CHAPTER XIX
CHASE COMES FROM THE CLOUDS
For many minutes, the watchers in the chateau stared at the burningbungalow, fascinated, petrified. Through the mind of each man ran thesudden, sharp dread that Chase had met death at the hands of hisenemies, and yet their stunned sensibilities refused at once to graspthe full horror of the tragedy.
Genevra felt her heart turn cold; then something seemed to clutch her bythe throat and choke the breath out of her body. Through her brain wentwhirling the recollection of his last words to her that afternoon:"They'll find me ready if they come for trouble." She wondered if he hadbeen ready for them or if they had surprised him! She had heard theshots. Chase could not have fired them all. He may have firedonce--perhaps twice--that was all! The fusilade came from the guns ofmany, not one. Was he now lying dead in that blazing--She screamed aloudwith the thought of it!
"Can't something be done?" she cried again and again, without taking hergaze from the doomed bungalow. She turned fiercely upon Bobby Browne,his countryman. Afterward she recalled that he stood staring as she hadstared, Lady Deppingham clasping his arm with both of her hands. Theglance also took in the face of Deppingham. He was looking at his wifeand his eyes were wide and glassy, but not with terror. "It may not betoo late," again cried the Princess. "There are enough of us here tomake an effort, no matter how futile. He may be alive and trapped, up--"
"You're right," shouted Browne. "He's not the kind to go down with thefirst rush. We must go to him. We can get there in ten minutes. Britt!Where are the guns? Are you with us, Deppingham?"
He did not wait for an answer, but dashed out of the garden and down thesteps, calling to his wife to follow.
"Stop!" shouted Deppingham. "We dare not leave this place! If they haveturned against Chase, they are also ready for us. I'm not a coward,Browne. We're needed here, that's all. Good God, man, don't you see whatit means? It's to be a general massacre! We all are to go to-night. Theservants may even now be waiting to cut us down. It's too late to helpChase. They've got him, poor devil! Everybody inside! Get to the guns ifpossible and cut off the servants' quarters. We must not let themsurprise us. Follow me!"
There was wisdom in what he said, and Browne was not slow to see itclearly. With a single penetrating glance at Genevra's despairing face,he shook his head gloomily, and turned to follow Deppingham, who washurrying off through the corridor with her ladyship.
"Come," he called, and the Princess, feeling Drusilla's hand graspingher arm, gave one helpless look at the fire and hastened to obey.
In the grand hallway, they came upon Britt and Saunders white-faced andexcited. The white servants were clattering down the stairways, filledwith alarm, but there was not one of the native attendants in sight.This was ominous enough in itself. As they huddled there for a moment,undecided which way to turn, the sound of a violent struggle in thelower corridor came to their ears. Loud voices, blows, a single shot,the rushing of feet, the panting of men in fierce combat--and then, evenas the whites turned to retreat up the stairway, a crowd of men surgedup the stairs from below, headed by Baillo, the major-domo.
"Stop, excellencies!" he shouted again and again. Bobby Browne andDeppingham were covering the retreat, prepared to fight to the end fortheir women, although unarmed. It was the American who first realisedthat Baillo was not heading an attack upon them. He managed to conveythis intelligence to the others and in a moment they were listening inwonder to the explanations of the major-domo.
Surprising as it may appear, the majority of the servants were faithfulto their trust, Baillo and a score of his men had refused to join thestable men and gardeners in the plot to assassinate the white people. Asa last resort, the conspirators contrived to steal into the chateau,hoping to fall upon their victims before Baillo could interpose. Themajor-domo, however, with the wily sagacity of his race, anticipated themove. The two forces met in the south hall, after the plotters hadeffected an entrance from the garden; the struggle was brief, for theconspirators were outnumbered and surprised. They were even now lyingbelow, bound and helpless, awaiting the disposition of their intendedvictims.
"It is not because we love you, excellencies," explained Baillo, with asudden fierce look in his eyes, "but because Allah has willed that weshould serve you faithfully. We are your dogs. Therefore we fight foryou. It is a vile dog which bites its master."
Browne, with the readiness of the average American, again assumedcommand of the situation. He gave instructions that the prisoners, sevenin number, be confined in the dungeon, temporarily, at least. Bobby didnot make the mistake of pouring gratitude upon the faithful servitors;it would have been as unwise as it was unwelcome. He simply issuedcommands; he was obeyed with the readiness that marks the soldier whodies for the cause he hates, but will not abandon.
"There will be no other attack on us to-night," said Browne, rejoiningthe women after his interview with Baillo. "It has missed fire for thepresent, but they will try to get at us sooner or later from theoutside. Britt, will you and Mr. Saunders put those prisoners throughthe 'sweat' box? You may be able to bluff something out of them, if youthreaten them with death. They--"
"It won't do, Browne," said Deppingham, shaking his head. "They arefatalists, they are stoics. I know the breed better than you. Questionif you like, but threats will be of no avail. Keep 'em locked up, that'sall."
Firearms and ammunition were taken from the gunroom to the quartersoccupied by the white people. Every preparation was made for a defencein the event of an attack from the outside or inside. Strict orders weregiven to every one. From this night on, the occupants of the chateauwere to consider themselves in a state of siege, even though the enemymade no open display against them. Every precaution against surprise wastaken. The white servants were moved into rooms adjoining theiremployers; Britt and Saunders transferred their belongings to certaingorgeous apartments; Miss Pelham went into a Marie Antoinette suiteclose by that of the Princess. The native servants retained theircustomary quarters, below stairs. It was a peculiar condition that allof the native servants were men; no women were employed in the greatestablishment, nor ever had been.
Far in the night, Genevra, sleepless and depressed, stole into thehanging garden. Her mind was full of the horrid thing that had happenedto Hollingsworth Chase. He had been nothing to her--he could not havebeen anything to her had he escaped the guns of the assassins. And yether heart was stunned by the stroke that it had sustained. Wide-eyed andsick, she made her way to the railing, and, clinging to the vines,stared for she knew not how long at the dull red glow on the mountain.The flames were gone, but the last red tinge of their anger still clungto the spot where the bungalow had stood. Behind her, there were lightsin a dozen rooms of the chateau. She knew that she was not the onlysleepless one. Others were lying wide awake and tense, but for reasonsscarcely akin to hers; they were appalled, not heartsick.
The night was still and ominously dark. She had never known a nightsince she came to Japat when the birds and insects were so mute. Asombre, supernatural calm hung over the island like a pall. Far off,over the black sea, pulsed the fitful glow of an occasional gleam oflightning, faint with the distance which it traversed. There was nomoon; the stars were gone; the sky was inky and the air somnolent. Thesmell of smoke hung about her. She could not help wondering if his fine,strong body was lying up there, burnt to a crisp. It was far pastmidnight; she was alone in the garden. Sixty feet below her was theground; above, the black dome of heaven.
She was not to know till long afterward that one of her faithfulThorberg men stood guard in the passage leading up from the garden,armed and willing to die. One or the other slept in front of her doorthrough all those nights on the island.
Something hot trickled down her cheeks from the wide, pitying eyes thatstared so hard. She was wondering now if he had a mother--sisters. Howtheir hearts would be wrenched by this! A mute prayer that he might havedied in the storm of bullets before the fire swept over him struggledagainst the hope that he mi
ght have escaped altogether. She was thinkingof him with pity and horror in her heart, not love.
A question was beginning to form itself vaguely in her troubled mind.Were all of them to die as Chase had died?
Suddenly there came to her ears the sound of something swishing throughthe air. An instant later, a solid object fell almost at her feet. Shestarted back with a cry of alarm. A broad shaft of light crossed thegarden, thrown by the lamps in the upper hall of the chateau. Her eyesfell upon a wriggling, snakelike thing that lay in this path of light.
Fascinated, almost paralysed, she watched it for a full minute beforerealising that it was the end of a thick rope, which lost itself in theheavy shadows at the cliff end of the garden. Looking about in terror,as if expecting to see murderous forms emerge from the shadows, sheturned to flee. At the head of the steps which led downward into thecorridor, she paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder at themysterious, wriggling thing. She was standing directly in the shaft oflight. To her surprise, the wriggling ceased. The next moment, a faint,subdued shout was borne to her ears. Her flight was checked by thatshout, for her startled, bewildered ears caught the sound of her ownname. Again the shout, from where she knew not, except that it wasdistant; it seemed to come from the clouds.
At last, far above, she saw the glimmer of a light. It was too large tobe a star, and it moved back and forth.
Sharply it dawned upon her that it was at the top of the cliff whichoverhung the garden and stretched away to the sea. Some one was up therewaving a lantern. She was thinking hard and fast, a light breaking inupon her understanding. Something like joy shot into her being. Who elsecould it be if not Chase? He alone would call out her name! He wasalive!
She called out his name shrilly, her face raised eagerly to the bobbinglight. Not until hours afterward was Genevra to resent the use of herChristian name by the man in the clouds.
In her agitation, she forgot to arouse the chateau, but undertook toascertain the truth for herself. Rushing over, she grasped the knottedend of the rope. A glance and a single tug were sufficient to convinceher that the other end was attached to a support at the top of thecliff. It hung limp and heavy, lifeless. A sharp tug from above causedit to tremble violently in her hands; she dropped it as if it were aserpent. There was something weird, uncanny in its presence, losingitself as it did in the darkness but a few feet above her head. Againshe heard the shout, and this time she called out a question.
"Yes," was the answer, far above. "Can you hear me?" Greatly excited,she called back that she could hear and understand. "I'm coming down therope. Pray for us--but don't worry! Please go inside until we land inthe garden. It's a long drop, you know."
"Are you quite sure--is it safe?" she called, shuddering at the thoughtof the perilous descent of nearly three, hundred feet, sheer through thedarkness.
"It's safer than stopping here. Please go inside."
She dully comprehended his meaning: he wanted to save her from seeinghis fall in the event that the worst should come to pass. Scarcelyknowing what she did, she moved over into the shadow near the walls andwaited breathlessly, all the time wondering why some one did not comefrom the chateau to lend assistance.
At last that portion of the rope which lay in the garden began to jerkand writhe vigorously. She knew then that he was coming down, hand overhand, through that long, dangerous stretch of darkness. Elsewhere inthis narrative, it has been stated that the cliff reared itself sheer tothe height of three hundred and fifty feet directly behind the chateau.At the summit of this great wall, a shelving ledge projected over thehanging garden; a rope dangling from this ledge would fall into thegarden not far from the edge nearest the cliff. The summit of the cliffcould be gained only by traversing the mountain slope from the otherside; it was impossible to scale it from the floor of the valley whichit bounded. A wide table-land extended back from the ledge for severalhundred yards and then broke into the sharp, steep incline to the summitof the mountain. This table-land was covered by large, stout trees,thickly grown.
The rope was undoubtedly attached to the trunk of a sturdy tree at thebrow of the cliff.
She could look no longer; it seemed hours since he started from the top.Every heart-beat brought him nearer to safety, but would he hold out?Any instant might bring him crashing to her feet--dead, after all thathe may have lived through during that awful night.
At last she heard his heavy panting, groaning almost; the creaking andstraining of the rope, the scraping of his hands and body. She openedher eyes and saw the bulky, swaying shadow not twenty feet above thegarden. Slowly it drew nearer the grass-covered floor--foot by foot,straining, struggling, gasping in the final supreme effort--and then,with a sudden rush, the black mass collapsed and the taut rope sprungloose, the end switching and leaping violently.
Genevra rushed frantically across the garden, half-fearful, half-joyous.As she came up, the mass seemed to divide itself into two parts. Onesank limply to the ground, the other stood erect for a second and thendropped beside the prostrate, gasping figure.
Chase had come down the rope with another human being clinging to hisbody!
Genevra fell to her knees beside the man who had accomplished thismiracle. She gave but a passing glance at the other dark figure besideher. All of her interest was in the writhing, gasping American. Shegrasped his hands, warm and sticky with blood; she tried to lift hishead from the ground, moaning with pity all the time, uttering words ofencouragement in his ear.
Many minutes passed. At last Chase gave over gasping and began tobreathe regularly but heavily. The strain had been tremendous; onlysuperhuman strength and will had carried him through the ordeal. Hegroaned with pain as the two beside him lifted him to a sitting posture.
"Tell Selim to come ahead," he gasped, his bloody hand at his throat."We're all right!"
Then, for the first time, Genevra peered in the darkness at the figurebeside her. She stared in amazement as it sprang lightly erect andglided across to the patch of light. It was then that she recognised thefigure of a woman--a slight, graceful woman in Oriental garb. The womanturned and lifted her face to the heights from which she had descended.In a shrill, eager voice she called out something in a language strangeto the Princess, who knelt there and stared as if she were looking upona being from another world. A faint shout came from on high, and oncemore the rope began to writhe.
The Princess passed her hand over her eyes, bewildered. The face of thewoman in the light, half-shaded, half-illumined, was gloriouslybeautiful--young, dark, brilliant!
"Oh!" she exclaimed, starting to her feet, a look of understandingcoming into her eyes. This was one of the Persians! He had saved her! Afeeling of revulsion swept over her, combatting the first natural,womanly pride in the deed of a brave man.
Chase struggled weakly to his feet. He saw the tense, strained figurebefore him, and, putting out his hand, said:
"She is Selim's wife. I am stronger than he, so I brought her down."Then looking upward anxiously, he shouted:
"Be careful, Selim! It's easy if you take your time to it."