Kitabı oku: «An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West», sayfa 12
“The boat rocks, the storm is upon us,” she muttered.
At the moment Smith commenced to batter the other door of the cabin, Jack took the chance, and sprang to one side, out of line of Sam’s revolver.
“It’s the police!” he exclaimed wildly, and in the panic that seized him he quite forgot his assumed character.
He picked up the revolver that he had wrenched from Virginia, and which lay upon the floor, and his attitude became so threatening and malignant as to cause her to utter a slight terrified scream.
Even Dorothy’s large innocent eyes blazed, and she struck at him in defense of Virginia. “Mr. Golda, you’re a bad, bad man.”
The child’s voice raised in Jack a “forlorn hope,” for he muttered, “Dorothy shall be my guarantee of escape.”
Simultaneously the door flew open under Thorpe’s blows, and he stood in the entrance.
“Oh, papa, papa!” cried Dorothy, as she ran toward him.
Seeing his opportunity, Jack desperately clutched the child with his left hand. Swinging Dorothy in front of him, and before her father, he pointed the revolver at her head, and in that position addressed him in a sort of screeching yell, “Stop!”
Thorpe stood horror-stricken. His heart leaped to his throat. “My God! madman, what will you do?” he hoarsely exclaimed, and motioned as if to rescue the child.
With a tighter clutch, and a more maddening menace, Jack again addressed him, “Stop, not a step nearer!” And to emphasize his purpose, he placed the muzzle of the revolver close to her head.
Observing the desperate peril in which Dorothy was placed, and with a courage born of horror and despair, Virginia stole to Jack’s back, and with a wild frantic scream of “Save her!” seized his pistol hand between both her own, and in the struggle that immediately ensued, and in which all her strength was exerted, the weapon fell to the floor.
And then Sam tore open the broken window, swung himself through to the floor, and instantly grappled with Jack.
Virginia’s attack forced Jack to release Dorothy, who was immediately gathered in her father’s arms.
“Safe, my blessed child, safe!” he fervently exclaimed.
And then poor Virginia, courageous, strong-minded, kind-hearted, passionate Virginia, having sustained the frightful nervous strain till the last moment, swayed, and sank to the floor in a swoon.
Meanwhile Constance stood beside the cabin door, staring at the men in a dazed and vacant manner. She had heard Virginia, and repeated mechanically, “Save Dorothy!” and now repeated after Mr. Thorpe, in tones as though a very dear voice had kindled a spark calling back loving recollections. She drew her hand across her brow, as though trying to clear away some web that obscured her memory, and stared at her husband like one suddenly awakened from a dream. A moment after and she whispered with awe in her voice, “John! John!”
Almost immediately Rutley had returned to the room without the child, but with Jack’s money, the door near him was being battered. He at once concluded that the game was up, and his own safety necessitated an immediate escape. How? He must decide at once.
How many surrounded the cabin? Ha! If he only knew, and then the hatch occurred to him.
He knew the big logs upon which the cabin was built raised it some ten or twelve inches above water. There lay his way – out – quick. He lifted the cover, and silently sank beneath the floor between the logs.
Then he let the trap door fall back in position above him, just as the cabin door gave way and the detective entered, followed by Smith, who handled an axe.
It was then that Constance seemed to recover suddenly her reason, for she rushed toward her husband with outstretched arms, exclaiming in a voice fraught with rapturous thanksgiving, “John! John and Dorothy!” An inexpressible joy shone in her eyes.
But her advance was met with a cold, stern frown and a backward wave of the hand. Not a word escaped him.
For a moment she stood irresolute; then she passed the tips of her fingers across her brow again and again – “Oh, this horrible dream that I cant’ shake off!” Again she seemed to recover her reason and her voice, soft and sobbing, said, “John, you don’t believe me shameless and debased, do you? You can’t believe it, for it is false, false, I say! and the boat won’t clear from it! Let me help” – and her voice hardening, she went on – “Give me a paddle. We must escape. Save Dorothy!” and she threw out her hands to him appealingly.
A swift compassionate look swept across Thorpe’s face. The first doubt of his wife’s guilt had seized upon his brain, and he said chokingly, “My God, is it possible my wife is innocent?”
He had half turned around to her, but on remembering the ring, his face again set stern, then without another word he waved her back with a single motion of his hand.
But the sound of his voice had once more stirred up a filament of intelligence and she sobbed, “John! John!” She got no further. She saw him turn away and, placing her hand to her side, trembled, and with a moan on her lips, sank down beside Virginia.
And at that moment the detective appeared in the partition doorway and was followed closely by Smith, who, upon seeing the prostrate woman, senseless on the floor, at once concluded a foul crime had been committed, and exclaimed, with horror and rage on his face:
“Oh, the murtherin’ blackguard!”
In the struggle Jack broke from Sam and stooped to pick up the revolver. But Sam, coached in Texas, had him covered with his own revolver in a twinkling, and with the characteristic side movement of his head, said with a grin of satisfaction, “If you touch it, I’ll send a bullet through your brain!”
CHAPTER XVII
After Jack Shore had been securely handcuffed, and after a hasty but bootless search for his partner in crime, Detective Simms hustled him into the launch, and desiring to get him behind the prison bars without delay, ordered the engineer to run the boat across the river at once so as to avoid any attempt at release by possible confederates.
A hasty examination of both Constance and Virginia convinced Mr. Thorpe that they were not seriously hurt, and were rendered senseless only by a shock of great mental excitement.
To remain until after their recovery would only add torture to a painful situation; he therefore made them as comfortable as the limited means at hand would allow, and then taking Dorothy with him, boarded the launch, leaving Sam and Smith to watch over and care for his wife and sister until the arrival of a physician, whom he intended to dispatch to their aid as quickly as possible. Dorothy objected to leaving her mother, but was sternly overruled and awed into submission by her father.
Ten minutes after her rescue the boat was speeding toward Madison Street landing with John Thorpe and Dorothy, Jack Shore and Detective Simms, taciturn and grave.
As the boat drew away, both Sam and Smith silently contemplated the two insensible women on the floor. For some moments neither spoke a word, profoundly absorbed in a grave contemplation of the questionable necessity of the two women undertaking so dangerous a mission.
To Sam it appeared plain they had very recently learned of Dorothy’s place of captivity; but why they had not imparted the information to some of their male friends, why they had kept her place of concealment secret, and why, also, they had undertaken her release just prior to the arrival of her father on the scene, was a mystery. It only resulted in a suspicion that they had somehow heard of John Thorpe’s premeditated attempt at rescue, and were alarmed lest Dorothy should fall into his hands.
Smith’s mind was not of an analytical nature; in fact, he did not think their presence was attributable to anything other than a mother’s natural heart-breaking longing to recover her darling as swiftly as possible, and in the enterprise Virginia had joined her.
And as he thought of the indifference and cruel desertion of John Thorpe with her child, for whom she had made such a sacrifice, a solemn, serious look of sadness gathered on his face and deepened into contempt and anger. And the compassion in his heart welled up and at length broke from between his lips, in unconscious mutterings. “Sure, he tuk her darlint from her an’ left her lyin’ there, too, so he do, on the hard flure, wid her sinses gone out from her hid complately. The heartless man!”
“The trouble between them is serious,” Sam replied, as he knelt down beside Virginia and commenced to chafe her hands.
“Sure, don’t I know it, so I do!” rejoined Smith, as he followed Sam’s example and set to chafing Constance’s hands between his own. “An’ he’s broke her heart entirely, so he ave,” he went on, “an’ her hands do be numb wid no life in thim at all.”
Then he was silent for a time and worked industriously to bring back into her hands the warmth that had fled.
Suddenly he asked Sam in an eager, anxious whisper, “Do yees belave she’d do wrong?”
“No!” Sam promptly replied.
“Naither do I. Indade she’s as swate an’ innocint a lady as wan ave hivin’s angels. Sure, she cudn’t do wrong at all, at all.”
“Not at all!” responded Sam gravely.
“An’ the mister shud ave better sinse than to trate her so unkind, don’t yees think so now?”
“Thorpe is a damned fool, I guess!” Sam answered gloomily.
“Indade, I do belave it, too, so I do!”
Again there was silence. Again it was broken by Smith, who said in a low, confidential tone: “I’ll tell yees, I belave it do be some attracious divil ave come betwain thim.”
“You do!” Sam snapped at him, as though he interpreted Smith’s allusion a direct reference to Virginia.
“Indade I do, so I do!”
“Why do you think so?” Sam asked, a tinge of annoyance at Smith’s persistence still appearing in the manner of asking.
“Isn’t she an angel? An’ it’s only the divil cud sipporate an angel from her husband. Sure, man, dear, what more do yees want to prove it?”
A twitching of Virginia’s eyelids at that moment caught Sam’s attention. It was nature’s first harbinger of approaching consciousness. He held up his hand for Smith to be silent. The twitching, however, ceased, and her eyelid remaining closed, again became motionless.
“A false alarm!” he muttered, and proceeded to chafe her hands more industriously than before. It was evident that Sam liked the occupation; for this young lady had unconsciously woven a mesh of enthralling servitude about his heart, and his idolizing; passionate fondness had at last been rewarded by unexpectedly finding himself permitted to caress her at will; to stroke her hair, to contemplate her fair face, to press her hands between his own.
Sam shrewdly suspected that Virginia was somehow the cause of Thorpe’s estrangement from his wife, but wherefore and why, were parts that she alone could explain, and her lips were sealed.
That she was also mysteriously connected with the abduction of the child, he felt was a moral certainty. And her meeting with the Italian in the lonely park at dead of night could have offered no other solution. It had acted as a temporary restraining factor upon the ardor of his love and admiration. But now, as she lay so still and insensible in his care and protection; now, as he gazed on her fair features, all his doubts of her chastity and loyalty to those she loved vanished, and an all conquering fondness suddenly burst in a flood of radiance upon him, sweeping away all his misgivings before it, irresistible and impetuous as the flight of an avalanche.
It was very quiet at that moment; so still that the rippling water, as it lapped along the logs which supported the cabin, sounded very distinct. Smith imagined he heard a splash, and assuming a listening attitude, said cautiously, “Phwat may that mane?”
After a pause, Sam alertly remarked, “We have not kept a lookout. What if the dago’s partner should steal in on us?”
Smith’s eyes blazed with anger. Laying Constance’s hand down, he sprang to his feet. “Be the power ave justice,” he exclaimed between his teeth, “sure, an’ it do be a divil ave a bad job the rogue’ll take on, to boord us now.”
“If you see anybody lurking near, call me,” said Sam.
“Niver yees moind! Just lave the thavin’ blackguard to me! I’ll attind to him!” Smith answered, a savage joy betrayed on his face, and, seizing hold of the axe, he crept softly to the door. After listening a moment, he opened it and stepped out, closing the door behind him.
Again there was silence. Again Sam tenderly smoothed away Virginia’s abundant silky black hair from her face, and fondly chafed her temples. And as he thought of her swift recovery, a recovery that would place a great gulf between him and this one girl who could make him the happiest being on all God’s green earth, he muttered; “Oh, for one touch of those ruby colored lips – even if it be stolen.”
Virginia’s face was very close to him, and as he looked at her he detected a faint warmth in her cheeks; noted the fine mold, the delicate tracery of blue veins through her clear white skin – the temptation was very great. His heart thumped wildly and then – unmindful of the impropriety, or unwilling to resist the natural inclination of his arm to slip under her full, round, snowy neck – raised her head and touched her lips with his. The contact germinated a magnetic spark that raced through her veins and instantly awoke her to life.
She sprang to her feet, the red blood of active youth flushing her face to crimson. For one moment she looked indignant, fully conscious of the liberty he had taken. Sam bent his head abashed, and said apologetically – said in tones and manner that left no mistake as to his honest love and deep respect for her – “You looked so beautiful that – really now – I could not help it – forgive me!”
Her mobile face, that had set in a shock of alarm, indignation and scorn, softened and, as the events of the night flooded her memory, changed to a smile. For one moment it loitered in her eyes and on her lips, and then again changed to a grave, serious look that developed tears in her beautiful blue eyes. She held out her hand to him. Were his eyes deceiving him? Could he believe it? Yes, and he stood dazed with overpowering joy that she was not offended at the liberty.
He took her hand and gently carried it to his lips. Then she turned to the aid of Constance, knelt beside her, felt her hands, her face, her neck, and asked him. “Who was so mean to strike her down?”
For answer he sadly shook his head, and replied gravely, “She sank to the floor after John Thorpe refused her.”
Then bitter tears trickled down Virginia’s face as she continued to chafe her hands; but finding her efforts to restore warmth were unavailing, the same gripping at her heartstrings again possessed her. She raised her eyes to him, a frantic pleading in her voice, “Help me, Sam; oh, help me bring back the life that has nearly fled!”
“Help you!” he repeated proudly, as he stood in front of the girl who had for the first time asked of him a favor in her distress, the favor of a “good samaritan.”
And then, looking straight at her, he said, very seriously, as he knelt and took Constance’s other hand, “The strength that God has given me is at your service, now and forever!”
She understood, and he noted with pleasure that no swift questioning glance of anger, no look of weariness and turning away, as once before, followed his magnanimity.
At that moment Smith, who stood on the platform just outside the cabin door, was heard to say in a loud voice:
“Move on there! The channel be over beyant, in the middle ave the water! Kape yees head more sout be aste!” Then he was heard muttering indistinctly, with only such disjointed words as “blackguard,” “whillip” and “divilish rat,” clearly audible.
It was soon, however, followed by angry words delivered in an aggressively belligerent voice: “Be hivins, don’t yees come near us! Kape off, sure, d’yees moind, yees blackguards, or I’ll put a hole through yees bottom that’ll sink yees down to the place where yees do belong, so ye do!”
Suddenly changing his voice to an anxious tone, said, “Phwat d’yees want? Phwat’s that? Doctor, sure! Praise be to God! Oh, we’ve been waitin’ for yees, doctor dear, till our hearts do be broken entirely. Be me soul, it’s the thruth; not wan bit more nor less. Come, dear, yees do be wanted quick!”
A lurch at the cabin told that the launch had arrived. The door was hastily opened and Smith pushed the doctor in.
“There they be, sure, lyin’ en the flure wid no sinse in thim at all, at all. Do yees be quick, doctor, and hivin’ll reward yees!”
Skillful application of proven restoratives, however, failed to produce sensibility, and the doctor considered the case so grave that he ordered Constance be removed to her home as quickly as possible.
She was, therefore, tenderly taken on board the launch and conveyed home.
The sun’s rays had burst through and dispersed the early morning mists before Constance recovered from the shock, but, alas! with the shadow of a wreck enveloping her.
CHAPTER XVIII
The next morning Sam determined upon a personal interview with the prisoner. Upon arrival at the County jail, where the prisoner had been transferred, Sam encountered Smith, who was standing on the curb talking to a policeman.
“How dy yus do, Sor?” was Smith’s greeting.
“Getting along as fast as could be expected,” he answered.
“It do be surprisin’ the number ave blackguards there do be infesting the straits ove Portland after dark these days. Houldups, an’ ‘break-o-day Johnnies’ an’ ‘shanghoin’ an’ – an’ kidnappin’ – an’ what bates me, all the worrk to be had at good wages the while – whill wan ave the rogues do be off his bait for a time, so he do!”
“Sure, Smith, no mistake about that,” Sam laughed. “We slipped it over him in fine shape last night. Have you seen him this morning?”
“Indade oi ’ave, Sor, and he’s the very wan that run the soule ave his plexis ferninst me hand the other day for spakin’ disrespectful ave a lady.”
“I came to see him,” Sam said, with a smile at Smith’s chivalry.
“Indade! Sure yees’ll not recognize him as the wan we tuk last night at all, fir the color ave hair do be turnin’ from black to a faded straw, so it do.”
“Through terror of his position, I suppose.”
“Not wan bit, sor. It came out in the wash. It do be this way. Yees see, the orficers cudn’t get him to spake wan worrd an’ no sweatbox or other terror ave the force did he fear, at all, sure! So they turned the water on him, after takin’ off his clothes with the aid of two ‘trustys,’ and it was raymarked by the jailer that his skin do look uncommon fair, an the hair on his limbs was a sandy color, an’ not black, like the hair on his hid, and his mustache oily black, too, so it do.”
“Artificial coloring,” suggested Sam.
“Sure, that’s jist phat the jailor sid, the very same worrds, although do yees naw the color blend av his nick from the color bone up was a beautiful bit of worrk, as nate an’ natural as anything yees would want to see.”
“He is possibly an Italian artist.”
“Sure, he’s no Italian at all, fir the trustys soaped an’ lathered an’ scrubbed all the Dago off ave him. He raysisted loike a madman, but it was no use, and whin they held him under the shower bath his heavy black mustache fell off onto the floor. Wan ave the trustys picked it up and said, says he: ‘By jimminy, he’s no Dago at all; he’s a scoogy.’ An’ I say so, too, so I do. And the jailer raymarked it was just as he expected, and then he tould them to get the scoogy into his duds.”
“I will try and get permission to see him.”
Sam then entered the office, followed by Smith. They were readily allowed to see the prisoner, and upon approaching his cell, Sam recognized him at once, and the Sheriff wrote on the record, opposite the name of George Golda – “Alias, Jack Shore.”
An hour later Sam Harris was closeted with Detective Simms, in his office.
“I believe the fellow who escaped from the cabin last night,” said Sam, “was Jack Shore’s partner Philip Rutley, otherwise known as ‘Lord Beauchamp’.”
“Why do you suspect the lord to be Philip Rutley?” inquired the detective.
“Because they were partners in business, and inseparable chums socially,” replied Sam. “And where one was to be found, the other was not far away.”
“You say he got ten thousand dollars from the bank on your uncle’s indorsement?” inquired the detective.
“Yes,” replied Sam, “and tomorrow afternoon he is to be uncle’s guest at Rosemont.”
“Well, tonight my lord will attempt to leave the city, but he will find it impracticable,” remarked the detective, dryly. “I desire you to keep strictly mum on this matter for twenty-four hours, and I promise you positive identification of his lordship.”
Later, Detective Simms, smoking a cigar, sauntered carelessly into the “sweatbox,” where Jack Shore was still confined, and dumb as a stone statue on the question of kidnapping.
After silently looking at Jack for a time, he said with a smile: “If you had been shrewd you would not be here. You were sold.”
“Then I am either a knave or a fool?” interrogated Jack, carelessly.
“To be frank,” laughed Simms, “you are both. A knave for trusting Rutley, and a fool for doing his dirty work. I suppose you will think it is a lie when I say he ‘tipped’ us to the cabin for the ten thousand dollars reward offered by Mr. Thorpe for recovery of the child, and a promise of immunity from imprisonment.”
“Who is Rutley?” nonchalantly asked Jack.
“Why, your partner; that fellow who has been masquerading as a lord.”
“Lord who?”
“Come, now,” Simms laughed. “Why, me Lord Beauchamp! Surprised, eh?” and again Simms laughed and looked at Jack questioningly. “Well,” he continued at length, “you must be a cheap guy to believe that fellow true to you. See here, he gave the whole thing away. Don’t believe it, eh? Well, I’ll prove it. We knew the time Miss Thorpe was to be at the cabin. We knew the dog was on watch and removed it. We knew the exact time Rutley was to be with you, and arranged for him to get away without your suspicion. Why, our man was waiting with a boat as soon as he got out of the cabin.”
“Did he get away?” It was the first question that Jack had asked, though non-committal, in which Simms detected a faint anxiety. Simms was the very embodiment of coolness and indifference. “Not from us, no; but he is out on bail.”
That assertion was a masterstroke of ingenuity, and he followed it up with the same indifference. “Would you like to know who his sureties are?”
Jack maintained a gloomy silence.
“Just to convince you that I am not joking, I will show you the document.” And Simms turned lazily on his heel and left him. Returning a few moments later with a document, he held it for Jack to look at.
“Do you note the amount? And the signatures? – James Harris, John Thorpe. You must be familiar with them,” and the detective smiled as he thought of the trick he was employing to fool the prisoner, for he had himself written the signatures for the purpose.
“Jack’s breathing was heavier and his face somewhat whiter, yet by a superhuman effort he still maintained a gloomy frown of apparent indifference.
“The reward was paid to him this morning,” continued the detective, between his puffs of smoke.
“How much?” asked Jack, unconcerned.
“Ten thousand dollars!”
“Quite a hunk!” Jack said, carelessly. For he thought of the package that Rutley had deftly abstracted from his pocket in the cabin, and he was glad of it, for it would be used in his defense. And then he muttered to himself: “This ‘duffer’ is slick and thinks he can work me, but I’ll fool him.”
“The fellow is pretty well fixed,” continued the detective, as he eyed Jack inquisitively.
“Clear of this case with twenty thousand dollars in his pocket.”
“What!” exclaimed Jack, for the first time amazed, and then checking himself, said negligently:
“I understood you to say the reward was ten thousand dollars?”
“So I did. Ten thousand reward and that ransom money of Miss Thorpe’s.”
“The devil he has!”
Jack was beginning to waver. He thought of Rutley holding back the “tip” that he was shadowed, and also about the dog not barking at his approach, for some time after he had entered the cabin. Either of which incidents, had it been mentioned immediately upon entry, would have made escape possible. It seemed to corroborate the detective’s assertion – that he was sold. His jaws set hard.
“Can you prove that to me?”
“Sure!”
