Cord and Creese Part 66

Saying this he left the room.

"Where is Edith Brandon?" asked Despard, after he had gone.

"She is here," said Mrs. Thornton.

"Have you seen her?"

"Yes."

"Is she what you antic.i.p.ated?"

"More. She is incredible. She is almost unearthly. I feel awe of her, but not fear. She is too sweet to inspire fear."

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

FLIGHT.

The last entry in Beatrice's journal was made by her in the hope that it might be the last.

In her life at Brandon Hall her soul had grown stronger and more resolute. Besides, it had now come to this, that henceforth she must either stay and accept the punishment which they might contrive or fly instantly.

For she had dared them to their faces; she had told them of their crimes; she had threatened punishment. She had said that she was the avenger of Despard. If she had desired instant death she could have said no more than that. Would they pa.s.s it by? She knew their secret--the secret of secrets; she had proclaimed it to their faces. She had called Potts a Thug and disowned him as her father; what now remained?

But one thing--flight. And this she was fully resolved to try. She prepared nothing. To gain the outside world was all she wished. The need of money was not thought of; nor if it had been would it have made any difference. She could not have obtained it.

The one idea in her mind was therefore flight. She had concealed her journal under a looser piece of the flooring in one of the closets of her room, being unwilling to enc.u.mber herself with it, and dreading the result of a search in case she was captured.

She made no other preparations whatever. A light hat and a thin jacket were all that she took to resist the chill air of March. There was a fever in her veins which was heightened by excitement and suspense.

Mrs. Compton was in her room during the evening. Beatrice said but little. Mrs. Compton talked drearily about the few topics on which she generally spoke. She never dared talk about the affairs of the house.

Beatrice was not impatient, for she had no idea of trying to escape before midnight. She sat silently while Mrs. Compton talked or prosed, absorbed in her own thoughts and plans. The hours seemed to her interminable. Slowly and heavily they dragged on. Beatrice's suspense and excitement grew stronger every moment, yet by a violent effort she preserved so perfect an outward calm that a closer observer than Mrs.

Compton would have failed to detect any emotion.

At last, about ten o'clock, Mrs. Compton retired, with many kind wishes to Beatrice, and many anxious counsels as to her health. Beatrice listened patiently, and made some general remarks, after which Mrs.

Compton withdrew.

She was now left to herself, and two hours still remained before she could dare to venture. She paced the room fretfully and anxiously, wondering why it was that the time seemed so long, and looking from time to time at her watch in the hope of finding that half an hour had pa.s.sed, but seeing to her disappointment that only two or three minutes had gone.

At last eleven o'clock came. She stole out quietly into the hall and went to the top of the grand stairway. There she stood and listened.

The sound of voices came up from the dining-room, which was near the hall-door. She knew to whom those voices belonged. Evidently it was not yet the time for her venture.

She went back, controlling her excitement as best she might. At last, after a long, long suspense, midnight sounded.

Again she went to the head of the stairway. The voices were still heard.

They kept late hours down there. Could she try now, while they were still up? Not yet.

Not yet. The suspense became agonizing. How could she wait? But she went back again to her room, and smothered her feelings until one o'clock came.

Again she went to the head of the stairway. She heard nothing. She could see a light streaming from the door of the dining-hall below. Lights, also, were burning in the hall itself; but she heard no voices.

Softly and quietly she went down stairs. The lights flashed out through the door of the dining-room into the hall; and as she arrived at the foot of the stairs she heard subdued voices in conversation. Her heart beat faster. They were all there! What if they now discovered her! What mercy would they show her, even if they were capable of mercy?

Fear lent wings to her feet. She was almost afraid to breathe for fear that they might hear her. She stole on quietly and noiselessly up the pa.s.sage that led to the north end, and at last reached it.

All was dark there. At this end there was a door. On each side was a kind of recess formed by the pillars of the doorway. The door was generally used by the servants, and also by the inmates of the house for convenience.

The key was in it. There was no light in the immediate vicinity. Around it all was gloom. Near by was a stairway, which led to the servants'

hall.

She took the key in her hands, which trembled violently with excitement, and turned it in the lock.

Scarcely had she done so when she heard footsteps and voices behind her. She looked hastily back, and, to her horror, saw two servants approaching with a lamp. It was impossible for her now to open the door and go out. Concealment was her only plan.

But how? There was no time for hesitation. Without stopping to think she slipped into one of the niches formed by the projecting pillars, and gathered her skirts close about her so as to be as little conspicuous as possible. There she stood awaiting the result. She half wished that she had turned back. For if she were now discovered in evident concealment what excuse could she give? She could not hope to bribe them, for she had no money. And, what was worst, these servants were the two who had been the most insolent to her from the first.

She could do nothing, therefore, but wait. They came nearer, and at last reached the door.

"Hallo!" said one, as he turned the key. "It's been unlocked!"

"It hain't been locked yet," said the other.

"Yes, it has. I locked it myself an hour ago. Who could have been here?"

"Any one," said the other, quietly. "Our blessed young master has, no doubt, been out this way."

"No, he hasn't. He hasn't stirred from his whisky since eight o'clock."

"Nonsense! You're making a fuss about nothing. Lock the door and come along."

"Any how, I'm responsible, and I'll get a precious overhauling if this thing goes on. I'll take the key with me this time."

And saying this, the man locked the door and took out the key. Both of them then descended to the servants' hall.

The noise of that key as it grated in the lock sent a thrill through the heart of the trembling listener. It seemed to take all hope from her.

The servants departed. She had not been discovered. But what was to be done? She had not been prepared for this.

She stood for some time in despair. She thought of other ways of escape.

There was the hall-door, which she did not dare to try, for she would have to pa.s.s directly in front of the dining-room. Then there was the south door at the other end of the building, which was seldom used. She knew of no others. She determined to try the south door.

Quietly and swiftly she stole away, and glided, like a ghost, along the entire length of the building. It was quite dark at the south end as it had been at the north. She reached the door without accident.

There was no key in it. It was locked. Escape by that way was impossible.