CHAPTER XVII
IN THE JAWS OF THE TRAP
I sat for some moments in stupefied despair. The fall from hope was sogreat and sudden, the revelation of my blind folly so cruel. But thismood did not last long. Soon I was busy thinking again. Alas, thematter gave little scope for thought! It was sadly simple. Before theyacht came back, Mouraki would have it settled once for all, if thesettling of it were left to him. Therefore I could not wait. Thepassage might be a trap. True; but the house was a prison, and aprison whose gate I could not open. I had rather meet my fate in thestruggle of hot effort than wait for it tamely here in my chair. And Idid not think of myself alone; Phroso's interests also pointed toaction. I could trust Mouraki to allow no harm to come to her. Heprized her life no less than I did. To her, then, the passagethreatened no new danger, while it offered a possible slender chance.Would she come with me? If she would, it might be that Kortes and I,or Kortes or I, might by some kind caprice of fortune bring her safeout of Mouraki's hands. On the top of these calculations came a calm,restrained, but intense anger, urging me on to try the issue, hand tohand and man to man, whispering to me that nothing was impossible, andthat Mouraki bore no charmed life. For by now I was ready, aye, morethan ready, to kill him, if only I could come at him, and I madenothing of the consequences of his death being laid at my door. So isprudence burnt up in the bright flame of a man's rage.
I knew where to find Kortes. He would be keeping his faithful watchoutside his Lady's room. Mouraki had never raised any objection tothis attendance; to forbid it would have been to throw off the maskbefore the moment came, and Mouraki would not be guilty of suchpremature disclosure. Moreover the Pasha held the men of Neopalia inno great respect, and certainly did not think that a single islandercould offer any resistance to his schemes. I went to the foot of thestairs and called softly to our trusty adherent. He came down to me atonce, and I asked him about Phroso.
'She is alone in her room, my lord,' he answered. 'The Governor hassent my sister away.'
'Sent her away! Where to?'
'To the cottage on the hill,' said he. 'I don't know why; the Governorspoke to her apart.'
'I know why,' said I, and I told him briefly of the crime which hadbeen done.
'That man should not live,' said Kortes. 'I had no doubt that hisescape was allowed in order that he might be dangerous to you.'
'Well, he hasn't done much yet.'
'No, not yet,' said Kortes gravely. I am bound to add that he took thenews of Francesca's death with remarkable coolness. In spite of hisgood qualities, Kortes was a thorough Neopalian; it needed much toperturb him. Besides he was thinking of Phroso only, and the affairsof everybody else passed unheeded by him. This was very evident when Iasked his opinion as to waiting where we were, or essaying the waythat Mouraki's suspicious carelessness seemed to leave open to us.
'Oh, the passage, my lord! Let it be the passage. For you and me thepassage is very dangerous, yet hardly more than here, and the LadyPhroso has her only chance of escape through the passage.'
'You think it very dangerous for us?'
'Possibly one of us will come through,' he said.
'And at the other end?'
'There may be a boat. If there is none, she must try (and we with her,if we are alive) to steal round to the town, and hide in one of thehouses till a boat can be found,'
'Mouraki would scour the island.'
'Yes, but a clear hour or two would be enough if we could get her intoa boat.'
'But he'd send the gunboat after her.'
'Yes; but, my lord, am I saying that escape is likely? It is possibleonly; and possibly the boat might evade pursuit.'
I had the highest regard for Kortes, but he was not a very cheeringcompanion for an adventure. Given the same desperate circumstances,Denny would have been serenely confident of success and valiantlyscornful of our opponent. I heaved a regretful sigh for him, and saidto Kortes, with a little irritation:
'Hang it, we've come out right side up before now, and we may again.Hadn't we better rouse her?'
During this conversation Kortes had been standing on the lowest stepof the staircase, and I facing him, on the floor of the hall, with onehand resting on the balustrade. We had talked in low tones, partlyfrom a fear of eavesdroppers, even more, I think, from the influencewhich our position exerted over us. In peril men speak softly. Ourvoices sounded as no more than faint murmurs in the roomy hall;consequently they could not have been audible--where? In the passage!
But as I spoke to Kortes in a petulant reproachful whisper, a soundstruck on my ear, a very little sound. I caught my companion's arm,imposing silence on him by a look. The sound came again. I knew thesound; I had heard it before. I stepped back a pace and looked roundthe balustrade to the spot where the entrance to the passage lay.
I should have been past surprise now, after my sojourn in Neopalia;but I was not. I sprang back, with a cry of wonder, almost (must Iadmit it?) of alarm. Small and faint as the noise had been, it hadsufficed for the opening of the door, and in the opening made by thereceding of the planks were the head and shoulders of a man. His facewas hardly a yard from my face; and the face was the face ofConstantine Stefanopoulos.
In the instant of paralysed immobility that followed, the explanationflashed like lightning through my brain. Constantine, buying hisliberty and pardon from Mouraki, had stolen along the passage. He hadopened the door. He hoped to find me alone--if not alone, yet off myguard--in the hall. Then a single shot would be enough. His errandwould be done, his pardon won. That my explanation was right therevolver in his hand witnessed. But he also was surprised. I wascloser than he thought, so close that he started back for an instant.The interval was enough; before he could raise his weapon and take aimI put my head down between my shoulders and rushed at him. I think myhead knocked his arm up, his revolver went off, the noisereverberating through the hall. I almost had hold of him when I wassuddenly seized from behind and hurled backwards. Kortes had a mind tocome first and stood on no ceremony. But in the instant that he wasfree, Constantine dived down, like a rabbit into a burrow. Hedisappeared; with a shouted oath Kortes sprang after him. I heard thefeet of both of them clattering down the flight of steps.
For a single moment I paused. The report had echoed loud through thehall. The sentries must have heard it--the sentries before the house,the sentries in the compound behind the house. Yet none of them rushedin: not a movement, not a word, not a challenge came from them.Mouraki Pasha kept good discipline. His orders were law, hisdirections held good, though shots rang loud and startling through thehouse. Even at that moment I gave a short sharp laugh; for Iremembered that on no account was Lord Wheatley to be interrupted; no,neither Lord Wheatley nor the man who came to kill Lord Wheatley wasto be interrupted. Oh, Mouraki, Mouraki, your score was mounting up!Should you ever pay the reckoning?
Shorter far than it has taken to write my thoughts was the pauseduring which they galloped through my palpitating brain. In a second Ialso was down the flight of stairs beyond. I heard still the footstepsin front of me, but I could see nothing. It was very dark that nightin the passage. I ran on, yet I seemed to come no nearer to the stepsin front of me. But suddenly I paused, for now there were steps behindme also, light steps, but sounding distinct in my ear. Then a voicecried, in terror and distress, 'My lord, don't leave me, my lord!'
I turned. Even in the deep gloom I saw a gleam of white: a momentlater I caught Phroso by both her hands.
'The shot, the shot?' she whispered.
'Constantine. He shot at me--no, I'm not hurt. Kortes is after him.'
She swayed towards me. I caught her and passed my arm round her;without that she would have fallen on the rocky floor of the dimpassage.
'I heard it and rushed down,' she panted. 'I heard it from my room.'
'Any sign of the sentries?'
'No.'
'I must go and help Kortes.'
'Not without me?'
'You must wait here.'
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sp; 'Not without you.' Her arms held me now by the shoulders with astronger grip than I had thought possible. She would not let me go.Well then, we must face it together.
'Come along, then,' said I. 'I can see nothing in this rat hole.'
Suddenly, from in front of us, a cry rang out; it was some distanceoff. We started towards it, for it was Kortes's voice that cried.
'Be careful, be careful,' urged Phroso. 'We're near the bridge now.'
It was true. As she spoke the walls of rock on either side receded. Wehad come to the opening. The dark water was below us, and before usthe isolated bridge of rock that spanned the pool. We were where theLord of the island had been wont to hurl his enemies headlong from hisside to death.
What happened on the bridge, on the narrow bridge of rock which ran infront of us, we could not see; but from it came strange sounds, lowoaths and mutterings, the scraping of men's limbs and the rasping ofcloth on the rock, the hard breathings of struggling combatants; now afierce low cry of triumph, a disappointed curse, a desperate groan,the silence that marked a culminating effort. Now, straining my eyesto the uttermost, and having grown a little more accustomed to thedarkness, I discerned, beyond the centre of the bridge, a coilingwrithing mass that seemed some one many-limbed animal, but was, intruth, two men, twisted and turned round about one another in anembrace which could have no end save death. Which was Kortes, whichConstantine, I could not tell. How they came there I could not tell. Idared not fire. Phroso hung about me in a paroxysm of fear, her handsholding me motionless; I myself was awed and fascinated by the dimspectacle and the confused sounds of that mortal strife.
Backward and forward, to and fro, up and down they writhed and rolled.Now they hung, a protrusion of deeper blackness, over the black gulfon this side, now on that. Now the mass separated a little as onepressed the other downward and seemed about to hurl his enemy over andhimself remain triumphant; now that one, in his turn, tottered on theedge as if to fall and leave the other panting on the bridge; againthey were mixed together, so that I could not tell which was which,and the strange appearance of a single, writhing, crawling shapereturned. Then suddenly, from both at once, rang out cries: there wasdread and surprise in one, fierce, uncalculating, self-forgetfultriumph in the other. Not even for Phroso's sake, or the band of herencircling arms, could I rest longer. Roughly I fear, at least withsuddenness, I disengaged myself from her grasp. She cried out inprotest and in fear, 'Don't go, don't leave me!' I could not rest.Recollecting the peril, I yet rushed quickly on to the bridge, andmoved warily along its narrow perilous way. But even as I came nearthe two who fought in the middle, there was a deep groan, a secondwild triumphant cry, a great lurch of the mass, a moment--a shortshort moment--when it hung poised over the yawning vault; and then aninstant of utter stillness. I waited as a boy waits to hear the stonehe has thrown strike the water at the bottom of the well. The stonestruck the water: there was a great resounding splash, the water movedbeneath the blow; I saw its dark gleam agitated. Then all was stillagain; and the passage of the bridge was clear.
I walked to the spot where the struggle had been, and whence the twohad fallen together. I knelt down and gazed into the chasm. Threetimes I called Kortes's name. No answer came up. I could discern nomovement of the dark waters. They had sunk, the two together, andneither rose. Perhaps both were wounded to death, perhaps only theirfatal embrace prevented all effort for life. I could see nothing andhear nothing. My heart was heavy for Kortes, a brave true man and ouronly friend. In the death of Constantine I saw less than his fittingpunishment; yet I was glad that he was gone, and the long line of hisvillainies closed. This last attempt had been a bold one. Mouraki, nodoubt, had forced him to it; even a craven will be bold where thepenalty of cowardice is death. Yet he had not dared to stand whendiscovered. He had fled, and must have been flying when Kortes came upand grappled with him. For a snapshot at an unwary man he had foundcourage, but not for a fair fight. He was an utter coward after all.He was well dead, and his wife well avenged.
But it was fatal to linger here. Mouraki would be expecting the returnof his emissary. I saw now clearly that the Pasha had prepared the wayfor Constantine's attempt. If no news came, he would not wait long. Iput my reflections behind me and walked briskly back to where I hadleft Phroso. I found her lying on the ground; she seemed to be in afaint. Setting my face close to hers, I saw that her eyes were shutand her lips parted. I sat down by her in the narrow passage andsupported her head on my arm. Then I took out a flask, and pouringsome of the brandy-and-water it contained into the cup forced a littlebetween her lips. With a heavy sigh she opened her eyes and shuddered.
'It is over,' I said. 'There's no need to be afraid; all is over now.'
'Constantine?'
'He is dead.'
'And Kortes?'
'They are both gone. They fell together into the pool and must bedead; there's no sound from it.'
A frightened sob was her answer; she put her hand up to her eyes.
'Ah, dear Kortes!' she whispered, and I heard her sob gently again.
'He was a brave man,' said I. 'God rest his soul!'
'He loved me,' she said simply, between her sobs. 'He--he and hissister were the only friends I had.'
'You have other friends,' said I, and my voice was well nigh as low ashers.
'You are very good to me, my lord,' she said, and she conquered hersobs and lay still, her head on my arm, her hair enveloping my hand inits silken masses.
'We must go on,' said I. 'We mustn't stay here. Our only chance is togo on.'
'Chance? Chance of what?' she echoed in a little despairing murmur,'Where am I to go? Why should I struggle any more?'
'Would you fall into Mouraki's power?' I asked from between set lips.
'No; but I need not. I have my dagger.'
'God forbid!' I cried in sudden horror; and in spite of myself I feltmy hand tighten and press her head among the coils of her hair. Shealso felt it; she raised herself on her elbow, turned to me, and senta straining look into my eyes. What answer could I make to it? Iaverted my face; she dropped her head between her hands on the rockyfloor.
'We must go,' said I again. 'Can you walk, Phroso?'
I hardly noticed the name I called her, nor did she appear to mark it.
'I can't go,' she moaned. 'Let me stay here. I can get back to thehouse, perhaps.'
'I won't leave you here. I won't leave you to Mouraki.'
'It will not be to Mouraki, it will be to--'
I caught her hand, crying in a low whisper, 'No, no.'
'What else?' she asked, again sitting up and looking at me.
'We must make a push for safety, as we meant to before.'
'Safety?' Her lips bent in a sadly derisive little smile. 'What isthis safety you talk about?' she seemed to say.
'Yes, safety.'
'Ah, yes, you must be safe,' she said, appearing to awake suddenly toa consciousness of something forgotten. 'Ah, yes, my lord, you must besafe. Don't linger, my lord. Don't linger!'
'Do you suppose I'm going alone?' I asked, and, in spite ofeverything, I could not help smiling as I put the question. I believeshe really thought that the course in question might commend itself tome.
'No,' she said. 'You wouldn't go alone. But I--I can't cross thatawful bridge.'
'Oh yes, you can,' said I. 'Come along,' and I rose and held out myarms towards her.
She looked at me, the tears still on her cheeks, a doubtful smiledawning on her lips.
'My dear lord,' she said very softly, and stood while I put my armsround her and lifted her till she lay easily. Then came what I thinkwas the hardest thing of all to bear. She let her head fall on myshoulder and lay trustfully, I could almost say luxuriously, back inmy arms; a little happy sigh of relief and peace came from her lips,her eyes closed, she was content.
Well, I started; and I shall not record precisely what I thought as Istarted. What I ought to have thought about was picking my way overthe bridge, and, if more matter f
or consideration were needed, I mighthave speculated on the best thing to do when we reached the outlet ofthe passage. Suppose, then, that I thought about what I ought to havethought about.
'Keep still while we're on the bridge,' said I to Phroso. 'It's notover broad, you know.'
A little movement of the head, till it rested in yet greater seemingcomfort, was Phroso's only disobedience; for the rest she wasabsolutely still. It was fortunate; for to cross that bridge in thedark, carrying a lady, was not a job I cared much about. However wecame to the other side; the walls of rock closed in again on eitherhand, and I felt the way begin to slope downwards under my feet.
'Does it go pretty straight now?' I asked.
'Oh, yes, quite straight. You can't miss it, my lord,' said Phroso,and another little sigh of content followed the words. I had, Isuppose, little enough to laugh at, but I did laugh very gently andsilently, and I did not propose that Phroso should walk.
'Are you tired?' she said presently, just opening her eyes for aninstant.
'I could carry you for ever,' I answered.
Phroso smiled under lazy lids that closed again.
In spite of Phroso's assurance of its simple straightness the road hadmany twists and turns in it, and I had often to ask my way. Phrosogave me directions at once and without hesitation. Evidently she wasthoroughly familiar with the track. When I remarked on this she said,'Oh, yes, I often used to come this way. It leads to such a prettycave, you know.'
'Then it doesn't come out at the same point as the way my friendstook?'
'No, more than a mile away from that. We must be nearly there now. Areyou tired, my lord?'
'Not a bit,' said I, and Phroso accepted the answer without demur.
There can, however, be no harm in admitting now that I was tired, notso much from carrying Phroso, though, as from the strain of the dayand the night that I had passed through; and I hailed with joy aglimmer of light which danced before my eyes at the end of a longstraight tunnel. We were going down rapidly now; and, hark, there wasthe wash of water welcoming us to the outer air and the light of theupper world; for day had just dawned as we came to the end of the way.The light that I saw ahead was ruddy with the rays of the new-risensun.
'Ah,' sighed Phroso happily, 'I hear the sea. Oh, I smell it. And see,my lord, the light!'
I turned from the light, joyful as was the beholding of it, to theface which lay close by mine. That too I could see now for the firsttime plainly. I met Phroso's eyes. A slight tinge of colour dyed hercheeks, but she lay still, looking at me, and she said softly, in lowrich tones:
'You look very weary. Let me walk now, my lord.'
'No, we'll go on to the end now,' I said.
The end was near. Another five minutes brought us where once again theenfolding walls spread out. The path broadened into a stony beach;above us the rocks formed an arch: we were in a little cave, and thewaves rolled gently to and fro on the margin of the beach. The mouthof the cave was narrow and low, the rocks leaving only about a yardbetween themselves above and the water below; there was just room fora boat to pass out and in. Phroso sprang from my arms, and stretchedout her hands to the light.
'Ah, if we had a boat!' I cried, running to the water's edge.
Had the luck indeed changed and fortune begun to smile? It seemed so,for I had hardly spoken when Phroso suddenly clapped her hands andcried:
'A boat! There is a boat, my lord,' and she leapt forward and caughtme by the hand, her eyes sparkling.
It was true--by marvel, it was true! A good, stout, broad-bottomedlittle fishing boat lay beached on the shingle, with its sculls lyingin it. How had it come? Well, I didn't stop to ask that. My eyes metPhroso's in delight. The joy of our happy fortune overcame us. I thinkthat for the moment we forgot the terrible events which had happenedbefore our eyes, the sadness of the parting which at the best laybefore us. Both her hands were in mine; we were happy as two children,prosperously launched on some wonderful fairy-tale adventure--princeand princess in their cockle boat on a magic sea.
'Isn't it wonderful?' cried Phroso. 'Ah, my lord, all goes well withyou. I think God loves you, my lord, as much as--'
She stopped. A rush of rich colour flooded her cheeks. Her deep eyes,which had gleamed in exultant merriment, sank to the ground. Her handsloosed mine.
'--as the lady who waits for you loves you, my lord,' she said.
I do not know how it was, but Phroso's words summoned up before myeyes a vision of Beatrice Hipgrave, pursuing her cheerful way throughthe gaieties of the season--or was she in the country by now?--withoutwasting very many thoughts on the foolish man who had gone to thehorrid island. The picture of her as the lady who waited for a lover,forlorn because he tarried, struck with a bitter amusement on my senseof humour. Phroso saw me smile; her eyes asked a wondering question. Idid not answer it, but turned away and walked down to where the boatlay.
'I suppose,' I said coldly, 'that this is the best chance?'
'It is the only chance, my lord,' she answered; but her eyes werestill puzzled, and her tone was almost careless, as if the matter ofour escape had ceased to be the thing which pressed most urgently onher mind. I could say nothing to enlighten her; not from my lips,which longed to forswear her, could come the slightest word indepreciation of 'the lady who waited.'
'Will you get in, then?' I asked.
'Yes,' said Phroso; the joy was gone out of her voice and out of hereyes.
I helped her into the boat, then I launched it; when it floated clearon the water of the cave I jumped in myself and took the sculls.Phroso sat silent and now pale-faced in the stern. I struck the waterwith my blades and the boat moved. A couple of strokes took us acrossthe cave. We reached the mouth. I felt the sun on my neck with itsfaint early warmth: that is a good feeling and puts heart in a man.
'Ah, but the sea and the air are good,' said Phroso. 'And it is goodto be free, my lord.'
I looked at her. The sun had caught her eyes now, and the gleam inthem seemed to fire me. I forgot--something that I ought to haveremembered. I rested for a moment on my oars, and, leaning forward,said in a low voice:
'Aye, to be free, and together, Phroso.'
Again came the flash of colour, again the sudden happy dancing of hereyes and the smile that curved in unconquerable wilfulness. Istretched out a hand, and Phroso's hand stole timidly to meet it.Well--surely the Recording Angel looked away!
Thus were we just outside the cave. There rose a straight rock on theleft hand, ending in a level top some four feet above our heads.And as our hands approached and our eyes--those quickerforegatherers--met, there came from the top of the rock a laugh, a lowchuckle that I knew well. I don't think I looked up. I looked stillat Phroso. As I looked, her colour fled, fright leapt into her eyes,her lips quivered in horror. I knew the truth from her face.
'Very nice! But what have you done with Cousin Constantine?' askedMouraki Pasha.
The trap, then, had double jaws, and we had escaped Constantine onlyto fall into the hands of his master. It was so like Mouraki. I was somuch aghast and yet so little surprised, the fall was so sudden, ourdefeat so ludicrous, that I believed I smiled, as I turned my eyesfrom Phroso's and cast a glance at the Pasha.
'I might have known it, you know,' said I, aloud.