Part 16 (2/2)
”You here?” I said, addressing the Countess, and disregarding him altogether. ”What on earth does this mean? Have I gone mad?”
She was quite equal to the emergency. There was not a tremor in her voice when she replied.
”Not at all mad, my dear Sir George. It simply means that you have to thank me for saving you from a terrible death. Quite by chance I became aware that there was an anarchist plot in preparation against yourself and certain other members of your Government. To have revealed my knowledge to the Authorities would have been to implicate several of my dear, but misguided, friends, while to have appealed to them for mercy would have been as useless as it would have been dangerous. I therefore took what I deemed the next best course, and removed you out of the reach of harm.”
”Can this be true?” I asked, for the whole thing seemed too wildly improbable.
”You surely would not doubt the Countess's word,” Conrad put in.
I paid no attention to him, however.
”But if there was a plot against me, why did you not warn me?” I continued. ”I could then have taken steps to insure my own safety.”
”Impossible,” she replied. ”You would have communicated with the Police at once. No, the only thing was to act as we did, and I think, since you are still alive, that you have every reason to be thankful that we adopted such prompt measures.”
I remembered the precautions that had been taken to prevent my leaving the brougham, and the peculiar smell of gas which had caused me to lose consciousness. No; I felt convinced in my own mind that the story the Countess had told me was pure fiction--that is to say, so far as any desire went to save me from harm. However, I was wise enough to control myself, and to appear to credit her a.s.sertion.
”And now that the danger is over, when shall I be at liberty to go into the world again?” I asked.
”To-night your freedom shall be restored to you,” she answered. ”I have every reason to suppose that you will be quite safe now.”
This was agreeable news indeed, if only I might credit it. But by this time my suspicions were so thoroughly aroused, that I did not feel inclined to trust anybody.
What was I to do? I had no desire to return to my prison, yet if I ran to the window, there was still a long strip of garden between the house and the street, and it was likely that my cries, even supposing I were permitted to get so far, would not be heard by the pa.s.sers-by. I had already noticed that Conrad's hand was in his coat-pocket, and my imagination told me what that pocket contained. Then the sound of some one descending the stairs reached my ears, and next moment my gaoler burst furiously into the room. His relief at seeing me was evident, but he seemed unable to understand how it was that he found us conversing so quietly together. He looked from one to the other of us as if for an explanation.
”I have put the situation before Sir George,” said the Countess, ”and I have also told him that the danger is over now, and that to-night he will be at liberty to go where he pleases.”
”And for the present what is to become of me?” I enquired, before the man could say anything.
”We shall be delighted if you will give us the pleasure of your company,” said the Countess. ”Forgive me for not having asked you to sit down before.”
Having by this time made up my mind as to how I should play my part, I did as she suggested, and for the rest of the morning remained in the room, conversing with her on a hundred different subjects, and acting for all the world as if our meeting had been of the most casual description. At one o'clock luncheon was served, and we sat down to it, still on as friendly terms as ever. As I had noticed with regard to the previous meals of which I had partaken in the house, the cooking was perfect, the wines excellent, and the waiting all that could be desired.
On one point, by this time, my mind was quite made up. As soon as I escaped from captivity, I would open Rotherhithe's eyes as to the true character of his _fiancee_. One thing, I must confess, puzzled me considerably. I could not understand why, if they had been at such pains to secure me, they should be willing to liberate me so soon. I was destined to be better informed on this point, however, before very long.
During the progress of the meal the Countess chatted with me as pleasantly as if we were sitting in her dining-room at Wilts.h.i.+re House.
It was significant, however, that Rotherhithe's name was never once mentioned. When the meal was at an end she gave us permission to smoke, and accordingly, after our coffee had been handed to us, Conrad proffered me his cigarette case. How was I to know that the coffee had been drugged, and that within a quarter of an hour of my drinking it, I should be lying fast asleep in my chair, beyond all knowledge of my surroundings. The Countess had scored another trick.
CHAPTER IX
Of all that occurred after I became unconscious I am quite ignorant.
From the moment of my closing my eyes until six o'clock next morning my mind is a perfect blank. All I remember is, that little by little I became aware of a strange oscillation. It was as if my bed were being tossed violently about, to the accompaniment of a noise like the groaning of a thousand tormented souls.
”It will go off if I lie still,” I said to myself. But instead, every moment, it grew worse. At last, when I could bear it no longer, I opened my eyes and looked about me. What I saw was calculated to afford me considerable astonishment. I had imagined myself to be lying in the room whence I had escaped, what I supposed to be a few hours before. I was not there, however. The place in which I was lying was the cabin of a s.h.i.+p, and was some nine feet long by six in width. Opposite the bunk in which I lay, was the customary bra.s.s-bound port-hole, with a cus.h.i.+oned settee, or locker, below it. The door was at the foot of the bed; a wash-hand stand with a mirror above it stood against the bulkhead, there was a narrow strip of faded carpet upon the floor, and when I have noted these things I have furnished you with a detailed description of the cabin. What the name of the vessel was and how I had got there were questions I could not answer. One thing, however, was quite certain; whatever else she might be, the s.h.i.+p was not a good sea boat. She rolled abominably, and from the pounding noise on deck I gathered that she was taking aboard more seas than was altogether comfortable. With my head clanging like a s.h.i.+p's bell, I managed to scramble out of my bunk and approach the port-hole. Constantly blurred though the gla.s.s was by the waves that dashed against it, I was able to convince myself that there was no land in sight. All I had before me was a confused, tumbling ma.s.s of water, an expanse of cloud-covered sky, and once, when we rose upon a particularly heavy sea, the fleeting picture of a barque making extremely bad weather of it, three miles or so distant.
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