第74章

MRS. MALPLAQUET GOES DOWN TO THE CELLAR

In the age of chivalry woman must have been built of sterner stuff than the girl of to-day. At least, we read in medieval romance of fair ladies who, after being knocked down by a masterful suitor and carried off across his saddle bow thirty or forty miles, are yet able to appear, cold but radiantly beautiful, at the midnight wedding and the subsequent marriage feast.

But this is a romance of the present day, the age of nerves and high velocity. Barbara Mackwayte, strong and plucky as she was, after being half throttled and violently thrown into the cellar of the Dyke Inn, suddenly gave way under the strain and conveniently evaded facing the difficulties of her position by fainting clear away.

The precise moment when she came out of her swoon she never knew.

The cellar was dark; but it was nothing compared to the darkness enveloping her mind. She lay there on the damp and mouldy straw, hardly able, scarcely wanting, to move, overwhelmed by the extraordinary adventure which had befallen her. Was this to be the end of the pleasant trip into the country on which she had embarked so readily only a few hours before? She tried to remember that within twenty miles of her were policemen and taxis and lights and all the attributes of our present day civilization; but her thoughts always returned, with increasing horror, to that undersized yellow-faced man in the room above, to the face of Nur-el-Din, dark and distorted with passion.

A light shining down the cellar stairs drew her attention to the entrance. The woman she had already seen and in whom she now recognized Marie, the dancer's maid, was descending, a tray in her hand. She placed the tray on the ground without a word, then went up the stairs again and fetched the lamp. She put the lamp down by the tray and, stooping, cut the ropes that fastened Barbara's hands and feet.

"So, Mademoiselle," she said, drawing herself erect with a grunt, "your supper: some tea and meat!"She pulled a dirty deal box from a corner of the cellar and put the tray upon it. Then she rose to her feet and sat down. The maid watched Barbara narrowly while she ate a piece of bread and drank the tea.

"At least," thought Barbara to herself, "they don't mean to starve me!"The tea was hot and strong; and it did her good. It seemed to clear her faculties, too; for her brain began to busy itself with the problem of escaping from her extraordinary situation.

"Mademoiselle was a leetle too clevaire," said the maid with an evil leer,--she would rob Madame, would she? She would play the espionne, hein? Eh bien, ma petite, you stay 'ere ontil you say what you lave done wiz ze box of Madame!""Why do you say I have stolen the box?" protested Barbara, "when I tell you I know nothing of it. It was stolen from me by the man who killed my father. More than that I don't know. You don't surely think I would conspire to kill" her voice trembled--"my father, to get possession of this silver box that means nothing to me!"Marie laughed cynically.

"Ma foi," she cried, "when one is a spy, one will stop at nothing! But tiers, here is Madame!"Nur-el-Din picked her way carefully down the steps, the yellow-faced man behind her. He had a pistol in his hand. The dancer said something in French to her maid who picked up the tray and departed.

"Now, Mademoiselle," said Nur-el-Din, "you see this pistol. Rass here will use it if you make any attempt to escape. You understand me, hein? I come to give you a las' chance to say where you 'ave my box..."Barbara looked at the dancer defiantly.

"I've told you already I know nothing about it. You, if any one, should be better able to say what has become of it...""Quoi?" exclaimed Nur-el-Din in genuine surprise, "comment?""Because," said Barbara, " a long black hair--one of your hairs--was found adhering to the straps with which I was fastened!""Tiens!" said the dancer, her black eyes wide with surprise, "tiens!"She was silent for a minute, lost in thought. The man, Rass, suddenly cocked his ear towards the staircase and said something to Nur-el-Din in the same foreign tongue which Barbara had heard them employ before.

The dancer made a gesture, bidding him to be silent.

"He was at my dressing-table that night;" she murmured in French, as though to herself, "then it was he who did it!"She spoke rapidly to Barbara.

"This man who tied you up... you didn't see him?"Barbara shook her head.

"I could see nothing; I don't even know that it was a man. He seized me so suddenly that in the dark I could distinguish nothing... it might have been a woman... yourself, for instance, for all I know!"Nur-el-Din clasped her hands together.

"It was he, himself, then," she whispered, I might have known.

Yet he has not got it here!"

Heavy footsteps resounded in the room above. Rass cried out something swiftly to the dancer, thrust the pistol into her hands, and dashed up the ladder. The next moment there was a loud report followed by the thud of a heavy body falling. Somewhere in the rooms above a woman screamed.

Nur-el-Din's hands flew to her face and the pistol crashed to the ground. Two men appeared at the head of the cellar stairs. One was Strangwise, in uniform, the other was Bellward.

"They're both here!" said Strangwise over his shoulder to Bellward.

"Ah, thank God, you've come!" cried Barbara, running to the foot of the ladder.

Strangwise brushed past her and caught Nur-el-Din by the arm.

"Run her upstairs," he said quickly to Bellward who had followed behind him, " and lock her in her room. I've seen to the rest.

You, Miss Mackwayte," he added to Barbara, "you will come with us!"Barbara was staring in fascination at Bellward. She had never believed that any disguise could be so baffling, so complete;Major Okewood, she thought, looked like a different man.