A STRANGE HOME-COMING.
Vera opened her eyes at length. Gradually the things that had happened
came back to her. She recognised the futility of resistance. All she
could do was to wait and hope for the best. But despite the startling
rapidity with which events had moved, she was not in the least
frightened. Her prevailing feeling was one of indignation that any man
should have dared to treat her in this way. Withal, there was a
certain vein of curiosity that Vera did not care to suppress. The cab
was still moving briskly, and Vera judged by the trees on each side of
the road that they were already out in the country. The man sat
opposite her, grim and silent. He made no inquiry as to how Vera was
getting on. He suggested no apology for his violence.
The feeling of languor and the suggestion of headache passed away,
leaving Vera strong and vigorous again. It was impossible to sit there
without speaking.
"Do you quite understand what you are doing?" she said to the man
opposite. "Do you realise that you are guilty of a criminal offence?
You could be prosecuted for this."
"I will not contradict you," Silva said politely. "Believe me, I
deeply regret the necessity for taking this step. Yet it was
impossible to satisfy our requirements in any other way."
"Oh, you are not alone, then?" Vera asked. "Would it be inquiring too
much if I asked who else is in this business?"
Silva smiled under cover of the darkness. A man of courage himself, he
admired that quality in others. So the child that he had known, and
been so passionately attached to, eighteen years ago had grown up to
be a worthy representative of her race? Vera would have been
astonished at that moment if she could have seen into the back of
Silva's brain. She did not realise for a moment that here was a man
who would have gone through fire and water for her, and yet, at the
same time, he was prepared to wreak his insane vengeance upon those
whom she loved and admired more than anybody in the world. If Vera's
happiness had depended upon it, Silva would not have spared Ravenspur,
even had Vera gone on her knees and asked for it. Yet he would have
given his life if it could have done any good to this proud descendant
of the house of Descarti.
"Surely you can guess who is with me in this business?" he said. "Did
I not bring you a letter from your mother?"
Vera started. She had forgotten her mother for the moment, and this
question of Silva's had opened up a new and painful train of thought.
He was taking her to see her mother. But why had her mother so
suddenly displayed this tender solicitude, after leaving her
absolutely alone all these years? That Vera's mother was in possession
of her whereabouts, and had been all this time, the girl did not
doubt. When part of the story had to be told she had accepted
Ravenspur's statement implicitly. Her mother was a vile woman, and the
past was too painful for a young girl to hear. Ravenspur had not said
so in as many words, but that was distinctly the impression he had
conveyed to Vera. She began dimly to comprehend now why this new-born
affection of her mother's had not found vent in the conventional way.
Doubtless Ravenspur would have forbidden her the house. Doubtless he
had a hold that gave him the control of the situation--probably a
compact made years ago. And now one of the parties desired to break
it. Perhaps it was a question of money, or family property, or
something of that kind? Vera had heard of similar cases.
At any rate, there must be some reason for this mystery and violence.
And no doubt every word that Ravenspur had said about her mother's
character was true. Otherwise she could not have consented to an
abduction like this. Still, there was comfort in the reflection that
Lord Ravenspur and Walter would leave no stone unturned to punish this
outrage. The miscreants would be found out sooner or later. Vera
congratulated herself now upon the fact that she had left her
handkerchief tied to the collar of the dog Bruno. That would be a
sufficient clue to put her friends on the trail, and Bruno himself,
with his unerring instinct, would lead the pursuers to the right
place. After all, the imprisonment could not last long, though Vera
boiled with indignation as she thought of the treacherous way in which
she had been deceived.
"And you are going to take me to my mother, then?" she asked.
"That is the programme," Silva said coolly. "Unfortunately, you will
not be able to see the Countess tonight. You may believe me or not,
but I am sorry to have been compelled to take a step like this. But
you see, Lord Ravenspur's plans made it quite impossible for me to
wait till tomorrow."
Vera was silent for a moment. She could see plainly that Ravenspur's
clever scheme for getting away to Weymouth had been betrayed by
someone to this man. Her chief anxiety for the moment was for her
guardian. It was terrible to think that he had been dogged and watched
by people so cunning and unscrupulous as these. Vera was still
thinking the matter over when the cab stopped and Silva bade her get
out. A wild idea of appealing to the cabman for assistance was
dismissed as she caught sight of his face. There was a grin upon it,
and the driver unmistakably winked at Silva. There was just enough
light for Vera to see that the cabman was not wearing a badge.
Doubtless he was a conspirator, too. There was nothing for it but to
see the thing through to the finish. So Vera followed Silva through
the garden till he paused at length on the steps of a house, which
appeared to be in total darkness.
"The servants have gone to bed," Silva explained, as he opened the
door with a latchkey. "If you will wait a moment, I will turn up the
gas. If you desire anything----"
"Nothing," Vera said curtly. "All I want you to do is to show me to my
room. I wish to be alone."
Silva bowed politely enough. He turned and locked the door, and Vera
saw that he dropped the key in his pocket. Then he took a silver
candlestick from the hall table and handed it to Vera, intimating that
he would like her to precede him up the stairs. They came at length to
a room in the roof of the house which appeared to be comfortably,
almost luxuriously furnished, and with every feminine requirement at
hand. With absolute amazement Vera saw her own silver toilet set laid
out on the dressing table, her handbag was on the floor, and in one
corner of the room stood the two dress-baskets which her maid had
packed for immediate use on board the yacht. A slight smile of
amusement flickered over Silva's face as he noticed Vera's amazement.
"Everything has been done to make you comfortable," he said. "It was
my own idea to remove your immediate belongings from Waterloo Station
and bring them on here. I assure you that it was no difficult job. And
now I wish you goodnight, with a thousand pardons for the way in
which I have been compelled to treat you. Tomorrow morning----"
Silva paused significantly and bowed himself out of the room. He
closed the door gently behind him, and Vera waited till the sound of
his footsteps had died away. She tried the door, but, as she had
anticipated, it was fastened on the outside. Beyond all question, she
was a prisoner. There was nothing but to make the best of it, and wait
on the course of events. There were two bolts on the inside of the
door, and, having secured these, Vera felt easier in her mind. She
undressed slowly, and more for something to occupy her mind than
anything else. She would never be able to sleep again. The idea of
sleep seemed to be out of the question. Yet, within ten minutes, Vera
had fallen into a deep slumber from which she did not wake until the
sun was shining high, and the birds were singing in the trees. The
girl rose eagerly and looked out. She could see a wide expanse of
green lawn, with big shaded trees here and there. On two sides of the
house a common stretched away apparently to the confines of space. How
far she was from London Vera could not say. Certainly she had never
been here before. She was still admiring the beauty of the landscape
when there came a quiet knock at the door, and after the bolts were
drawn Silva came in. He was, if possible, even more abjectly
apologetic than on the previous evening.
"I am bound to intrude," he said. "You see, this house has only been
taken for a time, and the servants are absolutely in ignorance of your
presence here. I merely came to show you where you could find all the
requisites for your breakfast, and as to the rest, they are in this
basket. Here is a spirit lamp, so that you can boil your own water. I
am in great hopes that before evening I shall be able to give you what
is practically the freedom of the house. Do not think too harshly of
me."
Vera made no reply; she was only pleased to have the room to herself
again, so that she could think the matter out. She ate her breakfast
slowly, for time was beginning to hang on her hands. Any action was
better than sitting there doing nothing. It was some time later when
she crossed to the window, and looked out. She saw three men busily
engaged in some occupation on the lawn. She saw Silva come out and
address them, apparently in tones of expostulation, so far as she
could judge from his actions. Then one of the men looked up, and Vera
could see that he had noticed her. A moment later the man stooped
down, and went through some sort of a pantomime, which, in the
circumstances, puzzled Vera extremely. Why should that grave-looking
official stoop down and imitate the motions of one who is stroking a
dog?