CHAPTER XIII
IN THE NIGHT
A wayworn figure, some time thereafter, moved slowly along the desertedroad, where it ran like a winding ribbon over the top of a great bluff.A sea wind, coming in varying gusts, bent low the long grass and rustledin the bushes. The moon had escaped from behind dark clouds in a stormysky and threw its rays far and wide. They imparted a frosty sheen to thewavy surface between road and sea and brightened the thoroughfare,which, lengthening tortuously, disappeared beneath in a tangle of forestor underbrush.
Mr. Heatherbloom gazed wearily down the road, then over the grass. Inthe latter direction, afar, a strip of ocean lay like an argent streamflowing between the top of the bank and the horizon. Toward thatillusory river he, leaving the main highway, walked in somewhatdiscouraged fashion. It might avail him little, so much time hadelapsed, but from the edge of the bluff he would be afforded a view ofthe surrounding country and the topography of the coast.
A vast spread of the ocean unfolded to his gaze before he had reachedthe brink of the prominence. His heavy-lidded eyes, sweeping to theright, rested on a heterogeneous group of dwellings scattered well abovethe sands and directly below a wooded uprising of land. Myriad specks oflight glimmered amid shadowy roofs. Brownville? Undoubtedly! A boardwalk ran along the ocean and a small pier extended like an arm over thewater. On the faintly glistening sands old boats, drawn up here andthere, resembled so many black footprints.
Not far from where Mr. Heatherbloom stood a path went downward, ashorter way to the village than by the road he had just left. He staredunthinkingly a moment at the narrow walk; then began mechanically todescend. A dull realization weighed on him that when he reached hisdestination the woman would be far away. He wondered why he had gone on,under the circumstances--why he had ever thought he stood a ghost of achance of overtaking her? Only the hopelessness of the situation, in allits grim verity, faced him now.
The path zigzagged through the bushes. At a turn the village was lost tosight; in front was a sheer fall to the sea. As he kept on, projectingbranches struck him and raising his hand to guard his face, he, trippedand almost fell. Recovering himself, he glanced down; something hadcaught on his shoe and he leaned over to loosen it. His fingers closedon a long strip of soft substance--a veil, the kind worn by womenmotoring! Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes rested on it apathetically, then witha sudden flash of interest; a faint but heavy perfume emanated from thesilky filament. It was darkish in hue--brown, he should say; the Russianwoman was partial to that color. The thought came to him quickly; hestood bewildered. What if it were hers? Then how had it come here, onthis narrow foot-path, unless--Had the big car stopped at the top of thepromontory and discharged its passengers there? But why should it havedone so; for what possible reason?
He could think of none. Other women came this way--the path was notdifficult. Other women wore brown veils. And yet that odd familiarfragrance--It seemed to belong to a foreign bizarre personality such asSonia Turgeinov's.
Crushing in his palm the veil he thrust it into his pocket. He wouldfind out more below, possibly; if she had actually passed this way. Afeverish zest was born anew; the authorities were looking for her aswell as for himself, he remembered. She, apparently, had so far cleverlyevaded them; if he could but lead them to her he would not mind so muchhis own apprehension. Her presence in the locality at the same time the_Nevski_ had been in the harbor would fairly prove the correctness ofhis theory of Miss Dalrymple's whereabouts. If he could now deliver theRussian woman into the hands of the law, he would have a wedge to forcethe powers that be to give credence to at least the material part of hisstory--that the prince had left port with the young girl--and to compelthem to see the necessity of acting at once. That he, himself, would beheld equally culpable with the woman was of no moment.
Fatigue seemed to fall from his shoulders. He went along more swiftly,inspired with new vague hopes. Down--down! The voice of the sea grewnearer; now he could hear the dull thud of the waves, then the weirdwhistling sounds that succeeded. Springing from a granite out-jutting tothe sands, he looked eagerly, searchingly, this way and that. He saw noone. His gaze lowered and he walked from the dry to the wet strand.There he stopped, an exclamation escaping his lips.
A faint light, falling between black rocks, revealed fresh footprints onthe surface of the sands, and, yes!--a long furrow--the marks of thekeel of a boat. He studied the footprints closer, but withoutdiscovering signs of a woman's; only the indentations of heavy seamen'sboots were in evidence. Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a keendisappointment; then felt abruptly reassured. The impress of her lightertread had been eliminated by the men in lifting and pushing to launchthe boat. Their boots had roughly kicked up the sand thereabouts.
He was fairly satisfied the woman had embarked. The seclusion of thespot favored the assumption; the fishing-boats were all either stranded,or at anchor, nearer the village. But why and whither had she gone? Theocean, in front, failed to answer the latter question, and his glanceturned. On the one hand was the village; on the other, high, almostperpendicular rocks ran seaward, obscuring the view. It would not beeasy to get around that point; without a boat it could not be done.
Mr. Heatherbloom began to walk briskly toward the village; the moonthrew his shadow in odd bobbing motions here and there. Once he stoppedabruptly; some one on the beach afar was approaching. A fisherman? Mr.Heatherbloom crouched back among the rocks, when the person came to ahalt. Clinging to the shadows on the landward side of the beach theyoung man continued to advance, but cautiously, for a single voice mightnow start a general hue and cry. Beyond, closer to town, he could seeother forms, small dark moving spots. Not far distant, however, lay thenearest boat; to get to her he had to expose himself to the paleglimmer. No alternative remained. He stepped quickly across the sand,reached the craft and strove to launch her. But she was clumsy andheavy, and resisted his efforts. The man, whoever he might be, wascoming closer; he called out and Mr. Heatherbloom pushed and struggledmore desperately--without avail! He cast a quick glance over hisshoulder; the man was running toward him--his tones now rang out loudly,authoritatively. Mr. Heatherbloom did not obey that stern command tohalt; instead he made a wild abrupt dash for the sea. The report of arevolver awoke the echoes and a bullet whizzed close. Recklessly heplunged into the water.
The man on the shore emptied his weapon, but with what success he couldnot tell. A head amid the dark waves was not easily discernible. Anotherand larger object, however, was plainly apparent about a hundred yardsfrom land--a fishing-boat that swung at anchor. Would the other succeedin reaching it, for that was, no doubt, his purpose, or had one of theleaden missives told? The man, with weapon hot, waited. He scanned thewater, then looked toward the town. A number of figures on the beachwere hastening in his direction; from the pier afar, a naphtha put out;he could hear faintly the sound of the engine.
Suddenly, above the boat at anchor near the man on shore, a sail shotup, then fluttered and snapped in the wind. A moment later it was drawnin, the line holding the craft to the buoy slipped out, and the bowswung sharply around. Mr. Heatherbloom worked swiftly; one desire movedhim--to get around that point before being overtaken--to discover whatlay beyond. Then let happen what would! He reached for a line andhoisted a jib, though it was almost more canvas than his small craftcould carry. She careened and plunged, throwing the spray high. Heturned a quick glance back toward the naphtha. The sky had becomeovercast, and distant objects were not so easily discernible on thesurface of the water, but he made out her lights--two! She was head onfor him.
He looked steadily ahead again. The grim line of out-jutting rocks--ablack shadow against the sky--exercised a weird fascination for him. Hewas well out in the open now where the wind blew a half-gale. His figurewas wet from the sea but he felt no chill. Suddenly the hand grippingthe tiller tightened, and his heart gave a great bound; then sank. Notfar from that portentous point of land he saw another light--green! Aboat was emerging from the big basin of water beyond. The s
tarboardsignal, set high above the waves, belonged to no small craft such as thewoman had embarked in. The sight of it fitted a contingency that hadflashed through his brain on the beach. The realization left himhelpless now--his last opportunity was gone!
He shifted the tiller violently, recklessly. At that moment a shrillwhistle from behind reminded him once more of the naphtha; he could havelaughed. What was the wretched little puffing thing to him now? Thesingle green light--that alone was the all in all. It belonged to the_Nevski_ he was sure; for one reason or another she had but madepretense of going to sea, and, instead, had come here--to wait. Thewoman was on her now, and, also--The thought maddened him.
Again that piercing whistle! The naphtha was coming up fast; amid theturmoil of his thoughts he realized this vaguely. He did not wish tofind himself delivered unto them yet--not just yet! A wilderrecklessness seized him. Clouds sped across the heavens like grippingfuries' hands; the water ran level to his boat's gunwales but he refusedto ease her. All the while he was drawing nearer the single greenlight--a mocking light, signal of a mocking chase that had led, andcould lead, to nothing. Still he went on, tossed by the waves--sport ofthem. He had to play the play out. Oh, to see better, to visualize tothe utmost the last scene of his poignant drama of failure!
In the naphtha some one's voice belched through a megaphone; he laughedoutright now. Come and get him, if they wanted him! He would give themas merry a dash as possible. His boat raced madly through thewater--nearer, yet nearer the green light. Now a large dark outlineloomed before him; he would have to stop, to come about in a moment,or--A great wave struck him, half filling his boat, but he did not seemto notice.
A dazzling white glow suddenly surrounded him; from the naphtha asearch-light had been flashed. It fell on him fully, sprinkled over onthe wild hurtling waves beyond, and just touched the side of theoutgoing vessel. Mr. Heatherbloom looked toward the vessel and hispupils dilated. The light leaped into the air with the motion of thenaphtha, and, in an instant was gone, but the impress of a single detailremained on his retina--of a side ladder, lowered, no doubt, for thewoman, and not yet hoisted into place on the big boat.
The wildness of the sea seemed to surge through Mr. Heatherbloom'sveins; he did not come about; he did not try to. Now it was too late!That ladder!--he would seize it as they swept by. Closer his boat ran; aswirl of water caught him, threw him from his course. He made a franticeffort to regain it but without avail. The big steel bow of the greatboat struck and overwhelmed the little craft.