CHAPTER XLII
THE SEARCH
Mrs. May sat out on the lawn before the rose-garlanded windows of her sitting room. A Japanese umbrella was over her dainty head, a scented cigarette between her lips. For some time she had been long and earnestly sweeping the sea with a pair of binoculars.
She rose at length and made her way down the garden. There was a rugged path at the bottom, terminating in a thicket that overhung the cliffs.
Here it would be possible for a dozen men to hide without the slightest chance of being discovered. Nobody ever went there by any chance. Shaded from the house, Mrs. May paused.
A softened whistle came from her lips, and then there came from the ground the dusky form of the man who called himself Ben Heer. He salaamed profoundly.
"Well!" the woman demanded impatiently. "Well?"
"Well, indeed, my mistress," the sham Ben Heer replied calmly. "It fell out as you arranged. Behold a puff of wind carried away the masts, and behold the oars came into fragments. Then the boat began to fill and now lies bottom upward at the foot of the cliff."
"But he might have been a powerful swimmer."
"He was no swimmer at all. I saw everything."
"It was not possible for him to be picked up?"
"Not possible, my mistress. There was no boat, no sail to be seen. The boat foundered and there was an end of it. I waited for some time and I saw no more."
Mrs. May nodded carelessly. She might have been receiving the intelligence of the drowning of a refractory puppy. She betrayed neither regret nor satisfaction.
"Of course, they will guess," she said. "When they come to examine the boat and the oars they will see at once that there has been foul play. Once more they will know that the enemy has struck a blow."
"My mistress is all powerful," Ben Heer murmured.
"They will try to trace us once more, Ben Heer."
The sham Asiatic shrugged his shoulders carelessly.
"And they will fail," he said. "They know not the powers arrayed against them; the dogs know not my gracious mistress. Meanwhile thy slave can see through the bushes that somebody awaits your presence."
Mrs. May glanced in the direction indicated by Ben Heer. On the lawn Rupert Ravenspur was standing. The woman smiled. There was the head of the hated house actually seeking out the foe.
"Your eyes are sharper than mine," she said. "Well, you have need of them. Meanwhile you had better discreetly disappear for the time."
Mrs. May advanced to greet her guest. He bowed with his old-fashioned grace.
"This is an unexpected honor," the woman said.
"I can claim nothing on the score of politeness or gallantry," Rupert Ravenspur replied. He was quiet and polished as usual, but there was a look of deep distress on his face. "I came here not to see you, but in the faint hope of finding my nephew Geoffrey. I have ascertained that he came to see you sometimes."
"He has been so good," Mrs. May murmured. "I assure you I appreciate the company of a gentleman in this deserted spot."
"Then he has not been here to-day?"
"I have not had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Geoffrey to-day."
Ravenspur groaned. He turned his face away ashamed that a woman should see him in a moment of weakness. Out of the corner of her eye she regarded him. There was not a drop of pity in her heart for him.
"I hope you don't anticipate anything wrong," she said. "Mr. Geoffrey is not a boy that he cannot – "
"Oh, you do not understand! It is not that at all. In ordinary circumstances I could trust Geoffrey to the end of the world. He is a good fellow, and capable of taking care of himself and upholding the family honor. But others as strong and more cunning have fallen before the dreaded foe, until all confidence has left us. I fear much that harm has come to Geoffrey."
"But surely in the broad daylight – "
"Daylight or darkness, it is the same. You know nothing of the boy?"
"Nothing, save that he was going fishing to-day."
Ravenspur started.
"Oh," he cried. "Then I shall soon know the worst. I am sorry to have troubled you; I will go down to the beach. The others are searching in all directions. Nobody will return to the house until we know the lad's fate."
Ravenspur bowed and was gone. Mrs. May smiled after him. So the castle was going to be left for the time being.
"This is a chance not to be lost," she murmured. "The full run of the castle! Fate is playing into my hands with a vengeance."
Full of the wildest apprehensions, Ravenspur made his way to the beach. It was no easy task for a man of his years, but he made light of it, as he used to half a century ago. Two fishermen coming up touched their hats.
"Have you been out to the west of Gull Point to-day?" Ravenspur asked.
"No, sir," was the reply. "Not one of us. The mackerel came in from the east, and there were so many we had every bottom afloat. I did hear as Mr. Geoffrey had gone out in the West Bay, but I can't say for sure."
Again Ravenspur groaned; no longer had he the least doubt about what had happened. There had been more foul play, and Geoffrey had gone down under the dark waters. The old man's heart was full to bursting, but his grief was for Vera more than for himself.
"I am afraid there has been another of those tragedies that are so mournfully identified with our name," he said. "Wass and Watkins, will you come with me?"
The fishermen dropped the brown tangled nets upon their shoulders and followed. They were all tenants, vassals almost, of the Ravenspurs and ready to do their bidding. The foe would have had a hard time did he fall into the clutches of these veterans.
"I am going down to search the beach," Ravenspur explained. "I know that my nephew went out fishing this afternoon. I shall know his fate soon."
It was some time before anything was found. Wass came stumbling over the rocks, and there in a clear pool he saw the boat bottom upward. At the cry of dismay that came from him, Watkins hurried up.
"Give a hand with the painter, Bill," Wass said hoarsely. "There's the boat right enough with a good round hole under the gunwale."
Ravenspur watched in silence. He saw the boat beached; he saw the hole in her side. Wass pointed to the mast where it had been sawn off.
"Poor young gentleman," he exclaimed with a hearty outburst of grief. "And to think that we shall never see him again. Look at this, sir."
"The mast seems to have been sawn off," said Ravenspur.
"Almost off, sir," said Watkins. "Enough to give if a puff of wind came. And that hole has been plugged with soft glue or something of the kind. If I could only lay a hand on 'em!"
He shook his fist in the air in impotent rage; tears filled his eyes. Ravenspur stood motionless. He was trying to bring the force of the tragedy home to himself, trying to shape words to tell Vera without cutting her to the heart. He was long past the more violent emotions.
He turned to Wass like a man in a dream.
"Go up to the castle," he said. "See my son Gordon and bid him come here. They must all come down, all aid in the search. Not a word more; please go."
CHAPTER XLIII
NEARER
To Geoffrey the position was a strange one. There was something unreal about the whole thing. Nor was it pleasant to remember that by this time the family had missed him, and were doubtless bewailing him for dead.
"I am afraid there is no help for it," said Tchigorsky. "I could not see my way to certain conclusions and ends without inconvenience."
"Something more than inconvenience," Geoffrey murmured.
"Anxiety, troubles, what you like," Tchigorsky replied coolly. "It is necessary. I want to have the castle cleared for a time, and I could think of no better and less suspicious way of doing it. The anxiety and suspense will not last long and by daylight your people shall see you again. And the one who is most likely to suffer has been already relieved."
So Geoffrey was fain to wait in the cave listening to Tchigorsky's piquant conversation, and waiting for the time to come for action.
"There will be plenty to do presently," the Russian said. "Meanwhile I am going to leave you to yourself for a space. The woman who regards me as her servant may need me. And, remember, you are not to leave the cave in any circumstances, else all my delicately laid plans will be blown to the winds."
So saying Tchigorsky disappeared. It seemed hours before anything happened. It was safe in the cave. Nobody was likely to come there, and if they did there was not the slightest chance of discovery, for the cave went far under the cliff and was dark as the throat of a wolf.
By and by there came the sound of voices on the beach, and Rupert Ravenspur, followed by the two fishermen, appeared. Geoffrey's heart smote him as he saw his grandfather. Then they found the boat, and directly afterwards the two fishermen rushed away, leaving Ravenspur behind.
It was only the strongest self-control that prevented Geoffrey from making his presence known to the figure gazing so sadly at the boat. But he remembered Tchigorsky's warning.
After all, he reflected, it would only be for a little time. And the head of the family knew nothing of the great conspiracies working themselves out around him. His open honorable nature would have shrunk from the subtle diplomacy and cunning that appealed so powerfully to Tchigorsky.
Rupert Ravenspur would not have tolerated the position for a moment. He would have insisted upon going to Mrs. May and having the matter out at once, or he would have called in the police. And that course would be fatal.
So Geoffrey was constrained to stay and watch. Presently he saw the fishermen return, followed by the family. There was a gathering about the foundered boat, and then Geoffrey turned his eyes away, ashamed to witness the emotion caused by what they regarded as his untimely death.
He had seen them all and beheld their grief. He could see Marion bent down with a handkerchief to her streaming eyes and the head of the family comforting her. He saw Vera apart from the rest, gazing out to sea.
Beyond, a fleet of boats were coming round the point. They were small fishing smacks in search of the drowned Ravenspur.
Geoffrey pinched himself to make sure he was awake. It is not often that a live man sits watching people search for his dead body.
But there was comfort in the knowledge that Vera was aware of everything. Geoffrey could see that she had been told. That was why she kept apart from the rest. She walked along the sands past the mouth of the cave, her head bent down.
Flesh and blood could stand it no longer; in the mouth of the cave Geoffrey stood and called Vera softly by name.
The girl started and half turned.
"Don't be alarmed," Geoffrey whispered. "I am in the cave. It is safe here. Watch your opportunity and come in, for I must have a few words with you. Only do it naturally and don't let anybody suspect."
Vera had turned her back to the cave, and appeared to be sadly gazing over the sea. Gradually she slipped back, watching the others, who apparently had forgotten her, until she was lost in the gloom of the cavern.
A moment later and Geoffrey had her in his arms. It was good to feel her heart beating against his, to feel her kisses warm on his lips.
"Did Tchigorsky tell you?" he asked.
"No, Uncle Ralph. Oh, I am so glad to see you again, Geoffrey. I knew you were not lost, that you would be safe after what uncle said, and yet all the time there was a strange void in my heart."
"But my darling, I am safe."
Vera laid her head restfully on his shoulder.
"I know, I know!" she said. "But I have had a foretaste of what might have been. When Wass and Watkins came and told me that your overturned boat had been found, I began to realize what it might be to live without you. Dear Geoff, will it be long before all this anxiety is disposed of?"
Geoffrey kissed her trembling lips.
"Not long, so Tchigorsky says, and I have implicit faith in him. The present situation is all part of the plot of our salvation. And the others?"
"Are heartbroken. My poor grandfather looks ten years older. You know how entirely he has been wrapped up in us. I feel sure that if he could have saved us by sacrificing the rest, himself included, he would have done so."
"I know," Geoffrey said hoarsely. "I know, dear. And Marion?"
"Marion is sorely disturbed. I hardly know what to make of Marion. For the first time she positively appears to be frightened. And Marion is not the girl who cries. I was alarmed about her a little time ago," replied Vera.
"Ah, well, it won't be very long," Geoffrey said consolingly. "To-morrow morning Tchigorsky has promised that I shall be safe and sound in the bosom of the family again. What are they going to do now?"
"They are going to search until they find you. All the boats from the village are out, even the servants are assisting. You can understand how I should feel if I did not know everything. I could not stay in the house; I could do no more than wander along the shore feeling that I was helping. It would be impossible to remain in the house and that is what they all feel. There is a full moon to-night, and they will be here till they are exhausted."
Geoffrey nodded. He was wondering how he was going to account for his absence and for the manner in which he was finally to turn up safe and sound again. He would have to concoct some story of being picked up by a passing boat and landed some way down the coast.
"They guess I am a victim to the vendetta?" he asked.
"Of course. They say the mast and oars were partly sawn away. It will be the talk of the country in a few hours. Geoffrey, I must go. Don't you see that they have missed me?"
Vera had been missed. Already Marion was calling her. There was just the chance that she might be yet another victim. Vera slipped out of the cave, walking backwards as if she were looking for something.
"You won't betray yourself?" said Geoffrey.
"I'll try not to, dear. I understand how necessary it is that the truth should be concealed. And yet it is hard not to be able to ease their minds."
Vera was clear of the cave by this time, and her voice ceased. A few yards farther on and Marion came up to her. She was looking pale and ghastly; there were rings under her eyes; her nerves had had a terrible shock.
"I couldn't imagine where you had got to," she said. "I looked round, and you had disappeared. I feared you had been spirited away."
"By the cruel foe, Marion? One by one we go. It may be your turn next."
"Would to Heaven that it was!" Marion whispered vehemently. "A little time ago I fancied that I was strong enough to bear up against anything. Now I know what a feeble creature I am. Before this happened I would a thousand times have been the victim myself. And I – I – "
She paused and beat the air impotently. Vera wondered. Could this really be the strong, self-reliant Marion who had uplifted them in so many troubles, this the girl who always had a smile on her face and words of comfort on her lips? This was a weak, frightened creature, with eyes that were haunted.
"Be brave," said Vera, "and be yourself. What should we do without you? Why, you are so full of remorse you might have been responsible for Geoffrey's death yourself."
Marion looked up swiftly and then her eyes fell.
"It is because I love him," she said.
"And I love him, too. But I try to be brave."
Marion was silent under the reproof. Vera was calm and collected. What a reaction there would be later, Marion thought.
"You have not given up all hope?" she asked.
"No, I cannot. It would be too cruel. I cannot imagine that anything really serious has happened to Geoffrey. I cannot feel anything for the present, save for you. And my heart is full for you, Marion."
"Ay," Marion said drearily. "It need be."
Vera turned and walked swiftly across the sands. She wanted to be alone now that no danger threatened.
Then presently the moon rose and shone upon the people gathered on the fringe of the sea. To the impatient Geoffrey came Ralph Ravenspur with a cloak and slouched hat over his arm.
CHAPTER XLIV
STILL NEARER
He entered as coolly and easily as if he had been doing this kind of thing all his life, as if he had the full use of his eyesight.
"I can't see you, but, of course, you are there," he said. "Tchigorsky sent me because he cannot come himself. The jade he calls his mistress has need of him. Muffle yourself and follow me. Not too closely."
Geoffrey was only too glad of the opportunity. He passed under the shadow of the rocks until he gained the path to the head of the cliffs and here Ralph paused.
"We are safe now," he said. "You can remove your disguise and cross the terrace. There is not a living soul in the castle at present."
"All the servants are on the beach, then?"
"Every one of them, both male and female, which is a flattering testimony to your popularity, Geoffrey. I opine that they will be pleased to see you in the morning. By the way, have you concocted a plausible story to account for your escape?"
"I haven't," Geoffrey admitted with a smile. "I preferred to leave it to the greater talents of Tchigorsky and yourself. I have no genius for fiction."
Ralph muttered that the matter might be safely left in their hands, and then they entered the deserted castle and made their way to Ralph's room. Here the two doors were closed and Ralph sat down silently over his pipe.
"Is anything going to happen?" Geoffrey asked.
"A great deal during the next hour or two," Ralph replied. "But it is impossible to forecast, and you will see it all for yourself in good time. I can't do anything until I have heard further from our friend Tchigorsky."
Half an hour passed in dead silence, and then there was a rapping on the window. When the casement was thrown open, the head of Tchigorsky appeared. He was clad in Oriental robes and had made his way upwards by climbing the thick ivy that grew on that side of the house. He nodded to Geoffrey.
"I told you we should meet again," he said. "I have just ten minutes to spare. A cigarette, please."
Geoffrey handed over the cigarette. "Have you discovered it all?" Ralph asked.
"I have discovered nothing," Tchigorsky said calmly from behind the cloud of smoke. "At present I have not the remotest idea which way she will strike."
"Ah, she is in one of her suspicious moods."
"When she trusts nobody. Quite right. All I can tell you is that she is coming here presently. She is well aware that there is not a soul in the house. She knows that this state of things is likely to last for some time. She will come by and by, and with her she will bring some great danger to the house of Ravenspur. What form that danger is to take I cannot say. But I shall find out."
The last words came from Tchigorsky's lips with a snap.
"But she will want confederates," said Geoffrey.
"She may or she may not. She is a woman of infinite resource. Nobody knows what mischief she is capable of. If she brings me along, I may be exceedingly useful; if she leaves me behind I shall be more usefully employed in going over her papers and documents. You see, I know the language. But, be that as it may, this is going to be an eventful night."
Tchigorsky finished his cigarette and rose to go. He had few instructions to leave behind him, and these few were of an exceedingly simple nature. All that Geoffrey and Ralph Ravenspur had to do was to watch. They were to keep their eyes open and be largely guided by events. And there were to be no lights.
Half an hour passed before Ralph rose and softly opened the door. For a little time he threw the casement open wide. As Geoffrey drew a match from his box Ralph laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"No more smoking," he said. "I purposely opened the casement to sweeten the air of the room. My dear boy, you do not want to betray us with the smell of fresh tobacco. The enemy would take alarm at once."
"I had forgotten," Geoffrey murmured. "How stupid of me!"
Again silence and painful tension on the nerves. Presently below came the soft fall of a foot, and then a noise as if a human body had come in contact with some object in the dark. There was the scratch of a match, and a ball of flame flickered in ghastly fashion in the hall.
"The foe is here," Ralph whispered. "Go and look over. Your rubber-soled boots are in the corner. Put them on."
Geoffrey did as he desired. He crept along the corridor until he could look down into the hall. There he saw a woman – a woman who wore short skirts and a closely fitting jacket. She had a small lantern in her hand, the light of which she seemed to lower or heighten by pressing a stud.
Behind her came the two Orientals, who carried a small but heavy brass-bound box between them. This, at a sign from the woman, they deposited on the floor.
As far as Geoffrey could judge neither of these men was Tchigorsky. He could catch the sound of whispered conversation, but the words conveyed no meaning to his ears. The two discoursed in a language he did not understand.
A hand was laid on Geoffrey's arm. He turned to see Ralph by his side. The latter bent over the balustrade listening with all his ears. Down below the brass box was being opened and the contents were placed upon the floor.
The contents looked like machinery, but it was machinery of a kind that Geoffrey had never seen before. There was a small disk of hammered copper, and to this was attached a number of what seemed to be india-rubber snakes. At a sign from the woman the two Asiatics picked up the box and its contents and started away toward the kitchen.
Noiseless as they were, Ralph heard them. He clutched his companion's arm.
"They have gone," he whispered. "In which direction?"
"They had moved off towards the kitchen," said Geoffrey.
"Good! This thing is turning out exactly as I expected. They had something with them?"
"Yes, a thing like a copper octopus with india-rubber tentacles. They have taken it with them. A most extraordinary affair."
"It will be more extraordinary still before it is finished," Ralph said grimly. "Follow them and report what you see. Take good care not to be seen. Unless I am mistaken they are going down to the vaults and are planning a coup to do for us all to-night."
Geoffrey crept silently down the stairs. Then he made his way swiftly along the passages until he came to the cellars. Then the steady blowing of a current of fresh air told him that Ralph's suggestion was right. Down he went until he came to the channel leading to the vaults.
But he was cautious. He peeped down. Below him were three figures, and once more they had spread out their queer apparatus. By the side of it were two large glass-stoppered bottles, such as one sees in a laboratory, receptacles for acids and the like. They were tightly tied over the stoppers.
The woman picked up one of them and removed the parchment. Before she drew the stopper she donned thick glasses and a mask for her face, the two Orientals doing the same. They were evidently dealing with some very dangerous poison.
The stopper was removed and a few spots of the acid dropped on the copper disc. A white smoke arose, which, small as it was, filled the air with a pungent odor. Almost immediately the acid was wiped off and the odor ceased. Only just a whiff of it reached Geoffrey's nose, but it turned him faint – giddy for an instant.
What was going to happen next?