The Man from Brodney's Part 44

Chase and Selim came down upon this little low-toned picture. The former paused an instant and smiled joyously in the darkness.

"Come," was all he said. Without a word the three arose and started off down the road. A few hundred feet farther on, Selim abruptly turned off among the trees. They made their way slowly, cautiously to a point scarcely a hundred feet from the wall and somewhat to the right of the small gate. Here he left them and crept stealthily away. A few minutes later he crept back to them, a soft hiss on his lips.

"Five men are near the gate," he whispered. "They watch so closely that no one may go to rescue those who have disappeared. Friends are hidden inside the wall, ready to open the gate at a signal. They have waited with Neenah all night. And day is near, sahib."

"We must attack at once," said Chase. "We can take them by surprise. No killing, mind you. They're not looking for anything to happen outside the walls. It will be easy if we are careful. No shooting unless necessary. If we should fail to surprise them, Selim and I will dash off into the forest and they will follow us, Then, Deppingham, you and Browne get Lady Deppingham inside the gate. We'll look out for ourselves. Quiet now!"

Five shadowy figures soon were distinguished huddled close to the wall below the gate. The sense of sight had become keen during those trying hours in the darkness.

The islanders were conversing in low tones, a word or two now and then reaching the ears of the others. It was evident from what was being said, that, earlier in the evening, messengers had carried the news from Rasula to the town; the entire population was now aware of the astounding capture of the two heirs. There had been rejoicing; it was easy to picture the populace lying in wait for the expected relief party from the chateau.

Suddenly a blinding, mysterious light flashed upon the muttering group.

As they fell back, a voice, low and firm, called out to them:

"Not a sound or you die!"

Four unwavering rifles were bearing upon the surprised islanders and four very material men were advancing from the ghostly darkness. An electric lantern shot a ray of light athwart the scene.

"Drop your guns--quick!" commanded Chase. "Don't make a row!"

Paralysed with fear and amazement, the men obeyed. They could not have done otherwise. The odds were against them; they were bewildered; they knew not how to combat what seemed to them an absolutely supernatural force.

While the three white men kept them covered with their rifles, Selim ran to the gate, uttering the shrill cry of a night bird. There was a rush of feet inside the walls, subdued exclamations, and then a glad cry.

"Quick!" called Selim. The keys rattled in the locks, the bolts were thrown down, and an instant later, Lady Deppingham was flying across the s.p.a.ce which intervened between her and the gate, where five or six figures were huddled and calling out eagerly for haste.

The men were beside her a moment later, possessed of the weapons of the helpless sentinels. With a crash the gates were closed and a joyous laugh rang out from the exultant throat of Hollingsworth Chase.

"By the Lord Harry, this is worth while!" he shouted. Outside, the maddened guards were sounding the tardy alarm. Chase called out to them and told them where they could find the four men in the forest. Then he turned to follow the group that had scurried off toward the chateau. The first grey shade of day was coming into the night.

He saw Neenah ahead of him, standing still in the centre of the gravelled path. Beyond her was the tall figure of a man.

"You are a trump, Neenah," cried Chase, hurrying up to her. "A Persian angel!"

It was not Neenah's laugh that replied. Chase gasped in amazement and then uttered a cry of joy.

The Princess Genevra, slim and erect, was standing before him, her hand touching her turban in true military salute, soft laughter rippling from her lips.

In the exuberance of joy, he clasped that little hand and crushed it against his lips.

"You!" he exclaimed.

"s.h.!.+" she warned, "I have retained my guard of honour."

He looked beyond her and beheld the tall, soldierly figure of a Rapp-Thorberg guardsman.

"The devil!" fell involuntarily from his lips.

"Not at all. He is here to keep me from going to the devil," she cried so merrily that he laughed aloud with her in the spirit of unbounded joy. "Come! Let us run after the others. I want to run and dance and sing."

He still held her hand as they ran swiftly down the drive, followed closely by the faithful sergeant.

"You are an angel," he said in her ear. She laughed as she looked up into his face.

"Yes--a Persian angel," she cried. "It's so much easier to run well in a Persian angel's costume," she added.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

A PRESCRIBED MALADY

"You are wonderful, staying out there all night watching for--us." He was about to say "me."

"How could any one sleep? Neenah found this dress for me--aren't these baggy trousers funny? She rifled the late Mr. Wyckholme's wardrobe. This costume once adorned a sultana, I'm told. It is a most priceless treasure. I wore it to-night because I was much less conspicuous as a sultana than I might have been had I gone to the wall as a princess."

"I like you best as the Princess," he said, frankly surveying her in the grey light.

"I think I like myself as the Princess, too," she said navely. He sighed deeply. They were quite close to the excited group on the terrace when she said: "I am very, very happy now, after the most miserable night I have ever known. I was so troubled and afraid----"

"Just because I went away for that little while? Don't forget that I am soon to go out from you for all time. How then?"

"Ah, but then I will have Paris," she cried gaily. He was puzzled by her mood--but then, why not? What could he be expected to know of the moods of royal princesses? No more than he could know of their loves.

Lady Deppingham was got to bed at once. The Princess, more thrilled by excitement than she ever had been in her life, attended her friend. In the sanct.i.ty of her chamber, the exhausted young Englishwoman bared her soul to this wise, sympathetic young woman in Persian vestment.

"Genevra," she said solemnly, in the end, "take warning from my example.

When you once are married, don't trifle with other men--not even if you shouldn't love your husband. Sooner or later you'd get tripped up. It doesn't pay, my dear. I never realised until tonight how much I really care for Deppy and I am horribly afraid that I've lost something I can never recover. I've made him unhappy and--and--all that. Can you tell me what it is that made me--but never mind! I'm going to be good."

"You were not in love with Mr. Browne. That is why I can't understand you, Agnes."

"My dear, I don't understand myself. How can I expect you or my husband to understand me? How could I expect it of Bobby Browne? Oh, dear; oh, dear, how tired I am! I think I shall never move out of this bed again.

What a horrible, horrible time I've had." She sat up suddenly and stared wide-eyed before her, looking upon phantoms that came out of the hours just gone.

"Hush, dear! Lie down and go to sleep. You will feel better in a little while." Lady Agnes abruptly turned to her with a light in her eyes that checked the kindly impulses.

"Genevra, you are in love--madly in love with Hollingsworth Chase. Take my advice: marry him. He's one man in a--" Genevra placed her hand over the lips of the feverish young woman.

"I will not listen to anything more about Mr. Chase," she said firmly.

"I am tired--tired to death of being told that I should marry him."

"But you love him," Lady Agnes managed to mumble, despite the gentle impediment.

"I _do_ love him, yes, I do love him," cried the Princess, casting reserve to the winds. "He knows it--every one knows it. But marry him?

No--no--no! I shall marry Karl. My father, my mother, my grandfather, have said so--and I have said it, too. And his father and grandfather and a dozen great grandparents have ordained that he shall marry a princess and I a prince, That ends it, Agnes! Don't speak of it again."

She cast herself down upon the side of the bed and clenched her hands in the fierceness of despair and--decision. After a moment, Lady Agnes said dreamily: "I climbed up the ladder to make a 'ladys.h.i.+p' of myself by marriage and I find I love my husband. I daresay if you should go down the ladder a few rounds, my dear, you might be as lucky. But take my advice, if you _won't_ marry Hollingsworth Chase, don't let him come to Paris."