The Castle Of The Shadows Part 20

Virginia stood still, watching her; and when the tall, stately figure had disappeared, a crus.h.i.+ng sense of defeat fell upon the girl.

Only a few moments ago, as time counted, she had felt that, with Maxime Dalahaide's rescue, she had every wish of her heart fulfilled. But now she saw the position of affairs with changed eyes. It was as different as a flower-decked ballroom seen by the light of a thousand glittering candles, and again by sunrise when the candles had burnt down and the flowers faded.

Maxime was out of prison; there was that, at all events, to be thankful for, and there was nothing at New Caledonia which could even attempt to give chase to the wicked little _Bella Cuba_. Nevertheless, the French Government had a long arm, and would not quietly let a convict sentenced for life be s.n.a.t.c.hed away without making a grab to get him back again.

Virginia had known this from the first, but when Roger had pointed the fact out to her as one of the difficulties to be encountered, she had said in the beginning: "If we have the luck to rescue him we shall have the luck to hide him," and afterward, when she had seen the Countess de Mattos at Cairo, she had amended the prophecy by saying: "If they catch us we shall be able to prove his innocence."

It had all seemed very simple, and she had been impatient with Roger for bringing up so many discouraging objections to her impulsively formed plans. He had gone in with them at last, without, however, pretending to be convinced, and she had bribed him with a virtual promise of marriage.

He had done all that she had asked of him, and more; and she would have to keep her promise, but--had she accomplished enough that was good for Maxime, to pay for the sacrifice? It would be a sacrifice--a greater one than she had known at first, greater than, somehow, she had realized until to-day. She must pay the price; and Maxime--what of him?

If his innocence could not be proved, through the dead woman miraculously come alive, he could never, at best, go back to France; and as the crime of which he was accused came under the extradition treaty, he would be safe nowhere. He must--as he himself had said--lead "a hunted life,"

wherever he might be. Neither money, nor influence, nor yearning sister-love, nor--the love of friends who would give their heart's blood to save him, could s.h.i.+eld Maxime Dalahaide from the sword of Damocles, ever suspended, ever ready to fall.

When the Marchese Loria received Lady Gardiner's telegram from Sydney, he was stunned. "Leaving here to-morrow," the message ran; "destination unknown."

Unknown to her the destination might be, but it was not unknown to him.

He was almost as sure that the _Bella Cuba_ was bound for New Caledonia, as if Dr. Grayle had allowed Kate Gardiner to send her desired word from prison-land; and although he had constantly a.s.sured himself that if Virginia did go there it could do no harm, now that he was morally certain she would go, he quivered with vague apprehension.

At first, he could not force his mind to concentrate itself upon the intricacies of the situation. He walked up and down his room, like a caged animal, trying to think how, if it were by moving heaven and earth, he could prevent Virginia Beverly and the convict Max Dalahaide from coming together. Then, with the thought that they might meet seething in his head, he would stop abruptly and say to himself, as he had said so often before: "Nonsense; you are a fool. They cannot come together. There is everything against it." Still, the root of fear was there, and grew again as soon as burned away.

If he chose, he might send a warning to the prison authorities at New Caledonia. He could say that the _Bella Cuba_ was a suspicious craft, and ought not to be allowed in the harbour for a single hour. But to do this, he would be obliged either to proceed to Paris and give satisfactory reasons why such proceedings should be taken, or wire the warning message himself, signing his own name. No other method would be of any avail, as the governor of the prison would pay no attention to an anonymous telegram, and there was now no time to write a letter. He would be obliged also to a.s.sert positively that he knew the _Bella Cuba's_ errand to be treacherous; and, whether he went to Paris, or telegraphed, through Sydney, to New Caledonia, in either case Virginia was certain to find out, later, what he had done. Such secrets could not be successfully hidden, and she would hate him for his interference. If there was little hope for him now, there would be none then.

When his wits began to work he regarded the situation from all points of view. He admitted the remote--extremely remote--possibility that the party on the _Bella Cuba_ might actually contemplate a rescue. He would almost have been ready to stake his life that, if such an attempt were made, it would fail ignominiously, with disaster to all concerned--perhaps death to more than one. But--it _might_ succeed. If it did, what would happen?

They would not dare to put back to Sydney Heads. The yacht must be coaled and provisioned somewhere. He consulted maps, and saw that the most likely place for the _Bella Cuba_ to proceed on leaving New Caledonia was Samoa. It seemed to him that she must go there, in any case.

Loria did not wish to appear as an active enemy of Maxime Dalahaide's. It was largely owing to his efforts on the prisoner's behalf that Max had been saved from the guillotine, and all the Dalahaides must have known that. Virginia, no doubt, knew it too. But what was to be done, if he were not to fling aside the cloak of his reputation as a friend of that unfortunate family? The spirit of high romance ran in Virginia Beverly's blood. She was capable of marrying an escaped prisoner, and sharing his miserable, hunted existence. Such a thing must not be. Loria felt that it would be less bearable to lose her through Max Dalahaide than through any other man. He would rather see her Roger Broom's wife than Maxime's, but he had not yet given up all hope of having her for his own.

He would have just time to go to Samoa and meet the _Bella Cuba_ there, if he started at once. The yacht would not leave Sydney Heads till next day, according to the news in the telegram. Then it would take her ten days more to reach New Caledonia. There she was sure to remain for some hours, at the very least. If he, Loria, caught a certain "greyhound of the sea" which was sailing from Cherbourg for New York the following morning, took a fast express from New York for San Francisco, and then sailed immediately for Samoa, he could not fail to be in time for the _Bella Cuba_. But the important thing was to find an excuse to account for his being there when the _Bella Cuba_ arrived.

He was not, luckily for his present plan, supposed to know for what parts the yacht had been bound; therefore, if he went to Samoa to visit his friend the French Consul, who had once really invited him to do so, even Virginia need not suspect his motive. His opportune appearance might pa.s.s merely as a rather odd coincidence.

If the _Bella Cuba_ took away a fugitive on board, the authorities at New Caledonia would not remain idle. They would at once wire to Sydney of a convict's escape, and the telegram would be sent on to Samoa from there.

A description of the yacht would be given, and inquiries would be made.

But those inquiries! It was because of them that Loria was ready to make so strong an effort to be there in time. Without him, the fugitive from justice might be allowed to escape, despite the extradition treaty. With him, Loria thought that he saw a way to make the detention of the prisoner sure, and that without showing the hand he played.

He had not lost many hours in indecision. As soon as he had made up his mind what to do, he wired to find out if there were still a berth to be had on board the New York bound s.h.i.+p sailing from Cherbourg next day.

Even if he had been forced to travel in the steerage he would have gone, though he keenly disliked physical hards.h.i.+ps; but he was fortunate, and obtained a good cabin for himself. As soon as this matter was arranged he left for Cherbourg; and next day, on board his s.h.i.+p, gazing across the tumbled gray expanse of sea, he thought of Virginia on her little yacht, and smiled. About this time, perhaps, the _Bella Cuba_ was steaming boldly from Sydney Heads, bound for New Caledonia--on what strange, desperate errand, who could tell? The girl's heart was beating high with hope, no doubt. How little she guessed that, half across the world, a man was setting forth to defeat her plans, even if they attained success!

CHAPTER XII

STAND AND DELIVER!

The Marchese Loria had always been lucky in games of chance. In this biggest game of all Fortune still stood behind him and, with a guiding finger, pointed out the cards to play.

There were no delays in his programme. His s.h.i.+p arrived in port precisely at the appointed hour. He was able to go on immediately to San Francisco.

There he was just in time to catch a boat for Samoa. He wired to his friend, Monsieur de Letz, the French Consul, that he was coming, and received an enthusiastic welcome. The Consul was a bachelor, approaching middle age, was intensely bored with the monotony of life on an island of the Pacific, and was ravished with the chance of entertaining a personage so brilliant in the great far-away world as the Marchese Loria. He had a charming house, and a good cook; some wine also, and cigars of the best.

Loria arrived at dinner-time, and afterward, smoking and talking in the moonlight on a broad verandah, the guest led up to the question he was half dying to ask.

"Have you heard any exciting news lately?" he airily inquired, in a tone that hovered between pleasantry and mystery.

"Does one ever hear exciting news in this place?" groaned the French Consul. "Nothing has happened for years. Nothing is ever likely to happen again now that we have become so dull and peaceful here."

"No news of another visitor?"

"Another visitor?"

"A gentleman from New Caledonia."

"_Mon Dieu!_ How did you know that?"

"Is it then so difficult to know, _mon ami_?"

"One hopes so. It is not good that these things should leak out and reach the public ear. The information is very private. The authorities at home and abroad do all they can to keep it dark, and yet it seems----"

"My ear isn't exactly the 'public ear,' as I'll presently explain. But it is a fact, then, that a convict has escaped from the Ile Nou, and you have got word that he is likely to turn up here on board a steam yacht?"

"It is a fact. I see you have the whole story. But how did you get it?"

"I'll tell you that later. First, just a question or two, if you don't mind, for I happen to be interested in the affair. How long ago did the fellow get away--or rather, when may the yacht, the _Bella Cuba_, be expected here, if at all?"

"She might come in to-morrow."

Loria gave a long sigh. He was lying back in a big easy-chair and sending out ring after ring of blue smoke, which he watched, as they disappeared, with half-shut eyes. One would have fancied him the embodiment of happy laziness, unless one had chanced to notice the tension of the fingers which grasped an arm of the chair.

"What will happen when she does come in?"

"Oh, trouble for me, and nothing to show for it."

"What do you mean?"--with a sudden change of tone.

"All I could do, I have done; which is to inform the Government authorities here that on board the expected yacht is a runaway _forcat_ belonging to France, and ask that he be arrested on the yacht's arrival."

"And then?"

"Then a boat will go out to meet this _Bella Cuba_ as she comes into the harbour, and she will be requested to give up the man. Her people will say that there's no such person there, and refuse to let any one on board."

"But surely you could detain the yacht and search? The _Bella Cuba_ comes from Sydney and New Caledonia. If you had reason to believe that there was a case of plague on board, for instance, the yacht would be quarantined."

"Yes; but if she were detained, and the convict found on board, he couldn't be identified by any one here. There has been no time for a photograph to arrive from New Caledonia. He won't be dressed like a convict; his hair will have grown. I have only the description telegraphed. His friends will take care he doesn't answer to that. Even if the Government fellows here had any pluck and wanted to attempt an arrest they wouldn't dare, with no one to identify the _forcat_. You see, the yacht will be flying the English or American flag, and so----"

"I can identify him."