It was one o'clock; the hall time-piece gave a sharp "ting," to proclaim
the hour, as Jane looked down over the balustrade, vainly trying to
pierce the darkness below. For all was dark in the house, and as far as
she could judge, every one was buried in slumber; but she trembled as
she passed softly through the corridors, past door after door, beyond
each of which some one was sleeping, and in spite of her utmost efforts
her dress seemed to rustle loudly. Now and again, too, a board creaked
sharply, with a sound that sent a chill through her whole frame. But
there was no help for it now, and gliding at length down the grand
staircase, she paused by the damaged library door to listen.
All still, but the wind was getting up and beginning to moan round the
house, sighing in a way that in her excited state seemed to reproach
her, and she stopped, trembling violently.
Why had she not told him to come to the library window? The door would
have yielded to her touch, and she could have reached out to speak to
him, while now she had to slip bolts and bars, and to turn a key, one
and all of which gave forth sounds that seemed to make her blood run
cold. Once more she stopped; but summoning her resolution, she
proceeded, and the inner lobby door was passed and closed behind her.
She stood upon the floor-cloth, listening and trying to pierce the gloom
of the great billiard-room to the right, but she could only make out the
table, covered with its loose, white dust-cloth. The coats and hats,
though, against the wall, looked ghostly, and it was as much as she
could do to summon courage to proceed, till, with many a choking sob,
she told herself that it was only for his love that she did it, and that
she would give him one kiss, and then they would part till he could come
back a better man. For weren't they young even yet? She was only
twenty-four, and she could wait, for she loved John, after all, with all
his failings.
Yes, she loved John; and that thought carried her to the door, and she
placed her hand upon the top bolt just as a faint tap sounded upon the
little slip of a glass window at the side, when there came a louder gust
of wind, telling of the coming storm, and seeming to her excited fancy
like a warning. She hesitated, and stood trembling like one of the
leaves without, whose rustling she could plainly hear.
It was only to say good-bye, though, perhaps for many years, and it
would be so cruel to let him go without, and besides, it was not wise to
tarry, for there was the faint possibility of McCray being on the watch,
though this coming round to the other side of the house would, in such a
case, perhaps, throw him off the scent.
Again her hand was on the fastenings, and again she paused, listening to
the warning voice within her; but a second faint tap roused her, bolt
and lock were thrown back, and, with a loud crack, as if remonstrating
at being opened at such unholy hours, the door was thrown wide.
The next instant Jane was in Gurdon's arms; her own, too, flung round
his neck, and her lips warmly meeting his kisses, as she sobbed wildly
and clung to him, thinking of the parting soon to follow.
"Let me shut the door, though," she whispered, disengaging herself after
a few minutes.
"No--no," whispered Gurdon, hoarsely, in reply, as he again folded her
tightly in his arms. "Leave that as it is; but, tell me, are they all
abed?"
"Oh yes, hours ago," she answered; "but you must not stay a minute
longer, for I believe McCray saw your footsteps last night, and perhaps
he's watching."
"Confound him--yes, he nearly kicked me as he came by," growled Gurdon.
"Lucky for him, though, he didn't. But are you sure you've got down
unknown to all the girls?"
"Oh yes--certain," was the whispered answer. "And now, John, you'll
try, won't you? You will try to keep away from the drink and get on?
and--Please don't hold me so tightly."
"Yes, yes--all right. I'll try," he whispered, excitedly--"but be
quiet; don't struggle. I'm not going to hurt you, you little fool.
There, be quiet!"
Jane's heart beat more violently than ever, and she panted as his arm
grasped her more tightly. There was a strange excitement creeping
through her frame, she knew not why; but she felt that something was
wrong, though no suspicion of what was impending had yet flashed across
her mind.
"Tell me quickly," he said now, "has the new butler come?"
"No," she answered, still panting heavily. "Master's been too ill to
see about such matters."
"Does any one sleep in the pantry?"
"No," said Jane; "but why do you ask?"
For response Gurdon gave utterance to a low, sharp cough; when, gazing
wonderingly at him, as if for explanation of his coldness, a faint
rustle fell upon Jane's ears; there was a step outside, and as she
started to close the door the blackened faces of two men appeared. A
half-uttered groan passed her lips, and a horrible feeling of despair
clutched her heart, as at one glance she saw that she had been betrayed,
and that the man she loved was a greater scoundrel than she could have
believed. It was all plain enough: she had been deluded into admitting
an enemy--into playing false to her master; and these men would plunder
the house--perhaps murder somebody before they got off with their booty.
She thought not of herself; her whole aim now was to alarm the inmates,
and as her lips parted she would have uttered a shriek, but that it was
too late, for Gurdon's hand was over her mouth, pressing it tightly--
almost to suffocation, and the next instant she was thrown upon the
floor.
"Make so much as a sound, and one of these men will make an end of you
as soon as look at you!" hissed Gurdon, tearing off her apron and
thrusting it into her mouth. "Now, then, you proud jade, I've got the
better of you this time, drat you; and as soon as we've done, you shall
follow where I like. Here, Joe, stop with her, and if she moves, stun
her with your preserver. She's my property now. Come along, Harry,
this way."
For a few minutes Jane had struggled fiercely, but in vain; a piece of
rope was tied tightly round both arms and ankles, and every effort to
recover her freedom only resulted in acute pain. There was only one
thing open to her, and that was to get to her feet and contrive to fall
against the glass door, when she hoped that the crash might alarm the
house, or at least be heard by some one. To appeal to Gurdon was, she
knew, useless, and for awhile the despair engendered by the thoughts of
her misery crushed down every other feeling, but only for a few short
moments. Her whole thought directly after was on duty to those whom she
felt that she had betrayed, and, taking advantage of her guard's back
being turned, she contrived--how, she knew not--to get upon her feet.
Another moment, and she would have been at the glass door, when, with a
savage oath, the more horrible for being hissed in a low tone, Gurdon
stepped back, caught her by her back hair, and dragged her down, at the
same time striking her brutally across the face.
Jane moaned feebly, but it was not from pain, but despair at not being
able to help others. The despair, though, was driven away, and her dark
eyes flashed a fierce resentment as they looked full in Gurdon's, which
shrank from the encounter.
"Watch her this time, will you!" he said, brutally. "Hold a knife over
her if you like, while I go to the door!"
"Hadn't you best fasten the other first?" growled a companion.
"What, and shut off a way to bolt!" said the other. "No, thanky. Now,
Gurdon, look alive; we're wasting time."
"Hold your tongue, will you, with names," growled Gurdon. "Now then,
mind the chairs along this passage. No lights, mind--not even a match."
"Here, stay a moment," whispered the other. "This she-wolf will be
loose. Drat you--be quiet, will you!"
In effect, with a terrible effort, Jane had freed one of her hands, and
was struggling to tear the gag from her mouth, when, as her guard struck
at her savagely, there came a dull, heavy crash, and he rolled over upon
his side.
Book 1, Chapter XXIV.