Oswald Langdon Part 34

"The four had been up the river, and were returning downstream. They saw two persons sitting near the bank. Fearing that these were spies upon their track, the men permitted the boat to drift past this point. Both forms on the sh.o.r.e seemed to rise and stand. The four were now past, a few rods downstream. They moved very slowly, all cautiously looking at the two on the sh.o.r.e. Just then a third form was visible. All saw a knife glisten in the moonlight, followed by a blow and thrust. The two fell into the river, sinking out of sight.

"The men quickly rowed toward the point of the stream where the bodies sank. Several rods down something gripped one of the oars. A face appeared above the water. The hands held that oar, until the girl was drawn into the boat. Nothing was seen of the other who had fallen into the stream.

"Now convinced that these were not spies, the four rowed up and down past this point, but seeing no signs, concluded to abandon the search.

With the girl lying unconscious in bottom of the boat, rowing downstream for some distance, they landed on the opposite side of the river.

Efforts to revive her were successful, but she relapsed again into an unconscious state.

"The two men advised leaving her there, and that no one say anything about what they had seen or done. They were suspected of this robbery.

This incident would make them notorious. The girl would die, anyhow.

"This plan was about to be adopted when voices were heard down the stream. The men, followed by the girls, rapidly bore me to an old, abandoned shed, about one hundred rods from sh.o.r.e. Here all remained until about three o'clock the next morning. As I was still alive, they finally concluded it would be less dangerous to take me to their cabin.

Both girls favored this plan. The men were afraid to follow their own impulses, depending upon secrecy of these fickle-minded females. The four, with their load, reached the cabin just before daylight. Old Sarah let them in, and was cautioned to say nothing, under penalty of sure death.

"I had remained here over a week, in charge of this kind-hearted old negress, being nearly all this time in a seemingly comatose state, with only brief spells of semi-consciousness. No physician had been called, as these bad characters wished to avoid notoriety. London papers had referred to the deaths by drowning or murder of Oswald Langdon and Alice Webster. These two highwaymen dreaded any mention of their names in such connection. Old Sarah kept their secret, for fear of losing her position and of personal violence.

"At times my chances of recovery had been doubtful. I had been delirious, but most of the time lay in a stupor. What to do with me the four could not devise. All dreaded an invasion by the police. They had discussed the proposition to leave me in the cabin, the four quitting London for some distant city, the men going first singly, the two girls following later. Still they feared that old Sarah would inform the police, as she had overheard this talk, and was much distressed about losing her job. It then was proposed that the five take some other house, and abandon me to my fate.

"To this old Sarah vigorously objected, and said:

"'I'se nevah gwine to fo'sake dat po' sick white baby who 'minds me so powerful much of my own little Mandy Car'line just 'fo' she j'ined de angel band!'

"This settled that proposal.

"Revolving in their minds many schemes to dispose of me and of the colored woman, the two robbers could not think of any safe plan. Too, they feared that these girls might confess. They threatened and flattered the negress, who said nothing in reply.

"The night before had been the worst. The four, drinking heavily, lost their discretion. A loud quarrel ensued. One of the drunken brutes staggered into the room where we were lying asleep. He stood there, glaring first at one, then at the other. His actions aroused old Sarah, who, springing up and grasping a large bottle standing on the shelf, struck the besotted wretch such hard blow in the face that he fell heavily upon the cabin floor. This created a commotion, causing a noisy row.

"Old Sarah never flinched, but threatened to murder the first one who touched 'dat po' sick, unfortunate chile, who has no kind mudder to gib her good device, an' 'zembles my own little angel baby, Mandy Car'line!'

"The girls were not so far gone as to have no fear of results. They succeeded in getting these drunken villains into the other room. The excited wench slammed the door and bolted it.

"Through all this fuss I had not shown any signs of life, except heavy breathing and slight moaning. The faithful old colored woman kept watch until morning.

"The four breakfasted late, and afterward went out singly.

"Having finished her morning work, old Sarah returned to watch at the cot. The poor old servant was feeling a sense of superst.i.tious dread.

She had just turned away her face when I made that awful scream."

In nervous, dramatic manner Alice related these experiences, with old Sarah's account of what had happened. Memories of this eventful period had shadowed after days and given somber hues to many dreams.

At breaks in the narrative Sir Donald made tactful suggestions, courteously prompting its continuation. As to those parts which Alice, through evident maidenly reserve, pa.s.sed over hurriedly, he did not urge more explicit recital. However, his suggestions evinced thorough recollection of all that had been said and a tenacious hold on the natural drift of the story.

Aided by Sir Donald's discreet suggestions, promptings, and questioning, Alice continued her strange romance.

"For several days nothing of much account occurred at that old cabin. I suffered from peculiar pains in the head and confused sensations, sleeping much, but having frightful dreams. During waking hours my memory seemed almost blank, with only bewildering hints of events.

Sleep was dreaded, as dreams again presented the awful past. Time, place, and incidents were grossly distorted. Yet each day I grew stronger.

"Slowly the brain-pressure relaxed. Dreams grew less fantastic. I had more distinct memories. With returning strength and clearer understanding of my condition came thoughts of past misfortunes. My then helpless position was appalling. That for an indefinite period I must be dependent upon the bounties of those depraved creatures who had rescued me from the Thames current seemed horrible. The presence of these I continually loathed and feared. It appeared fate's cruel decree that I should escape Paul Lanier's murderous designs but to suffer this prolonged, indefinite, loathsome danger. Yet such distress served to check the despondent outlook of future years. I became anxious for some immediate rescue.

"Old Sarah was my only hope, but could not devise any plan to help me. I studied that black, sympathetic face for inspiration. It seemed that my mute appeals greatly pained her, but she could give only high-sounding encouragement, while solemnly pledging everlasting devotion to one who 'mo' and mo' 'zembles my own little bressed baby, Mandy Car'line just 'fo' she died!'

"After weeks of suspense, only the girls returned from night visits to London scenes. They looked much depressed. Old Sarah was taken into their confidence, and appeared greatly troubled. The next day both girls moved, taking only articles of clothing, saying nothing as to where they were going.

"The old servant seemed much affected, but soon grew more cheerful. She told me that these men had been arrested, charged with the robbery. The girls suspected the police would come that day to search the cabin for stolen stuff. They would go away, and old Sarah must keep quiet. She was to claim as her own everything in the cabin. The four had been only boarders, about whom she was to know nothing. As the price of her secrecy she could keep everything in the rooms. There were sufficient supplies for at least a month.

"All this and much more old Sarah told me in a hysterical burst of confidence. When entirely recovered, I could find my friends, and she would go home to her family.

"To me this unexpected turn was a great relief, and my simple-hearted old benefactress grew quite hopeful.

"The police raid did not occur. None of the four ever came back. What became of these criminal suspects I never heard.

"After a few weeks I was able to walk about the cabin. Determined soon as possible to cease dependence upon this poor old servant who so generously had befriended me in such need, I longed for speedy recovery.

Old Sarah seemed to dread the hour when her 'new baby chile' would go away.

"The colored woman indulged in much grief at our parting, bewailing it as a fresh bereavement. She explained that Mandy Caroline was her oldest child, and died at the age of twenty-four. Though having many other children, it seemed to her that I was a heaven-sent subst.i.tute for this lost daughter.

"Sarah and her husband were slaves on a Georgia plantation before the close of the American Civil War. They came to London as servants in the family of an Englishman who had been traveling through the Southern States. They afterward married in London.

"The colored woman would not listen to any talk of future repayment, but so pressed upon me the acceptance of a few small coins that I took them.

"I had intended to go home and explain all, but felt much fear after starting. How could my strange disappearance and long stay be explained?

What would be thought of my staying in this disreputable den with criminals and social outcasts? To whom could appeal be made for proof, but to this poor, old wench, who had been in the employment of the four, two of whom are charged with highway robbery? Would not my friends and acquaintances feel averse to further a.s.sociation with such a person?

They might suspect that both Oswald and I had practiced deceit in our disappearances.

"These thoughts overwhelmed me with an unbearable burden of doubt and dread. I became confused and bewildered. My sense of London locations grew hazy.

"Calling to a pa.s.sing 'coster,' I begged him to take me to some respectable inn.

"He objected, but upon learning that I was sick and had lost my way, consented.

"In about an hour he stopped at a cozy little house. Helping me to alight, he told me that lodging could be obtained there at reasonable rates. He generously declined to accept payment for the ride.

"I staggered into the hallway and sat down in a fainting condition upon one of the stair steps. Still dizzy, with severe pains in the head and sensations of nausea, I was shown a room.

"The proprietor gazed at me with surprise. Seeing my weakness, he left.

"Soon after, a servant called, but hearing that it was only a slight attack, requiring quiet rest, disappeared.

"After several hours, I awoke with a start. The proprietor's wife, portly and sympathetic, stood staring in at the half-open door. She eagerly accepted my stammering invitation to come in and be seated.

Seeing that I was weak and embarra.s.sed, she refrained from questions as to my name or connections. I gave prompt a.s.surances that my indisposition was not serious.

"Soon a tempting meal was served. Following more sympathetic suggestions, the kind-hearted lady withdrew.

"Left alone, I, late into the night, thought over my perplexing situation, but could not devise any plan of action. The only settled conviction reached was not then to meet any friends or acquaintances, but to await the clearing of the dark clouds.

"In this extremity came thoughts of past rescues. How strange my escapes from lake and river! Had not Paul Lanier's cruel malice been thwarted?

That black benefactress surely had been an angel of deliverance from loathsome perils in London suburb. Perhaps I yet would live to outwit the crafty Laniers. Surely there would be a way out of these helpless, bewildering mazes.