At the very moment when Wilbur Gaylord was plotting the ruin of the
American end of the Starbuck syndicate, Ray Folsom and Eve sat talking
in a comfortable sitting room of the imposing Lord Derricote castle off
the Isle of Skye.
Once the Raven had set her bows toward the island and Starbuck had
realized that Ray knew all, so to speak, he had raised all embargoes and
permitted Ray to talk with Eve at will. In fact, Starbuck, with a great
show of mock courtesy, had introduced the pair.
“We all may as well be comfortable,” he remarked. “You’ll both like
Derricote Castle. We are more than hospitable there.”
“Can’t bear to see us go, eh?” Ray flung in.
“On the contrary, I shall be no end relieved when you are gone,” laughed
Starbuck.
In spite of himself, Ray could not but admire the cool recklessness of
the man. He went so far as to venture: “Seems to me you are storing up a
whole lot of trouble for yourself, Mr. Starbuck.”
To which the other retorted: “You just ought to see me sidestep. My
footwork is faultless, as you will observe one day.”
Eve, Ray found, was the most self-confident, cocksure female he had ever
come across. She was openly contemptuous of Starbuck.
“You are riding for an awful bump,” she frankly told that individual.
“No matter what you do, my father will have your scalp. Beside him, you
are something less than zero. I have seen better men than you try to
outwit him. That’s why I do not care much what you do with me. I just
feel sorry for what’s going to happen to you.”
Which caused Starbuck to grin and say: “You may be right. Who knows?”
But one could see that the man felt he was perfectly safe.
Of course, while the powerful radio plant on the Raven had been more
than active, neither Ray nor Eve could know what was being sent through
the air to the Gaylord station across the sea. They hooked this activity
up with the plans of Starbuck to obtain a ransom, of course. But as to
the terms, they were quite in the dark.
Derricote Castle would have been a charming spot, under other
conditions, Ray thought. But it was the winter season when, in that part
of the world, a grayish yellow fog obscures land and sea most of the
time. Ray had heard about Scottish winters, but never had experienced
one before.
Still, the uncertainty of the game in which he and Eve were pawns made
up for a lot, and on the whole life at Derricote Castle was lazy and
comfortable. The island, as has been said, was twelve miles off Skye,
and the Raven rode snugly in a small cove which gave the island
something the shape of a crescent moon.
Captain Trumper remained on board the yacht, as did Sayles. The men,
Grundy and Mapes, slipped into the rôle of house servants under the
direction of Koli, who seemed to be everywhere at once.
The wireless operator, whose name Ray had not heard, of course remained
at his post. Miss Dollis acted as a sort of companion-keeper to Eve.
The two prisoners were free to prowl about the island except when
fishing or other boats came in close. Then they were gently but firmly
detained indoors. Nothing rough, but still effective, as on the occasion
when Ray harbored the thought of swimming ashore at Liverpool.
Such scant information as they were able to glean was coaxed out of Miss
Dollis by Eve. The confidence occurred after the lady had partaken too
liberally of champagne. Anyhow, Eve succeeded in drawing the other out
with astonishing results.
Starbuck, Miss Dollis declared, was the master criminal of the world.
Always he worked on a grand scale and never had spent a night in jail.
He was practically unknown to the police. She laughingly told how he
once had sold a southern island to a group of wise New York and London
investors.
He had chartered a ship and escorted his prospective victims in person.
First he had posed as a rich globe-trotter for the benefit of the
Imperial Fruit Company officials, and obtained a letter from the
president to the superintendent residing on the island, which itself was
owned by the fruit company.
The letter bespoke every courtesy for its bearer, and the glib Starbuck
managed to convey the impression that he was the owner of the profitable
acres which he exhibited to his guests.
Having first convinced the agent that he was about to perpetrate a
harmless hoax on his friends by pretending to sell them the island, and
having thus made an ally of the man, he had gone blithely about with
maps and figures, and so well lined them up that, five days after the
ship returned to her home port, Starbuck had given bogus deeds to a
million dollars’ worth of fruit acreage and had in his pockets something
like one-third of that sum to go on with.
Miss Dollis, who admitted that living by her wits appealed to her, owned
to having worked twice before with Starbuck.
Eve retailed this to Ray, and both of them laughed over it.
“But,” declared Eve, “my father is the rock Mr. Smarty Starbuck is going
to crack up on. You’ll see.”
Her confidence was infectious; nevertheless, Ray was constantly casting
about for a plan that might hold promise of escape for him and the girl.
They were not under constant surveillance, although a sort of watch
tower had been rigged over the stable, and one of the three men was to
be found there most of every day. There were a few spots on the island,
however, that were not visible to the sentinel.
At least, Ray had noted some such places. He wondered how he could turn
this feature to account, but never imagined that his chance would come
as it did or turn out as it did.
It was the sight of a sea plane, probably from the naval base at
Greenock, that set him thinking. On two different occasions he had
noticed the craft, flying at a moderate altitude off the island.
And having looked the ground over carefully, the young man proceeded to
appropriate a certain flash light that normally reposed on a little
shelf at the head of the flight of steps leading to the wine cellar.
Any aviator would be familiar with Morse, Ray knew. He would watch his
opportunity, and if the plane ever got close enough, there was a slight
depression some two hundred yards to the west of the house, where he
could conceal himself and flash a signal to the pilot—a message that
would bring help quickly.
He confided his hopes to Eve, and the girl went dizzy with excitement
over the prospect of managing their own release. She implored him to be
careful, however, to leave the torch in its accustomed place until he
should again glimpse the plane. It was two days afterward that the
chance came.
Along about three o’clock in the afternoon, when the short northern day
was merging into dusk, Ray caught the drone of a motor. Hastily
obtaining the torch, he slipped away to the spot he had in mind and
concealed himself in the hollow where he had figured he would be
unobserved. Then waited with beating heart for the plane to approach
close enough for communication.
Luck favored him. The sea plane passed to the north some two miles off
the shore, then swung about and laid her course almost directly over the
island. When she had reached the point where the visibility was, in
Ray’s judgment, best, he let go with his flash.
Swiftly he spelled the words:
_Send help quickly._
This message he repeated the second time, and was gratified to see the
machine turn and circle a little lower, perhaps, he thought, to better
read the flashes.
And then, just at the instant of his triumph, when the hope of actual
rescue surged high within him, there came a startling interruption.
He had reached the last two letters of the last word when the sharp
crack of a rifle sounded and the torch in his hand flew into a hundred
pieces, while the shock of the impact jarred his arm so severely that at
first he thought that member had been struck.
Through the gathering dusk a diminutive figure came running; Koli’s
voice, warped into a snarl, cut in with “What Missa Folsom up to? Come
out here or I shall kill you!”
Ray turned to face the Jap’s automatic, and knew that he had been so
careless as to expose his flash to the view of the Jap at his post in
the watch tower.
Now, urged by the enraged Koli, Ray marched meekly enough to the house.
There he found Starbuck well up in the air.
The latter snapped: “You’re a bigger fool than I thought you, Folsom.
You can’t get away with that stuff.”
“Perhaps not,” Ray told him, confident that his message had been
absorbed, “but I had a good try, at any rate.”
For the first time that evening, both the prisoners were under close
guard. Starbuck kept going outside to listen, and near ten o’clock he
returned from one of these expeditions fairly flaming with anger.
To Grundy and Mapes he said:
“Bundle these two into the wine vault, then come back here.”
Whereupon Ray and Eve were forced to the cellar and locked in among the
tiers of musty bottles.
Above stairs, Starbuck watched anxiously as flares were dropped off his
landing place and three sea planes came to rest close to the shore. He
was ready and waiting when their crews, well armed and alert, waded
ashore in the shallow water and dragged their planes to points of
safety.
A young officer led his companions quickly to where Starbuck stood, Koli
at his elbow.
“What’s the trouble here?” demanded the officer.
“No trouble,” answered Starbuck. “That is, nothing real. Fact is, one of
my chaps got blotto this afternoon and fancied he was back in no man’s
land or somewhere; began sending out distress signals. Still thinks it
was funny, I dare say, if he isn’t asleep. I’m sorry, boys. It’s a pity
you should be bothered like this, but if you’ll join me in something to
drink and a bite of supper I shall appreciate it. What?”
Disgruntled though they were, the hoodwinked flyers could not see how
they stood to lose by this arrangement, and accompanied Starbuck to the
house, where they proceeded to get tight enough to carry out some
intricate flying on their way back to their base at Greenock. And when
they were well away Starbuck ordered Ray and Eve released.
“You see,” he remarked, when the crestfallen pair faced him, “it’s one
thing to shoot off a gun, and another thing to hit something. I hope to
Heaven I’m through with you both and well away from here in a few days.
You make me nervous.”
“Damned shame,” Ray muttered as the key was turned on him that night.
“Those chaps were there, all right. But, by George, Starbuck is no
slouch. Eve’s father will have to go some. And now I’ll have to begin
all over again.”