THE FARM ON THE HILL
For a while Kathleen was too bewildered to say anything, but soon one
ugly fact stood out hard and convincing. She had been betrayed.
Slowly she gathered all her mental resources together and slowly she
looked from Melun to Marie Estelle and back to Melun.
During the past few weeks she had learned to expect infamy and even
treachery, but she had not looked for any action so villainous as this.
As the car went bounding down the hill at an ever-increasing rate of
speed Kathleen saw Melun give an appreciative nod to the woman at her
side, and she watched a little smile of triumph flit across the woman's
mouth.
Kathleen could only dimly wonder what this new move meant. That she
had been kidnapped she could not doubt, but for precisely what purpose
she could not understand, though she judged that she had been taken
prisoner with the idea of hurrying Lord Penshurst to a decision.
The first shock of Melun's entry over, Kathleen steeled herself against
all fear, and calling her pride to her assistance disdained to ask any
questions.
The silence in the electric-lighted car became, indeed, so oppressive
that Melun, who had been waiting for some passionate outburst on
Kathleen's part, could bear it no longer.
“I suppose,” he said, looking at her with an insolent sneer, “that I
owe you an apology for being compelled to treat you in this way?”
But Kathleen made no answer; she only looked at him with scorn.
“As a matter of fact, I consider it was well and neatly done,”
continued Melun. “Excellently planned and excellently carried out. My
congratulation to you,” and again he gave Mme. Estelle a little nod.
Once more there was silence, but it was Kathleen who broke it now. She
was determined to carry the war into the enemy's camp. If she could
achieve nothing else, she could at least, by showing a mingled boldness
and resignation, cause Melun considerable uneasiness.
“I suppose you have put up these things”—and she tapped lightly with
her fingers against the blind shutters—“because you were afraid that I
might scream or struggle?”
“That is precisely the case,” said Melun.
“You need have no fear of that,” returned Kathleen. “I give you my word
that I will neither call out nor attempt to escape. The women of my
family are in the habit of acting bravely and openly.”
She intended this as a covert hit at Mme. Estelle, and apparently the
shot went home, for she saw the woman redden a little and slightly turn
away her head.
Melun gave Kathleen one quick, shrewd glance and then lowered the
shutters; and Kathleen, looking almost lazily out of the window, saw
that they were now almost clear of the park, and, so far as she could
judge by the position of the sun, were running towards the southwest.
The drive continued in complete silence. Mme. Estelle remained red
and awkward, Melun was morose and ill at ease. Kathleen alone was
self-possessed, though pale. She even forbore to ask whither they were
bound, for though sadly tempted to do so, she checked herself with the
rather sad reflection that she would know sooner or later.
By-and-by they drew near to a considerable town, and Melun, in spite of
Kathleen's promise, drew the blind shutters up once more.
He had, however, the grace to be moderately apologetic.
“It is not because I distrust your word, Lady Kathleen,” he said, “but
because I have to take precautions. One does not know who might happen
to look into the car.”
It was not long before Melun lowered the shutters again, and Kathleen's
heart gave a little thump, for looking out on the country she realised
that she was on a familiar road. She recognised the high hedges between
which they were running as those which border the long lane running
between Croydon and Hayes Common.
The car began to shoot up-hill, and they went over a breezy heath,
subsequently running down into the valley, as Kathleen judged, of
Farnborough.
For a little while they kept to the main road and then turned off to
the left again. Half an hour's run brought them to Westerham—from
which place Sir Paul took his title.
As the car turned to the left once more Kathleen had little doubt that
they were bound for Sevenoaks; nor was she wrong.
But the car did not stop here; it swept past the Royal Crown Hotel,
past the old Grammar School, past the wooded stretch of Knole Park,
down the steep and tortuous River Hill.
At Hildenborough the car turned up to the right and raced through
the Weald of Kent. This was all familiar ground to Kathleen, and she
realised that to some extent they were doubling on their tracks, making
a zigzag course along the valley at the base of Ide and Toys Hill.
Suddenly the car stopped, and Kathleen, looking through the open
window, saw the chauffeur get down from the seat and open a gate which
apparently led to a more private path.
Through this the car passed and was swallowed up in a wood. But the
jolting and rattling over ruts soon ceased, the road widened and became
smooth, and they began to climb in curves up the face of a steep hill.
By-and-by they came to a small plateau on the edge of which was an old
farmhouse. The ground dropped almost sheer away from it at the southern
end, while almost the whole of the front of it was washed by a muddy
and apparently deep pool.
As they drew up before the little low doorway Kathleen heard several
great dogs baying at different points.
The chauffeur got down from his seat again and drew near to open the
door. Then for the first time Kathleen, with a sinking of her heart,
recognised the man as Crow.
The short winter's day had now drawn to a close, and as he entered the
house Melun ordered the lamps to be lit.
Mme. Estelle led the way into a not ill-furnished dining-room, the
window of which projected over the vast cliff.
To reach this room they had traversed a long passage, and Kathleen
appreciated the fact that the house was very curiously built. It
consisted, indeed, of two portions, which were linked together by a
long stone-flagged corridor.
Melun helped himself liberally to neat brandy. Mme. Estelle sent for
Crow and told him to order tea.
Kathleen had been filled with an intense foreboding as she entered the
house, a foreboding which increased as she slowly recognised that she
and Mme. Estelle were apparently the only women in the place.
For the tea was brought in by a man, not a farmhand or an honest
countryman, but a villainous-looking individual with a pock-marked face
and little gold earrings in the lobes of his frost-bitten ears. He
walked with his feet wide apart, and with a slightly rolling gait. He
had an immense bull neck, and the hands with which he grasped the tray
were large, grimy and hairy. Kathleen set him down as a sailor; nor was
she wrong.
When tea was over Melun lit a cigarette, and drawing Mme. Estelle on
one side conversed with her for some time in whispers.
At the end of the whispered conference between Melun and Mme. Estelle
the woman left the room without so much as a word to Kathleen or even a
glance in her direction.
Melun turned round with a baleful light in his eyes.
“Now, my lady,” he said, “we can have this matter out.”
Kathleen's afflictions had only increased her old habit of command and
her natural dignity. Though in reality she was the prisoner, she might
have been the captor.
“Before you speak, Captain Melun,” she said, “I also have something to
say. How long do you intend to keep me here? I ask this, not for my own
sake, but for my father's.”
“That,” said Melun, with a malicious grin, “depends entirely on your
father.”
“By this time, of course,” Kathleen continued, “a great hue-and-cry
will have been raised after me in London. Do you intend to return there
to-night? Again I ask this question for my father's sake. He should be
informed of my whereabouts at once; for you must remember that he is an
old man and will probably take this very much to heart.”
“He will not be informed of this to-night,” said Melun, shortly.
“Because,” he continued, with a villainous leer, “I am only cruel to be
kind. I want to have all the details of your ransom and our marriage
settled as soon as possible. A night of waiting will soften your dear
old father's heart, and he will probably listen to reason in the
morning.”
Kathleen shuddered and drew a little further away from Melun. “You
coward,” she said, and looked at him with infinite contempt.
Again a dangerous light leapt into Melun's eyes.
“Have a care,” he shouted, “what names you call me here. I do not wish
to be compelled to make you feel your position. But if necessary I
shall——”
Kathleen did not take her scornful eyes from his face, and Melun at
last looked shiftily away.
As he apparently did not intend to speak again, Kathleen put to him
another question:
“Who is the woman,” she asked, “you employed to get me here?”
“That is no business of yours,” snarled Melun, “though you can, if you
wish to speak to or allude to her, call her Mme. Estelle.”
“I merely asked,” said Kathleen, “because I was curious to know how she
came to make use of the name of Russia.”
“It was simple, perfectly simple. It was largely a matter of guesswork.
It was only natural to suppose that you would be doing what you could
to smooth matters over with the Czar.”
Kathleen nodded a little to herself. There were apparently few details
of her father's secret with which Melun was not acquainted.
“Now,” said the captain, changing his tone and attempting to be brisk
and businesslike, “let us for a moment consider the essential points of
the case. Of the ransom, of course, there can be no question. I shall
increase the sum because of the obstinate way in which your father has
refused my overtures. That, however, will be all the better for us.”
He said this with an insinuating air for which Kathleen loathed him.
“The only remaining obstacle is yourself. But you, perhaps, will no
longer refuse the hand which I so considerately offer you in marriage.”
“Captain Melun,” said Kathleen, coldly, “you are at liberty to discuss
the business side of this matter as much as you please. But I decline
altogether to allow you to insult me. After all, it is unnecessary, for
I have nothing to say on the matter, and must refer you to my father.”
“I had hoped,” said Melun, “that I might be able to gladden his heart
with the news of your consent.”
Kathleen turned her back on him, and Melun swore at her without
disguise. But she paid no heed.
Presently he walked round the room so that he could come face to face
with her.
“It is early,” he said, “but early hours will do you good. If you will
be so kind as to accompany me I will show you to your room.”
He led the way up three flights of stairs till they came to a small
landing. Out of this there opened only one door, and through this Melun
passed.
Kathleen now found herself in a large, square room, simply and yet
fairly well furnished, partly as a bedroom and partly as a sitting-room.
“It is here,” said Melun, “that I am unfortunately compelled to
ask you to await your father's decision. However, I release you
unconditionally from your promise neither to scream nor to attempt
escape.
“You are at perfect liberty to scream to your heart's content. There is
no one here who will mind in the least. You are also at perfect liberty
to make what efforts at escape you choose. I fear that you will only
find them futile.”
He went out quickly and closed the door after him. Kathleen, listening
in the badly-lighted room, could hear a key grate in the lock and bolts
shot in both at the top and the bottom of the door.
Quickly and methodically she made an examination of her prison. She
looked into the cupboards and into the drawers and the massive bureau.
But there was nothing about the room of the remotest interest to her
which offered the faintest suggestion, sinister or otherwise.
It was, indeed, only when she looked out of the windows, of which there
were three, that she discovered to the full how utterly helpless was
her position.
The window on the south side was apparently over the window of the
dining-room, and, as she peeped over the sill, looked sheer down the
face of the precipice beneath her.
The west window, she found, looked down into a stone courtyard, while
the window on the east overhung the pond. Apparently she was imprisoned
in a tower.
When Melun had reached the ground floor he sought out Mme. Estelle.
“I have not had much opportunity of saying anything to you,” he
remarked as he entered the room in which she was sitting, “but I should
like to tell you now how splendidly you have done.”
Madame was restless and ill at ease.
“If I had seen that girl before to-day,” she said, “I should never
have brought her here.”
“Then you would have been a fool,” said Melun, rudely.
“Possibly, but still, even at the risk of your displeasure, there are a
few things which I do not care to do.”
Melun glanced at her sharply.
“Of course,” she continued, “it is too late now. I have made up my
mind, and we will go through with it, but frankly, I don't like this
business.”
“Never mind,” said Melun; “it will not last for ever. To-morrow ought
to settle it. I shall go back to town the first thing, starting at
about five o'clock, as I shall have to make a _détour_. I have changed
the number of the car, but still it is hard to say what Westerham may
be up to. If he finds that his precious motor has not come back to town
he may take to advertising it as stolen—which would be awkward.”
Madame at this point bade Melun good-night, and the captain sent
for Crow. To him he gave instructions to have the car ready at five
o'clock, but told him that he should drive it back to town himself.
“You can serve a better purpose by remaining here,” he said. “For,
mark you, I will have no hanky-panky games in this house in my absence.
And, mark you, too, I have no desire to have Mme. Estelle and Lady
Kathleen becoming too friendly. You never can rely on women. They
are funny creatures, and Madame is far too sympathetic with the girl
already. So I shall look to you to stop anything of that sort.
“For the rest, you will know what to do if certain contingencies should
arise. I have not brought the dogs here for nothing.” He broke off and
shuddered a little himself as at some short distance from the house he
could hear the baying of the great hounds.
“They are loose, I suppose?” he asked.
Crow nodded.
“Then Heaven help the stranger,” he rejoined with a cruel laugh, and
pulling a rug over himself he lay down to sleep on the sofa.
He was up betimes in the morning, and had, indeed, been gone four hours
when Mme. Estelle came lazily down to breakfast.
Melun had left no instructions in regard to Kathleen's food, and
as she did not consider it advisable to let the unfortunate girl
starve, Madame, after she had herself breakfasted, set a tray with the
intention of carrying it up to Kathleen's room.
Before she could do this, however, it was necessary to send for Crow in
order to obtain the key.
When she asked for it, Crow shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
“I have very strict orders,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Madame demanded sharply. “What do you mean?”
“Simply that the master said that you and the young lady were not to
get talking too much. He said nothing about food, or of waiting on her
ladyship, and it didn't occur to me until this morning that it was a
bit of a rum job for a chap like myself to wait on her.
“However,” he added, with a smirk, “I don't so much mind.”
But Crow's clumsy utterances had again aroused all Madame's sleeping
suspicions. There was, moreover, no reason why she should keep silence
now. Her treachery was a different matter altogether. The way was
smooth for asking Kathleen the question the answer to which meant so
much to her.
She laughed in Crow's face.
“It was hardly necessary for the captain to give you any orders, seeing
that he gave certain instructions to me. He said that as there was no
other woman in the house it would be my place to take Lady Kathleen
anything that she actually needed. I am going to take up her breakfast
now. Give me the key.”
Crow hesitated a moment, but finally handed over the key. Madame put it
on the breakfast tray and went upstairs.
Kathleen, as she heard the bolts drawn back and the key turned in the
lock, suffered fresh apprehension. For she had caught the rustle of
Madame's skirts outside, and she would rather have faced Melun than the
woman.
With very little apology Mme. Estelle entered, and, setting the
breakfast down, immediately withdrew. Her impatience to ask the
question was great, but she schooled herself to waiting.
In half an hour's time she went up for the tray, and then she faced
Kathleen boldly and looked her in the eyes.
“Lady Kathleen,” she said, “I am really ashamed to have brought you
here in such a treacherous way. I will not ask you to forgive me, for
you will not understand. I can only tell you that I am a very loving
and jealous woman.”
Mme. Estelle paused, and was conscious that Kathleen looked at her in
great surprise.
“I want,” she continued, “to ask you a question which means much to me.
Is it, or is it not, one of Captain Melun's conditions that you shall
marry him before he returns your father's secret?”
“Yes,” answered Kathleen, very quietly, “it is.”
Madame's rather flushed face grew white, and her eyes blazed with
passion. She clenched her fists and beat the air with them.
“Oh, the liar!” she cried, “the liar! Oh! it is hard to be treated like
this when I have done so much for him.”
Kathleen drew back, startled and amazed.
“I assure you that you need have no fear so far as I am concerned. Both
my father and myself have refused to comply with that condition, and we
shall refuse to the end.”
Madame, however, paid but little heed to Kathleen; she was beside
herself with rage.
“Ah, ah!” she cried, “wait till he returns! I'll kill him! I'll kill
him!”
So distorted with fury was the woman's face that Kathleen became
alarmed for her sanity. She drew near to her and endeavoured to catch
her hands in her own, imploring her to be calm.
By-and-by Mme. Estelle listened to her, and in a sudden revulsion of
feeling fell on her knees, sobbing bitterly.
Kathleen bent over her, doing her best to console her, and presently,
as the woman grew calmer, she endeavoured to turn the situation to her
own and her father's advantage.
“The best way to defeat Captain Melun's scheme, so far as I am
concerned,” she urged, “is to release me.”
But at that Mme. Estelle leaped to her feet again and her face was
hideous in its cunning.
“Ah! not that,” she cried, “not that! If I distrust him, I distrust you
still more. Your pretty face may look sad and sorrowful, and you may
declare to me that you will never consent; but I will wait and see.
I'll wait until Melun returns and confront you with him. Then perhaps I
shall learn the real truth.”
Kathleen made a little despairing gesture with her hands; argument, she
saw, would be useless.
Gathering herself together, Madame blundered, half blind with tears,
out of the room, and Kathleen with a sinking heart heard the bolts
drawn again.
All through the day Madame sat brooding, sending Kathleen's lunch and
tea up to her by Crow.
All the evening she still sat and brooded, until as eleven o'clock
drew near and there were still no signs of the captain she had worked
herself up into a hysteria of rage.
Twelve o'clock struck, and still the captain was absent. Another
half-hour dragged slowly by, and then she heard his car grating its way
up the hill-side.
She was at the door to meet him, and would have plunged straightway
into the matter which absorbed her but for the sight of his face.
It was haggard and pale as death. His eyes were blazing in their
sockets, and his straggling hair lent him altogether a distraught and
terrifying aspect.
“Melun!” cried the woman, stretching out her hand, “what is it?”
“I don't know,” he said hoarsely; “I wish I did, but the Premier's
gone.”
“Gone! What do you mean?”
“He is lost. Westerham kidnapped him.”
“Impossible!”
“Impossible, you fool!” shouted the captain, irritably. “It's
true—perfectly true!”
He walked into the hall and sank exhausted into a chair. “As for me,”
he grumbled, “I have had the narrowest escape I ever had.”
“So that's all, is it?” cried Mme. Estelle, remembering her own
grievance. “So that's all!
“But what of me? What do you think I have gone through? What do you
think I have suffered? What do you think I have found out?”
Melun rose unsteadily from his chair and looked at her in alarm.
“Is it Lady Kathleen?” he asked; “is she safe?”
“Safe! Oh, yes, she is safe,” she cried, with a peal of uncanny
laughter. “Safe for your kisses and for your caresses. Oh, you liar!
you liar! I have been true to you in all respects, and you have been
false to me in everything that mattered. So you will marry the pretty
Lady Kathleen, will you? Oh, but you won't! Never! Never!”
She rushed at Melun as though to strike him, but Melun, jaded though he
was, was quick and strong.
He caught her brutally, as he might a dog, by the neck, and threw
her into the dining-room, the door of which stood open, and, utterly
careless as to what harm he might do to her, sent the unhappy woman
sprawling on to the floor. In a second he had banged the door to and
turned the key in the lock. He sank down on to the bench trembling and
exhausted.
He heard Marie pick herself up and hurl herself in blind and impotent
fury against the door.
He listened, shaking like a leaf, as shriek after shriek of frenzy
reached his ears.
Up in the tower Kathleen heard these shrieks too, and shuddered. A
horrible fear took possession of her heart that there was murder being
done below.
She sat on the edge of her bed with her hands pressed to her heart,
listening in fascinated horror.
The shrieks died away, and there was complete silence in the house for
full half an hour.
Then Kathleen heard a sudden shout, a crashing of glass and a
scrambling, tearing noise, the hideous bay of the boarhounds in the
courtyard, a scream, and a thud.
Stabbing the other noise with sharp precision came the sound of shots.