THE TIME AND THE HOUR!
The pirate chieftain—or, as we will call him for the present, Count
Cadillac—had not the slightest idea of Bessie’s intention until she had
succeeded in turning the weapon upon herself, and the muzzle of it was
already against her temple.
If the revolver had been an ordinary one, or if the muscles of Bessie
Harlan’s fingers had been firmer and stronger, she must have taken her
own life then and there, before her companion could have done aught to
prevent it. But the weapon was of the double-action pattern; more than
that, the action was firm and strong, so that it required a considerable
exertion of the muscles of the fingers to work it.
Then again, the position in which she was obliged to hold it strained the
muscles of the right hand in such a position that the feat of pulling
the trigger sufficiently to raise the hammer past the catch was twice
difficult. Double-action revolvers are not the best in the world for the
uses of people with suicidal intent.
As has already been said, the muzzle of the weapon was already against
her temple, before the count fully realized her intent; but then he
leaped forward with a sudden cry. Perhaps his sudden action, together
with the cry he uttered, had something to do with disconcerting her; at
all events, he was in time.
It is doubtful, too, if she realized what she was about to do.
A creature of impulses always, the count’s words of love spoken at such
a time, and bringing to mind, as they did, that the time was not far
distant in the past when she had consented to listen to him, and when
she had not repulsed him—when even she had secretly convinced herself
that she might some day love this man—filled her with such horror of her
present position that death seemed to be the only way of escape.
It is certain that she intended to kill herself. It is certain that she
intended to send the bullet through her brain and thus to escape at once
and for all time the horror of her present surroundings. It is also
certain that the sudden activity of the count prevented her from carrying
her impulse to a fatal termination.
It will be remembered that the table was between them; that she stood
facing him at one side of it, while he was half-way across the cabin from
her, at the opposite side. But his leap toward her was like the spring of
a panther, and the cry he uttered was so filled with horror, amazement,
terror, and remorse for bringing her to such a pass, that it startled
even her, wrapped up as she was in her fatal resolve.
As he leaped forward he threw himself bodily across the table, scattering
the books and papers, and the electric drop-light that stood in the
center of it, in every direction, and upon every side.
And he managed, somehow, to reach her arm and hand. He managed, somehow,
to seize the wrist of the hand which held the weapon—to deflect it,
and to knock it from her grasp with such force that it was sent hurling
across the room, where it fell, clattering, against the mahogany
bulkhead. It was not even discharged.
The hammer, which her tender muscles had been unable to raise, fell again
into place without touching the cartridge in the chamber, and Bessie
stood for an instant, abashed, before him.
The table was still between them. He remained, leaning upon it with
both hands, and with his face thrust forward toward her, speechless
with dismay, alarm, and with thanksgiving for his power to prevent the
consummation of her terrible act.
And she stood opposite him, a few feet away, white and staring—herself
speechless from the terror of the thing which had approached her so
closely, and yet had passed her by.
For a moment it was a tableau which neither of them comprehended;
and then the count did the only thing he could have done under the
circumstances, to help her to regain her composure, and to convince her
that she was not in the terrible danger she dreaded from his presence.
He straightened himself back upon his feet, calmly and slowly, until
he stood upright before her. Then he folded his arms across his chest,
and looked into her eyes silently. Presently he pointed with one finger
toward the weapon where it was lying against the bulkhead, and he said
slowly:
“Yonder is your weapon, Miss Harlan. Let me suggest that you resume
possession of it, in order that you may still have the means about
you to protect yourself against a danger which exists only in your
imagination.”
She did not move, and after a moment he continued:
“I have assured you that you are safe here—as safe as any honored
guest might be anywhere in the world. While we are aboard this vessel
together, while you are a passenger upon it, I should like to have free
access to this cabin—in short, I should be glad if you will consider it
a common meeting-place between us. But yonder”—he pointed toward the
portières which divided the cabin from the passageway—“yonder, beyond
those curtains, is a portion of the _Shadow_ which you may regard as your
personal domain. Beyond that point no human being save yourself shall
penetrate, so long as you are my guest.
“And there,” he continued, “you will find every convenience, and every
article of wearing-apparel, which you can require. The clothing belonged
to Madame Cadillac, the wife of my brother, as good and true and splendid
a woman as ever drew breath. You know something about her, for you have
heard Nick Carter talk about her; you have heard the husband of your
sister describe her.
“You are the only woman aboard this vessel, but that need make no
difference. You have but to touch the button yonder to secure the
services of the steward, who will serve you, at any time, with anything
you require, which he possesses.
“And now, Miss Harlan, I will bid you good night. Until some time
to-morrow, at least, you will not be again intruded upon.”
He turned swiftly and would have disappeared through the door had she not
held up one hand in a gesture to detain him.
“Wait,” she said simply.
“Yes?” he said, in reply.
“You have convinced me,” she said, “that you intend me no immediate
personal harm.”
He bowed his head, without replying in words.
“And I doubt,” she continued, “if you realize the incalculable and
terrible injury you inflict upon me with every additional moment I pass
aboard this vessel.”
“I have taken that into consideration,” he replied calmly. “I know how
you view it. It is too late now, however, to remedy it. If it were not
too late, I would set you back aboard the _Goalong_. As it is——”
“As it is,” she interrupted, “permit me to doubt your word in that
respect, Count Cadillac.”
Again he bowed without replying.
“I wish you to tell me where you are taking me,” she said.
“To Anjou,” he replied laconically.
“To your château in France?”
“Yes.”
“For what purpose?”
“To make you my wife, when we arrive there, if in the meantime I am
permitted to win your consent.”
“You are at least frank.”
“Yes.”
“And if you do not succeed in winning my consent—what disposition do you
intend to make of me in that case?”
“I intend to return you to your friends.”
“Indeed! Would it not have been better to have left me with my friends?
Do you think it possible to win my regard under such monstrous
circumstances as those with which you have surrounded me?”
“I think I shall at least succeed in winning your respect.”
“What! Win my respect, when you have stolen from me all the respect and
esteem with which I have ever been regarded by the friends from whom you
have stolen me?”
“Miss Harlan, you are as safe here as——”
“Stop, sir! You are, perhaps, positive of the truth of that statement,
and I will admit that you have partially convinced me of it; but are you
so ingenuous, so unsophisticated in regard to worldly matters, as to
suppose for a moment that others will regard my present plight in that
manner? It would have been better, much better for me, Count Cadillac,
had you murdered me in cold blood before you brought me here as you have
done. It would have been better for you had you permitted me to make use
of that weapon which I just now turned upon myself, to end my life, and
afterward used it for the same purpose upon yourself; and it would have
been much better for both of us had you met the fate of your brother, who
is now a convict.
“Wait, sir, I have not done. I will finish what I have to say, and then
I will thank you if you will leave me to myself.
“I shall not take my own life now, Count Cadillac; I shall live. Back
yonder in New York there is a man toward whom my brother is now speeding,
with all the power the engines of his yacht contain. You know to whom I
refer.”
“Nick Carter!”
“Aye, Nick Carter. Do you remember him, Count Cadillac? Do you doubt that
he will search for me and find me? Do you doubt that he will also search
for you and find you? And do you doubt, for one moment, what will happen
to you when he does find you?
“Ah! sir, it does not matter now, in your case, how soon you set me at
liberty—you have committed this act of wrong against me, and Nick Carter
will hunt you down for it as surely as you stand there now. He will find
you, if you are in France, in Anjou, in Patagonia, or at the north pole.
He will find you, and he will hold you to strict account for your work
this night. Be assured of that much!
“And I have said that I will not again attempt my own life. I will not.
I will live and wait—live and hope for the coming of that hour when you
will find yourself face to face with him—face to face with Nick Carter.
And now, sir, good night. I have no doubt that you will enjoy pleasant
dreams.”