THE UNHEEDED WARNING.
Toward evening of the following day Mr. Ellerton stood booted and
spurred upon the steps of the Glenburn House, impatiently waiting for
the groom to bring around a horse.
He was going for a gallop over the distant hills to get a breath of
fresh air and a view of the surrounding country.
While standing thus he saw a dirty little urchin, barefooted and ragged,
behind one of the large fluted pillars which supported the porch, and
every little while he caught him peeping out upon him with curious eyes.
He bore this scrutiny as long as he cared to, and then walked up to him,
saying, somewhat crossly:
“What are you prowling about here for, you youngster? Anything wanted?”
The little fellow tore off his tattered cap, and catching hold of the
shock of yellow, tangled hair that hung down over his forehead, gave it
a vigorous pull.
He then thrust his hand deep into his trousers pocket, pulled out a
soiled and crumpled piece of paper, which he put hastily into Mr.
Ellerton’s hand, and with a low “Mum’s the word, sir,” he darted like a
flash from his sight.
Somewhat amused at this singular proceeding, while at the same time he
was unconsciously impressed by the urchin’s mysterious manner, he
glanced around to see if any one had observed the event before he opened
the note.
There was no one about, and he unfolded it and read the contents.
It was written in a round, manly hand, which Mr. Ellerton thought had a
familiar look; but where or when he had seen that same handwriting
before, he could not remember.
It had been carefully and neatly folded, but the boy had probably soiled
and rumpled it through carelessness.
It contained the following words:
“ROBERT ELLERTON:—
“Be on your guard to-day. Do not go beyond the reach of help without
the means of self-defense, for danger lurks in your path!
“A FRIEND.”
Mr. Ellerton curled his lips in a scornful smile, as if he did not fully
credit the writer’s story. Nevertheless he turned and went within the
hotel, back up into his room, and slipped a couple of loaded pistols
into his breast-pocket.
When he appeared below again the groom stood waiting with his horse.
He mounted, and, putting his spurs to the animal, galloped swiftly away
in the direction of the cliffs which we have before mentioned, and in
the recesses of which our hapless hero was imprisoned.
Mr. Ellerton thought if he could gain the summit of these cliffs he
should have a splendid view of the surrounding country.
As he slowly ascended the side of the rugged cliffs, he began to ponder
upon the strange warning he had received. Who could have written it? Who
was there in all the country who knew him familiarly enough to call him
Robert Ellerton?
Where had he seen that handsome handwriting before? It was somewhere
away back in the dim past; but when or where he could not recall, and
the more he tried to remember the more puzzled he grew. Neither could he
imagine what the danger was that lurked in his path.
Had he been in a country among barbarians, he might well give heed to
such a warning; but here, in such a quiet town, where almost every one
gave his attention to cultivation and learning, it could not be possible
that any very great danger could threaten him.
Still, the more he meditated upon it, the more uneasy he grew.
By this time he had reached the summit of the cliff.
The prospect from this point was attractive. Far, far away as the eye
could reach was the sea in all its grandeur, and reflecting from its
silver bosom the many-tinted glories of yonder sky, while just at his
feet its waves gently washed the huge crags with its foam and yellow
sands; and involuntarily he murmured those beautiful lines from
Tennyson’s pen:
“Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, oh, sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.”
With a feeling half of pleasure, half of melancholy at his heart, he
turned to leave the enchanted spot, when a shrill cry, as of some one in
pain, startled him.
Turning his eyes in the direction whence the sound proceeded, he saw
just below him a noble horse, madly rearing and plunging among a cluster
of bushes, while near by lay the prostrate form of a man apparently much
injured, judging from his repeated cries and shrieks.
Without a moment’s thought, except that of helping a suffering
fellow-being, Mr. Ellerton put spurs to his horse and clashed recklessly
down the narrow path of the cliff—out of sight of the village, out of
the reach of help—on, on into danger and treachery, and into the hands
of a set of vile and heartless villains!
Oh, why did he not heed that timely warning?
He quickly gained the side of the prostrate man, and sprang to the
ground to his assistance.
Scarcely had his foot touched the earth when the man sprang to his feet,
and covering Mr. Ellerton’s heart with a heavy revolver, shouted:
“Stand, or your life is the forfeit!”
Like a flash of lightning his situation rushed upon him, and he realized
all too late how necessary had been the warnings he had that morning
received!
He knew he must have been followed and watched every step of the way
from the hotel, and that the farce of the dismounted and injured rider
had only been an ingenious trap, into which he had so readily fallen.
His own hand involuntarily sought for his weapons of defense, but at
that moment a slight rustling caused him to glance up, and he saw three
more ruffians surrounding him.
He realized at once how utterly vain and useless would be any attempt at
resistance, and without a word he submitted to have his hands bound
behind him.
One of the villains now approached him with a folded handkerchief,
remarking jocosely, with a tantalizing grin:
“Neat little trap, wasn’t it? Now, if you please, we will cover up those
peepers of yours, as you might be adding to your stock of information
while we make our journey to the palace; and that would not suit the
king you know.”
The villain laughed a coarse laugh, in which he was heartily joined by
his companions.
“For what am I molested?” demanded Mr. Ellerton, with calm disdain,
while he suffered himself to be blindfolded.
“The king wants you,” was the reply.
“What king?”
“Why, our king. He has got no particular province as I know of. I may as
well call him the King of the Cannibal Islands as anything else,”
replied the ruffian, winking at his comrades.
Again their rude laughter rang over the echoing hills.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Mr. Ellerton, not deigning to notice
the wretched attempt at witticism.
“To the palace, as I informed you before; and to safe quarters I’ll
warrant you. Come, tramp, for we are in a hurry,” and the poor man was
seized by both arms and hurried roughly over the uneven path.
He asked no more questions. His pride kept him silent, and he would not
have calmly borne their coarse insolence had it been in his power to
resent it.
They traveled more than a mile in this manner, then after the same
ceremonies of stamping, passing through secret passages and doors that
his son had noticed, he was finally unbound, and found himself in a
large stone cell comfortably furnished. The ruffians left him to himself
after bolting and barring the door.
The cell was lighted by a large hanging lamp, while the air which
ventilated the apartment came through the upper part of the door which
was formed of an iron grating.
With a heavy heart he sat down to consider his uncomfortable position,
and to wonder why he was thus a prisoner.