XIII
WRECK ISLAND
Suddenly, with a smothered cry of surprise, Eleanor sat up. She seemedto have recovered full consciousness and sensibility with aninstantaneous effect comparable only to that of electric light abruptlyflooding a room at night. A moment ago she had been an insentient atomsunk deep in impenetrable night; now she was herself--and it was broaddaylight.
With an abrupt, automatic movement, she left the bed and stood up,staring incredulously at the substance of what still wore in her memorythe guise of a dream.
But it had been no dream, after all. She was actually in the small roomwith the low ceiling and the door (now shut) and the windows thatrevealed the green of leaves and the blue and gold of a sun-spangledsea. And her coat and hat and veil had been removed and were hangingfrom nails in the wall behind the door, and her clothing had beenunfastened--precisely as she dimly remembered everything that hadhappened with relation to the strange woman.
She wore a little wrist-watch. It told her that the hour was after fourin the afternoon.
She began hurriedly to dress, or rather to repair the disorder of hergarments, all the while struggling between surprise that she felt restedand well and strong, and a haunting suspicion that she had been tricked.
Of the truth of this suspicion, confirmatory evidence presentlyoverwhelmed her.
Since that draught of champagne before the roadside inn shortly aftersunrise, she had known nothing clearly. It was impossible that she couldwithout knowing it have accomplished her purpose with relation to AlisonLandis and the Cadogan collar. She saw now, she knew now beyond dispute,that she had been drugged--not necessarily heavily; a simple dose ofharmless bromides would have served the purpose in her overtaxedcondition--and brought to this place in a semi-stupor, neither knowingwhither she went nor able to object had she known.
The discovery of her handbag was all that was required to transmutefears and doubts into irrefragable knowledge.
No longer fastened to her wrist by the loop of its silken thong, shefound the bag in plain sight on the top of a cheap pine bureau. Withfeverish haste she examined it. The necklace was gone.
Dropping the bag, she stared bitterly at her distorted reflection in acracked and discoloured mirror.
What a fool, to trust the man! In the clear illumination of uncloudedreason which she was now able to bring to bear upon the episode, she sawwith painful distinctness how readily she had lent herself to be thedupe and tool of the man she called her father. Nothing that he hadurged upon her at the St. Simon had now the least weight in herunderstanding; all his argument was now seen to be but the sheerestsophistry, every statement he had made and every promise fairly riddledwith treachery; hardly a phrase he had uttered would have gained aninstant's credence under the analysis of a normal intelligence. He couldhave accomplished nothing had she not been without sleep for nearlytwenty-four hours, with every nerve and fibre and faculty aching forrest. But, so aided--with what heartless ease had he beguiled andoverreached her!
Tears, hot and stinging, smarted in her eyes while she fumbled with thefastenings of her attire--tears of chagrin and bitter resentment.
As soon as she was ready and composed, she opened the door very gentlyand stepped out into the hall.
It was a short hall, set like the top bar of a T-square at the end of along, door-lined corridor. The walls were of white, plain plaster,innocent of paper and in some places darkly blotched with damp andmildew. The floor, though solid, was uncarpeted. Near at hand a flightof steps ran down to the lower floor.
After a moment of hesitation she chose to explore the long corridorrather than to descend at once by the nearer stairway; and gathering herskirts about her ankles (an instinctive precaution against making anoise engendered by the atmosphere of the place rather than the resultof coherent thought) she stole quietly along between its narrow walls.
Although some few were closed, the majority of the doors she passedstood open; and these all revealed small, stuffy cubicles with grimy,unpainted floors, grimy plaster walls and ceilings and grimy windowswhose panes were framed in cobwebs and crusted so thick with theaccumulated dust and damp of years that they lacked little of completeopacity. No room contained any furnishing of any sort.
The farther she moved from her bedroom, the more close and stale andsluggish seemed the air, the more oppressive the quiet of this strangetenement. The sound of her footfalls, light and stealthy though theywere, sounded to her ears weirdly magnified in volume; and the thoughtcame to her that if she were indeed trespassing upon forbidden quartersof the mean and dismal stronghold of some modern Bluebeard, the noiseshe was making would quickly enough bring the warders down upon her. Andyet it must have been that her imagination exaggerated the slight soundsthat attended her cautious advance; for presently she had proof enoughthat they could have been audible to none but herself.
Half-way down the corridor she came unexpectedly to a second staircase;double the width of the other, it ran down to a broad landing and thenin two short flights to the ground floor of the building. The well ofthis stairway disclosed a hall rather large and well-finished, if bare.Directly in front of the landing, where the short flights branched atright angles to the main, was a large double door, one side of whichstood slightly ajar. Putting this and that together, Eleanor satisfiedherself that she overlooked the entrance-hall and office of anout-of-the-way summer hotel, neither large nor in any way pretentiouseven in its palmiest days, and now abandoned--or, at best, consecratedto the uses of caretakers and whoever else might happen to inhabit thewing whence she had wandered.
Now as she paused for an instant, looking down while turning thisthought over in her mind and considering the effect upon herself andfortunes of indefinite sequestration in such a spot, she was startled bya cough from some point invisible to her in the hall below. On the heelsof this, she heard something even more inexplicable: the dull and hollowclang of a heavy metal door. Footsteps were audible immediately: thequick, nervous footfalls of somebody coming to the front of the housefrom a point behind the staircase.
Startled and curious, the girl drew back a careful step or two untilsheltered by the corridor wall at its junction with the balustrade. Hereshe might lurk and peer, see but not be seen, save through unhappymischance.
The man came promptly into view. She had foretold his identity, hadknown it would be ... he whom she must call father.
He moved briskly to the open door, paused and stood looking out for aninstant, then with his air of furtive alertness, yet apparently surethat he was unobserved and wholly unsuspicious of the presence of thegirl above him, swung back toward the staircase. For an instant,terrified by the fear that he meant to ascend, she stood poised on theverge of flight; but that he had another intention at once becameapparent. Stopping at the foot of the left-hand flight of steps, he laidhold of the turned knob on top of the outer newel-post and lifted itfrom its socket. Then he took something from his coat pocket, dropped itinto the hollow of the newel, replaced the knob and turned and marchedsmartly out of the house, shutting the door behind him.
Eleanor noticed that he didn't lock it.
At the same time three separate considerations moved her to fly back toher room. She had seen something not intended for her sight; theknowledge might somehow prove valuable to her; and if she werediscovered in the corridor, the man might reasonably accuse her ofspying. Incontinently she picked up her skirts and ran.
The distance wasn't as great as she had thought; in a brief moment shewas standing before the door of the bedroom as though she had just comeout--her gaze directed expectantly toward the small staircase.
If she had anticipated a visit from her kidnapper, however, she waspleasantly disappointed. Not a sound came from below, aside from a dulland distant thump and thud which went on steadily, if in syncopatedmeasure, and the source of which perplexed her.
At length she pulled herself together and warily descended thestaircase. It ended in what was largely a counterpart of the hall above
:as on the upper floor broken by the mouth of a long corridor, but with adoor at its rear in place of the window upstairs. From beyond the doorcame the thumping, thudding sound that had puzzled Eleanor; but now shecould distinguish something more: a woman's voice crooning an age-oldmelody. Then the pounding ceased, shuffling footsteps were audible, anda soft clash of metal upon metal: shuffle again, and again theintermittent, deadened pounding.
Suddenly she understood, and understanding almost smiled, in spite ofher gnawing anxiety, to think that she had been mystified so long by anoise of such humble origin: merely that of a woman comfortably engagedin the household task of ironing. It was simple enough, once one thoughtof it; yet ridiculously incongruous when injected into the cognisance ofa girl whose brain was buzzing with the incredible romance of herposition....
Without further ceremony she thrust open the door at the end of thehallway.
There was disclosed a room of good size, evidently at one time aliving-room, now converted to the combined offices of kitchen anddining-room. A large deal table in the middle of the floor was coveredwith a turkey-red cloth, with places set for four. On a small range inthe recess of what had once been an open fireplace, sad-irons wereheating side by side with simmering pots and a steaming tea-kettle.There was a rich aroma of cooking in the air, somewhat tinctured by thesmell of melting wax, but in spite of that madly appetising to thenostrils of a young woman made suddenly aware that she had not eaten forsome sixteen hours. The furnishings of the room were simple andcharacteristic of country kitchens--including even the figure of thesturdy woman placidly ironing white things on a board near the opendoor.
She looked up quickly as Eleanor entered, stopped her humming, smote theboard vigorously with the iron and set the latter on a metal rest.
"Evening," she said pleasantly, resting her hands on her hips.
Eleanor stared dumbly, remembering that this was the woman who hadhelped her to bed and had administered what had presumably been a secondsleeping draught.
"Thought I heard you moving around upstairs. How be you? Hungry? I'vegot a bite ready."
"I'd like a drink of water, please," said Eleanor--"plain water," sheadded with a significance that could not have been overlooked by aguilty conscience.
But the woman seemed to sense no ulterior meaning. "I'll fetch it," shesaid in a good-humoured voice, going to the sink.
While she was manipulating the pump, the girl moved nearer, franklytaking stock of her. The dim impression retained from their meeting inthe early morning was merely emphasised by this second inspection; thewoman was built on generous lines--big-boned, heavy and apparentlyimmensely strong. A contented and easy-going humour shone from herbroad, coarsely featured countenance, oddly contending with a suggestionof implacable obstinacy and tenacious purpose.
"Here you are," she said presently, extending a glass filmed with thebreath of the ice-cold liquid it contained.
"Thank you," said Eleanor; and drank thirstily. "Who are you?" shedemanded point blank, returning the glass.
"Mrs. Clover," said the woman as bluntly, if with a smiling mouth.
"Where am I?"
"Well"--the woman turned to the stove and busied herself with coffee-potand frying-pan while she talked--"this _was_ the Wreck Island Houseoncet upon a time. I calculate it's that now, only it ain't run as ahotel any more. It's been years since there was any summer folks comehere--place didn't pay, they said; guess that's why they shet it up andhow your pa come to buy it for a song."
"Where is the Wreck Island House, then?" Eleanor put in.
"_On_ Wreck Island, of course."
"And where is that?"
"In Long Island Sound, about a mile off 'n the Connecticut shore.Pennymint Centre's the nearest village."
"That means nothing to me," said the girl. "How far are we from NewYork?"
"I couldn't rightly say--ain't never been there. But your pa says--Iheard him tell Eph once--he can make the run in his autymobile in anhour and a half. That's from Pennymint Centre, of course."
Eleanor pressed her hands to her temples, temporarily dazed by theinformation. "Island," she repeated--"a mile from shore--New York anhour and a half away ...!"
"Good, comfortable, tight little island," resumed Mrs. Clover, pleased,it seemed, with the sound of her own voice; "you'll like it when youcome to get acquainted. Just the very place for a girl with yourtrouble."
"My trouble? What do you know about that?"
"Your pa told me, of course. Nervous prostration's what he calledit--says as you need a rest with quiet and nothing to disturbyou--plenty of good food and sea air--"
"Oh stop!" Eleanor begged frantically.
"Land!" said the woman in a kindly tone--"I might 've known I'd get onyour poor nerves, talking all the time. But I can't seem to help it,living here all alone like I do with nobody but Eph most of the time....There!" she added with satisfaction, spearing the last rasher of baconfrom the frying-pan and dropping it on a plate--"now your breakfast'sready. Draw up a chair and eat hearty."
She put the plate on the red table-cloth, flanked it with dishescontaining soft-boiled eggs, bread and butter and a pot of coffee ofdelicious savour, and waved one muscular arm over it all with thegesture of a benevolent sorceress. "Set to while it's hot, my dear, anddon't you be afraid; good food never hurt nobody."
Momentarily, Eleanor entertained the thought of mutinous refusal to eat,by way of lending emphasis to her indignation; but hunger overcame theattractions of this dubious expedient; and besides, if she were toaccomplish anything toward regaining her freedom, if it were no morethan to register a violent protest, she would need strength; and alreadyshe was weak for want of food.
So she took her place and ate--ate ravenously, enjoying everymouthful--even though her mind was obsessed with doubts and fears andburning anger.
"You are the caretaker here?" she asked as soon as her hunger was alittle satisfied.
"Reckon you might call us that, me and Eph; we've lived here for fiveyears now, taking care of the island--ever since your pa bought it."
"Eph is your husband?"
"That's him--Ephraim Clover."
"And--doesn't he do anything else but--caretake?"
"Lord bless you, he don't even do that; I'm the caretaker_ess_. Ephdon't do nothing but potter round with the motor-boat and go to town forsupplies and fish a little and 'tend to the garden and do the choresand--"
"I should think he must keep pretty busy."
"Busy? Him? Eph? Lord! he's the busiest thing you ever laid your eyeson--poking round doing nothing at all."
"And does nobody ever come here ...?"
"Nobody but the boss."
"Does he often--?"
"That's as may be and the fit's on him. He comes and goes, just as hefeels like. Sometimes he's on and off the island half a dozen times aweek, and again we don't hear nothing of him for months; sometimes hejust stops here for days and mebbe weeks, and again he's here one minuteand gone the next. Jumps round like a flea on a griddle, _I_ say; youcan't never tell nothing about what he's going to do or where he'll benext.... My land o' mercy, Mr. Searle! What a start you did give me!"
The man had succeeded in startling both women, as a matter of fact.Eleanor, looking suddenly up from her plate on hearing Mrs. Clover's cryof surprise, saw him lounging carelessly in the hall doorway, where hehad appeared as noiselessly as a shadow. His sly, satiric smile wastwisting his thin lips, and a sardonic humour glittered in the pale eyesthat shifted from Eleanor's face to Mrs. Clover's, and back again.
"I wish," he said, nodding to the caretaker, "you'd slip down to thedock and tell Eph to have the boat ready by seven o'clock."
"Yes, sir," assented Mrs. Clover hastily. She crossed at once toward theouter door. From her tone and the alacrity with which she moved to dohis bidding, no less than from the half-cringing look with which she methis regard, Eleanor had no difficulty in divining her abject fear ofthis man whom she could, apparently, have taken in her big hands andbroken in two
without being annoyed by his struggles.
"And, here!" he called after her--"supper ready?"
"Yes, sir--quite."
"Very well; I'll have mine. Eph can come up as soon as he's finishedoverhauling the motor. Wait a minute; tell him to be sure to bring theoars up with him."
"Yes, sir, I will, sir."
Mrs. Clover dodged through the door and, running down the pair of stepsfrom the kitchen stoop to the ground, vanished behind the house.
"Enjoying your breakfast, I trust?"
Eleanor pushed back her chair and rose. She feared him, feared him asshe might have feared any loathly, venomous thing; but she was not inthe least spiritually afraid of him. Contempt and disgust onlyemphasised the quality of her courage. She confronted him without atremor.
"Will you take me with you when you leave this island tonight?" shedemanded.
He shook his head with his derisive smile. She had discounted thatanswer.
"How long do you mean to keep me here?"
"That depends on how agreeable you make yourself," he said obscurely.
"What do you mean?"
"Merely that ... well, it's a pleasant, salubrious spot, Wreck Island.You'll find it uncommonly healthful and enjoyable, too, as soon as youget over the loneliness. Not that you'll be so terribly lonely; I shallbe here more or less, off and on, much of the time for the next fewweeks. I don't mind telling you, in strict confidence, as between fatherand child, that I'm planning to pull off something pretty big beforelong; of course it will need a bit of arranging in advance to makeeverything run smoothly, and this is ideal for a man of my retiringdisposition, not overfond of the espionage of his fellow-men. So, ifyou're docile and affectionate, we may see a great deal of one anotherfor some weeks--as I said."
"And if not--?"
"Well"--he waved his hands expressively--"of course, if you incline tobe forward and disobedient, then I shall be obliged to deny you thelight of my countenance, by way of punishment."
She shook her head impatiently. "I want to know when you will let mego," she insisted, struggling against the oppression of her sense ofhelplessness.
"I really can't say." He pretended politely to suppress a yawn,indicating that the subject bored him inordinately. "If I could trustyou--"
"Can you expect that, after the way you treated me last night--thismorning?"
"Ah, well!" he said, claw-like fingers stroking his lips to conceal hissmile of mockery.
"You lied to me, drugged me, robbed me of the necklace, brought mehere...."
"Guilty," he said, yawning openly.
"Why? You could have taken the necklace from me at the hotel. Why mustyou bring me here and keep me prisoner?"
"The pleasure of my only daughter's society...."
"Oh, you're despicable!" she cried, furious.
He nodded thoughtfully, fumbling with his lips.
"Won't you tell me why?" she pleaded.
He shook his head. "You wouldn't understand," he added in a tone ofmaddening commiseration.
"I shan't stay!" she declared angrily.
"Oh, I think you will," he replied gently.
"I'll get away and inform on you if I have to swim."
"It's a long, wet swim," he mused aloud--"over a mile, I should say.Have you ever swum over a hundred yards in your life?"
She was silent, choking with rage.
"And furthermore," he went on, "there are the Clovers. Excellent people,excellent--for my purposes. I have found them quite invaluable--askingno questions, minding their own business, keen to obey my instructionsto the letter. I have already instructed them about you, my child. Itrust you will be careful not to provoke them; it'd be a pity ... you'rerather good-looking, you know ..."
"What do you mean by that?" she stammered, a little frightened by thesecret menace in his tone. "What have my looks to do with ...?"
"Everything," he said softly--"everything. Not so far as Ephraim isconcerned; I'll be frank with you--you needn't fear Ephraim's hurtingyou, much, should you attempt to escape. He will simply restrain you,using force only if necessary. But Mrs. Clover ... she's different. Youmustn't let her deceive you; she seems kindly disposed enough; she'spleasant spoken but ... well, she's not fond of pretty women. It's anobsession of hers that prettiness and badness go together. And Ephraim_is_ fond of pretty women--very. You see?"
"Well?"
"Well, that's why I have these people in so strong a hold. You see,Ephraim got himself into trouble trying to pull off one of thosebungling, amateurish burglaries that his kind go in for so extensively;he wanted the money to buy things for a pretty woman. And he was alreadya married man. You can see how Mrs. Clover felt about it. She--ah--cutup rather nasty. When she got through with the other woman, no one wouldhave called her pretty any longer. Vitriol's a dreadful thing...."
He paused an instant, seeming to review the case sombrely. "I managed toget them both off, scot free; and that makes them loyal. But it would gohard with anyone who tried to escape to the mainland and tell onthem--to say nothing of me.... Mrs. Clover has ever since been quiteconvinced of the virtue of vitriol. She keeps a supply handy most of thetime, in case of emergencies. And she sleeps lightly; don't forget that.I hate to think of what she might do if she thought you meant to runaway and tell tales."
Slowly, step by step, guessing the way to the outer door, the girlbacked away from him, her face colourless with horror. Very probably hewas lying to frighten her; very possibly (she feared desperately) he wasnot. What she knew of him was hardly reassuring; the innate, callousdepravity that had poisoned this man beyond cure might well have causedthe death-in-life of other souls. What he was capable of, others mightbe; and what she knew him to be capable of, she hardly liked to dwellupon. Excusably she conceived her position more than desperate; and nowher sole instinct was to get away from him, if only for a little time,out of the foetid atmosphere of his presence, away from the envenomedirony of his voice--away and alone, where she could recollect herfaculties and again realise her ego, that inner self that she had triedso hard to keep stainless, unspoiled and unafraid.
He watched her as she crept inch by inch toward the door, his nervousfingers busy about his mouth as if trying to erase that dangerous, evilsmile.
"Before you go," he said suddenly, "I should tell you that you will bealone with Mrs. Clover tonight. I'm going to town, and Ephraim's to waitwith the boat at Pennymint Point, because I mean to return beforemorning. But you needn't wait up for me; Mrs. Clover will do that."
Eleanor made no reply. While he was speaking she had gained the door. Asshe stepped out, Mrs. Clover reappeared, making vigorously round thecorner of the house.
Passing Eleanor on the stoop, she gave her a busy, friendly nod, andhurried in.
"Eph'll be up in half an hour," she heard her say. "Shall I serve yoursupper now?"
"Please," he said quietly.
The girl stumbled down the steps and blindly fled the sound of hisvoice.
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