CHAPTER XXXVI
SEARCHING FOR CLAIRE
I was unconscious, yet not for long. The first touch of water served torevive me, and I became aware that an arm supported my head, althougheverything was indistinct before my eyes.
"More water, Mike," said a voice close at hand. "Yes, that will do. Whereis Farrell? Oh, Dan, this is Major Lawrence."
"One of the Dragoons said he was in command. Hurt badly?"
"No, I think not; but utterly exhausted, and weak from loss of blood.They put up a game fight."
"Only three on their feet when we got in. Hullo, Lawrence, getting backto the world, lad?"
"Yes," I managed to answer, feeling strength enough to lift myself, andvaguely noticing his features. "Is that you, Farrell?"
"It certainly is," cheerfully. "Duval has his arm about you, and theCamden boys are herding those devils down below. You had some fracas fromthe way things look. How many men had you?"
I rubbed my head, endeavoring to recollect, staring down into the hall.It was filled with dead and wounded men, and at the foot of the stairswas a pile of bodies.
"Twelve, altogether," I replied finally. "They--they were too many forus."
"Three to one, or more, I should judge. We got here just in time."
I was up now, looking into their faces, slowly grasping the situation.
"Yes," I said, feeling the necessity of knowing. "How did it happen? Whatbrought you? Washington--"
"All natural enough. Clinton got away night before last with what wasleft of his army. Left fires burning, and made a forced march to theships at Sandy Hook. Left everything to save his troops. Washington,realizing the uselessness of holding them longer, sent most of hismilitia home. About six miles out there on the pike road a half-crazypreacher named Jenks came up with us. He was too badly frightened to tella straight story, but we got out of him that there was a fight on here,and came over as fast as our horses would travel." His eyes swept thehall. "Five minutes later would have been too late."
The name of Jenks recalled everything to my mind instantly. In spite ofDuval I gripped the broken rail and gained my feet, swaying slightly butable to stand. My hand still grasped the twisted rifle barrel, which Iused as a cane.
"But Farrell, the girl! Do you know anything about the girl?"
"What girl? Do you mean Claire Mortimer? Is she here?"
"Yes, her father is lying helplessly wounded up stairs, and she must bewith him. Eric is somewhere in the hall, either dead or wounded. I sawhim fall just as we retreated to the stairs."
Farrell leaned over and called to some one below.
"Not yet, sir," was the answer.
"Well, hunt for him. Now, we'll go up and find Claire. Major, can youclimb the rest of the stairs? Help him, Duval."
I experienced no great difficulty, my strength coming back rapidly. Therewas a wounded Dragoon leaning against the wall, and half-way down thehall lay another body, face down. Without doubt this was the guard Faginhad stationed there. Duval paused to help the wounded man, but Farrelland I moved on across the dead guard to the open door beyond. ColonelMortimer, unable to move, was propped up on his pillow, one hand graspinga pistol. With shaking arm he levelled it at us.
"Who are you? Quick, now!" he quavered. "I've shot one, and I'm good formore."
"You know me, Colonel," and Farrell stepped inside. "I am 'Bull' Farrell;this is Major Lawrence." He looked at us with dull eyes, his hand fallingweakly.
"Farrell--Farrell--surely, the blacksmith. What Lawrence? The--theofficer Claire knows?"
"Yes; he's a rough-looking object I admit, but there has been a fightdown below, sir, in which he had a share. We've just cleaned out RedFagin's gang. We came up here to tell the good news to you and yourdaughter."
The Colonel's head sank back upon the mussed pillow.
"My daughter--Claire--she is not here."
"Not here!" I cried, aroused by the admission. "Did she not return toyou?"
"No; they came for her to go down stairs--a tall man with a black beard,and two others. They took her away an hour ago, and I have seen nothingof her since. I--heard the shots, the sound of fierce fighting, but couldnot move from the bed. Tell me, Major, what has become of my littlegirl?"
"I do not know," I confessed, gazing about in bewilderment. "She came upthe stairs, I am sure. It was just as the fight began, and I had scarcelya moment to observe anything before we were at it fiercely. She shotFagin down, and then ran."
"Shot Fagin! Claire!"
"Yes; she was justified. Had she not acted so quickly I would have doneso myself. He was forcing her into marriage."
"Into marriage! With whom?"
"Captain Grant," I answered passionately. "It was a deliberate plot,although he pretended to be innocent, and a helpless prisoner. Later theman fought with the outlaws against us; after Jones was killed he evenassumed command."
"He has been hand and glove with those fellows from the first, Colonel,"chimed in Farrell hoarsely. "I've known it, and told Lawrence so a monthago. I only hope he was killed down below. But what can have become ofClaire?"
"She never passed along here," insisted Mortimer, "for I haven't taken myeyes from that door."
"Then she is hiding somewhere in those front rooms. Come on, Lawrence,and we'll search them."
We went out hurriedly, leaving the wounded man lying helplessly on thebed, and stepped carelessly across the dead sentinel lying in thehallway. The memory of Peter recurred to me. He was not the kind todesert his mistress at such a time. Stopping Farrell, I stepped back toinquire. The Colonel opened his eyes wearily at sound of my voice.
"He is not here," he explained slowly. "Both Peter and Tonepah were sentaway to find a surgeon, and have not returned. We anticipated no dangerhere with Captain Grant present."
I ground my teeth savagely together, recalling the treachery of thelatter, his insults to Claire, his deceiving of Eric, his stealing ofpapers, hoping thus to ruin his own Colonel, his alliance with Fagin, hisselling of British secrets. Here was a villain through and through and Ihoped he had already paid the penalty. If not, I vowed the man shouldnever escape. But the thought of the missing girl came back, driving allelse from my mind. She was in none of those rooms we searched, nor did wediscover the slightest evidence of her having been there. As I stood inthe door of the deserted music-room staring helplessly about, a suddenpossibility occurred to me. Ay! that must be the truth, the fullexplanation of her vanishing. She had come flying up the stairs,frightened, desperate,--so far as she knew, alone against Fagin'sunscrupulous band. She had not returned to her father, or escaped by wayof the hall. Where then could she have gone? The secret staircase, downwhich she had hurried me, and which was known only to herself, Eric andPeter. I gripped Farrell's arm eagerly.
"You know this house well--did you ever hear of secret passages in it?"
"I have heard it whispered in gossip," he answered, "that such were herein the old Indian days. Why?"
"Because it is true. The girl hid me here from Grant. And that is wherewe will find her. The opening is there by the false chimney, but I haveno conception of how it works; she made me turn my back while sheoperated the mechanism."
He stooped down, and began search along the fireplace, and I joined him.Together our hands felt over every inch of surface. There was noresponse, not even a crack to guide us. At last he glanced aside, and oureyes met.
"Who knew of this beside Claire?" he asked.
"Eric and the servant Swanson. She told me she and her brother discoveredit by accident through reading an old memoranda."
"And the Colonel is not aware of its existence?"
"I understood not. Do you know if the boy lives?"
He left the room, and I heard his voice calling down the stairs, but didnot distinguish the words of reply. I was still on my knees when hereturned.
"He is alive, but unconscious, Lawrence. Do you consider it impossiblefor her to escape from here alone, providing she took refuge in thisplace?"
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"I could find no opening, except underground, and that is blocked now." Ishuddered at the thought. "Besides, she must be in utter darkness, for Iused all the candles."
"Then we must get axes, and cut our way in. Wait here, and I will bringup some of the men."
I straightened up as he left the room, and my eyes looked into a smallmirror above the open grate. Good Heavens! Could that be my reflection!Bareheaded, my face streaked with blood and dirt, my coat rags, my shirtripped to the waist. I scarcely looked human. In sudden burst of anger Ireached out and gripped the mirror, jerking it savagely. Then I sprangback. Slowly, with a faint click of the mechanism, the mantel-place wasswinging open.