The Ghost Breaker: A Novel Based Upon the Play

by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickey

  XVII

  CONCLUSION

  Rusty had dived under the table.

  The great sword of the armored figure was swinging swiftly up in air,and Jarvis leaped with all the sinewy strength of his young manhood.

  It was none too soon.

  The great Damascus blade struck fire from the stone balustrade where hesat a second before.

  Jarvis spun about, and his automatic barked. With the instinct of theborn fighting man he fired for the heart: this was his error.

  The bullets spattered off the angle-braced breastplate.

  Down the steps came the horrid figure, raising the great sword again.The leaden shower did not halt the clanging monster, as the iron-cladadvanced.

  He remembered now that Rusty had two more revolvers--but Rusty wasscuttling on hands and knees for the shelter of the turret entranceacross the room.

  In desperation Jarvis threw his revolver at the head of the assailant!It was a futile pebble toss.

  The weapon clattered against the metal vizor and bounced off, as theweird assailant ran within striking distance. For the first time in hislife came the sensation of helplessness in a fight. There was a numbingfeeling of horror as he recoiled before this thing.

  His back touched the stone wall, just as the quick figure made aforward step and struck again. The sword rang out against the rock, butthe hand that held that weapon knew how to wield it with determination.

  Jarvis had dropped to his knees, and imitated Rusty's escape, until hewas out of reach. He might have grappled--but the thought came toolate. He saw the ancient weapons on the wall--there was a great poleax.

  This was the instrument made for the man-at-arms to withstand the nobleknight in the days of old. He whirled it on high as the other cametoward him. The double-edged sword rose high to parry the stroke, andthe sharp weapon clove through the rotten wood helve: Time had disarmedthe American again.

  A deep-chested laugh came from the human "battleship."

  Warren laughed back--in the face of death: the old Jarvis fightinglaugh was a tradition in Kentucky.

  His next weapon was a chair. With this as a guard he managed to swingthe sword with a clever parry. He gave the metal breastplate a vigoroushigh kick. From the helmet there came a muffled "Oooof!" Here was one"point" for the modern!

  _His next weapon was a chair_]

  Thus they dodged and feinted, striking, whirling, while the Kentuckianplanned his campaign.

  Little by little he drew his implacable opponent toward the charcoalcross-mark on the floor. The great sword rose high--he feigned weaknessand dropped his chair. Then, as the toreador dodges the mad onslaughtof the maddened bull, he leaped aside and the sword struck the ground.

  Before it could be raised, he swung from his side position, with theheavy antique chair, against the vizor. The equilibrium of the armoredman was none too stable, as he missed his stroke--and his head wentback. Again the Kentuckian charged, this time with a barehanded clinch,the chair dropped.

  Around the metal waist his arms went and he forced the other back buthalf a foot.

  It was enough!

  "_Santa Madre!_" came from the helmet, as the figure stumbled throughthe opening trap-stone.

  There was a scream, which suddenly ended at highest pitch--a splash ...then _silence_.

  Jarvis staggered back, with dilated eyes upon the fatal hole--he wipedthe cold beads off his clammy brow, and staggered toward the table forsupport.

  Rusty's head came out from the shelter of the stone coping--and hesmiled an ashen imitation of amusement.

  "Whar's yoh friend, Marse Warren?"

  Jarvis' head was low upon his breast, as he answered quietly:"Water--and a long drop! There's a real ghost due to haunt castle now,Rusty."

  "I knowed them battleship boogies was spooks!"

  Warren picked up the great sword which had fallen by the trap as theman went through. He walked up the stairs.

  "Oh, Marse Warren, don't!"

  "What's the matter?" and he snarled it. "Do I scare you?"

  "You can't scare me--I'm scared already!"

  Jarvis made a fencing feint at the other figure. There was no response;again he tried. Then he rushed it, and knocked the armor over.

  "I guess he's genuine--and harmless."

  "Oh, Marse Warren, you'se got gall, shore. I'll jest finish disbattleship--so he won't jump no moh." He had grabbed the armor andstarted toward the trapdoor. "I'm goin' to sink him in de harbor!"

  "Don't do that--it takes a thief to catch a thief. I'll make a ghostout of you, Rusty. Come here."

  Objecting, timorous, and still overcome with his native superstition,Rusty was nevertheless forced to don the armor--a sad misfit he was, atthat.

  "Somebody was working in this room, Rusty. It's a cinch that thetreasure was here. It's a cinch that we interrupted, and it's still inits little safe-deposit vault. It's a greater cinch that if we go outhe'll come back. I want to have you stand up there where the otherbattleship was, and watch. You'll be as safe as a church in this. Noone would think of looking for one of us in this armor--so when hestarts to work, whoever he is, you just yell and yell your best."

  "Gawd, Marse Warren, I could yell loud 'nuff for 'em to hear me back inKaintucky."

  "You give me your best yell, and I'll nail him."

  "Ef you don't nail him, he'll nail me."

  "Keep cool--that's all."

  "I'm cool now--I'm ketchin' cold." And he sneezed.

  "If you sneeze again, I'm going to use a gun on you. Here, give me oneof those two guns you have. And whatever you do, don't sneeze. I'mcatching cold myself here--anyone would in this musty old hole."

  He pocketed the weapon and ordered Rusty to his place.

  There came another sound--a repetition of the earlier faint sound. Heturned quickly, and Princess Maria Theresa of Aragon rushed into theroom, followed by Dolores.

  "Thank God you are safe, Mr. Warren! I heard the shooting, down in theother court of the castle."

  "Where have you been? Why didn't you wait for my signal? The hour isnot over yet."

  "We've been wandering through this dreadful place an eternity--tryingto find you, calling everywhere, so that we could reach you before itwas too late--before something happened that had always happenedbefore!"

  Dolores had seated herself at the side table, and her face was buriedin her hands. She was sobbing.

  "Too late? What do you mean? This is madness for you to take thisrisk."

  The girl, forgetting royalty and convention, caught his hand in both ofhers, and a light of joy came into her eyes.

  "My brother is safe, thank God! He is on his way to the King to getsoldiers to search the castle."

  "Where has he been? How do you know?"

  "He was imprisoned in this castle--since the day he entered. To-nighthe tried to signal, but could not. Your bullet went straight home, Mr.Warren, and Robledo is dying. He has confessed all to the holy father.I must go back, for I promised to be with him at the end."

  "The end ..." and Jarvis' voice grew husky, he understood by now thetears of Dolores. He turned toward her gently. "I'm so sorry--you andhe--I might have--oh, what a terrible shame!"

  The girl crossed herself, with the stoic calmness of her religion, asshe rose to face him.

  "It is better so. He sinned--grievously, many times, senor. My Princeis safe ... my Princess is safe. And you are safe--you, the bravest manin Seguro."

  Maria Theresa turned toward the door, where stood a man whom Jarvis hadnot espied before. "Take her back to the inn, Maximo, as quietly aspossible. Then send the chauffeur for me again as soon as he can comeup the rough road."

  "But, your Highness, you must go back as well--it is dangerous for youto remain here. I have found the clews for which you went to America.Let me finish the job."

  "No, I will stay with you."

  He caught her hands, and looked down into the dark eyes, so wondrouslyupturned to his.

  "You must come by the fire, and get warm..
.. Here, sit in this chair.You have been frightened to death, prowling through this horridplace.... Your hands are icy.... There, there! Go on and cry--forgetthat you're a Princess and be a real girl. Cry all you want! That'sfine!"

  He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders as she sat bythe flaming remnants of the old table.

  He turned about and beckoned to Rusty, who with a revolver in hand, hiscourage restored in a way by the turn of events, disappeared from view.Jarvis gently placed a hand upon the heaving shoulder.

  "I'll round up this spook to-night for good and all. Then the vassal'stask is done. His fate is in your hands, Highness; what's to become ofhim?... Don't send me away. I loved you from the first--not like avassal either--and will always love you.

  "I know I'm just a plain American citizen ... and a _man_. All the manin me cries out, 'I love you!' Don't send me away."

  "You must go. You must leave Spain, for your life would never be safehere: you know what feuds are, and you have started one."

  Just then an audible, unmistakable, common-place sneeze interruptedthis most wonderful of all conversations.

  Jarvis looked about. The sneeze was in the room.

  "Rusty, are you outside?"

  "Yassir. But don't keep me here long, 'kase I'ze freezing to death."

  "Did you sneeze?"

  "No, sir; but I calc'late I'll have to befoh long."

  "Don't move, your Highness--I've found the Ghost at last!"

  He walked toward the suspicious picture, and pointed the revolver atit.

  "There is somebody in that picture. Come out or I'll shoot. Quick now!"

  There was no response.

  He sent a bullet, carefully aimed at the upper lefthand corner, wherehe planned that it would do no harm.

  There was a response.

  "Don't shoot!"

  "_Don't shoot!_"]

  And the canvas opened neatly, to permit the elegant but dusty figure ofCarlos Hernando, Duke of Alva, to step to the mantelpiece and leapclumsily to the floor.

  The Princess had sprung to her feet.

  "Your Excellency, you are a long way from Madrid!"

  The Duke, brushing off his sleeves, snarled back: "You fool, you'vestepped right into the trap. I knew you were after the treasure."

  "Oh, no, your man-at-arms did that, and if you try to lie yourself outof this ... if it weren't for your cousin, I'd blow your damned headoff! Then I'd throw you down after the other poor devil--you've got alot of souls to answer for. See here, give me that locket--no, give herthat locket, or by the living God, I'll break your ... Come on now!"

  "Carlos!" and the girl held out a stiff arm. The Duke fumbled in aninner pocket, and dropped the memorandum into her hand.

  "I told you all ghosts were cowards."

  The Duke looked insolently into Jarvis' face, yet there was anundisguised admiration for the stanch nerves of his opponent. At heart,despite his criminal, conceited weaknesses, the Duke had thoroughbredblood beating and pulsing through the veins.

  "You play a good game, Mr. Warren.... Are all Americans like you?"

  "They all play the game in Kentucky," snapped Jarvis.

  "And I thought all Americans were fools." He crossed to the door. "Ithink, my dear Maria, that for the sake of the family name it would domy health good to take a trip to Monte Carlo and the Riviera--evenEgypt might help. Mr. Warren, take her advice and return to Kentucky."

  He walked up the steps and smiled back with his cynical appreciation ofthe situation, a mediaeval sport to the end, as Jarvis realized.

  "Hey, Rusty, you just follow that Duke as well as you did me. See himout of the castle and on his way rejoicing. And don't let your fingerslip on that revolver."

  "Yassir--wid pleasure, sir."

  The footsteps died away, and Jarvis looked at the Princess.

  She smiled back at him.

  "What kind of a place is Kentucky?"

  "God's country, lady.... Must I go back alone, your Highness?"

  She put her hands upon the tired shoulders, and looked up with theineffable look which passeth all understanding, except between the oneman and the one woman. She held her lips up to him!

  "Warren--don't call me Highness!... my name is Maria!"

  THE END