GEOFFREY GETS A SHOCK
Ralph Ravenspur had wandered along the cliffs and Geoffrey had followed
him. The latter came up to the blind man at the loneliest part of the
rugged granite, and there for a time they sat. Ralph was graver and more
taciturn than usual, till presently his head was raised and he seemed to
be listening to something intently.
"What is the matter?" Geoffrey asked.
"Somebody is close to us," Ralph explained. "Somebody is creeping up to
us in the gorse. Nay, you need not move. We are safe here on this bare
ledge. There is one thing there is no cause to fear in dealing with
these miscreants, and that is firearms. Weapons of that description make
a noise and your Oriental hates noise when he is out on the kill. Ah,
what did I tell you? Somebody is close by."
A figure rose out of the gorse, a slender figure with a ragged beard and
brown face. The stranger crept along and dropped by Geoffrey's side.
"Don't be alarmed," he said. "It is only I--Tchigorsky."
Geoffrey was astonished, though he had no occasion to be. Ralph took the
matter coolly. "I expected something like this," he said. "I knew you
would desire to see me, and that is why we came along the rocks."
Tchigorsky lay on his back puffing at a cigarette.
"Keep your eyes open," he said to Geoffrey. "One can't be too
particular. Not that there is any danger, for I've sent those two
wretches off on a wild-goose chase for an hour or two, and the she-devil
is down with one of her blinding headaches. You wouldn't think she was
a woman whose heart is in a weak state, eh?"
"I shouldn't have supposed she had one," said Geoffrey. "Have you seen
her?"
"I was in her company for a long time last night," Tchigorsky explained.
"I posed as one of the murderers of Voski; I gave her proofs of my
success."
"The forged Garuda stone," Ralph chuckled.
"The same," Tchigorsky said gravely. "It was a magnificent forgery, and
calculated to deceive those pious murderous old rascals at Lassa. At any
rate, I am now deep in the confidence of the princess, and attached to
her subordinates, who are pledged to assist in wiping out the Ravenspur
family."
Geoffrey sighed involuntarily. He would have liked to know why this
vendetta aimed at his family, but he knew that the question would be
useless. Still, he felt that a great deal had been gained during the
last few hours.
"Have you learned what the latest villainy is?" Ralph asked.
"Not yet. There is much uneasiness and alarm felt over the recent
failures, and my dusky allies are getting a little frightened. For the
next day or two I expect we shall lie low and plan some big _coup_.
"What I want to secure now are the princess' private papers. I know she
has them and is in regular communication with the priests at Lassa. Give
me these and I can expose the whole plot. Let me wipe these three people
out, and then Lassa shall get a hint that will save further trouble from
that quarter.
"A hint from the India Office that any more rascality will mean an
expedition to Lassa and the destruction of their temples will suffice.
But first I must have my proofs. Without proofs I am helpless."
"Find them," Ralph croaked; "find them. Never mind the scandal, never
heed what people may say. Bring the matter home, hang those wretches,
and we shall never more be troubled by this plague from the East. If I
had my way I should shoot the whole lot."
"And be hanged for your pains," Tchigorsky replied. "Ah, my friend,
there are serious flaws in the criminal laws of this fine country of
yours. Patience, patience. I shall find out everything in time."
"There is one thing I am curious to know," said Geoffrey. "I want to
know who was the girl on the cliff with Mrs. May that afternoon, the
girl who has such an amazing likeness to Marion. Have you discovered
that, Tchigorsky?"
"That is what I am trying to get at myself," Tchigorsky replied with
great gravity. "It is one of the mysteries of the campaign."
Geoffrey said no more on the point, chiefly because he had no more to
say. Yet it was haunting him now as it had done for some time past. It
filled his mind as he made his way down the cliffs after luncheon. And
then, to his surprise, as he gained the sands he saw a figure rise from
the rocks and flit along the beach until it flashed round a distant
point.
It was the girl who bore that surprising resemblance to Marion. She was
dressed, as before, in a blue skirt and red tam-o'-shanter.
With a sudden impulse Geoffrey followed. His feet flew over the heavy
sands, making no noise. As he turned the rocky point he saw no signs of
the girl, but there on the beach with her sketch-book on her knee was
Marion herself, so deeply interested in manipulating her water colors
that she did not see Geoffrey till he hailed her.
"Did you see her?" Geoffrey gasped.
Marion smiled at his excited face.
"See whom?" she asked. "Oh, yes, some girl did pass me; but I was so
busily engaged that I did not look up. How do you think my sketch is
progressing? I have been at it all the morning. Vera made me a small
bet that I should not finish it to day, so I am going to win my bet, or
perish in the attempt."
Geoffrey was hardly listening. He recollected that there had been some
little chaff at luncheon over some sketch, but he had paid little heed
to the subject.
"It was the same girl," he said. "The girl so like you. Oh, Marion, how
unfortunate you did not look up!"
"It was indeed," Marion replied. She appeared to be deeply interested.
"I would have given anything to see her. But it is not too late. Put my
materials in your boat, Geoff, and I will follow up the cliffs. I can't
be very much use--I'm afraid--but at any rate I may solve this much of
the mystery."
Geoffrey returned to his boat. It seemed very strange to him that Marion
should not have seen the girl, and also that on each occasion these two
should have been so close together without meeting.
Geoffrey pushed his boat out, got his sails up, and then stood out for
the bay. It was very quiet, and no other boats were to be seen. One or
two of the upper windows of the castle were visible from there, but no
other signs of habitation.
The breeze freshened as Geoffrey reached the open sea. Some distance
from him a pile of wreckage covered with a mass of seaweed floated on
the water.
"I'll anchor here and get my lines out," said Geoffrey.
He luffed and as he did so a puff of wind filled the sail. The mast gave
an ominous crack, and the whole thing snapped and went by the board.
Geoffrey stared with widely open eyes. The wind was as nothing, barely
enough to belly the sail. Then he looked down and saw that the mast had
been almost sawn away. Somebody had cut it nearly through, so that the
first puff would suffice.
Geoffrey felt vaguely alarmed and uneasy. He was a good four miles from
shore and was an indifferent swimmer. The sea was too dangerous and
rough for bathing. There might be further treachery. He sat down and
pulled hard at the oars with the idea of returning to the beach again.
As he bent his back to the work, he toppled over the seat with two short
stumps in his hands. The oars, too, had been sawed through and Geoffrey
was helpless, four miles from land in an open boat, with no means of
progress and nobody in sight.
The position was alarming. There would be nothing for it but to wait
until some passing craft came along and picked him up. But the time went
by without any sign of a boat and starvation might be the result. Nor
was the position improved when it began to dawn upon Geoffrey that the
boat was filling fast.
He saw that a large hole had been bored in the bottom and filled with
some kind of substance that slowly dissolved in the water. With a tin
dipper Geoffrey worked away with all his might, but he could only keep
the water from rising higher, and knew that the exertion would soon tell
upon him.
"Help!" he cried. "Help! help! help!"
He ceased to call as suddenly as he had begun. What was the use of
calling so long as nobody could hear him? And why waste the breath that
would be so precious to him later? He could not see that the mass of
wreckage and seaweed had drifted close to the boat. He saw nothing till
a line thrown into the boat struck him smartly on the face. He looked
up.
"Can you manage to keep her afloat?" a hoarse voice came from the
wreckage.
"For an hour, perhaps," Geoffrey replied. "Why?"
"That will do," said the other. "I've got a paddle here. Hitch the rope
on to the nose of the boat and bail out for all you are worth. This is
another of the princess's little tricks. I expected it. Only it hasn't
turned out quite in the way that I anticipated. Now, bail away."
"Tchigorsky," Geoffrey gasped. "Tchigorsky!"
"Very much at your service. I rigged up this contrivance this morning
and pushed off with it, not long before you came down. But never mind
me. Stick to your dipper, and I'll tell you all about it when we are
ashore."
It was hard and weary work for both of them, but it was accomplished at
last. Geoffrey was utterly exhausted when the boat was safely beached,
and Tchigorsky, too, felt the effect of his exertions. He lifted himself
cautiously off his raft and made a dart for one of the caves.
Inside he had dry clothing, long flowing robes, wig, and hair for his
face, pigments that changed the hue of one hemisphere to that of
another. Geoffrey, limp and exhausted, watched the artistic
transformation with admiration.
"It's wonderful," he said, "but then you are a wonderful man,
Tchigorsky. How did it all happen? Who did it?"
Tchigorsky smiled as he touched up his face.
"It was inspired by a woman and carried out by a woman," he said. "I
dared not warn you before you started, and indeed I expected further
developments. But a woman doctored your boat for you."
Geoffrey started as an idea came to him.
"Was she young and good looking?" he asked "Dressed in----"
"Dressed," Tchigorsky smiled, "in a blue serge dress and a red
tam-o'-shanter. I need not ask if you have met the lady before."