soon began to mend. By nightfall they were fairly well recovered. The
mysterious seizure, however, was unexplained. Chase alone divined the
cause. He brooded darkly over the prospect that suddenly had presented
itself to his comprehension. Poison! He was sure of it! But who the
poisoner?
All previous perils and all that the future seemed to promise were
forgotten in the startling discovery that came with the fall of night.
The first disclosures were succeeded by a frantic but ineffectual search
throughout the grounds; the château was ransacked from top to bottom.
Lady Deppingham and Robert Browne were missing! They had disappeared as
if swallowed by the earth itself!
Neenah, the wife of Selim, was the last of those in the château to see
the heirs. When the sun was low in the west, she observed them strolling
leisurely along the outer edge of the moat. They crossed the swift
torrent by the narrow bridge at the base of the cliff and stopped below
the mouth of the cavern which blew its cool breath out upon the hanging
garden. Later on, she saw them climb the staunch ladder and stand in the
black opening, apparently enjoying the cooling wind that came from the
damp bowels of the mountain. Her attention was called elsewhere, and
that was the last glimpse she had of the two people about whom centred
the struggle for untold riches.
It was not an unusual thing for the inhabitants of the château to climb
to the mouth of the cavern. The men had penetrated its depths for
several hundred yards, lighting their way by means of electric torches,
but no one among them had undertaken the needless task of exploring it
to the end. This much they knew: the cavern stretched to endless
distances, wide in spots, narrow in others, treacherous yet attractive
in its ugly, grave-like solitudes.
"God, Chase, they are lost in there!" groaned Deppingham, numb with
apprehension. He was trembling like a leaf.
"There's just one thing to do," said Chase, "we've got to explore that
cavern to the end. They may have lost their bearings and strayed off
into one of the lateral passages."
"I--I can't bear the thought of her wandering about in that horrible
place," Deppingham cried as he started resolutely toward the ladders.
"She'll come out of it all right," said Chase, a sudden compassion in
his eyes.
Drusilla Browne was standing near by, cold and silent with dread, a set
expression in her eyes. Her lips moved slowly and Deppingham heard the
bitter words:
"You will find them, Lord Deppingham. You will find them!"
He stopped and passed his hand over his eyes. Then, without a word, he
snatched a rifle from the hands of one of the patrol, and led the way up
the ladder. As he paused at the top to await the approach of his
companions, Chase turned to the white-faced Princess and said, between
his teeth:
"If Skaggs and Wyckholme had been in the employ of the devil himself
they could not have foreseen the result of their infernal plotting. I am
afraid--mortally afraid!"
"Take care of him, Hollingsworth," she whispered shuddering.
The last glow of sunset, reflected in the western sky, fell upon the
tall figure of the Englishman in the mouth of the cavern. Tragedy seemed
to be waiting to cast its mantel about him from behind.
"Good-bye, Genevra, my Princess," said Chase softly, and then was off
with Britt and Selim. As he passed Drusilla, he seized her hand and
paused long enough to say:
"It's all right, little woman, take my word for it. If I were you, I'd
cry. You'll see things differently through your tears."
The four men, with their lights, vanished from sight a few moments
later. Chase grasped Deppingham's arm and held him back, gravely
suggesting that Selim should lead the way.
They were to learn the truth almost before they had fairly begun their
investigations.
The heirs already were in the hands of their enemies, the islanders!
The appalling truth burst upon them with a suddenness that stunned their
sensibilities for many minutes. All doubt was swept away by the
revelation.
The eager searchers, shouting as they went, had picked their way down
the steps in the sloping floor of the cavern, down through the winding
galleries and clammy grottoes, their voices booming ever and anon
against the silent walls with the roar of foghorns. Now they had come to
what was known as "the Cathedral." This was a wide, lofty chamber, hung
with dripping stalactites, far below the level at which they began the
descent. The floor was almost as flat and even as that of a modern
dwelling. Here the cavern branched off in three or four directions, like
the tentacles of a monster devilfish, the narrow passages leading no one
knew whither in that tomb-like mountain.
Selim uttered the first shout of surprise and consternation. Then the
four of them rushed forward, their eyes almost starting from their
sockets. An instant later they were standing at the edge of a vast hole
in the floor--newly made and pregnant with disaster.
A current of air swept up into their faces. The soft, loose earth about
the rent in the floor was covered with the prints of naked feet; the
bottom of the hole was packed down in places by a multitude of tracks.
Chase's bewildered eyes were the first to discover the presence of
loose, scattered masonry in the pile below and the truth dawned upon him
sharply. He gave a loud exclamation and then dropped lightly into the
shallow hole.
"I've got it!" he shouted, stooping to peer intently ahead. "Von Blitz's
powder kegs did all this. The secret passage runs along here. One of the
discharges blew this hole through the roof of the passage. Here are the
walls of the passage. By heaven, the way is open to the sea!"
"My God, Chase!" cried Deppingham, staggering toward the opening. "These
footprints are--God! They've murdered her! They've come in here and
surprised----"
"Go easy, old man! We need to be cool now. It's all as plain as day to
me. Rasula and his men were exploring the passage after the discovery of
the treasure chests. They came upon this new-made hole and then crawled
into the cavern. They surprised Browne and--Yes, here are the prints of
a woman's shoe--and a man's, too. They're gone, God help 'em!"
He climbed out of the hole and rushed about "the Cathedral" in search of
further evidence. Deppingham dropped suddenly to his knees and buried
his face in his hands, sobbing like a child.
It was all made plain to the searchers. Signs of a fierce struggle were
found near the entrance to the Cathedral. Bobby Browne had made a
gallant fight. Blood stains marked the smooth floor and walls, and there
was evidence that a body had been dragged across the chamber.
Britt put his hand over his eyes and shuddered. "They've settled this
contest, Chase, forever!" he groaned.