XXII. CASTLE CRANEYCROW
Dorothy staggered into the arms of Lady Saxondale, choking with ajoy that knew no bounds, stupefied past all power of understanding.She only saw and knew that she was safe, that some strange miraclehad been wrought and that there were no terrible, cruel-heartedrobbers in sight. It was some time before she could utter a word tothose who stood about eagerly--anxiously--watching the play ofemotions in her face.
"O, you will never know how glorious you all look to me. How is itthat I am here? Where are those awful men? What has happened to me,Lady Saxondale, tell me? I cannot breathe till everything isexplained to me," she cried, her voice trembling with gladness. Inher vast exuberance she found strength and with it the desire toembrace all these good friends. Her ecstatic exhibition of joy lostits violence after she had kissed and half crushed Lady Jane and hadgrasped both of Lord Bob's big hands convulsively. The young mencame in for a much more formal and decorous greeting. For an instantshe found herself looking into Quentin's eyes, as he clasped herhand, and there was a strange light in them--a bright, eager,victorious gleam which puzzled her not a little. "O, tell me allabout it! Please do! I've been through such a terrible experience.Can it be true that I am really here with you?"
"You certainly are, my dear," said Lady Saxondale, smiling at her,then glancing involuntarily into the faces of the others, a queerexpression in her eyes.
"Where is mamma? I must go to her at once, Lady Saxondale. Thewretches were so cruel to her and to poor Uncle Henry--good heavens!Tell me! They did not--did not kill her!" She clutched at the backof a chair and--grasped Quentin's arm as it swept forward to keepher from falling.
"Your mother is safe and well," cried Lady Saxondale, quickly. "Sheis in Brussels, however, and not here, Dorothy."
"And where am I? Are you telling the truth? Is she truly safe andwell? Then, why isn't she here?" she cried, uneasily, apprehensively.
"It takes a long story, Miss Garrison," said Lord Bob, soberly. "Ithink you would better wait till after breakfast for the full story,so far as it is known to us. You'll feel better and I know you mustbe as hungry as a bear."
There was a troubled, uncertain pucker to her brow, a pleading lookin her eyes as she suffered herself to be led to a chair near theend of the table. It had not struck her as odd that the others weredeplorably devoid of the fervor that should have manifested itself,in words, at least. There was an air of restraint almost oppressive,but she failed to see it, and it was not long until it was socleverly succeeded by a genial warmth of manner that she never knewthe severity of the strain upon the spirits of that small company.
Suddenly she half started from the chair, her gaze fastened onQuentin's face. He read the question in her eyes and answered beforeshe could frame it into words.
"I did not sail for New York, at all," he said, with an assumptionof ease he did not feel. "Dickey and I accepted Lord Saxondale'spressing invitation to stop off with them for awhile. I don't wonderthat you are surprised to find us here."
"I am not surprised at anything now," she said in perplexed tones."But we are not in England; we were not on the water. And all thosetrees and hills and rocks I saw from the window--where are we?"
"In the grimmest, feudliest, ghastliest old place between Brusselsand Anthony Hope's domain. This is Castle Craneycrow; a real, livecastle with parapets, bastions, traditions and, I insist--thoughthey won't believe me--snakes and mice and winged things thatscreech and yowl." So spoke Lady Jane, eagerly. Miss Garrison wasforgetting to eat in her wonder, and Mr. Savage was obliged toremind her that "things get cold mighty quick in these baronialice-houses."
"I know it's a castle, but where is it located? And how came youhere?"
"That's it," quoth Mr. Savage, serenely. "How came we here? I repeatthe question and supply the answer. We came by the grace of God andmore or less luck."
"O, I'll never understand it at all," complained Dorothy, indespair. "Now, you must answer my questions, one by one, LordSaxondale. To whom does the castle belong?"
"To the Earl of Saxondale, ma'am."
"Then, I know where it is. This is the old place in Luxemburg youwere telling me about."
"That isn't a question, but you are right."
"But how is it that I am here?"
"You can answer that question better than I, Miss Garrison."
"I only know those wretches--the one who disguised himself as myfather and the one who tried to be my mother--jostled me till I washalf dead and stopped eventually at the doors--O, O, O!" she brokeoff, in startled tones, dropping her fork. "They--they did notreally bring me here--to your house, did they?"
"They were good enough to turn you over to our keeping last night,and we are overjoyed to have you here."
"Then," she exclaimed, tragically, rising to her feet, "where arethe men who brought me here?" A peculiar and rather mirthless smilepassed from one to the other of her companions and it angered her."I demand an explanation, Lord Saxondale."
"I can give none, Miss Garrison, upon my soul. It is very far fromclear to me. You were brought to my doors last night, and I pledgemyself to protect you with my life. No harm shall come to you here,and at the proper time I am sure everything will be made clear toyou, and you will be satisfied. Believe me, you are among yourdearest friends--"
"Dearest friends!" she cried, bitterly. "You insult me by running awayfrom my wedding, you league yourselves with the fiends who committedthe worst outrage that men ever conceived, and now you hold me herea--a prisoner! Yes, a prisoner! I do not forget the words of the maidwho attended me; I do not forget the inexplicable presence of mytraveling clothes in this house, and I shall never forget that myabductors came direct to your castle, wherever it may be. Do you meanto say that they brought me here without an understanding with you?Oh! I see it all now! You--you perpetrated this outrage!"
"On the contrary, Miss Garrison, I am the meekest and lowliest ofEnglish squires, and I am in no way leagued with a band of robbers.Perhaps, if you will wait a little while, Lady Saxondale may throwsome light on the mystery that puzzles you. You surely will trustLady Saxondale."
"Lady Saxondale did me the honor to command me to give up PrinceRavorelli. I am not married to him and I am here, in her home, aprisoner," said Dorothy, scornfully. "I do not understand why I amhere and I do not know that you are my friends. Everything is soqueer, so extraordinary that I don't know how to feel toward you.When you satisfactorily explain it all to me, I may be able toforget the feeling I have for you now and once more regard you asfriends. It is quite clear to me that I am not to have the privilegeof quitting the castle without your consent; I acknowledge myself aprisoner and await your pleasure. You will find me in the room towhich you sent me last night. I cannot sit at your table, feelingthat you are not my friends; I should choke with every mouthful."
No one sought to bar her way from the dining-room. Perhaps no onethere felt equal to the task of explaining, on the moment, theintricacies of a very unusual transaction, for no one had quiteexpected the bolt to fall so sharply. She paced the floor of herroom angrily, bewailing the fate that brought her to this fortressamong the rocks. Time after time she paused at the lofty windows tolook upon the trees, the little river and the white roadbed farbelow. There was no escape from this isolated pile of stone; she wasconfined as were Bluebeard's victims in the days of giants and ogresand there were no fairy queens to break down the walls and set herfree. Each thought left the deeper certainty that the people in theroom below were banded against her. An hour later, Lady Saxondalefound her, her flushed face pressed to the window pane that lookeddown upon the world as if out of the sky.
"I suppose, Lady Saxondale, you are come to assure me again that Iam perfectly safe in your castle," said the prisoner, turning at thesound of her ladyship's voice.
"I have come to tell you the whole story, from your wedding to thepresent moment. Nothing is to be hidden from you, my dear MissGarrison. You may not now consider us your friends, but some day youwill look back and be
thankful we took such desperate, dangerousmeans to protect you," said Lady Saxondale, coming to the window.Dorothy's eyes were upon the outside world and they were dark andrebellious. The older woman complacently stationed herself besidethe girl and for a few moments neither spoke.
"I am ready to hear what you have to say," came at last from MissGarrison.
"It is not necessary to inform you that you were abducted--"
"Not in the least! The memory of the past two days is vivid enough,"said Miss Garrison, with cutting irony in her voice.
"But it may interest you to know the names of your abductors," saidthe other, calmly.
"I could not miss them far in guessing, Lady Saxondale."
"It was necessary for some one to deliver you from the villain youwere to marry, by the most effective process. There is but oneperson in all this world who cares enough for you to undertake thestupendous risk your abduction incurred. You need not be told hisname."
"You mean," said Dorothy, scarcely above a whisper, "that PhilipQuentin planned and executed this crime?"
Lady Saxondale nodded.
"And I am his prisoner?" breathlessly. "You are under hisprotection; that is all."
"Do you call it protection to--" began Dorothy, her eyes blazing,but Lady Saxondale interrupted firmly.
"You are his prisoner, then, and we are your jailers. Have it as youwill."
Lady Saxondale proceeded to relate the history of Philip Quentin'sachievement. Instead of sailing for New York, he surrendered to hisoverpowering love and fell to work perfecting the preposterous planthat had come to him as a vision in the final hour of despair. Therewas but little time in which to act, and there was stubbornopposition to fight against. The Saxondales were the only persons towhom he could turn, and not until after he had fairly fought them toearth did they consent to aid him in the undertaking. There remainedto perform, then, the crowning act in this apparently insanetransaction. The stealing of a woman on whom the eyes of all theworld seemed riveted was a task that might well confound thestrategy of the most skillful general, but it did not worry thedetermined American.
Wisely he chose the wedding day as the best on which to carry outhis project. The hulla-balloo that would follow the nonappearance ofthe bride would throw the populace and the authorities into a stateof confusion that might last for hours. Before they could settledown to a systematic search, the bold operator would be safely inthe last place they would suspect, an English lord's playhouse inthe valley of the Alzette. Nothing but the most audacious daringcould hope to win in such an undertaking. When Mrs. Garrison'scoachman and footman came forth in all their august splendor on thenight of the wedding, they were pounced upon by three men,overpowered, bound and locked in a small room in the stables. One ofthe desperadoes calmly approached the servants' quarters, presenteda bold face (covered with whiskers), and said he had come for MissGarrison's trunks. Almost insane with the excitement of theoccasion, the servants not only escorted him to the bride's room,but assisted him in carrying two trunks downstairs. He was shrewdenough to ascertain which trunk was most needed, and it was throwninto a buggy and driven away by one of the trio.
When the carriage stopped for the first time to permit the maskedman to thrust his revolver into the faces of the occupants, thetrunk was jerked from that same buggy and thrown to the boot of thelarger vehicle. Of course, having absolute control of the carriage,it was no trick, if luck attended, for the new coachman and footmanto drive away with the unsuspecting bride and her companions. It isonly the ridiculously improbable projects that are successful, ithas been said. Certainly it was proven in this case. It is notnecessary to tell the full story, except to say that the masked manwho appeared at the carriage door in the little side street wasQuentin; that the foot-man was Dickey Savage, the driver Turk. Inthe exchange of clothing with the deposed servants of Mrs. Garrison,however, Turk fell into a suit of livery big enough for two men ofhis stature.
The deserted house was beyond the city limits, and had been locatedthe day before by Turk, whose joy in being connected with such agame was boundless. Other disguises, carefully chosen, helped themon to the Grand Duchy, Quentin as the gray-bearded man, Savage asthe old woman. The suffering of Dorothy Garrison during that wildnight and day was the only thing that wrung blood from theconsciences of these ruthless dare-devils. Philip Quentin, it mustbe said, lived years of agony and remorse while carrying out hispart of the plan. How the plot was carried to the stage where itbecame Lady Saxondale's duty to acquaint Dorothy Garrison with thefull particulars, the reader knows. It only remains to say that goodfortune favored the conspirators at every turn, and that theycovered their tracks with amazing effectiveness. Utterly cut offfrom the eyes of the world, the captive found herself powerless tocommunicate with the hysterical people who were seeking her in everyspot save the right one.
"Now that you have finished this remarkable story and have pleadedso prettily for him, may I ask just what Mr. Quentin expects of me?"asked Dorothy, cold, calm, and entirely the mistress of herself andthe million emotions that Lady Saxondale's disclosures aroused.
"He expects you to give him your heart," said her ladyship, slowly.Dorothy fell back against the wall, aghast, overcome by thiscrowning piece of audacity.
"Dorothy, a week ago you loved Phil Quentin; even when you steppedinside the carriage that was to take you to the altar you loved himbetter--"
"I did not! I hate him!" cried Dorothy.
"Perhaps, now, but let me ask you this question: When you were beingdragged away by those three men, when they were putting miles andmiles between you and your friends, of whom were you thinking? Ah,your face, your eyes betray you!--You were thinking of PhilipQuentin, not of Ugo Ravorelli. You were praying that one strong armmight come to your relief, you knew but one man in all the world whohad the courage, the love, the power to rescue you. Last night, whenyou entered this dismal place, you wondered if Philip Quentin--yes,Philip Quentin--could break down the doors and save you. And thenyou remembered that he could not help you, for you had thrown asidehis love, had driven him away. Listen! Don't deny it, for I am awoman and I know! This morning you looked from yon window and yourheart sank with despair. Then, forgetful again, your eye swept theroad in the hope of seeing--of seeing, whom? But one man was in yourmind, Dorothy Garrison, and he was on the ocean. When you came intothe breakfast room, whose face was it that sent the thrill to yourheart? Whose presence was it that told you your prayers had beenanswered? Whom did you look upon as your savior, your rescuer? Thatbig American, who loves you better than life. Philip Quentin hadsaved you from the brigands, and you loved him for it. Now, DorothyGarrison, you hate him because he saved you from a worsefate--marriage with the most dissolute hypocrite in Europe, the mostcunning of all adventurers. You are not trying to check the tearsthat blind your eyes; but you will not confess to me that your tearscome from a heart full of belief in the man who loves you deeplyenough to risk his honor and his life to save you from endlessmisery. Lie where you are, on this couch, Dorothy, and just think ofit all--think of Phil."
When Dorothy raised her wet eyes from the cushion in which they hadbeen buried, Lady Saxondale was gone.
Philip Quentin stood in the doorway.