Castle Craneycrow

by George Barr McCutcheon

  XXVII. THE FLIGHT WITH THE PRIEST

  Eleven o'clock that night found Castle Craneycrow wrapped in thestillness of death. Its inmates were awake, but they were petrified,paralyzed by the discovery that Dorothy Garrison was gone. Scaredeyes looked upon white faces, and there was upon the heart of eachthe clutch of an icy hand. So appalling was the sensation that thefive conspirators breathed not nor spoke, but listened for theheartbeats that had stopped when fears finally gave way to completeconviction. They were as if recovering from the fright of seeing aghost; spirits seemed to have swept past them with cold wings,carrying off the prisoner they thought secure; only supernaturalforces could be charged with the penetration of their impregnablewall.

  The discovery of the prisoner's flight was not made until Bakerknocked on Lady Saxondale's door and inquired for Miss Garrison atbedtime. Then it was recalled that she had left the others at nineo'clock, pleading a headache, but she did not go to her room.Investigation revealed the fact that her jewelry, a cape and atraveling hat were missing. Remembering her first attempt to escapeand recalling the very apparent nervousness that marked her demeanorduring the day, Lady Saxondale alarmed the house.

  Ten minutes later the conspirators and a knot of sleepy servantsstood in the courtyard, staring at the great gate. It was closed butunlocked. There were but two known keys to the big lock, and sincethe arrival of the party at the castle they had not been out of LordSaxondale's possession. The girl could not have used either of themand the lock had not been forced; what wonder, then, that in thefirst moments of bewilderment they shrank back as if opposed by thesupernatural?

  No one present had seen her leave the castle, and there was no wayof telling how long she had been gone, except that it was not longerthan two hours. After the first shock of realization, however, themen came to the conclusion that assistance had come from theoutside, or that there was a traitor on the inside. They wereexcitedly questioning the long-trusted servants when Lady Jane madea second discovery.

  "Where is Turk?" she cried, and every eye swept through the group.

  "Gone, by God!" exclaimed Quentin, in helpless amazement. No one hadgiven thought to his illness in the excitement of the moment. He hadbeen called forth with the rest, and when he coughed not even hetook note of the fact. This was no time to think of colds and feversand such a trifling thing as death. He shivered, but it was not withthe chill of a sick man; it was the shiver of fear.

  "Good Lord, he can't be the one! Turk would die for me!" he cried,almost piteously.

  "He is gone, and so is she," grated Lord Bob. "What are we to infer?He has sold us out, Quentin; that's the truth of it."

  "I'm damned!" almost wept Dickey Savage. "They'll have a pack ofofficers here before morning. I don't give a hoot for myself, butLady Saxondale and--"

  "Great heaven! what have I brought you to in my folly?" groanedQuentin, covering his face with his hands.

  "Open the gate!" called a hoarse voice outside the wall, and everyheart stopped beating, every face went white. A heavy boot crashedagainst the gate.

  "The officers!" whispered Lady Jane, in terror. Dickey Savage's armwent round her.

  "Let me in! Git a move on!'

  "It's Turk!" roared Quentin, springing toward the gate. An instantlater Turk was sprawling inside the circle of light shed by thelantern, and a half-dozen voices were hurling questions at him.

  The little man was in a sorry plight. He was dirt-covered andbloody, and he was so full of blasphemy that he choked insuppressing it.

  "Where is she? Where have you been?" cried Quentin, shaking himviolently in his agitation.

  "Gimme time, gimme time!" panted Turk. "I've got to git my breath,ain't I? She's flew th' coop, an' I couldn't head her off. Say, hasa priest been loafin' aroun' here lately?"

  "A priest!" cried Lord Bob. "There hasn't been one here since FatherBivot came three years ago to--"

  "I mean this week, not t'ree years ago. She's gone with a priest,an' I'm nex' to who he is, too. He ain't no more priest 'n I am.It's that French detective, Courant, an' he's worked us to afare-you-well. He's th' boy!"

  This startling news threw the party into deeper consternation thanbefore. The little ex-burglar was not a fluent talker at best, buthe now excelled himself in brevity. In three minutes he hadconcluded his story, and preparations were well under way for thepursuit.

  He was, according to his narrative, sitting in the lower end of thecourtyard about nine o'clock, calmly smoking his pipe, when hisattention was caught by the long, shrill call of a night bird. Nosuch sound had come to his ears during his stay at the castle, andhis curiosity was aroused. Not dreaming of what was to follow, heslowly walked toward the front of the castle. A woman stood in theshadow of the wall near the gate. Hardly had his eyes made out thedim figure when the whistle was repeated. Before he fully graspedthe situation, the big gate swung slowly inward and another figure,at first glance that of a woman, stood inside the wall. He heard thewoman call softly: "Is that you, Father?" A man's voice replied, butthe words were too low to be distinguished. The woman drew back asif to return to the house, but the newcomer was at her side, and hishand was on her arm.

  There was a moment of indecision, then resistance, two or threesharp words from the man, and then the two seemed to fade throughthe wall. The ponderous gate was closing before the dumbfoundedwatcher could collect his wits. Like a shot he was across thestones, now alive to the meaning of the strange proceeding. Withdesperate hands he grasped the bar of the gate and pulled, utteringa loud shout of alarm at the same time. Surprised by the suddeninterference, the man on the other side gave way and Turk wasthrough the opening and upon him. A stunning blow on the head methim as he hurled himself forward, and he plunged headlong to theground. As he struggled to his feet another blow fell, and then allwas darkness.

  When he opened his eyes again two figures were careening down thesteep path, a hundred yards away. They were running, and wereplainly distinguishable in the moonlight. Turk knew that the womanwas Dorothy Garrison. He had heard her cry, after the first blow,"Don't! Don't kill him, Father! It is Turk!" Crazed with anger anddetermined to recapture her single-handed, Turk neglected to callfor help. With the blood streaming down his face, he dashed off inpursuit. There was in his heart the desire to kill the man who hadstruck him down. Near the foot of the hill he came up with them andhe was like a wildcat.

  Miss Garrison had fallen to her knees and was moaning as if in pain.The priest crouched behind her, protecting his person from apossible shot from the pursuer. "For God's sake, don't shoot him!"screamed the girl, but a moment later there was a flash of light, areport, and a pistol ball whizzed by Turk's ear. He was unarmed, buthe did not stop. Throwing himself forward, he stretched out his armsto grasp the crouching priest, hoping to prevent the firing ofanother shot. But he had not reckoned on the cleverness of the manat bay. The priest dropped flat to the ground and Turk plunged overhis body, wildly clutching for the prostrate man as he went. Withthe cunning of a fox, the priest, on realizing that he could notavoid a personal conflict, had looked about for means to end thepursuit effectually.

  Retarded in his progress by the tired, trembling girl, he saw that astand against the oncomer was unavoidable. He cleverly selected thespot for this stand, and braced himself as for the onslaught.Scarcely a yard beyond his position there was a sharp declivityamong the rocks, with a clear drop of a dozen feet or more to thebottom of a wide crevasse. His shot went wild and he could notrepeat it, for Dorothy was frantically clutching his arm. Thestrategem worked well, and he had the satisfaction of hearing amighty oath as Turk, unable to check himself, slipped from the edgeand went crashing to the rocks below.

  With the speed of a hunted animal, the priest leaped to his feet,dragging the girl after him, and a harsh laugh came from his throatas they dashed onward. A quick glance behind showed there had beenbut one pursuer, and the man in the robes of holiness chuckledexultantly. But, if Dorothy Garrison believed him to be the priesthis robes declared, the moonl
ight told the fallen Turk the truth.Indeed, it was the intentness with which the little ex-burglar gazedupon the white face of Courant that prevented him from seeing theledge as he dashed up to the couple.

  How long it was afterward that Turk came to his senses and crawledback to the roadway, dizzy, weak and defeated, he knew not. He couldonly groan and gnash his teeth when he stood erect again and sawthat he was utterly alone. Courant and the girl were gone. In shameand humiliation he climbed the hill to call for help.

  Just as the searching party was about to rush recklessly from thecourtyard, servants having been instructed to bring out the horses,Lady Jane espied a white piece of paper on the ground near the gate.And then it was that they read the parting message from the girl whowas gone. With a trembling voice Lady Saxondale read:

  "I have found a way, and I am going, if nothing prevents. With thehelp of my good angel I shall soon be far from this place. A holyman in passing saw my signal of distress and promised rescue. Youhave been good to me, and I can only repay you by refusing to exposeyou. This priest does not know who you are. I shall not tell him orany who may be with him. No one shall ever know from me that youwere my abductors. God grant that you may never have to pay thepenalty. Go, while you may, for the truth may become known withoutmy help, and I may not be able to save you. Save yourselves, all ofyou. I mean Philip Quentin, too, because I know he loves me.

  "Dorothy."

  Philip Quentin took the forlorn, even distressed, message from thehands of Lady Saxondale, kissed it devoutly, and placed it in hispocket.

  "Philip is too ill to go out on this desperate chase," cried LadySaxondale.

  "Ill! I'll die if I am not gone from here in five minutes! GreatLord, Bob, those fools have been an hour getting the horses!"groaned Quentin, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

  "Don't get excited, Phil; keep your head. You're not fit to berunning about in a business like this, but all Christendom couldn'tstop you. It may be a wild goose chase, after all," said Lord Bob.

  "She's been carried back to the accursed villain who employsCourant, and I'll die before I'll let him have her. Oh, what foolswe've been!"

  "Here's a puzzler, old man," said Dickey. "Why was not Ugo here tohelp Courant if he knew anything about the fellow's actions? Bycracky, I don't believe Ugo knows anything about the Frenchman'sfind."

  "He owns Courant, body and soul!"

  "That jacky is out for the hundred thousand francs, and he's workingon his own hook this time, my boy. He's after the reward, and he'sthe only one that has been keen enough to find us out. Mark me, heis working alone.

  "Sure, he is," added Turk. "He's got no pardners in th' job, er he'da' had em along to-night. S'pose he'd run into a gang like thisalone if he had anybody t' fall back on? Not on your life. We're amighty tough gang, an' he takes no chances with us if he's workin'fer anybody else."

  "We're not a tough gang!" wailed Lady Jane, in tears. "Oh, what willbecome of us!"

  "The Lord only knows, if we fail to get both Dorothy and Courant,"said Quentin, in real anguish.

  "They may be in Luxemburg by this time," said Saxondale. "Gad, thisis working in the dark!"

  "That road down there don't go t' Luxemburg direct, m' lord,"quickly interposed Turk. "It goes off into th' hills, don't youremember? An' then out th' valley some place 'way to th' north. Ifhe'd been goin' to th' city he'd 'a' taken th' road back here an'kep' from goin' down th' hill."

  "You're right, Turk," exclaimed Lord Bob. "He has gone up thevalley, headed for one of the little towns, and will steer clear ofthe Luxemburg officers for fear they may demand a part of thereward."

  "God, Saxondale, are those horses never coming?" fumed Quentin. "Iwon't wait!" and he was off like a madman through the gate and downthe steep. Behind him tore Turk, the faithful.