CONSPIRACY.
The next morning Robert arose, and found a perfumed bath and all the
dainty appointments of a toilet awaiting him. After performing his
ablutions, and dressing himself with great care, he sat down to await a
summons to the morning meal.
Almost immediately a page appeared, and conducted him into a room hung
with green and gilt, where a table, spread for two, contained an
inviting repast served upon dishes of silver.
The page conducted Robert to a seat, and then placed himself, as the
other had done, behind his chair.
Presently another man entered, likewise followed by a page.
He was a tall and well-formed man, and fine-looking, though his face was
somewhat bronzed, and his beard was long, black, and very heavy, giving
him a rather fierce expression.
He was clad in a suit of rich green velvet, ornamented with gold lace
and seed pearls; while at his side there hung an elegant dagger, whose
golden handle was brilliantly ornamented with jewels.
He greeted Robert in a very gentlemanly manner as he seated himself
opposite him. Our hero returned the bow, without at all losing his
self-possession.
He felt assured that he was in the presence of the chief of the band of
smugglers.
And he was right.
“Did you rest well, Mr. Ellerton?” asked the chief, as he filled a plate
with the good things spread before them and passed it to Robert.
“Very well, indeed, sir,” he replied, courteously; “but you have the
advantage of me, for I cannot call you by name.”
“Weilman Weichel, at your service, and brother of the man whom you
saluted with such warmth on entering his cottage yesterday,” replied the
chief, with a smile, and bowing low.
“’Twas but in self-defense, Herr Weichel,” returned our hero, a shade of
uneasiness crossing his face at the remembrance of the severe blow he
had given the villain.
“Nay, do not be alarmed, my friend; I know it,” said Weichel, remarking
the look. “I but honor you the more for the courage and bravery you
displayed; and I assure you Hans himself bears you no ill-will. We are a
class of people who admire courage, be it in friend or foe.”
“Have the goodness to answer a question, Herr Weichel. Why am I brought
like a prisoner to this place, and yet treated in a manner of which a
prince could not complain?”
The chief smiled at this off-hand compliment, and then replied:
“’Tis true, you are my prisoner, or rather, let me say guest, and as
such you must remain for a few weeks. I admit it is no personal feeling
that causes me to retain you as such; you have never injured me or mine,
and, indeed, I respect you highly, for I know who you are, and the high
position you have always held during the few years you have been in our
country. But I will be candid with you. I am to have fifty thousand
dollars if you remain here six weeks, and that is a sum I should like to
possess. I trust, however, that you will not feel like a prisoner, and I
pledge myself that you shall be entertained to the best of my ability.
Everything you wish you have but to name, and it shall be granted.”
“I thank you, chief, for your kindness and hospitality, but I have only
one desire at present, and that is my liberty. I am rich, or at least,
my father is. He is now in this village, and I promise you that I will
give you a check for fifty thousand dollars—the same sum that you have
been promised for detaining me here—as soon as you place me in his
presence.”
“Your offer is very generous, Mr. Ellerton,” said the chief, after a few
moments’ deliberation, “but I cannot accept it. My word is pledged to
another, and no amount could tempt me to break that.”
“My friends will surely institute a thorough search for me, and thus
your retreat may be discovered, and yourselves routed, perhaps
arrested,” returned Robert, deeply chagrined and disappointed that the
smuggler refused to set him at liberty.
A sneer half-curled the lip of the chief, but quickly repressing it, he
politely replied:
“I have no fears, my friend, on that score; for our fortress is of solid
rock, with no crack or crevice to betray that there is aught within.
Only those who are perfectly familiar with our secret openings can ever
enter these vaults. There is but one in the wide world outside of our
band, who has an inkling even of their existence; and he is not now in
the country. He learned it through the carelessness of one of our pages;
but I have no fear that he will ever trouble us.”
“Who are the instigators of this foul wrong?” demanded Robert, hotly,
hardly heeding the latter part of the chief’s speech.
“That, also, I cannot reveal to you. You doubtless realize they are
enemies,” he returned, not at all disturbed by Robert’s passion.
“Well, then, will you tell me the motive which actuates it?”
The chief did not reply at once. He sat absently sipping his coffee for
a few minutes; then suddenly waving the pages from the room, he bent
toward his guest, and said, in a low tone:
“A person has discovered that you are not the legitimate son of your
father—that he was married to another woman before he ever saw your
mother. That woman he forsook, believing the marriage only a farce, and
wedded your mother. The first marriage has been proved legal, and a
friend of the first wife is now on your father’s track, with the
rightful son, to make him acknowledge him. They thought there would be
less trouble about the matter if you were out of the way, and that is
one reason why you are here.”
“It is false, every word of it!” burst in indignant amazement from
Robert’s pale and quivering lips, while the perspiration started from
every pore.
He arose and paced the floor, in mingled grief, mortification, and rage,
at the stain thus cast upon his name—the name which he had always been
taught to believe was spotless.
He would not believe it; for did it not blast every hope that he had
cherished from his boyhood up to the present time? He could not claim
Dora if it were true! He had no right to her; for he had no name to give
her. His heart almost withered within him at the thought, and even the
chief cast looks of pity upon his white, agonized face, as he sank, with
a despairing cry, into a chair and bowed his head upon his hands.
“It is all a base conspiracy!”
“False or true,” resumed the other, “that is what I have been informed
is the fact. But that is not the principal reason why you are confined
here.”
“Then for Heaven’s sake tell me what it is, or I shall go mad,” groaned
Robert.
“A young man has become very much enamored of a young lady, and wishes
to marry her; but he says you imagine you have a prior claim upon
her—some foolish childish ceremony or betrothal, and that if you were
allowed to remain at liberty it would interrupt all his plans with
reference to her. When they are united, then you are to have your
freedom.”
“Tell me the name of this fiend in human form, whose brain but plans
ruin for fellow-mortals. Tell me! I will know it!”
Robert sprang fiercely to his feet and confronted his captor with
clenched hands. The veins upon his forehead were hard and knotted. Like
a hero of the ancient times, every nerve trembled, every muscle was on
the stretch; rage and contempt, hate and revenge were in all his
features; and for a moment Weilman Weichel dropped his eyes in
confusion.
“Tell me,” repeated Robert, huskily, “for by all the gods, the villain
whoever he is, shall dearly pay for this!”
“I cannot, Herr Ellerton; and I beg you will calm yourself. This passion
is of no earthly use,” the chief coldly replied.
“Heavens! what a conspiracy I am the victim of, and not to know who my
enemies are! To be struck by a hidden foe is worse than all else; let
them but come to open warfare, and equal combat, and I will battle to
the death! Chief, I tell you, you are as vile as they, with your
complicity in the affair.”
“Agreed, my friend,” returned the ruffian, smiling complacently, though
not in the least ruffled at Robert’s ravings and revilings. “I do not
profess to be at all saintly you know; but I do assure you that I am
very fond of money, and so have made up my mind to see this thing
through.”
“Money!” repeated Robert, bitterly. “Sell your soul for a few paltry
dollars, and wreck the happiness of two loving, trusting hearts.”
After a few moments spent in troubled thought, while he paced to and
fro, Robert suddenly halted and said:
“Weilman Weichel, I will pledge you a hundred thousand dollars if you
will set me free—nay, do not refuse until you hear my story!”
He then related the history of his whole life, up to the present time,
and ended by showing the chief the note he had received from Dora the
day before.
The chief appeared to be convinced of the truth of the story, and
started violently when Robert spoke the name of Squire Moulton. He
hesitated a long time before he replied. He evidently coveted the great
sum that Robert offered him, but he finally replied in a cold, hard
tone:
“I told you before, young man, that my word was pledged, and that no
amount of money could tempt me to break it.”
The chieftain withdrew, and Robert was left alone. In a few moments a
page appeared. He conducted the unhappy young man to the chamber
allotted to his use. Robert threw himself upon the couch, and utterly
exhausted with his passionate emotions, fell into a sound slumber, which
lasted many hours.