Part 7 (1/2)

I saw him lying there senseless, and then saw no more, for when I recovered the electric light was spent, and the cabin was in densest darkness. The boat seemed to have righted itself, for the floor was level again, but the air had grown hot and stifling.

Not a sound broke the stillness, unless it was the beating of my heart.

There was naught but silence and inky blackness--the silence of the tomb, the loneliness of death.

The air seemed to grow more close and stifling, and my breath came in quick, short gasps. Better any death than this gradual suffocation. If I could only let the water into the boat, and so die swiftly, it would be easier. And so I crawled across the floor. Once I touched him, and drew away; but by his side I found a wrench, and in the darkness I groped on, till I found the steps to the tower and felt for the gla.s.s.

Poor Vanity! the reigning pa.s.sion with us all. I turned my head, so that the flying splinters of gla.s.s should not cut my face, and brought the wrench with all my force against the window. It resisted stoutly. But again and again I struck, until at last, with a crash, it flew outwards.

And then, in that fraction of a second, so strong is the love of life, I wished I had held my hand.

But there came no torrent of water, only a rush of cold air, and I realized that I was on the surface of the ocean--realized that when the madman fell backwards upon the shattered switchboard he must have moved the lever. But night had fallen again, and so I had not known it.

Trembling the more now that there was hope of escape, I climbed on deck and waited for the dawn.

And with the first faint streaks upon the eastern horizon came rescue, for a French cruiser had seen us, and steamed down like the wind to examine _Le Diable_.

Yet, with it all, the madman kept his secret--and his coffin.

When the boat from the cruiser was but a yard away I glanced through the open man-hole, and saw that he was moving across the cabin below, and as I stepped upon the gunwale of the launch _Le Diable_ sank like a stone from beneath my feet.

THE ABDUCTED AMBa.s.sADOR

”Monsieur Roche,” Therese murmured, and held a card before me.

”I have already told you I will receive no one,” I answered, with more than usual tartness, for the afternoon was warm, and the thought of my evening's engagements made me feel that life was unendurable.

”It is a matter of most urgent importance,” she so far forgot herself as to urge, and I could scarcely restrain a smile, for through my maid's prim black gown I almost fancied I could hear the rustle of the note that had tempted her to impertinence.

Was it not enough that I had said I was not receiving? And one would a.s.sume not, for she still stood there, and the day was too warm to scold her.

But she was an excellent girl, the perfection of maids. To this day I have never met one who could dress my hair as she could, nor one who could understand my peculiar--my dearest friends say exasperating--temper so admirably, and so my heart softened, and, with merely an uplifting of the eyebrows, to show that I noted her persistence, I said I would receive Monsieur Roche. And well I made a virtue of necessity, for he was one who knew not refusal. I turned poor virtue into my necessity, as all did whom Monsieur Roche asked to favor him.

”One would even risk madame's anger for the happiness of seeing her,” he murmured, as he took my hand; for, though he held the reputation of one not admiring the sweeter s.e.x, a better gallant for turning a compliment, a more skilful adept in the epigram of flattery, this jaded world has never viewed.

”It is a trying hour for calling, monsieur, unless the reason be most urgent.”

”It is most urgent,” he gravely a.s.sented, as he placed a slender forefinger upon my shoulder. ”_Ma chere_,” he continued, softly, ”you are the cleverest woman in Paris.”

”I should have better liked the compliment had you said the prettiest,”

I answered, demurely.

”Tut, tut! The whole world tells you that. Why proclaim the obvious? I prefer to be original, and p.r.o.nounce you the cleverest.”

”With an object, monsieur, _n'est ce pas_?”

”With a very great object, madame--the desire for your a.s.sistance.”

Monsieur Roche leaned impressively towards me.