IN WHICH THE UNEXPECTED COMES TO PASS.
Never had Burgo passed so wearisome a day as that which followed Miss
Roylance's second interview with him. He was burning for the moment to
come when he should see her again, but the hours seemed to mock him,
and the slow afternoon to drag itself out indefinitely. It was not
merely because he looked forward to being able, with her help, to
achieve his freedom that he so longed to see her again; it was quite
as much, even more perhaps, for her own sake, and because she had cast
over him a spell of enchantment which he had neither the will nor the
power to struggle against. He had set eyes on her but twice, and yet
already he was her slave manacled and helpless. "I thought in my
ignorance that I loved Clara Leslie," he said to himself as he paced
his prison from end to end, "but I didn't know the meaning of the
word. I know it now." And yet this woman to whom he had yielded up his
heart without a struggle was both a cripple and a hunchback, and three
days before he had never as much as set eyes on her! It was one of
those riddles which Love takes a mischievous delight in propounding,
but of which it is the merest waste of time to try to find a
reasonable and common-sense solution.
At length the afternoon deepened into dusk, and Burgo lighted his
lamp, knowing that the longed-for moment could not be much longer
delayed. Mrs. Sprowle had been in the habit of bringing him the meal
which with her went by the name of supper some time between seven and
eight o'clock, and Dacia's two visits had been timed about an hour
later. To-night, however, not a little to Burgo's surprise, Miss
Roylance followed close on the old lady's heels. His first glance at
her face told him that she had important news of some kind to
communicate to him--indeed, she hardly waited for Mrs. Sprowle to hand
in her plates and dishes and make room at the aperture before she
began.
"This is the last opportunity I shall have of seeing you here, and my
visit must be limited to a very few minutes. Signor Sperani returns by
the last train to-night, and will no doubt at once take charge of the
key of the underground passage. Sprowle has been sent by her ladyship
on an errand into the village, and has entrusted the key to his mother
meanwhile, otherwise you would not have seen me at all. And now, here
is a parcel for you, containing a couple of files and a length of
rope. Oh dear! oh dear! Never did I think that I should come to be
mixed up with such an adventure as this!"
"The service you have done me, Miss Roylance, is one I can never hope
to be able to repay."
The words were of the simplest, but there was something in the way
they were spoken which brought a flush to Dacia's cheek, and caused
her to turn her eyes another way.
"Pray don't think me too presumptuous," resumed Burgo, "but there was
a certain letter which you promised to write."
"It was written last night, and my own hands posted it before ten
o'clock this morning. And now, Mr. Brabazon, as time is so short," she
went on, bringing back her eyes to face his, "let us go in for a
little supposition. Suppose, then, that my letter has the desired
effect--or rather, that the telegram which will result from it, will
have the effect of taking Lady Clinton all the way to Lausanne on a
fictitious errand; and suppose, further, that you succeed in effecting
your escape--what then?--what is supposed to follow?"
"With myself at liberty, and Lady Clinton temporarily out of the way,
the course I propose to myself is a very simple one. In her ladyship's
absence there will be no one with either the right or the power to
refuse me access to my uncle."
"It seems to me that even if Lady Clinton be got rid of, you will
still have to reckon with Sperani and his dogs."
"As for the dogs, a couple of revolver shots may be counted on to give
them their quietus; while as regards Sperani, I trust that man to man,
I should pretty well prove a match for him."
Dacia shook her head. "There must be no shooting," she said, "and no
unseemly struggle. A far better plan will be for you and me to
communicate with each other through Mrs. Sprowle--I to let you know
when her ladyship has set out for Lausanne, and you to inform me when
all is in readiness for your escape. After that it can be easily
arranged for me to admit you to the house unknown to any one."
"That two heads are better than one I shall never doubt for the
future," said Burgo with a smile.
"But, assuming that you are successful in reaching your uncle, what is
to follow? Is it your intention to stay by his side, and be found
there by Lady Clinton on her return?"
"Certainly not. My first object will be to endeavour to induce my
uncle at once to leave the Keep, of course in my charge, and I don't
think the dear old boy will need much persuasion. Where he may choose
to go, whether back to London, or abroad, or elsewhere, will, of
course, rest with himself; but if I have any voice whatever in the
matter, it will be to some place to which Lady Clinton will be denied
admittance. When once my uncle has been rescued from her clutches, he
must never be allowed to fall into them again."
"She is a very determined woman, Mr. Brabazon."
"As I have ample reason to know. Still, I hope to be able to set her
at defiance. When my uncle gets clear away from her he will be a
different man; and if he will only hold fast to his determination not
to see her, and to communicate with her only through his lawyer, she
will be helpless. That he will be prepared to make her a liberal
allowance, I do not doubt; but the question is not one of money only,
but of life and death."
"Your last words, Mr. Brabazon, remind me of a singular dream I had
the other night. I was in some place, I don't know where, among a
number of figures, each of whom, except myself; wore a domino and
mask. Each figure came up to me in turn, and having whispered in my
ear the same words from Shakespeare: 'A deed without a name,' passed
on. By-and-by there was only one figure left, but his whisper was
different from the others: 'If you would know why I am not still among
the living, ask _her_, was what he said. Then for a moment he drew his
mask aside, and I saw the face of my Uncle Innes, as I saw it for the
last time, when he lay in his coffin. And then with a cry I awoke. But
there is Mrs. Sprowle calling to me from the foot of the stairs. I
have overstayed my time. On no account must her son come back and find
me here. Good-bye, Mr. Brabazon, till I meet you again, a prisoner no
longer. You may rely upon hearing from me as soon as I have anything
to tell you."
To-night she gave him her hand as frankly as she might have done had
he been her brother; nor did her colour come, nor did she suffer her
eyes to drop before the steadfast flame of his. But, as she made her
way downstairs half a minute later her heart was throbbing
tumultuously, and she felt as if she were aflame from head to foot.
In the early hours of next morning, long before daylight, Burgo set to
work with one of the files Dacia had brought him. The height of the
window compelled him to stand on a chair while he worked. He found
that he would have to file through both the bars with which the window
was guarded, and even then the aperture would be none too large to
allow of the passage of his body. Judging from the fact that the bars
were very little corroded by time or weather, Burgo concluded that
they bad been a comparatively modern addition to the old building. He
calculated that it would take him quite three or four days of stiff
work, with a few hours of the night thrown in, before he reached the
end of his task. Although he had no reason whatever to distrust Mrs.
Sprowle, he decided that it might be advisable to keep her in
ignorance of what he was about. The grating of the key in the lock
below stairs always gave him due warning of her approach.
It was on the evening of the third day after his last interview with
Dacia that Mrs. Sprowle handed Burgo the following note when she
brought him his supper:
"Telegram to hand this forenoon. Lady C. started on her way to
Lausanne by the four o'clock train. She will get through to London in
time to catch the Continental Express to-morrow morning. It is left to
me and Vallance to look after Sir Everard during her absence. Let me
know by return how you are progressing, and when you will be ready to
take _the next step_.
"D. R."
To which Burgo replied:
"Everything going admirably. Shall be ready for next step to-morrow
night. Let me know in course of to-morrow _the hour and the place_.
"B. B."
He had been hard at work with his file during a great part of the day,
and after he had eaten his supper he lighted his pipe and began the
slow constitutional pacing from end to end of his prison chamber in
which he spent some hours of each day. Yes, everything would be ready
by to-morrow night, he told himself. One bar was filed completely
through and removed and hidden behind his portmanteau, while five or
six more hours of hard work would enable him to treat the other in the
same way. But although he could not help exulting as he thought of
what a few more hours would bring to pass, he was yet conscious of
something tugging at his heartstrings which was far removed from
exultation or gladness of any kind. He could not forget--it was a
thought which haunted him waking or sleeping--that with the quitting
of Garion Keep by his uncle and himself would be severed the solitary
strand which for a little while had served to bind Miss Roylance and
him so strangely together. Yes, they must part, and it was impossible
to say whether they should ever meet again. Yet a voice within him
whispered that they _must_ meet again, that neither fate nor chance
could avail to sunder them for ever. Already it seemed to him as if
this girl had become an inalienable part of himself; he could no
longer conceive of his future as wholly dissevered from her. He had
seen her for the first time less than a week ago, and yet he felt as
if he had known her for a century. It was as though he and she had
been united in some prior state of existence, and that Destiny had
once more brought them together. In her he felt assured that his life
had found its complement. It was true that she was deformed and walked
with the help of a crutch, but what of that? When he had won her for
his wife, as he fully meant to do, his love and protecting care would
have one claim on them the more: that was all.
On one point he assured himself--that on no account would he part from
her till he had revealed to her something of that which lay so close
to his heart--till he had drawn from her, if it were possible for man
to do so, a promise that their parting should be anything rather than
a final one.
When he had smoked the last pipe to which he had allowanced himself,
for by this time his stock of tobacco was running low, he opened wide
the casement and stood there for some time, inhaling the salt coolness
of the night air, in which there was a faint tang of seaweed, and
staring into the infinitude of darkness outside his window, which
to-night was unillumined by either moon or stars. The tide was coming
in with a low monotonous thunder, which rose and fell rhythmically as
it drew forth and back in unceasing repetition. It would be high-water
about an hour after midnight. Presently Burgo would put out his lamp
and turn in, to wake up long before daybreak and resume work with his
file. Again and again he murmured exultingly to himself: "To-morrow
night I shall be a free man!"
But although the main current of his thoughts was still with Dacia, he
was not so oblivious of things external to him as not to be aware of
an occasional gleam of light which came and went like a firefly within
a certain limited space of darkness, and nearly in a direct line with
his window. He recognised it at once for what it was--some one with a
lantern moving on board the steam yacht which for the last three days
had lain at anchor opposite the tower, about a hundred yards beyond
low-water mark. Burgo had spent some of his unoccupied hours in
watching it, and wondering as to the nature of the business which had
brought it to that remote part of the coast, and kept it there for so
long a time. But to wonder was all that was permitted him. Had he been
free to question the landlord of the "Golden Owl" on the point, he
would have learnt that the yacht's name was the _Naiad_, that its
owner was an Irishman of the name of Marchment, that it had put into
Crag End while certain slight repairs were effected in its machinery,
and in order to obtain a supply of fresh provisions; and that Mr.
Marchment, after having lian for one night in the little harbour, had
declared its odours at low water to be unbearable, and had thereupon
steamed out to the position which the yacht had since occupied. Such
was the sum and substance of what was known about the _Naiad_ at Crag
End. Its crew came and went, and were hail-fellows with the
inhabitants, while the very liberal prices paid by its owner for such
country produce as he required had raised him in the course of a few
hours to the height of popularity.
Burgo watched the light with indifferent eyes while it moved to and
fro, but at the end of a few minutes it went suddenly out, and was
seen no more. But for the shifting light he would not have known that
the yacht was still there. On such a night from where he stood it was
wholly invisible.
Burgo could not tell how long he had been asleep, for it was still
pitch dark, both inside the tower and out, when he was awakened by a
dull, heavy hammering noise which sounded at once remote and near at
hand, as though it were close by, and yet divided from him by some
intervening substance, which had the effect of partially deadening the
sound. To be thus awoke in the dead of night was sufficiently
startling, and Burgo sprang to his feet on the instant. After
listening for the space of a few seconds, as the noise still
continued, he struck a match and lighted his lamp. A glance at his
watch told him that the time was twenty minutes past one.
Crossing to the door, he pushed back the slide and listened. The sound
now reached him much more clearly than before, showing that it
proceeded from some point inside the building--a dull, heavy,
continuous thump--thump, as though someone or something were hammering
a way into or out of the tower. Whence did it proceed? What could be
the meaning of it? Utterly confounded, Burgo could do nothing but
stand and listen.
Then, after a few minutes, which he had employed in partly dressing
himself, there came a crash, and a fall as of some heavy body,
followed by a confused murmur of voices. This was succeeded by a sound
of many footsteps crowding up the stone stairway. Burgo drew back a
few paces and waited, his eyes fixed on the aperture.
First of all the darkness of the staircase was illumined, and then a
hand appeared holding on high a ship's lantern, followed by the head
and figure of the man to whom the hand belonged, crowding on whose
heels came three more men, each of whom carried a revolver, while one,
apparently the leader, was further armed with a drawn cutlass. This
last personage it was--a fair, good-looking man of thirty, with a
short reddish beard and moustache, and wearing a pea-jacket and a
peaked cap with a gold band--who, bringing his face into proximity
with the opening, proceeded to take silent stock of Burgo and his
surroundings. That what he saw filled him with surprise was evident
enough from his expression. After satisfying himself that the door was
locked and the key missing, he said, addressing himself to Burgo:
"Pardon the question, sir, but may I ask whether you are here as a
prisoner?"
"That, sir, is my unfortunate position."
"May I inquire for how long a time you have been shut up in this
place?"
"For somewhere about a fortnight."
"But during the last few days you have been busy in trying to
accomplish your escape?"
Burgo started. "It is quite true, but I should like to know by that
means you have become aware of the fact."
The stranger smiled. "The explanation is a very simple one. I am the
owner and captain of the steam yacht which you have doubtless remarked
during the last few days as being anchored off shore, nearly opposite
your window. Now, after having been distinctly given to understand by
some of the natives, whom I questioned on the point--for I am a bit of
an archaeologist, and such matters interest me--that the tower was in
a semi-ruinous condition, and had been uninhabited for the last fifty
years, it was certainly somewhat startling to see each evening the
window lighted up from within till close on midnight, as also during
several hours of each day to behold a human figure perched close
against the panes, and engaged in some mysterious occupation which,
for a time I was wholly puzzled to make out. At length, with the help
of my binocular, I came to the conclusion that the figure was that of
a man at work with a file, or some other instrument, on one of the two
upright bars which safeguarded the window on its inner side. It is as
a result of the knowledge thus obtained by me that you see me here at
this moment."
He spoke rapidly, and with a clear decisiveness of tone and manner,
like one who was accustomed to imposing his orders upon others, and
looked to have them obeyed.
"And now, sir," he resumed, "if after what I have told you, you choose
to confide your name to me, and also to inform me to what
circumstances your incarceration in this place is owing, it may be
that I shall find myself in a position to give you back your freedom
in a much readier way than your own unaided efforts would allow of
your achieving it."
Thereupon he turned and spoke a few words in a low voice to one of his
followers, with the result that all three of them proceeded to tramp
downstairs, one after the other, leaving the captain of the _Naiad_
standing outside the door alone.
By this time Burgo, whose conclusions in moments of emergency were
rapidly arrived at, had made up his mind to tell enough of his story
to this new-found friend to enlist the latter's sympathies, and
thereby insure his own proximate release. He was taken with the
stranger's manner and expression; they were manly and straightforward,
although not without a touch of imperiousness. You had only to look
into his eyes to feel assured that treachery or double-dealing and he
were far as the poles asunder.
"My name is Burgo Brabazon," he began, "and I am the nephew of Sir
Everard Clinton, who----"
It was now the stranger's turn to start. "Stop," he said abruptly,
before Burgo could utter another word. "Tell me your name again,
please. I am not sure I caught it aright."
Burgo told him.
"Are you, may I ask, a son of the late Lieutenant Godfrey Brabazon of
the Royal Navy, who served at one time on board the _Arcturus?_"
"My father's name was Godfrey Brabazon, and he was a naval lieutenant,
but he died when I was little more than a child; and as to whether he
ever served on the vessel you speak of I have no knowledge."
"Perhaps, then, you can tell me where he was born, or maybe, I ought
rather to say, where he lived for several years as a youth."
"My father was a Tiverton man, born and bred."
"That does away with the last shadow of a doubt. Mr. Brabazon, I am
especially glad to make your acquaintance, and still more pleased that
it is in my power to be of some slight service to you."
Before more could be said, one of the men came pack, and after
whispering something to him, to which he replied by a curt nod,
disappeared once more.
Turning again to Burgo, the captain of the _Naiad_ said: "I am called
away, but you may rely upon seeing me again in less than an hour. A
few minutes after that, Mr. Brabazon, you will be a free man."
He nodded, turned away, and was gone.