Fast in the Web
My watch had a luminous dial, and after waiting half an hour or so,
snoring softly now and then, I ventured to look at it. It was only
ten-thirty!
That wait was the most trying time I have ever spent. I lay in the
darkness, only daring to shift my position a very little now and then,
for the better part of three hours, before I dared even consider
making a move. Probably all the men at the banquet were snoring by
this time. But what about the others, at the other entertainments? And
did the people who ran the place ever go to bed? The evidence of
efficiency they had shown did not lead me to think so.
During that wait I did not dare let myself think of the words of
Ivanovitch about the gardens. Neither my sister nor Natalie was
present at the banquet. I was certain of that, for I had looked at
every girl in the room very carefully, as opportunity offered. Nor was
either of them among the dancers. That left the entertainment, the
gambling-rooms and the gardens. And of the last I dared not think.
But I had plenty to think about. Up to the time of my parting from
Ivanovitch in the little anteroom I was convinced that he, and
therefore the rest of the gang, knew all about me. And the appearance
of Mrs. Fawcette in my room bore out this view. But if this was the
case, why had they allowed me to go unmolested so long? And why had
Mrs. Fawcette been seized and carried away as soon as she got to me?
They were questions which seemed impossible to answer, but I kept on
trying, for I was convinced that an answer to either of them would go
a long way toward determining my next move.
Had I a friend in the place? Was that the explanation? Were they
merely playing with me? Had Mrs. Fawcette got into trouble with them
and come to me for help? Or was it possible that they really did not
suspect me, and that the words of Ivanovitch were only in the nature
of coincidences? Mrs. Fawcette might have been looking for some one
else altogether when she came into my room.
At all events I could not now depend upon Pride having traced me,
although there was still a hope that the motor policeman had not been
caught in the crash and had been able to follow on to our destination.
If anything was to be done immediately to locate where I was, so that
we could trace the place and break it up, I had to do it and do it
to-night. And the only way to do that, that I could see, was to escape
from the house somehow, make my way back to town and retrace my steps
with reënforcements.
But in spite of the need for action, the fatigue of long days of
intense excitement broken by very little sleep got at me, lying
motionless there in the darkness, and for a time I dozed off. It may
be that the drug which I had most certainly been given, although in
very small quantities, had something to do with it.
It was only a doze, however, and some inward monitor must have been on
guard, for at one-thirty, the time I had planned to begin my search, I
woke up with a start and looked at my watch.
I was still in complete darkness. And the room and the house too
seemed silent with the silence of the dead. I could hear no sound at
all. Nevertheless the silence seemed to have an eerie quality. It
seemed not the silence of rest and forgetfulness, but the silence of
motionless watchfulness. Such tricks will the imagination play at such
a time.
I, too, lay quiet and listened for what seemed a long time. But it was
only a quarter to two when I finally rose, as noiselessly as I could,
from the bed and tip-toed to my door.
I listened again for a moment before I tried the handle, and in that
moment I took, with a good deal of quiet satisfaction, another
precaution.
I released the little safety catch on the ring which Pride had given
me and which I still wore.
I knew that I was in very great danger in that house; that the people
about me had no scruples about murder. For this night at least it
would be dog eat dog, then, and I too would kill if necessary.
My door was not locked. I opened it very, very slowly without a sound
and stepped silently out into the big hall. The lights here had been
lowered, only a globe here and there creating a sort of dim twilight
in the place. It was quite deserted.
Down the length of the hall I crept, keeping close to the wall and
treading as softly as I could. It was so quiet that I could hear the
quickened thumping of my own heart.
My one hope was to reach the gardens, because they meant the outside
world and escape, perhaps. I knew that there was practically no hope
of getting out by the way I had entered, for I had no revolver with
which to hold up the operators of the elevators and would almost
certainly be discovered anyway. But in the back of my mind there was
also the hope of being able to see Natalie or Margaret or both, if
only for a moment, and hearten them with the news that release was on
the way, or at least that we had found them.
The big doors into the banquet hall were closed and I did not dare
attempt to open them, for fear of the noise they might make. On the
other hand, it was to be supposed that most of the small doors opening
off the hall were bedrooms like my own, and there was nothing to be
gained by entering them, occupied as they probably were by the patrons
of the place in drugged slumber.
The only other door I knew about was the door into the passage which
led to the blue and gold anteroom and the elevator, two doors from my
own bedroom, and that was no use to me.
Finally, I decided to circle the hall once at least, in search of a
larger door, before I tried the smaller ones. For there must be some
other way out of the hall, I thought.
It was a weird sensation, creeping along in the half light, avoiding
the furniture and scanning the walls, while twenty or thirty
life-sized and very life-like unclad nymphs and dryads gazed down upon
me from the walls. In the dimness they seemed to sway a little and to
follow me with their eyes, and I did not want to be seen by any one
just then.
I found two doors, wider than the others, at last. One of them was
locked. But to my delight the other gave under my hand. I opened it
very softly and looked through—into total darkness.
At first I could hear no sound. And the place gave the impression of
some size. I mean, I was not conscious of that sense of resistance
that one meets in opening the door of a cupboard or clothes closet in
the dark. But it might be steps either up or down. I would have given
a good deal for Larry’s electric torch at that moment.
I put forward a tentative foot and found solid, level, carpeted floor.
I stepped forward into the darkness and closed the door behind me. And
at that moment I heard the first sound of another living being since I
had started on my search. The sound was a very faint sob, some way
off, but distinguishable in the utter silence about me.
For a moment I stood still in complete darkness and listened. Then I
put out my hands cautiously and encountered walls on either side,
showing me that I was in a passage of some kind. And so, with my
fingers following the walls, I advanced, stepping very slowly and
feeling out each step before I took it, lest I stumble or fall on a
stairway either up or down.
And as I advanced, the sound of sobbing grew louder, although it was
still hushed and faint, as though coming to me through some solid
medium. The sound came from straight in front of me.
Every now and then, as I progressed, I waved one hand in front of me
slowly as a precaution against running into something. And it was
lucky that I did so, for presently my questing fingers came up against
something solid, and I came to a halt. Investigation showed me that it
was a door. There were still walls on either side of me. I was in a
_cul-de-sac_.
I tried the handle very softly. The door was locked.
And as I stood there, wondering what to do next, another stifled sob
came to my ears. Some one was crying beyond the locked door in front
of me. I could hear it clearly now, and with it the sound of some one
turning restlessly on a couch or a bed.
I listened for several minutes, hoping that the person beyond the door
would give some clue to her identity. For it was obviously a woman.
And as I listened I was filled with pity for the heart-broken woman
caught in such a place. It seemed probable that it was Mrs. Fawcette,
after what I had seen. And a sudden impulse came to me to find out
without disclosing my own identity. It seemed very unlikely that she
would give me away, after the way I had seen her treated. Nor would
any other woman in trouble there be likely to raise an alarm.
I leaned closer to the door and called, very softly, “Mrs. Fawcette?”
Instantly the sobbing ceased and there was dead silence. Then, after a
moment, I heard the rustle of clothing and the sound of timid feet
approaching the door. Again there was silence. And then:
“Please, who is there?” came to me in a young girl’s voice.
My heart stopped beating for an instant and then galloped on again,
and I lowered myself to my knees and pressed my mouth to the keyhole.
“Margaret!” I whispered softly. “Is that you, dear?”
There was a little gasp behind the door and a quick movement. “Oh, who
is that? Who are you?”
“It’s your brother, darling!” I answered hoarsely. “It’s Jack! For
God’s sake tell me, what have they done to you?” I fumbled at the
knob. “Can you open the door?”
“No, I’m locked in. Oh, Jack! Jack! You’ve found me! I knew you would!
Oh, take me away from here! Take me home again!”
“I will, dear, I will! God knows I will! But not yet. I’ve got to get
help first. Tell me, what have they done to you?”
There came a little sob. “Nothing, Jack, until to-night. They’ve been
pretty good to me, because they say that if I cry it will spoil my
looks. They’ve made me dance twice and wouldn’t let me wear hardly any
clothes. But no one has been rude to me, or anything—until to-night——”
“What happened to-night, dear?” I demanded hoarsely.
“They—they beat me. They tied my hands to a pillar and tied up my
mouth and beat me. Oh, Jack, take me home!”
Such black rage surged up in me at that, that I could only kneel there
on the floor, shaking with it. I could not answer her for a while.
“Who did it—and why?” I croaked at last.
“Two of the men-servants tied me up—and—a Russian named Ivanovitch
beat me. I guess it wasn’t a very hard beating, Jack, dear, but I’ve
never been hit before. And it—it sort of—hurt my pride so.”
“Why did they do it?” I whispered.
“They—they told me,” came the girlish whisper, “that I was not to go
near the banquet hall to-night, but to stay in my room. But I thought
it might be because there was some one coming that I knew, and I took
the risk and crept out and tried to look in. But they caught me and
beat me and brought me here. And they told me that next time they
would send me to the gardens. Oh, Jack, I can’t bear it! Can’t you
open the door and take me home?”
“Not yet, darling. God knows, I’d take you now if I could. But I’m all
alone here and I could not get you out with me. I don’t know whether I
can get out myself. Tell me about the gardens. Do you know how to get
to them?”
“Oh, Jack, it’s awful! All the girls they have captured here seem
nice. But the ones in the gardens are not nice at all. And they tell
us that if we disobey or try to escape, they’ll send us to the
gardens. So we don’t dare do anything.”
“Do you know how to get to them from here? Could I get out that way?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Jack. When we’re not locked in our rooms they guard
us all the time. And I’ve only been from my room to the dressing-room
of the theater and to the banquet hall once. They let us sit out on an
enclosed porch, too, every day. But they won’t let us talk to each
other much. Oh, Jack, when will you come for me?”
“To-morrow if I can, dear. Next day at the latest. Do just what they
tell you, dear, until then, won’t you? And keep a stiff upper lip. It
won’t be long now until we’re home again together. Have—have you seen
another girl come here lately? Her name is Natalie Van Cleef and she
comes from Utica. She’s very pretty, with gray eyes and brown hair and
lovely features. Have you seen her?”
“Oh, yes, Jack, I think so! They brought a girl like that here
yesterday. And she is terribly frightened. They must have maltreated
her or something. I think she is going to the banquet hall, but they
locked her up to-night. Do you know her?”
“Yes—I know her,” I answered hoarsely. “Do you think you could tell
her that there is help coming, without running any risk yourself?”
“I’ll try, Jack. I’ll do my best. Oh, I knew you’d come if I kept on
hoping and believing. It’s been terrible. But I shan’t be afraid any
more, now I know you’ve found me. Only, hurry, Jack, won’t you?”
“I’ll hurry, darling, be sure of that. But act just as usual, won’t
you, dear? Don’t give them any warning, by your manner, that there is
anything up. And don’t let Miss Van Cleef change her manner either, if
you get a chance to talk with her. A lot depends on that, dear. We
must not warn them.”
“I’ll be careful, Jack. Are you going now?” There was a little break
in her voice that nearly made me break down. But I knew that the only
hope was to get away and bring help. I could not rescue her alone,
without any idea of my whereabouts or how to get out of the place. And
I was afraid of making things still harder for her if I tried anything
like that.
So with a last few words to hearten her and a sobbed little farewell
in response, I turned away from the door and retraced my steps
cautiously, feeling along the walls until I reached the lighted hall
again. I was filled with joy at the unexpected stroke of luck in
finding Margaret so soon. The nightmare of uncertainty about her was
over at last, although the task of freeing her remained.
There was nothing for it now but to try all the doors. But the one
nearest me was the other larger door, and in passing I tried the
handle again. The door was unlocked!
I could have sworn that it was locked when I tried it before, but it
was possible that some one had passed through it since and left it
unlocked, or that I had not turned the handle far enough before.
Anyway it was open now, and I crept through, testing the floor before
me with a questing foot. Here, too, there was complete darkness. And I
was in another passage similar to the other.
Both the larger doors out of the hall were in a corner of the hall
farthest from the banqueting room. But they were in different walls
and consequently were at right angles to each other. This passage,
too, extended straight ahead, so that I was going at right angles to
my previous course and farther from Margaret at every step. But
whither it was leading me I could not tell.
This passage differed from the other one. For as I crept along my
fingers encountered more than one door. I tried them all and found all
of them locked; so that, for the present, I determined to follow the
passage to the end, as the easiest course, as there was no choice
among the doors.
And presently my eyes were rewarded with the sight of a faint crack of
light close to the floor ahead of me. It seemed to come from beneath
the door of a dimly lit room at the end of the passage.
I stood still and listened. Not a sound came to me here, however, and
if the room ahead of me had an occupant, he was either asleep or
keeping very quiet; for I could hear nothing.
Taking every possible precaution against noise, I crept slowly
forward, until at last my hand closed on the knob of the door from
beneath which the light came. I turned it and it gave. And very
cautiously I opened the door.
I was looking into an absolutely empty room. Not a stick of furniture
or carpet broke the dead white of the walls or the brown of the
polished wooden floor. There was not even a molding on the walls. The
only thing in the room was a light bracket in the center of the
ceiling in which a single electric globe shone. But on the other side
of the room was another door.
Leaving the door behind me open for a means of retreat, I stepped
silently across the polished floor and tried the handle of the door
beyond. It was locked. I made very certain of that before I gave up
trying it.
The only thing to do, then, was to select a door, this one or one of
the doors back in the passage, and attempt to cut out the lock by
means of the little file which Pride had given me. The door in front
of me was a heavy one. Stooping down, I saw that the light from behind
me shone on a heavy brass bolt in the crack between the door and the
jamb.
If I tried this door, I would have to be working in the light too; for
I had seen no switch on the walls.
Perhaps one of the doors in the passage would be safer. Perhaps, too,
the air under one of them might be a little fresher than under the
others, indicating a way outdoors. I stooped down and sniffed at the
bottom of this door. But the same heavy, perfumed air met my nostrils
as pervaded the entire place.
I turned back again to the other door then, and suddenly I stopped in
my tracks and stood motionless. The door through which I had come was
closed.
It might have blown shut, of course. I stepped silently forward and
tried the handle, my heart in my mouth. This door, too, was locked. I
was trapped! They had been watching me! I had been played with all the
time!
I stood motionless, my heart swelling with the bitterness of defeat
when victory had seemed so near. And as I stood there, the light above
me dimmed and went out, flashed on again, dimmed again and flashed
three times, finally remaining steady.
And then suddenly a voice spoke at my elbow: “Well, Clayton, have you
enjoyed your evening?”
I whirled around. There was no one there!