At full speed and without lights, the _Sea Spume_ rushed through the
darkness, threading her way among the islands by the faint light of the
stars reflected from the dancing water. Her course was perilous in the
extreme. At any moment an unseen rock might rise in the way and bring
her to hopeless ruin. But delay was more perilous than rocks, and the
_Sea Spume_ sped breathlessly on.
Marie Fitzhugh was responsible both for the speed and the course. As
the yacht dashed from the inlet into open water and veered southward,
she climbed to the bridge where Captain Wilson and Caruth were standing.
“North! North, for your life, Captain!” she cried.
Captain Wilson grasped the engine-room indicator. “Why north?” he
demanded. “Stockholm lies southwest.”
“We can never reach Stockholm. What! Do you think escape is to be so
easily made? No! Russia has gone too far to stop now. The path to the
west and south--the path to any foreign port--is guarded. To the north
and east lies our only chance.”
Captain Wilson hesitated, but Caruth took control. “North, please.
Captain,” he commanded; “and as fast as you dare.”
An instant more and the _Sea Spume_ swept round, heading northward
around Burndo. As it turned, the girl spoke again.
“I think their plan was to have us looted unofficially,” she said, “and
then, after they had gotten the gold, to shoot a lot of the looters to
satisfy international conditions. But unless they are fools, they must
have prepared for just what has happened. If half a dozen torpedo-boats
are not hunting for us this very minute, I miss my guess. Why they were
not waiting for us at the mouth of the inlet, I can’t for the life of
me understand, but if we get to port without chancing on them, we shall
be luckier than I dare hope. They’ll never let us get away with the
gold--and of course they must think we have it.”
“The gold! Who has got it?”
But instead of answering, the girl, with a half-choked sob, hurried
down the ladder, leaving the two men alone.
Caruth hesitated for a moment, yearning to follow and comfort her, yet
uncertain whether it would be best to do so.
Captain Wilson’s voice aroused him. “We’ll be round the island in half
an hour or more,” he said gruffly. “Which way shall I head then?”
Caruth shook his head. “I don’t know, Captain,” he confessed. “I’ll
talk with Miss Fitzhugh, and see what she thinks.”
“Might as well, I reckon. She’s got more brains than most women.”
Swiftly Caruth descended to the cabin and there, as he had expected, he
found the girl who had been the inspiration of the whole trip.
Seated at the table in the cabin of the _Sea Spume_, Marie faced the
ruin of her hopes. Indeed, she faced more. For, as she had descended
from the bridge, one of the divers met her and commanded her, by an
authority she could not dispute, to report at once to the Inner Circle
of the Brotherhood, to explain the causes of her failure. Well she knew
what such an order meant, and for the first time in her life she shrank
from the ordeal.
At that moment Caruth came upon her. Never, even in her brief period of
exaltation of a few hours before, had she appealed to him as in this
time of abasement. Stricken by the realization of what had been and
what must be, she yet held her head proudly erect, though its poise
suggested, not triumph, but the grand air with which nobles rode in the
tumbrels to the guillotine. Her violet eyes were deep as ever, but in
their depths lay a pathetic softness, as of a child grieving over some
disappointment which it was too young to understand. When Caruth, with
throbbing heart, strode forward and took her in his arms, she melted
all at once upon his shoulder.
Gently he stroked her dark hair. “There, there, sweetheart,” he
murmured. “Cheer up! Everything isn’t lost! We’ll live to triumph yet.”
But the girl sobbed on hopelessly, her slender form shaking with
emotion, until Caruth grew frightened.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured again. “Don’t take it so
hard. It isn’t worth it, after all. Come, dear, cheer up! There are
other things in the world besides plots and plotting. Marry me at the
first port we touch. Then, later, we can help your cause all you like.”
Gently the girl freed herself and stood alone. On her fair skin the
color deepened from neck to temples; her wet eyes glistened. A lock of
hair had escaped and trailed down over her forehead; she put it back
mechanically.
“No,” she said gently. “No, it can never be.”
“Never!” Once more Caruth caught her in his arms. “Never!” he shouted.
“By Heaven! I swear it shall be!” Hotly he showered kisses upon her
hair, her face, her lips.
She did not resist. For the moment she could not. A sense of
intoxication numbed her faculties. “Oh!” she breathed. “I did not know
that it was so sweet--so sweet!”
“Yes, dear; it is sweet. And it will continue sweet through all the
years to come. Can you not see those years, dear one? Each with its own
peculiar happiness, yet each the same--for we shall be the same. Yes,
it is sweet, Marie.”
Slowly the girl raised her face, and the tragedy in her eyes appalled
him. There was love in them, love unutterable, but there was misery,
too, misery, hopeless, unspeakable. “I thank God!” she said slowly.
“I thank him for this moment. Whatever comes, I thank him that he has
given me to know the love of a good man. See what it has done for me.
A little while ago I was afraid, afraid, afraid. But now I fear no
longer. I do not care what happens now.”
“And you will marry me at the first port?”
Slowly the girl shook her head. She still rested in his embrace, her
dark eyes fixed on his. “No,” she murmured. “No! I cannot.”
Dismay swept over Caruth. “But----” he began.
Gently she laid her fingers on his lips. “If it could be,” she
whispered--“if it could be, I would count the world well lost. But it
cannot be. Don’t you understand, dear? I am vowed to help the people,
the poor, down-trodden people, who cannot help themselves--who can only
suffer. I cannot desert them. I am sworn to them by vows as holy as
those of any nun. Success might have won release, but I have failed.”
Caruth straightened himself indignantly. “Failed nothing!” he cried.
“You’ve not failed. There is no failure where there is no chance
of success. The gold must have been gone before you ever saw New
York--before you ever heard of the matter at all. You’ve done more than
any one else could have done, for you’ve found the ship and explored
her. It isn’t your fault that somebody was before you.”
Marie freed herself gently. “It isn’t a question of fault,” she
answered sadly. “It is a question of success, and I have not succeeded.
But, even so, I fear it really is my fault. It would not be if you were
right--if the gold had indeed been taken when you say. But I don’t
think it was so taken. I believe it was there when we left New York,
even when we arrived at Burndo. I feel that it was snatched away under
my very eyes. It was---- Good Heavens! What’s the matter?”
For Caruth, suddenly weak, had dropped into a chair. For the first time
he had recalled the words of the interpreter in the village. “Great
Scott!” he cried, “you are right. Why didn’t I think? Why didn’t I
guess? Fool, dolt, ass, that I am! I know who got the gold.”
“Who?” Marie leaned forward with parted lips.
“The interpreter in the village. I told you something of him, but I
didn’t tell you enough. I didn’t realize what it meant. I was a fool.
He talked of something--some gold mine, he said--that he needed help
to secure. He offered me a share. Then Wilkins came up and he ran.
By Heavens! I see it all now. He knew Wilkins! He ran away to avoid
explaining. And I thought he was crazy! Oh, what an incredible idiot I
was!”
“It was fated!”
“Fated nothing! It was plain idiocy. Oh, I see it all now! Wilkins and
he arranged it all. It’s they that have the gold.”
“They and that girl.”
Caruth’s face clouded. “Do you think so?” he questioned “She----”
“Oh, I know all you would say. She is the Professor’s daughter and all
that; but she has fled with Wilkins all the same. Trust a woman to
know. She has gone away with him willingly.”
“And the Professor?”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, the poor old man!” she cried.
“The poor old man! So courteous, so sweet, so kindly. I never knew my
father--he died when I was an infant--but I like to think that if he
had lived he would have been like the Professor.”
“Then you don’t think he has gone with his daughter?”
“What! Gone with her? Never! Why, he was on board long after they had
disappeared. He must have been knocked overboard in the fight.”
Caruth nodded. “I agree with you, of course,” he responded. “No one
could suspect the old man, even if circumstances were against him,
which they are not. But what of the others? Do you think they will
escape?”
“For the moment perhaps. Not for long. I did not speak idly when I
warned Wilkins in New York. Neither he nor the girl will live to enjoy
the fruits of their treachery.” Dangerously the dark eyes flashed.
Caruth shuddered. “You wouldn’t set the nihilists on them?” he
protested blankly.
“There is no need. Think you I could screen them if I would! No! I am
not the only member of the Order on board. The Brotherhood has its
agents everywhere. At this very moment, it probably understands better
than we what has happened. Who should know its methods if not I? We
shall all have to answer for our failure--I, Professor Shishkin if he
lives, and, most of all, his daughter and her lover. I have already
been summoned before the Inner Circle. The order was given me ten
minutes ago.”
She paused, hesitated for a moment, then raised her head proudly. “We
have all made our beds,” she declared. “Let us lie in them. I, for one,
shall not flinch. What port is the yacht heading for?”
The moment for sentiment had passed, and the girl was herself again,
cold, clear-headed, self-reliant. Caruth realized the fact and bowed to
it.
“I came to consult you about that,” he explained. “We are about around
the islands now, and must decide on our course. Where shall we go?”
“There is but one place. St. Petersburg.”
“St. Petersburg?”
“Yes. We can be there by daylight to-morrow, and by breakfast you can
reach your ambassador.”
“What for?”
“What for?” echoed the girl amazedly. “What for? Your yacht, a private
American yacht, engaged in a lawful occupation, has been attacked and
fired on in Russian waters. Three of her passengers, one of them a
distinguished scientist, have disappeared. You must complain; appeal
to your ambassador; demand the identification and punishment of
the offenders. Things like that cannot be done with impunity, even
by Russia, unless they succeed so fully that they blot out their
own traces. This time some one has blundered, and they will strive
desperately to retrieve themselves. If you attempted to seek another
port, you would find yourself denounced as a criminal who had fired on
inoffensive fishing-boats. No! No! The boldest course is the best. Take
the bull by the horns. Run to St. Petersburg, and have the ambassador
present the case to the Czar in person. Once your complaint is filed,
you are at least safe from murder.”
Caruth nodded. The advice was good. “I’ll tell the captain,” he
acceded. “Now promise me you will try to get some sleep.”
Marie laughed cheerlessly. “Oh, yes, I’ll try,” she promised; “but I
feel as if I should never sleep again.”
When Caruth reached the deck, the night was far gone, and streaks of
light were already glimmering in the east. Not being in the mood for
sleep, he stayed and watched the dawn come up.
Uneventfully the moments sped past, and at last the golden ball of
the sun lifted itself above the horizon, sending long lances of light
ricocheting over the dancing waters.
There was a twang in the air; the salt sea breeze thrummed in the
rigging; in spite of himself, Caruth caught the uplift of the day.
All was not hopeless, he told himself, with the buoyancy of his youth
and his race, to which all things are possible. He had lost the first
inning. “I’ll win her yet!” he cried aloud. “I’ll win her yet.”