My Lady of Doubt Part 34

He shook his head.

"Simply 'Mortimer.' It occurred to me he could turn them over to Clinton, accuse the Colonel of treason, and share in the confiscation of this estate, or else hold them as a threat over your sister. I burned them."

He was silent for a long minute, breathing hard; then he thrust out his hand and clasped mine.

"The d.a.m.ned villain!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, his voice trembling. "Every move he has made has been an attempt to ruin us. I can see it now. Do you suppose Claire really cares for the fellow?"

"I am very sure she does not."

"Then what, in heaven's name, does she let him hang around for? I always hated the sight of his black face and infernal grin, but somehow, I thought she rather liked him. I wonder if he can be there now! If he is, then he and f.a.gin are up to some devilment."

"And what that may be we'll never discover by talking here," I put in sternly, suddenly realizing we were wasting time. "Come, let's get around to the north side."

We came in back of the summer-house, and had just left the road, when three hors.e.m.e.n galloped past, straight up toward the front door, which stood wide open. The black shadow of a man appeared in the glow of light, shading his eyes as he looked out into the darkness.

"Is that you, Culver?"

"Yes," sullenly, the speaker swinging down from the saddle.

"Well, you've been a h.e.l.l of a while getting here. f.a.gin will skin you alive; it's nearly daylight already."

"Did the best I could; the cantin' hypocrite wasn't at home; had to go clear to Medford after him. Come on now, get out o' that!"

He dragged the centre figure roughly from his horse, and hustled him up the steps.

"The ol' fool thinks we're goin' to kill him, I reckon; been prayin' for an hour past. Bill got so mad he choked him twice, but it didn't do no good. Here, take him along in, will yer, and let us hustle some grub."

The man addressed grabbed the limp figure far from gently, and hustled him through the door. As the others disappeared, leading the three horses, Mortimer grasped my sleeve.

"That's preacher Jenks," he whispered, "from down at the Cross Roads.

What can f.a.gin want of him?"

"If f.a.gin is Grant's tool, and Grant is here," I answered soberly, "I am ready to make a guess at what is up." The recollection of the Captain's threat at the summer-house instantly recurred to memory. "Here, you lads, skulk down into these bushes, while I try that balcony. That is the library, isn't it, Eric? I thought so; I've been under guard there twice.

The window shows no light, but some one is in the room beyond. Give me a leg up, Tom, and stand close so you can hear if I speak."

It was not high from the ground, but I could not grip the top of the rail without help. With Tom's a.s.sistance I went over lightly enough, and without noise. The window was the one which had been broken during the first a.s.sault on the house, and never repaired. I found ample room for crawling through. The door into the hall stood partly ajar, a little light streaming through the crack, so I experienced no difficulty in moving about freely. A glance told me the apartment was unoccupied, although I heard the murmur of distant voices earnestly conversing.

Occasionally an emphatic oath sounded clear and distinct. My first thought was that the men with me would be better concealed here than in the bushes below, and I leaned over the rail, and bade them join me.

Within another minute the three of us were in the room intently listening. I stole across to the crack of the door. The hall was empty so far as I could see looking toward the rear of the house, and the voices we heard were evidently in the dining-room. Occasionally there was a clatter of dishes, or the sc.r.a.ping of a chair on the polished floor. One voice sang out an order to a servant, a nasal voice, slightly thickened by wine, and I wheeled about, gazing inquiringly into Mortimer's face.

"That's Grant," he said quickly, "and half drunk."

"I thought so; that's when he is really dangerous. Stay close here; if the hallway is clear I am going to get into the shadow there under the stairs. Have your weapons ready."

Where the fellow was who had been at the front door I could not determine. He had disappeared somehow, and I slipped along the wall for the necessary ten feet like a shadow, and crept in beneath the shelter of the staircase. From here I could look into the room opposite, although only a portion of the s.p.a.ce was revealed. There was no cloth on the table, and but a few dishes, but I counted a half-dozen bottles, mostly empty, and numerous gla.s.ses. Grant was at one end, his uniform dusty and stained, but his eyes alone betraying intoxication. Beside him was a tall, stoop-shouldered man, with matted beard, wearing the coat of a British Grenadier, but with all insignia of rank ripped from it. He had a mean mouth, and yellow, fang-like teeth were displayed whenever he spoke.

Beyond this fellow, and only half seen from where I crouched, was a heavy-set individual, his face almost purple, with a thatch of uncombed red hair. He wore the c.o.c.ked hat of a Dragoon, pushed to the back of his head, his feet were encased in long cavalry boots, crossed on the table, and he was pulling furiously at a pipe, the stem gripped firmly between his teeth. Who the bearded man might be I had no means of knowing, but this beauty was without doubt f.a.gin. I stared at him, fascinated, recalling the stories of his fiendish cruelty, my heart thumping violently, while my fingers gripped the b.u.t.t of my pistol. Then, without warning, a man stepped out of the darkened parlor, pa.s.sed within three feet of my hiding place, and stood within the dining-room door. The three within looked at him, and f.a.gin roared out:

"What is it now? Heard from Culver?"

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

THEY SEND FOR CLAIRE

I could only see the fellow's back, with hair hanging low over the collar, but his voice was clear.

"Got here five minutes ago. The preacher is locked in the parlor."

"By G.o.d! Good! Now we can play out the game, eh, Captain? Or," turning about suspiciously, and staring at the other, who sat with eyes shaded by one hand, "are you weakening as the time draws near?"

"h.e.l.l's fire! No! We gave her a choice, and she only laughed at it. I'll go on now to spite the wench; only I think we should bring in the boy first, and prove to her that we've actually got him."

f.a.gin emptied the gla.s.s in his hand, giving utterance to an oath as he replaced it on the table.

"Yer as chicken-hearted drunk as sober, Grant," he said coa.r.s.ely. "Did yer hear the fool, Jones, an' after all I've told him?"

The bearded man nodded silently, his eyes s.h.i.+fting from one face to the other. f.a.gin grinned, and poured out another drink.

"Now listen again," he went on, half angrily. "That boy's worth money ter us--a thousand pounds,--but it wouldn't do yer any good ter be mixed up in the affair, would it? What chance would yer have in this estate, or fer yer commission either, if Howe or Clinton got an inklin' of yer game?

Good Lord, man! they'd hang yer instead of the other fellow. You'll have ter lie some as it is, I reckon, ter explain why yer left Sir Henry, an'

came down here. Have yer got that fact inter yer brains?"

Grant glared at him wickedly, but remained silent across the table.

"Yer already in bad enough, without huntin' more trouble. Better leave the boy alone. I thought, at first, we'd have ter use him, but I don't now. Let the girl believe he's deserted, and that yer in a position ter help him. That will serve yer purpose better than the other scheme. It may awaken her grat.i.tude, her sweet love!"

"d.a.m.n her love!"

"So it isn't love, eh, that makes yer so anxious. I thought as much. What is it, then--revenge?"

Grant held his breath a moment, his dull eyes on the faces of the two men.

"Well, I might as well tell you," he snarled at last. "I loved her once, I guess; anyhow I wanted her badly enough. I want her now, but not in just the same way. I want to show her I'm the master. I want to give her a lesson, and that cub brother of hers. I'd have got them all, the Colonel with them, if that d.a.m.ned Colonial spy hadn't stolen my coat. I had them, dead to rights, f.a.gin, and the papers to prove it. Now I don't care how it's done, so I get her. I thought she'd marry me to save the boy, but if she won't, why then, you carry out your plan--what is it?"

f.a.gin laughed, again emptying his gla.s.s.

"Easy enough. She's alone, except fer her father, and he can't get out of bed. We've got Jenks here, an' the d.a.m.ned old coward will do whatever I tell him."

"But she despises me--"

"Oh, no! We'll make you a victim. That will leave things in proper shape between yer two. We'll play it off as a drunken lark--eh, Jones? My G.o.d!

it won't be the first time we've done the trick either. Do you remember that love-sick couple over at Tom's River, Ned? Never laughed so much in my life. This is a better one. Lord! but won't old Mortimer rave, an'

mighty little good it will do him. Come, what do yer say, Grant? Are yer game?"

"h.e.l.l's fire--yes." He got to his feet, gripping the back of his chair.

"Bring--bring 'em in; this is a good place."