Ambrotox and Limping Dick

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE WINDOW.

  When Amaryllis awoke from a sleep in which the remains of the drugMelchard had given her had happily combated the restlessness of fear,she had no memory of how she came to the room in which she foundherself.

  Under the shock of the strange surroundings she sprang from the bed, andas her feet touched the floor, last night came back to her.

  She tried the door--locked!

  She went to the window, and had already raised the lower part until itjammed, when there came running beneath an angry woman, threatening withgesture and unintelligible words.

  It was Fridji, who was once Sir Randal's parlour-maid, and last nightMelchard's companion in the car.

  Amaryllis drew back and looked round the room for her gown--the greensilk she had worn at dinner last night. It had been taken from her bodybefore she was laid on the bed. The rest of her clothes she still wore,even to the evening shoes which were hurting her feet. But the greenfrock was gone--an added precaution, no doubt, against her escape.

  Fear thrilled in her heart, and grew so terrible that, if the window hadgiven her any prospect but that foul yard and the dark pine trees behindit, she would have broken its glass and screamed for help.

  Almost in despair, she sat trembling on the bed, and thought of herfather and of the two Bellamys, and of what they would do, when theycaught them, to the men who had stolen Ambrotox and the woman theyloved.

  All the three? Well, two at least. Yet somehow she felt that it wouldnot be surprising if the worst vengeance should be Limping Dick's.

  And inside her she smiled, and the shaking of her body began to subside.

  But before her courage was firm in the saddle there came footsteps inthe passage--a foot that she knew. The key grated, the door opened, andMelchard entered the room, dressed in a soft, new-looking suit ofpurplish grey; the jacket too long in the body and too close in thewaist, the wide, unstarched cuffs of the mauve shirt turned back--anembryo fashion--over the coat-sleeves.

  And with him came the miasma of that nauseating perfume.

  The mercy of God sent her anger, and she forgot that she rose beforethis intruder covered only in white princess petticoat, green silkstockings and high-heeled bronze shoes.

  The petticoat was cut low on neck and shoulders, and the white of thelace shoulder-straps showed bluish between the warm cream-colour of neckand of arms. The face, a moment before pale and worn almost tohaggardness, was now flushed with the indignation which gave point andedge to the words which overwhelmed for a moment even the shameless andcommercialized criminal.

  Of what he was, she knew little, but what she thought of him he couldnot escape hearing.

  Yet, when she paused in, rather than concluded her invective, he hadalready recovered his effrontery.

  "My dear Miss Caldegard," he said, "we were compelled last night, foryour own good, to exhibit a mild opiate. Your health required it. It hasimpaired, I fear, your memory of the circumstances which have broughtyou under my care. When you have had a few weeks in which to benefit bythe devoted care and scientific attention which we shall bring to bearon your case, you will learn to look on me as what I am--your medicalattendant, and to forget--or--or----" and here he ogled her horriblywith his fine eyes--"or remember in a new fashion your old lover."

  And with this disgusting phrase he came close up to her.

  "Lover still," he said, "though discarded and trampled upon."

  Amaryllis could not know that her very truculence was a fan to hisflame.

  "Go out of my room," she cried, and struck him on his mouth and cheek.

  The blow was delivered with the action of a slap, but the fingers wereclenched, and the arm was swung from the shoulder.

  Melchard seized her by the elbows, cruelty and joy making in hiscountenance a horrible mixture of emotion.

  With his face close to hers, he said:

  "Oh, yes, I'll go--soon! That tawny hair of yours, Amaryllis, issplendidly voluptuous against your skin of live, creamy satin. I long torun my fingers into its meshes."

  And actually he would have touched it--her hair!--but for a voice whichspoke sharply through the partly-open door:

  "You're wanted, Alban. Come!"

  And Amaryllis, in spite of fear and disgust, almost laughed at thedisgust and fear in his face as he released her.

  "My men downstairs," he said. "Soon--soon I shall see you again."

  Then, at the door, he turned to add: "There are four of them, prompt,even rash fellows--all armed but faithful and devoted to me. I beg youto wait until your breakfast is sent up. Attempts to escape aredangerous."

  Again the key was turned, and Amaryllis flung herself on the bed,shaking with rage and horror.

  But her attention was distracted from herself by the absence ofdeparting footsteps.

  The man must be still at the door--listening, spying through somecrevice, perhaps.

  No--he was talking--listening--replying, in a voice too low for thewords to reach her.

  And then an answering voice, which rose by swift crescendo, until itdrove the man with hasty steps down the passage, followed by a screamingfinal curse.

  Fridji the parlour-maid was jealous, was angry, and was making herMelchard a scene! Oh, but how funny things would be if they weren't sobeastly!

  But Dutch Fridji, having no humour, entered the room in the worst temperof a depraved woman.

  "You want breakfast?" she said, locking the door and taking out the key.

  Amaryllis looked up with disdainful laziness.

  "Of course," she said, "please be quick."

  "If you cannot wait," replied Fridji, "you must go without."

  "You must not speak to me like that. You know very well thatparlour-maids say 'ma'am' and are expected to be respectful."

  "Parlour-maids! I am no parlour-maid."

  "Indeed?" said Amaryllis.

  "Here--I am mistress!"

  "Oh!" said Amaryllis.

  "And you are prisoner--I tell you."

  "Yes?" said Amaryllis. "I'm afraid you've let yourself be dragged into avery wicked crime for which you will be severely punished."

  "Punish! To punish _me_! Drag in! But me? Me? Me? I am not dragged. Ilead."

  "Really?" said Amaryllis.

  "The head is mine. I plan. And, because you will never leave this placeI do not mind to tell you that it is I have done it. All this. We havethe New Drug. I hold the man that shall make it and sell it. I am theleader. I get the key. I catch you by the throat, there in The ManorHouse, my pretty, red-haired mistress! I catch you while my Melchard,who is clever, prick your arm with the needle. I--I--I!"

  "Oh, yes," said Amaryllis. "But I do not think you are wise to tell allthis to me."

  "Because you tell again? Oh, no, ma'am! I squeeze harder next time--andthere are other things. This is good old establish firm, no risk taken."

  And Dutch Fridji came slowly towards Amaryllis.

  "You make love with my Alban," she said, "an' I stop it." Lifting herskirt, she fetched from a sheath in her stocking a sharp-pointed knife."I have enough of you. Two months I must say 'ma'am'! And now, it isAlban!"

  "You mean to kill me?" asked Amaryllis.

  Dutch Fridji was like the nightmare vision of a Fury.

  For a moment Amaryllis was paralyzed. But Fridji liked the clatter ofher own tongue.

  "It is that I mean," she said. "To kill you very slow. Your beautifulfrock, it burn now. Soon your shoes, your stockings, your longpetticoat, the corset shall burn, till there shall not be a shred theycan say was yours. And then the body shall be burned--but first carveand chopped like meat at table."

  Amaryllis gasped and shuddered, giving fuel to the blaze, so that itcrackled once more into fierce indiscretion.

  "I tell you things. Oh, yes, I tell. For the last one that died--it wasa pity. He did not know before--knew not ever what was coming to him andto each part of him. That spoil the flavour of my dish, do you see?"

  A flourish of the
knife put expressive finish to the words.

  Amaryllis backed into the corner between bed and door, speaking any wordthat came. On equal terms she would have fought for life like a cat, butthe knife----

  "Mr. Melchard doesn't want me to be killed," she said.

  For a moment Fridji's rage choked her.

  "I'll scream, and he'll come with his men."

  "With this I have sent him running from your door," cried Fridji. "It islocked this side, and you will bleed to die before they break it."

  Not rushing, but creeping, Dutch Fridji approached.

  Amaryllis raised her eyes towards the window and the strip of sky itframed, in silent supplication. And already, half through the window,she saw her answer.

  And Fridji saw her victim's face flush with hope, and turned to see itscause.

  Through the opening which Amaryllis had left between sill and sash, hishands on the floor, his chin almost touching it, while his legs fromknee to feet were still outside the window, she saw Dick Bellamy.

  Fridji, with blood in her mind, knife in her hand, and the proof ofAmaryllis' face that this was an enemy, sprang to deal with thedefenceless intruder.

  Amaryllis had seen the lank black hair, no longer sleek, and hadreceived one gleam from the uplifted blue eyes; and now knew terror suchas she had not felt even for herself.

  Nothing, it seemed, could come between the knife and Dick Bellamy--Dickwho had come to her. And then she saw his left arm dart forward--an armthat seemed, on the floor, to shoot out to twice its natural length--andits fingers gripped Fridji's left ankle, jerking it towards him.

  The woman fell backwards, and Amaryllis caught her from behind.

  "Stop her mouth," said Dick from the floor.

  And the girl, her long hands almost meeting round Fridji's slender neck,squeezed with all her strength, forcing the head and shoulders to theground.

  Fridji gaped for breath.

  "Stuff her mouth--blanket," said Dick, with his feet almost clear of thewindow-sill, yet keeping his hold on the ankle.

  Amaryllis forced the corner of the coverlet between Fridji's teeth andheld it there, keeping up the pressure of the other hand on the throat.

  "That's what they did to me," she thought.

  Dick stood beside her.

  "Change with me," he whispered, and slid his left hand round the frontof Dutch Fridji's neck. Amaryllis stood up.

  By the hold of his left, Dick raised the woman almost to her feet and,measuring his distance, struck her with his right fist on the left sideof the neck directly below the ear--a short, sharp blow, the sound ofwhich affected the watching girl with a pang of physical sickness.

  It might have been the noise made by a butcher flinging a slab of rawsteak upon his block.

  Dick let the woman's body gently back to the floor, and Amaryllis sawthat she was unconscious as a corpse.

  "Is she dead?" she said softly.

  "For five minutes--p'r'aps ten," he answered. "Where's the key?"

  Amaryllis picked it up from the floor.

  "Melchard said he'd got four men downstairs--armed," she whispered.

  "Heard him--but it's the only way--they've fixed that window. Justscraped in head first and we can't get out like that. Come on," saidDick, and put the key in the lock.

  "I've--I haven't got--haven't got any clothes." And there was no otherexpression of shame in her face than the two large tears that gatheredslowly in her eyes.

  But Dick Bellamy ignored them, looking her up and down like a manconsidering the harness needed for a horse.

  "Take off her skirt," he said; then added: "Shoes might do." And withhis back turned to the girl, he knelt and quickly unshod Dutch Fridjiwhile Amaryllis unfastened the waistband of the skirt.

  "Yours wouldn't last a mile," said Dick, going to the window and lookingout. "Put 'em on quick--say when."

  In a time wonderfully short, he thought, for a girl, she spoke.

  "I'm ready," said the small voice; and he turned to face a quaint figurein a skirt too short, and too wide on the hips. The brogue shoes wouldhave looked better if the stockings had been of anything but green silk.

  But the pathos of sentiment and custom was in the bare arms and the twohands crossed on the chest and throat, with fingers spread in vainattempt to cover the whole; and in the plaintive simplicity of the voicewhich said:

  "But, oh, my neck! I can't possibly get into her blouse, and a blanket'stoo conspicuous."

  Dick stripped off his Norfolk jacket, holding it for her arms. As shehesitated, glancing at him, he frowned.

  "Please obey orders," he said, and she meekly slipped on the loose coat.He took from its pocket a folded white handkerchief, and tied it roundher neck by two adjacent corners, so that it hung like a child's bib.Amaryllis pulled the collar up over the knot at the back, and began tobutton the coat over the linen.

  "Don't button it," he said, pulling off his necktie. "Cross the edges.Lift your arms."

  And he tied the dark green strip round her waist, knotting it in front.

  "Come on," he said; and, stooping, picked up Fridji's knife. "Where'sthe sheath?"

  "In her stocking," said Amaryllis.

  "Get it," said Dick, and unlocked the door.

  Amaryllis behind him whispered: "She moved a little," and brought himthe leather sheath.

  They stepped silently into the passage. Dick locked the door andpocketed the key.

  "Quietly," he said, and as they crept towards the stairhead, he slid thesheathed knife into the pocket of the tweed jacket.