A SURPRISE FOR ALL HANDS.
Through the long and weary day and far into the night Percy and the earl
worked hard and unremittingly in the search for the missing ones.
During the afternoon the former ventured down to the shore of the cove,
at the point where he had once been in the habit of keeping a boat of
his own, and there remained until he had succeeded in attracting the
attention of Donald Rodney.
It was a considerable time before the old smuggler could get away from
the keen and suspicious watch of Ralph Tryon’s partisans; but his
patient endeavors were finally rewarded.
He took a boat and pulled to the shore, ostensibly for the purpose of
responding to a signal, which he professed to have received from Margery
Maitland.
“In mercy’s name!” he ejaculated, when he met the agonized look of his
young friend, “what has happened?”
“Donald, where is Ralph Tryon?”
“I believe he is somewhere in the neighborhood of Burton, and I rather
think there is mischief afoot. Leastwise, one of our friends heard Abel
Jackman, when he was talking with Gurt Warnell, say something about a
lord’s house over there which they intended to visit.”
“Do you really believe he is away from here, Donald?”
“Why shouldn’t I? He certainly sent for those men to go away with him on
a job of some kind; and, as I just said, one of our men--it was Tom
Bidwell--overheard Jackman talkin’ about Burton. Yes, I think he’s
there.”
After a little reflection Percy told to his friend the story of the
wonderful disappearance of Lady Cordelia Chester and her maid.
Rodney was deeply affected, but he did not believe Tryon had anything to
do with it. If such a thing had been in the wind he was sure he would
have detected some signs of it. But one thing the old man promised. He
would return to the brig, and he would not rest until he had found out
all that could possibly be discovered in that quarter.
“And, my dear boy,” he added, earnestly, “nothing shall prevent me from
giving you information as soon as it comes to me. I will either come
myself or send Guy to-morrow morning at all events, whether I have news
or not.”
It was not very satisfying; but the interview, and the bringing it
about, had used up two pain-laden hours, besides giving him something
more to think of and look forward to.
He had taken to himself a hope that old Rodney would bring him something
of importance in the morning, if not before. It was very slight--very
slight indeed; but a ray of light came with it, nevertheless.
Leaving the shore of the cove, our hero made his way to the inn at the
village, where he was to have a new direction given to his thoughts--or,
rather, an aforetime thought was to be revived.
“Ah, Maitland! the very man I’ve been wishing for,” the host exclaimed,
as our hero made his appearance in the tap-room. “That horse has come.
Just step around this way with me, and you shall have a look at him.”
Percy knew this to be simply a blind for closing the eyes of the few
loungers in the room. He followed the good man out through the bar into
a little parlor beyond, where with the doors closed they were safe from
intrusion.
“Maitland, you asked me, this noon, about Lord Oakleigh; and I told you
I knew nothing about him. Well, I can tell ye more now. Dan Corbett came
in half an hour ago and told me he met the young lord over at Saybrook,
at Seth Arnold’s inn, last evening.”
“He knows it was Lord Oakleigh?” interrogated the youth, much excited.
“Bless ye, yes! He knows Lord Oakleigh as well as he knows you or me.”
“Last evening?”
“Yes.”
“At what time?”
“It must have been somewhere between eight and ten o’clock.”
“Does he know what he was doing there, or anything about what he
intended to do?”
“He could make out only this: His lordship was in a great flurry, with
his right arm in a sling, Dan said; and seemed to be waiting for
somebody--Dan thought his servant--who was to take him away from there;
but where he was bound or what he was about, I couldn’t find out.”
Percy asked a few more questions, and then, having thanked the landlord
for his kindness, he left the inn and made all possible haste to the
castle. He was well armed, and he kept a sharp lookout around as he
wended his way through the bit of woods he had to traverse, for he well
knew that he had deadly enemies, and there was no telling where nor when
they might strike. At the castle he found the earl, pacing to and fro,
suffering intensely.
“Percy, dear boy! what have you found?”
“Will you sit down, my lord, and listen to me for a few moments?” The
old man did as requested, and the youth went on:
“Lord Allerdale, I am going to surprise you--to wound you; but you must
bear it as best you can. When it was first known to me that Lady
Cordelia had been taken away--as we know she must have been--my
suspicions fell upon--Lord Oakleigh. I believed he was more likely to be
the abductor than any other man; and now I am sure of it.”
“Oh, Percy! Don’t say it!”
“My lord, where do you think is his lordship at the present time?”
“He is at Oxford.”
“He was at the Saybrook inn at nine to ten o’clock last evening, my
lord. That I know.” And thereupon the young man went on and related all
that he had learned from old Rodney, at the Cove, and from Martin
Vanyard at the inn. He was sorry to say it, but he was confident that
Oakleigh was the offending party.
“My lord,” he pursued, “did Cordelia tell you what Lord Oakleigh said to
her on the occasion of their late interview in the garden?”
“She did not tell me all, but I know he was very unkind.”
“Aye,--and he used threats. He bade her beware of him; and--but, my
lord, I need not tell you any more.” He had come to the point where his
own name had entered into the discussion, and of this he cared not to
speak.
However, the earl was satisfied that his young friend might be right,
and he finally confessed that his own suspicions had run in that
direction, but he had fought them down with all his might.
Half an hour later, our hero, with a trusty servant of the castle in
company, was on his way to Saybrook, a small town five miles away toward
the south.
He had a smart horse, and a light, easy-going vehicle, and the passage
was speedily made. There at the inn, he found the host--Seth Arnold,
who, when he knew the messenger had come from the old earl, was ready to
give all the information he could; but that was not much, although it
was something.
Lord Oakleigh had been at the inn--the Stag and Hounds--on the preceding
evening, and had appeared to be in a great hurry, walking nervously
about, with his arm in a sling, cursing and swearing to himself. At
about ten o’clock his servant had arrived with a light dog-cart, into
which he had gone and been driven away; and the landlord had seen
nothing more of him.
“Which way did they go?”
“Back toward your way, Allerdale.”
A few more questions, and Percy started on his return to the castle,
where he arrived at about nine o’clock in the evening.
The earl, on hearing the report, surrendered his last doubt. He was now
convinced that his grandson was the villain. Oh, what would he do?
“Let us not think,” said the younger man. “Let us find them and set the
lady free.”
“Heaven send that we may do it!”
Percy went again to the village, where he made further inquiries; but
nothing of importance was learned. He had promised the earl that he
would spend the night at the castle; so at midnight he returned, finding
the old nobleman up waiting for him.
It seemed almost wrong to go to bed and to sleep while the dear one was
lost to them, but the demands of nature were not to be denied. The earl
read a prayer, the youth prayed fervently from his own heart, and then
they sought their rest.
It was near the hour of eight o’clock on the following morning, and our
hero had been to the village and back again to the castle, and was on
his way to the village once more, when he was met by the boy, Guy
Carroll, his face flushed and his blue eyes fairly blazing.
“Guy! What is it?”
They were in the edge of the wood, and free from observation. The boy
cast a quick, eager glance around and then--
“Oh, Mr. Maitland! It is Cap’n Tryon after all!”
“What of him? What? What?” Percy exclaimed, catching the boy by the arm,
with an anxiety that was torturing.
“It’s he, sir, that has run off with the lady from the castle!
Yesterday--late in the afternoon--Bryan Vank and Gurt Warnell--they were
two of them that had been sent for by the cap’n--they came aboard the
brig and carried away a big basket full of provisions; and late at night
Uncle Donald found out all about it. He wouldn’t tell me who told him;
but it seems Vank let it leak out while he was waitin’ for the basket to
be filled. The provisions were for two women--two young girls--that the
cap’n’d got stowed away in one of the caverns on the slope of the Crag.”
Percy started as though he had been shot. It was like the bursting of a
thunderbolt over his head from a clear sky. In his wild imaginings he
had several times had a picture in mind of his darling shut up in that
place; but he had given it no serious thought.
Could it be Ralph Tryon, and not Lord Oakleigh, who had spirited away
the two girls? It must be.
He questioned Guy closely, and was, in the end, perfectly assured there
could be no mistake. The pirate chief himself had stolen away the dear
one, and now had her shut up in the cavern of the Crag.
“Guy, do you know where that cave is?”
“I only know, sir, that it is just about half-way from the shore of the
bay to the point where the head of the Crag shoots up steeply. I was
never there. But Uncle Donald says there’ll be no use in your attemptin’
to get at ’em in there, for there’s a secret entrance which nobody can
find only them as knows it. Uncle knows it, but he can’t tell it.
Leastwise I don’t believe he’d want to break such an oath as he’d have
to break if he did it. He says you’ll watch till they come out--the
cap’n and the lady--and then, p’raps, you’ll be able to catch him. Oh, I
hope you will!”
“You are sure Ralph Tryon will be in that cavern this forenoon?”
“Yes, sir. He’s there, now, somewhere. I should think, from what I’ve
heard, that it was a big place with lots of odd nooks and corners in it.
I heard old Ben Popwell say once, when he didn’t know ’at I was
listenin’, ’at it would be a great place for blind-man’s buff.”
The startled, electrified youth waited for no more. He thanked the lad
kindly, promising him that he should never seek his good offices in
vain; then he said:
“Tell Uncle Donald that the rat is in more of a trap than he dreams of!”
And with this he hurried away, keeping on to the village, as he had
first intended; but with his purpose changed. His first call was on the
chief constable, who there resided, named Allan Tisdale. He was a man of
middle age; large and powerful of frame; bold and fearless in the line
of his duty, yet kind, affable, and gentlemanly.
He had been intimate with our hero for a long time and esteemed him
highly.
“Well, Maitland, have you anything new?”
The visitor was not a great while in telling him. He told all that he
had learned from old Donald’s nephew.
“And now, what?” the constable demanded, open-eyed. He was nervous and
excited. He could not see his way. “We know where the man is; but how
are we to reach him? Ah! and that reminds me; I saw a squad of seamen--a
dozen or more--not half an hour ago, landing from a boat at the foot of
the rocky slope. In all probability they are to do guard duty up at the
cave.”
“How many good, reliable men can you raise at once?” Percy asked.
“I can muster twenty in half an hour, perhaps; if I should call upon the
villagers, I might make it thirty.”
“Very well--will you take with you five of your best men--those in whom
you have the most confidence, and come with me? I will lead you into
that cavern by a way that will astonish you.”
“Ha!--Maitland!” exclaimed the officer, with a quick start and a look of
intense eagerness. “Is it at the Old Chapel? Have you found it?”
“Yes, Mr. Tisdale, I have succeeded. You will see a strange place. But
speak not a word to another. My soul! it must not leak out until we are
ready to strike the blow. You will be circumspect.”
“Trust me. Ah, you’ve found the secret of the ghosts. The haunted chapel
is haunted no more, save by spirits in flesh and blood! Good! But this
isn’t work. Come with me and give me your help. We’ll very soon have our
men ready for duty.”
Everything worked favorably. The men wanted were found without
difficulty; and the stout artisans and laborers of the village, when
they had been told of the business on hand, were not only willing but
eager to join.
In little more than half an hour from the time of their setting forth
the work was done. Tisdale had selected the five men who were to
accompany him, while his lieutenant--Martin O’Brien--a faithful and
reliable officer, at the head of four-and-twenty more, all well armed,
was to proceed up the face of the Crag--not to go to the cave--but to
stop at a point where they would be sure to intercept any who should
attempt to escape from the cave in that direction.
Thus, Percy believed, they would be able to capture the whole party--all
of the pirates whom the chief had called to his assistance--and he
thought there might be twelve to fifteen of them. When these
arrangements had been perfected, and they were sure that O’Brien
understood his part exactly, Percy and the constable, with the five
helpers--strong, experienced officers, every one--took their way to the
castle, where they found the earl anxiously waiting for intelligence.
When the old nobleman had heard the story, when he knew that his darling
had been found, or the same as found, and he was assured that he should
ere long behold her, when it had all been made clear to him, his joy was
beyond his power of language to express it.
“Percy! Percy! My noble boy!” he cried, regarding the youth with loving
trustful looks, “you must take the lead. You know all about it. You are
the man. I am sure Mr. Tisdale will not be offended.”
“Pooh! pooh! Maitland is the man to lead, my lord. We all understand
it.”
“Let me give my humble help, as best I can,” said Percy, not at all
discomposed by the encomiums thus passed upon him. “Where I can lead, be
sure I will; and when I can follow I will do so with all my heart. And
now, my lord, how many of your men are we to take with us?”
“Here is Michael. He will muster them. There should be ten, at least.”
“Twelve, my lord, counting me. Of course you’ll let me go.”
“Yes, you may go. Now hurry and collect the men and get out the arms.
Oh, do be expeditious!”
Now was the time and the need when our hero showed the quality that was
in him. Under his calm, quiet, prompt guidance, with a power of command
natural to him, the force of the castle was mustered, armed, and
organized in less than twenty minutes, and in half an hour after the
arrival of himself and the constable at the castle the party, twenty in
number, counting the earl, was ready to set forth.
* * * * *
The appearance of a man in priestly robes, following behind the pirate
chief and his comrades, at first struck Cordelia with a paralyzing
horror. The significance of the scene was not to be mistaken. It was the
voice of Ralph Tryon that roused her to indignation and gave her
strength.
The chief, in his gorgeous raiment of velvet and gold, advanced to the
center of the cavernous apartment; his six comrades, in broadcloth and
silk, filing in behind him, where they took position in a well-dressed
line. Then the pretended priest, with slow, even step, moved to a place
on Tryon’s left hand and a little in front.
“Now, fair lady,” said the master of the situation, “I have come to
fulfill my promise. I will set you free from this place, but you will go
with me as my wife. Do you understand me?”
Something in the man’s voice--something new and strange--gave to our
heroine a start of wonder. It had lost much of its huskiness and had put
off its roughness; it sounded no more like the voice of the sea. She
looked at him sharply, looked long and earnestly, and presently she saw
a smile curling about his deep black eyes, a smile so wicked and
malevolent and so vengeful that it aroused her beyond her endurance.
“Man! Demon! Fiend! Whatever you call yourself, I tell you, in your
teeth, you speak falsehood! You have no power to make me your wife! Lay
a hand upon me, and I will kill you if I can! Were this man in
sacerdotal robe a true priest, he would know he can not do the wicked
deed. It would be but mockery--an empty form. If he be a true man, he
will not attempt it.”
“Holy father,” said the chief, turning to the pretended priest, without
paying any heed whatever to the hot and angry words of the girl, “you
hear what she says. Now what say you?”
“I say, my lord, if the situation is as you have represented it--if such
has been the general understanding, and if the lady’s lawful guardian
consents, I could marry you, and the bond would be too strong for man to
break.”
“Now, Cordelia.” He had put his hand to his head, and appeared to be
loosing something behind his ear, when a quick, sharp cry of alarm from
one of the men behind him caused him to look toward the entrance.
On his way to the cave, as we might judge from what the constable had
that morning seen, Tryon had been accompanied by a strong force of his
sworn friends and adherents.
Ten stout men, well armed, he had left at the mouth of the outer cave,
and the six who had come in with him he had brought for witnesses, being
determined that the ceremony should not lack in that respect.
With regard to danger inside his cavernous retreat, the pirate had not
dreamed of such a thing. He would as soon have thought of finding the
sunlight streaming into its uttermost recesses.
Hence he had entered the chamber, leaving the others to follow, never
once thinking of closing the way behind him.
Now, upon hearing the note of alarm, he looked toward the entrance and
there beheld a sight that confounded and bewildered him.
He saw Percy Maitland, and by his side the constable, Allan Tisdale,
just entering the place, or rather he saw them leap quickly in, and
directly behind them came the old earl, with seemingly a score of men at
his back.
“In the king’s name,” shouted the constable, “surrender!”
“Not until I have made my mark here,” the pirate chief replied; and
quick as thought he snatched at a pistol in his bosom, and drew it
forth, his purpose being to shoot young Maitland.
But two other persons were as quick as he; though they might not have
been had not his lame hand bothered him.
Before he could cock the weapon, Cordelia, who had heard and understood
his words, struck up his hand, causing him to utter an audible groan of
pain; and at the same moment the earl, full sure in the heat and
excitement of the moment, that the life of his brave young friend was in
peril, raised the pistol in his hand and fired.
The pirate pressed his hand over his bosom and sank back, coming in
contact with the pretended priest as he did so. The latter, thinking the
wounded man would fall, caught him to uphold him, and in doing so his
fingers became entangled in the thick, heavy beard of the face,
and--pulled it away.
The chief had cast loose the principal fastening of his disguise while
speaking with Cordelia--the speech which had been interrupted by the
appearance of the new-comers and the note of alarm from the startled
seamen.
Yes, the disguise came away just as the last of the pirate gang had been
overcome and secured--the tawny beard and hair--revealing the swart face
of Matthew Brandon, Lord Oakleigh!
At first those who beheld refused to believe the evidence of their own
senses. It did not seem possible that one and the same man could have
filled both characters.
But they were forced to believe in time. And now Percy Maitland knew
what it was in the looks of Ralph Tryon that had so puzzled and
perplexed him from the first.
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