Part 22 (1/2)

If I could scramble up! I thought; and promptly tried.

It looked almost easy; but for me it was impossible. A very tall woman might have done it, perhaps, but I have only five foot four in my Frenchiest French heels; and the broken-off place was higher than my waist. With good hand-hold I might have dragged myself up, but the steps above did not come at the right height to give me leverage; and always, though I tried again and again, till my cut hands bled, I couldn't climb up. And how silly it seemed, the whole thing! I was just like a young fly that had come buzzing and b.u.mbling round an ugly old spider's web, too foolish to know that it was a web. And even now how lightly the fly's feet were entangled! A spring, and I should be out of prison.

”Oh, the little more, and how much it is!

And the little less, and what worlds away!”

The words came and spoke themselves in my ears, as if they were determined to make me cry.

I was desperately frightened and homesick--homesick even for Lady Turnour. I should have felt like kissing the hem of her dress if I could only have seen her now--and I wasn't able to smile when I thought what a rage she'd be in if I did it. She would have me sent off to an insane asylum: but even that would be much gayer and more homelike than an underground cellar in the Ghost City of Les Baux.

Dear old Sir Samuel, with his nice red face! I almost loved him. The car seemed like a long-lost aunt. And as for the chauffeur, my brother--I found that I dared not think of him. As in my imagination I saw his eyes, his good dark eyes, clear as a brook, and the lines his brown face took when he thought intently, the tears began running down my cheeks.

”Oh, Jack--Jack, come and help me!” I called.

That comes of _thinking_ people's Christian names. They will pop out of your mouth when you least expect it. But it mattered little enough now, except that the sound of the name and the echo of it fluttering back to me made my tears feel boiling hot--hotter than the punch which the Turnours must have finished by this time.

”Jack! Jack!” I called again.

Then I heard a stone rattle up above, somewhere, and a sick horror rushed over me, because of the gipsy men coming back with their wicked old mother.

It was only a very dark gray in the cellar, to my unaccustomed eyes, but suddenly it turned black, with purple edges. I knew then I was going to faint, because I've done it once or twice before, and things always began by being black with purple edges.

CHAPTER XV

”For heaven's sake, wake up--tell me you're not hurt!” a familiar voice was saying in my ear, or I was dreaming it. And because it was such a good dream I was afraid to break it by waking to some horror, so I kept my eyes shut, hoping and hoping for it to come again.

In an instant, it did come. ”Child--little girl--wake up! Can't you speak to me?”

His hand, holding mine, was warm and extraordinarily comforting.

Suddenly I felt so happy and so perfectly safe that I was paid for everything. My head was on somebody's arm, and I knew very well now who the somebody was. He was real, and not a dream. I sighed cozily and opened my eyes. His face was quite close to mine.

”Thank G.o.d!” he said. ”Are you all right?”

”Now you're here,” I answered. ”I thought they were coming to kill me.”

”Who?” he asked, quite fiercely.

”An old gipsy woman and her sons.”

”Those people!” he exclaimed. ”Why, it was they who told me you were in this place. If it hadn't been for them I shouldn't have found you so soon--though I _would_ have found you. The wretches! What made you think--”

”The old woman was in the room above,” I said, ”waiting for her sons; and she begged me to look down here for a rosary she dropped. She must have known the bottom steps were gone. She _wanted_ me to fall; and though I called, she didn't answer, because she'd probably hobbled off to find her sons and bring them back to rob me. I haven't hurt myself much, but when I found I couldn't climb up I was so frightened! I thought no one would ever come--except those horrible gipsies. And when I heard a sound above I was sure they were here. I felt sick and strange, and I suppose I must have fainted.”

”I heard you call, just as I got into the upper room. Then, though I answered, everything was still. Jove! I had some bad minutes! But you're sure you're all right now?”

”Sure,” I answered, sitting up. ”Did I call you 'Jack'? If I did, it was only because one can't shriek 'Mister,' and anyway you told me to.”