Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece
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CHAPTER XXIV.
QUALMS--THE EVE OF THE END--A SAD VIGIL
Hunston did not close his eyes throughout the night.
The words of Boulgaris rang in his ear like a knell.
Lirico was to die for concealing a part of the spoil which he had made.
What of the four hundred pounds which he, Hunston, had kept back out ofthe sum fixed upon for the ransom of the two boys, and which Harkawayhad deposited in the spot agreed upon?
He knew the desperate men he had cast his lot with far too well tosuppose for a moment that there could be any hope for him did theychance to discover his secret. Would they?
The bare possibility of it made him shudder.
His hand nervously sought the hidden notes, which were concealed in hischest, and the faintest rustle of the crisp new paper caused his cheekto pale.
Once he dozed off, but barely were his eyes closed ere he was troubledby dreams that caused him to toss about and moan as if in great bodilypain, and when he awoke, he, dared not try to sleep again, so he aroseand went to look at prisoners.
The two unfortunate boys were awake, and talking to the nowdisconsolate author of all their troubles, the disguised girl whom theyhad lost themselves in saving.
"Hullo, madam," exclaimed Hunston, brutally, "what do you do here,talking with the condemned brats."
"I am seeking to comfort them," replied the girl; "to prepare them forthe butchers."
"Butchers? Humph!"
"I mean you and those who are persuaded by you."
"No matter; you had better leave them now to themselves."
"At whose command?" demanded the woman, drawing herself up proudly.
"At mine," returned Hunston, who was fast losing his temper.
"What, you dare!" ejaculated the girl, with flashing eyes.
"Dare!" laughed Hunston. "Will you go away and leave the boys alone, ormust I carry you away?"
The girl's colour forsook her cheek, and she drew nearer to Hunston,and the latter, startled at her expression, drew back.
"These unhappy boys are doomed to die at daybreak," she said, "but ifyou stay a moment longer to molest me or annoy them, I will summon themen and tell them that you would insult me and murder them."
"It is false."
"I know it," replied the woman, fiercely, "but do you suppose I wouldhesitate at that? And what would your life be worth?--what, I ask? Why,they would wait for no explanation; your presence here would besufficient; they would tear you asunder. Begone, craven blackheart.Go."
Hunston muttered something indistinctly, but he bent his head beforethe storm of this fierce woman's wrath and slunk away.
She turned to the boys.
"My poor fellows," she said, tenderly, her manner changing as if bymagic, "my unfortunate, brave lads, what can I do for you?"
"You have earned our gratitude," returned Harry Girdwood, "by thewhipping you gave that cur."
"Indeed you have," chimed in young Jack, with warmth.
"How like a beaten hound he looked," said the woman. "But how can Iever hope to be forgiven by you?"
"We have nothing to forgive."
"Aye, but you have; you have saved my life and I take yours."
"Not you."
"I am the cause of it indirectly."
"Perhaps; but at any rate the innocent cause."
The girl's distress at this was painful to witness.
She had conceived a great affection for the two boys, her youthfulpreservers, and she could not tell them how far she was guilty.
She dare not avow that she had started out upon that risky trip to seawith the intention of simulating the peril which afterwards became tooreal, and so decoying the two boys as she had done.
No; she dare not avow this.
She had soon repented of her share in that black business.
Soon--aye, but that soon was all too late.
Too late!
The thought wrung her heart, and she bent her head and wept.
"This is very painful," said young Jack.
"It is, Jack," said his comrade, in a broken voice. "I don't like tosee a boy crying."
They were still ignorant of their friend's real sex.
* * * * *
"What is that?"
"What?"
"Don't you hear?"
"I do; it sounds like some heavy instrument beating the earth close athand."
"Yes, like digging."
The three started at the word.
No sooner was it uttered than the meaning of it struck them all three,and sent a chill to their very hearts.
Digging at that fatal hour, so short a time before daybreak, could havebut one significance.
Grave-making; and if the two hapless boys quailed at that awful sound,can we accuse them of cowardice?
No.
Assuredly not.
Who amongst the bravest could listen to such a sound unmoved?
To have been callous to such a thing would have shown them meresenseless logs, nothing more.
"You know what that is?" she said, in a faint voice.
"We do," responded Harry Girdwood.
"And you?"
This was to young Jack.
"Yes."
The reply of both was given in a grave voice, befitting such a solemnoccasion.
Yet their voices never trembled, never faltered.
She understood them well, and her expression showed clearly as wordsthe admiration she felt for their courage.
"I am glad that you know the worst," she said, in a low but impressivetone, "for the unpleasant task of telling you is not left for me. Haveyou any thing to say before--"
"No."
"All that I would say," remarked young Jack, "that since they meanassassinating us, I hope that they will do their work cleanly, and notput us to the torture."
"At the worst," added his companion, "we shall not give them thesatisfaction of seeing us beg and pray for mercy."
"It would be useless."
"We know it."
"And so shall not give them the chance of saying that two Englishmenshowed the white feather."
"Bravely spoken," said the girl, "but the night is growing old, and solisten to what I have to say."
And then she made a communication which considerably startled them.
At first they listened as though in a dream, for they could not believein the reality of what she said, but they were not sorry to believe inits truth.
The nature of this communication will appear later on.
"And now," she said solemnly, "the time is short. I must insist uponyour sleeping. Rest, and I will watch by your side. A friendly voice atleast shall call you for the last dreadful trial of all."