THE VAILED PASSENGER.
We must return to the night of the murder, and to the man and woman whom
Salome Levison heard, and did not merely "dream" that she heard,
conversing under her balcony at midnight.
When left alone in her dark and silent hiding-place, the woman waited
long and impatiently. Sometimes she crept out from her shadowy nook, and
stole a look up to the casements of the castle, but they were all dark
and silent, and closely shut, save one immediately above her head, which
stood open, though neither lighted nor occupied.
She had waited perhaps an hour when stealthy footsteps were heard
approaching, and not one, but two men came up whispering in hurried and
agitated tones. She caught a few words of their troubled talk.
"You have betrayed me! I never meant, under any circumstances, that you
should have done such a deed!" said one.
"It was necessary to our safety. We should have been discovered and
arrested," said the other.
"You have brought the curse of Cain upon my head!" groaned the first
speaker.
"Come, come, my lord, brace up! No one intended what has happened. It was
an accident, a calamity, but it is an accomplished fact, and 'what is
done, is done,' and 'what is past remedy is past regret.' If the old man
hadn't squealed--"
"Hush! burn you! the girl will hear!" whispered the first speaker, as
they approached the woman under the balcony.
"Rose, here; don't speak. Take this bag; be very careful of it; do not
let it for a moment go out of your sight, or even out of your hand. Go
to Lone station. The train for London stops there at 12:15. Take a
second-class ticket, keep your face covered with a thick vail until you
get to London, and to the house. I will join you there in a few days,"
said the first speaker, earnestly.
"Why canna ye gae now, my laird?" impatiently inquired the girl.
"It would be dangerous, Rose."
"I'm thinking it is laughing at me ye are, Laird Arondelle. You'll bide
here and marry yon leddy," said the girl, tossing her head.
"No, on my soul! How can I, when I have married you? Have you not got
your marriage certificate with you?"
"Ay, I hae got my lines, but I dinna like ye to bide here, near your
leddy, whiles I gang my lane to London."
"Rose, our safety requires that you should go alone to London. You cannot
trust me; yet see how much I trust you. You have in that bag, which I
have confided to your care, uncounted treasures. Take it carefully to
London and to the house on Westminster Road. Conceal it there and wait
for me."
"Who is yon lad that cam' wi' ye frae the castle?" inquired the girl,
pointing to the other man who had withdrawn apart.
"He is one of the servants of the castle, who is in my confidence. Never
mind him. Hurry away now, my lass. You have just time to cross the bridge
and reach the station, to catch the train. You are not afraid to go
alone?"
"Nay, I'm no feared. But dinna be lang awa' yersel', my laird, or
I shall be thinking my thoughts about yon leddy," said the girl, as she
folded the dark vail around and around the hat, and without further
leave-taking, started off in a brisk walk toward the bridge.
She passed through the castle grounds and over the bridge, and went on to
the station, without having met another human being.
She secured her ticket, as has been related, and when the train stopped,
she took her place on a second-class car.
Being very much of an animal, and very much fatigued, she could not be
kept awake even by the excitement of her novel and perilous position,
but, holding on to her booty, and lulled by the swift motion of the
train, she fell asleep, and slept until eight o'clock next morning,
when she was awakened by the stopping of the train and the bustle of the
arrival at Euston Square Station. Her first thought was for the safety of
her bag. With a start of dismay she missed it from her lap, where she had
been holding it so tightly.
"An' it 's yer little valise yer a looking for, my dear, there it be at
yer feet, where it fell, with a crash, while ye slept. An' there was
anything in it would break, sure it 's broken entirely," said a kindly
man, pointing to the bag upon the floor.
She hastily picked it up.
"Oh! if any one had known what it contains, would it have been left there
in safety all the time I slept?" she asked herself, as her hands closed
tightly upon her recovered treasure.
But the passengers were all leaving the train, and so she got out with
the rest.
She was too cunning to take a cab from the station. She left it on
foot and walked a mile or two, making many turns, before, at length she
hailed a "four wheeler," hired it and directed the cabman to drive to
Number ---- Westminster Road.