Kitabı oku: «The Bride of the Tomb, and Queenie's Terrible Secret», sayfa 14

CHAPTER XXXIII

Mr. Shelton did not think it expedient to communicate to Mr. Lawrence the startling fact that the beloved daughter whom he mourned as dead was yet numbered among the living.

He had not the heart to give him this joyful assurance and then offset it by the statement that she was immured somewhere in the walls of a prison in the power of two wicked and unscrupulous men.

He determined, if possible, to trace out her whereabouts and rescue her before revealing the whole truth to the sorrowing father.

He therefore compromised the matter by telling a portion only of the truth to the banker.

Namely, that he had traced the body of the young girl to a certain house in the suburbs, but that it had been removed thence when he went to look for it, and that he was following up a new clew which he confidently hoped would soon lead to its recovery.

He also added the fact that Doctor Pratt and Harold Colville were the guilty parties in the matter.

Mr. Lawrence was anxious at first to have these two men arrested and forced to acknowledge their guilt and return the missing body, but he yielded to Mr. Shelton's contrary persuasions on being assured that such a proceeding might result in the disastrous failure of his plan.

"For though we might imprison them, Mr. Lawrence," said he, "the rigor of the law could not force them to divulge their dreadful secret unless they chose to do so. It is only too probable that they would maintain the most obstinate silence on the subject. Therefore let them go free a little longer, and let us oppose cunning to cunning, and fraud to fraud until we attain our end."

The banker acquiesced, and the detective hurried away, for he was resolved that the wily schemers should not elude him again as they had certainly done on the occasion of the removal of Lily Lawrence from the Leverets' house.

Once more he and his faithful colleague took up their task of espionage, but it was unavailing for weeks. Harold Colville had conceived a dim suspicion that he was watched, and was therefore doubly vigilant and wary. For more than a month he did not visit Lily, but contented himself by receiving cautious bulletins of her welfare from Doctor Heath, weekly. The messages went through the mails and were directed to a fictitious address.

In these careful weeks a new scheme was revolving in Colville's brain, always fertile in evil. He was growing heartily tired and impatient at Lily's obstinacy, and was frightened lest some unforeseen accident should snatch his lovely prize from him. He began to realize that Lily would never yield her consent to become his wife, yet he swore to himself that he would never give her up. He determined, therefore, on a forced marriage.

"What do you think of it?" said he to his familiar, Pratt, after detailing his fears and anxieties to that worthy, and stating his final resolution. "Would that do?"

"Excellently well," said Pratt, who began to feel as anxious as Colville about the obstinacy of their prisoner. "It is the best thing we can do. Our position is becoming environed with difficulties. If we had not removed her from Leveret's just in the nick of time, that detective, Shelton, who found the bodies of Haidee and Peter, must inevitably have discovered her, and ere this hour we must both have seen the inside of a prison. Yes, it would be infinitely wiser to force a marriage with the perverse little jade and carry her off to Europe if need be. Seeing herself thus irrevocably bound to you, she would understand that her only hope of happiness lay in reconciliation and she would act accordingly."

"Marry it shall be then," said Colville, with a brightening face. "But when, and by whom? Could we find a priest who would read the ceremony over us under the peculiar circumstances of the case?"

"Never fear for that," said Pratt, laughing. "I can find you a priest in New York who would do the deed without any twinges of conscience for a pocket full of money. Leave that to me, and when I have found him I will report progress and you shall name the happy day."

"It will be a speedy bridal if I am allowed to usurp the lady's usual prerogative and name the day," returned Colville, in a fine humor with himself at the near prospect of his union with the beautiful Lily.

"It will be better to allow her the chance of doing so," replied Pratt, sarcastically. "Ladies are great sticklers for these small points of etiquette, you know. After we have settled the preliminaries we will slip out there some dark night in disguise and acquaint her with the good fortune in store for her, and give her a chance to yield gracefully. Should she still refuse we will make no more ado about it, but take the priest out there next day and marry the beauty willy-nilly."

"It is settled, then," said Colville, "and I shall write myself 'Benedick, the happy man.' But, apropos of that, Pratt, whom do you imagine the chained prisoner found at Leveret's could be? I had no idea the devils were carrying on such a double game."

"Nor I," said Pratt. "I have indulged in a great many surmises respecting that mysterious prisoner, but cannot arrive at anything satisfactory."

"Have you fancied it might be Fanny?" inquired Colville, fearfully, while drops of perspiration broke out upon his brow.

"Yes, I have fancied it might be she," answered Pratt, coolly. "Perhaps old Peter and Haidee played us false, and did not kill her as you desired. We were not strict enough with them. We should have demanded a sight of the body for our assurance."

"Where is the woman they found?" asked Colville.

"I have tried to learn her whereabouts diligently," said Doctor Pratt, "but only ended by asking myself the same question you asked now. It is rather strange, too; I should have thought there would be no difficulty, but there seems to be a mystery connected with her removal."

"If I could find her, and it prove to be Fanny, I would kill her," muttered Colville, with a fearful oath.

"Perhaps she is dead already," replied the physician. "The papers described her as being too far gone to give her name or any evidence regarding herself. Probably she has succumbed to her great weakness and died."

"I hope so," replied the other, "for I have felt horribly afraid that she might prove to be Fanny."

"The killing of those two wretches was a most mysterious affair," remarked Pratt, musingly.

"Have you any suspicion as to the perpetrator?" asked Harold Colville.

"Not the slightest. It is a most mysterious affair to me. The wildest conjecture fails to fathom it."

"Whoever the mysterious poisoner may be he has my sincere thanks and best wishes," said Harold Colville, sardonically. "I owed the wretches a grudge for their attempt on Lily's life!"

"Yes, their death is eminently satisfactory to me," remarked Pratt. "I was casting about in my mind for some safe way to punish their perfidy without getting into trouble myself, when this opportune accident to their health stepped in between me and my meditated revenge. A pious person might almost call it an intervention of Providence.

"I dare say we should have called it an intervention of the devil if we had not been fortunate enough to carry my lady off safely the night before it happened," laughed Colville.

"After all, their plot to kill her was rather fortunate, since we came in just in time to frustrate it," answered Pratt, "for if they had not conspired against her life we should not have thought of removing her that night and she must have fallen into the detective's hands on the ensuing day."

"The devil takes care of his own. I am certain his satanic majesty helped us in that affair," was the laughing reply.

The two villains continued to indulge in these pleasing retrospections of the past for some minutes, then separated, the physician going off on his medical duties, and the man about town to some of his familiar haunts of dissipation.

As they emerged from the hotel, each man, unconsciously to himself, was followed by another man who stole forth from the corridors of the building.

One of those men—the same who now followed Pratt—had been outside of Colville's door, with his ear glued to the keyhole during the progress of their interesting conversation. It was Mr. Shelton, the detective.

How little the two conspirators dreamed of what ears had listened to their nefarious schemes of forcing their victim into a loathsome marriage by the aid of some priest who disgraced the holy robe he wore by such sacrilege.

Fate was weaving her web silently but rapidly around the two wicked plotters, and ere long they would receive their reward.

Mr. Shelton had learned several facts unknown to him before while listening to that private conversation. He resumed his weary task of espionage, infused with new hope and courage, feeling within himself the consciousness that he must and would succeed.

CHAPTER XXXIV

Lancelot Darling's unfortunate sleigh-riding accident had achieved for Mrs. Vance a victory that all her previous arts and maneuvers had failed to conquer.

Lancelot's noble and chivalrous spirit could not brook the thought that any woman's fair name should suffer through his fault or accident.

He therefore fell an easy victim to her artful wiles, and prepared to sacrifice himself on the altar of her imperious will, while deploring with all the passion of his manly nature the cause that demanded it.

"I thought myself the most miserable of all men on earth before this happened," said he to Mr. Lawrence, after confiding to him his unhappy position. "Life has held nothing but despair for me since Lily died. But now that I must take to my heart, in place of my worshiped darling, this mature woman, with her bold beauty and coquettish arts, I feel myself, if possible, driven nearer than before to the verge of madness."

"I believe you are sacrificing yourself unnecessarily, my boy," said the banker, warmly, for he saw through the widow's arts directly, and lamented the chivalrous nature that made Lance become her prey easily. "I believe Mrs. Vance, in order to secure a rich husband, has represented matters in a much stronger light than truth would sanction. Your unfortunate accident is unknown save to a few, and by a timely whisper to those who are cognizant of it, it need never transpire to the world. And even if it should there is no harm in it."

"It would be impossible to convince Mrs. Vance of that," said Lance, with a heavy sigh.

"Because she does not desire to be convinced of it," said the banker, grimly. "In her eagerness to secure you she will make the most of her small capital that she may delude you into becoming her husband."

Lance felt that Mr. Lawrence spoke the truth; but he was too modest and honorable to tell his friend of the previous attempt of the wily widow to secure him by her bold declaration of love. He felt that he had gotten into her toils, and that she would never allow him to extricate himself; so he answered, sadly enough:

"Be that as it may I have given her my word to make her my wife, and I cannot now withdraw from it."

"You would if you were of my mind, though," said his friend; "you are at least ten years younger than she is, Lance, and the match is totally unsuitable. Take my advice and withdraw from it. Make over to her a sum of money. Perhaps that would heal her wounded honor."

"I do not think she would release me on any terms were I brave enough to propose it," said Lance; "and to tell you the truth," he added, with a blush, "I actually believe that the woman really loves me."

Mr. Lawrence laughed at the blush and the assertion.

"Perhaps she does," he admitted. "I suppose that would not be difficult for her to do. Women run mad over handsome faces, you know. But, seriously, Lance, jesting aside, I would be off with the whole thing. If you loved her it would be different. She is handsome enough to grace your home and queen it royally there. But to burden yourself with an unloved wife will be like hanging a mill-stone about your neck."

"I wish I could take your advice, sir," said Lance; "but I think it would be useless to try to get loose from Mrs. Vance. She is quite determined to write her name Mrs. Darling."

"How soon does she propose to immolate her victim on the altar of sacrifice?" inquired the banker, grimly.

"At a very early day," answered the young man. "The twenty-fourth of December is her choice."

"Shameful!" ejaculated the banker. "She is determined to push her power to the utmost. And you permitted it?"

"Naming the day is the lady's prerogative, you know, sir," said Lance, bitterly. "I confess I did hint for a rather longer extension of my bachelor freedom; but she asserted that the peculiar circumstances attending our engagement would not admit of farther delay."

"She was afraid you might possibly escape her toils if you were afforded a longer time in which to reflect on your position," asserted Mr. Lawrence. "Well, Lance, if you are determined to sacrifice yourself for a scruple of overstrained chivalry I need not urge you further. It would be useless. I am tempted to drive the deceitful jade forth from the shelter of my roof within the hour."

"Oh, pray do not," said Lance, earnestly. "It would only precipitate the evil day of our union. She would claim my protection immediately then."

"It is very probable she would. For your sake, then, Lance, I will let her remain, and even allow her marriage to take place in my house; but I can never like or respect her again, even as your wife."

"I will leave you to make the truth known to Ada," continued Lancelot, bitterly; "do not allow her to believe that I am faithless to Lily's precious memory, Mr. Lawrence."

"I will tell her the whole truth," answered Mr. Lawrence, deeply moved.

Lance went away, and Mr. Lawrence hastened to communicate the astonishing news to Ada, who was confined to her sofa with her sprained ankle.

"Papa, I am not so surprised as you expect me to be," said the young girl, frankly. "I have long seen that Mrs. Vance was using every art in her power to win poor Lance. Indeed, I incurred her everlasting displeasure some time ago by boldly charging her with it. She did not deny it, but retaliated by saying that I wanted him myself. She seized upon the occurrence of last night as a pretext for winning what she has long been angling for—the hand of our poor, unhappy Lance."

"He will live to repent his boyish notion of chivalry, I am sure," he added; changing the subject abruptly, "I called on young Philip St. John to-day, and thanked him for his friendliness to you last night, and invited him to dinner. I had to show him some attention, you know," he said, observing the flush that colored Ada's cheek so suddenly. "You do not object, I hope?"

"Oh, no, no," she murmured; "he was exceedingly kind."

"He is a very superior young man," said the banker, cordially. "Well born, wealthy, and a lawyer by profession. He is a particular friend of Lance, which in itself is a recommendation to any young man," continued Mr. Lawrence, in whose eyes Lancelot Darling appeared the beau ideal of human perfection.

If Mrs. Vance had expected to be congratulated by the banker and his daughter upon her approaching marriage she was doomed to disappointment. Neither one of them alluded to it at all, though she knew that Lance had told them, and that they resented her conduct bitterly by the cold and altered manner, almost amounting to contempt, with which they treated her.

She was obliged to broach the matter to Mr. Lawrence herself, coupled with a modest request for the funds wherewith to purchase as elaborate a trousseau as could be gotten in the short time intervening between then and Christmas.

Mr. Lawrence, in the grimmest and coldest manner imaginable, presented her with a check for a thousand dollars, and with profuse thanks she hurried out to expend it in finery.

She was very happy now in the coming fulfillment of her cherished desire, and no coldness, not even the lowering shadow on Lance's face when he came and went, had power to alter her imperious will.

To win him she had steeped her hands in human blood and risked the dangers of the scaffold. It was not likely she would relent now, when the sin and sorrow lay behind her in the past, and the happy consummation of all her efforts loomed brightly before her.

She went on blithely with her task of preparation for the grand event, seeing dressmakers and milliners daily, and leaving herself no time for retrospection in her whirl of engagements. And time, that "waits for no man," hurried on and brought the day of fate.

CHAPTER XXXV

Slowly and wearily passed the days to the poor captive girl immured in the midst of Doctor Heath's insane patients.

She was kept closely confined to her room, seeing no one at all except the kind-hearted attendant, Mary Brown, and occasionally Doctor Heath. Both these persons, in spite of her agonized assertions and explanations, persisted in regarding her as a lunatic.

Immured in a madhouse, startled and frightened daily by the insane shrieks of the mad people about her, and regarded as insane herself, Lily's heart sank within her, and she began to fear that her mind would indeed give way under her trials, and she would become in reality the melancholy maniac they pretended to believe her.

But she had at least one comfort in the midst of her troubles. She had been spared for nearly two months the odious visits of Harold Colville and his confederate, Doctor Pratt.

She could not conjecture why she had been thus highly favored, but congratulated herself all the same upon the fact.

If she had known the real truth of the matter, that they believed themselves watched and were afraid to venture near her, she would have felt her heart leap with new hope at the knowledge; but her long imprisonment and many trials had worn out hope in her breast. She believed that death was the only friend that would intervene to save her from Harold Colville.

She sat sadly musing before her fire one night, when the loud ringing of the bell below startled her from her dreaming, and the thought that she was about to receive a visit from her captors darted into her mind.

Ten minutes elapsed and she began to feel relieved and believe herself mistaken, when footsteps were heard upon the stairs, and presently the two wretches entered her room.

They had remained below long enough to remove their disguises, without which they had been afraid to visit her.

They would not have felt so secure if they had known that the lynx-eyed detective, Mr. Shelton, was pacing up and down the road in front of the house, laughing in his sleeve at the ineffectual trouble they had taken in disguising themselves.

Mr. Shelton had seen this house before, knew that it was a madhouse, was acquainted with the name of the proprietor, and knew also that he was suspected at the police headquarters of being engaged in a fraudulent business, and that a descent upon the house for the purpose of verifying suspicion was meditated.

"Ah! Miss Lawrence, good-evening," said Doctor Pratt, airily. "I trust you find yourself in better health and spirits than when we last met."

Lily turned her head away without replying, while Colville, bending over her, whispered gallantly:

"Ah, my obdurate fair one, have you relented yet?"

"No," answered Lily, briefly and coldly, withdrawing the hand he had tried to take in his own.

"I hoped your mind had changed in the long interval since we last met," said he, taking a seat near her.

Doctor Pratt had already taken a chair by the grated window.

"You were mistaken," she answered, coldly, as before.

"I think you will admit that I have waited long and patiently on your pleasure, Lily," said he, in a tone of expostulation.

Lily lifted her large blue eyes for a moment and looked at him with a glance in which contempt and weariness were blended.

"Mr. Colville," she said, quietly, "pray spare yourself the useless discussion of that subject. You had my answer long ago. I assure you my decision is unalterable."

"But, Lily, reflect a moment. Would not a union with me be preferable to a lifetime of isolation and weariness here?"

"No," she answered, steadily. "Even the wretched existence I drag out here among the insane inhabitants of this place is far more welcome to me than the hated thought of a union with you!"

"I am sorry you think so," he answered, in tones of bitter sarcasm, "as, unfortunately, I do not propose to give you any choice in the matter."

"What do you mean?" she inquired, with a thrill of indefinable fear creeping coldly around her heart.

He saw the look of terror that came into her eyes, and, villain though he was, he hesitated before speaking out what was in his mind. He glanced at Dr. Pratt and took courage from the gleam of that villain's eyes.

"I mean," he answered, in a low voice of concentrated rage and bitterness, "that your obstinacy has at length worn out my patience, and I have determined to take my own way in the matter regardless of your will."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, in a quivering voice, while her young face blanched to a deathly hue.

"I am going to make you my wife without your consent," he answered, grimly.

"You cannot!" she answered, with dilating eyes and a trembling voice. "It would be no marriage if I refused to consent."

"So much the worse for you, then," he answered, laughing harshly, "for the marriage ceremony shall certainly be read over us, and that will be entirely sufficient for me. I shall surely consider you my wife, then, and take you to my heart without further scruples."

"No holy man of God would perform such an unhallowed ceremony," said she incredulously.

"Do not delude yourself thus, my sweet girl," he laughed mockingly. "A bona fide priest is already engaged for the important occasion. Will you be pleased to appoint the happy day?"

"Never!" she flashed out bitterly.

"You force me then to usurp your feminine privilege," he answered coolly. "And in that case your womanly vanity can of course pardon the impatient ardor of a lover who has waited humbly and patiently as I have done. To-morrow, then, shall witness our bridal!"

"To-morrow!" she cried, springing up and clasping her small hands together in helpless agony. "To-morrow! Oh! no, you do not mean it! You will not be so cruel?"

"You will see!" he answered. "I have made every preparation for the event, even to our bridal tour. To-morrow a steamer leaves her wharf for Europe. I have secured our passage, and this morning sent aboard of her a trunk well filled with feminine apparel for your use during the voyage. Of course you will select your bridal trousseau after we arrive at Paris. I shall not deny my beautiful bride any luxury. It only remains for me to inform you that I will bring a priest out here to-morrow, and our marriage shall be duly celebrated before we take passage for the Old World."

Lily remained standing, gazing at the scheming villain with dilated blue eyes, and lips and cheeks blanched to the pallid whiteness of death.

Harold Colville laughed mockingly.

"You may stare, fair one," he said. "To-morrow shall see you my wife. No power can save you."

"No power!" she repeated, gazing at him with flashing eyes. "No power! Oh! blasphemer, do you forget that there is a God above who cares for the innocent and punishes the guilty? Beware, lest His vengeance fall upon you in the hour of your fancied triumph!"

She looked like some beautiful, inspired prophetess as she faced him with a lifted hand that seemed to menace him with evil.

Her golden hair had become loosened from its fastenings and streamed over her shoulders, gleaming around her lovely pallid features like a halo of light.

For a moment Harold Colville quailed before her with something like fear of that dread tribunal with whose vengeance she threatened him.

His heart sank strangely within him, while hers, for the moment, thrilled with a presentiment of coming deliverance.

Surely if "coming events cast their shadows before," both the guilty Harold Colville and the wronged Lily Lawrence were gifted with a momentary prescience of that which was hastening to them in the near future.

Doctor Pratt saw the subtle shadow settling over Colville's pale features, and arose hastily.

"Come, come, Miss Lawrence," he said harshly. "These tragedy airs would be very fine on the stage, but they are out of place here. Spare yourself so much unnecessary exertion; you will most certainly become Mr. Colville's wife to-morrow. Instead of this useless defiance let me advise you to cultivate a spirit of meekness and submission. It is useless to threaten us with the punishment of God. We do not believe in Him!"

She was walking restlessly up and down the floor, and made him no answer, save one scathing flash from her brilliant eyes. He turned away with a laugh of derision.

"Come, Colville, let us go," he said. "Other matters demand our attention now. We must arrange matters with Dr. Heath before we go."

Colville paused at the door and looked at the young girl restlessly pacing the floor.

"To-morrow, then, my fair and obdurate love," said he. "To-morrow! Until then, adieu!"

No word or motion betrayed that she heard him.

He closed and locked the door, going away with the exultant thought that this was his last parting from his beautiful captive.

She heard the sound of the receding footsteps, and fell on her knees, lifting up her convulsed face in a passionate appeal to God that He would deliver her from the snares of these wicked men.

They went down-stairs and were closeted some time with Doctor Heath.

When they went away a large roll of bills was passed from the purse of Harold Colville to the pocket of the complacent little insane-doctor. Then resuming their disguises they took leave.

"To-morrow, then," said Colville, as they descended the steps, speaking thoughtlessly aloud. "To-morrow we shall return, and with the worthy priest's assistance, I shall bear away my unwilling bride."

"Hush! do not speak so loud," said Doctor Pratt, cautiously. "The very stones have ears."

They sprang into their carriage and drove rapidly away.

Then a dark form that had been crouching beneath the steps came out and straightened its cramped limbs.

"To-morrow," he repeated, with a low, exultant laugh. "To-morrow! Ah! what a happy day to-morrow will be to some sorrowing hearts that I know of. Take courage, sweet Lily Lawrence! To-morrow shall see you restored to the arms of your father and your lover! Let me see—to-morrow is the twenty-fourth of December. What a triumphant Christmas eve it will be for me!"

He walked on some distance to where he had secured his horse, and mounting him in haste, rode away full of plans for his next day's happy mission to sorrowing hearts.