The Vagrant Duke Part 59

"No one----"

"Ye didn't dream it. Ye can't dream a name," he said tensely. "Pete told ye--he lied to ye."

"He didn't."

But he had caught her by the wrist again and dragged her into the Cabin.

She was thoroughly frightened now--too frightened even to cry out--too terrified at the sudden revelation of this man who for some days had been a kind of evil spirit in the background of her happiness. He was not like what she had thought he was, but he embodied an idea that was sinister and terrible. And while she wondered what he was going to do next, he pushed her into the armchair, locked the door and put the key into his pocket.

"Now we can talk," he muttered grimly. "No chance of bein'

disturbed--Pete ain't due for hours yet. So he's been tellin' _you_ lies about me. Has he? Sayin' _I_ done it. By G--, I'm beginnin' to see...."

He leered at her horribly, and Beth seemed frozen into her chair. The courage that had been hers a moment ago when he had shrunk away from her had fled before the fury of his questions and the violence of his touch.

She was intimidated for the first time in her life and yet she tried to meet his eyes, which burned wildly, shifting from side to side like those of a caged beast. In her terror she could not tell what dauntless instinct had urged her unless it was Ben Cameron's soul in agony that had cried out through her lips. And now she had not only betrayed Peter--but herself....

"I'm beginnin' to see. You and Pete--playin' both ends against the middle, with McGuire comin' down somethin' very handsome for a weddin'

present and leavin' me out in the cold. Very pretty! But it ain't goin'

to work out just that way--not that way at all."

All of this he muttered in a wildly casual kind of a way, at no one in particular, as his gaze flitted from one object in the room to another, always pa.s.sing over Beth almost impersonally. But in a moment she saw his gaze concentrate upon her with sudden eagerness.

"He told ye I done it, did he? Well, I didn't," he cried in a strident voice. "I didn't do it. It was McGuire and I'll prove it, all right.

McGuire. Pete can't fix _that_ on me--even if he wanted to. But he told _you_ or ye wouldn't of spoke like ye did. I guess maybe ye wouldn't of said so much if Pete had been here. But ye let the cat slip out of the bag all right. You and Pete--and maybe McGuire's with ye too--all against me. Is that so?... Can't yer speak, girl? Must ye sit there just starin' at me with yer big eyes? What are ye lookin' at? Are ye dumb?"

"No, I'm not dumb," gasped Beth, struggling for her courage, aware all the while of the physical threat in the man's very presence.

"Speak then. Tell me the truth. Pete said it was your money McGuire took--your money McGuire's got to make good to ye? Ain't that the truth?"

"I won't answer."

"Oh, yes, ye will. You'll answer all right. I'm not goin' to trifle.

What did ye come here to see Pete about? What's that letter ye came to give him? Give it to me!"

Beth clutched the heliotrope note to her bosom but Hawk Kennedy caught at her hands and tried to tear it away from her. It needed only this new act of physical violence to give Beth the courage of despair. She sprang to her feet eluding him but he caught her before she reached the window.

She struck at him with her fists but he tore the letter away from her and hurled her toward the bed over which she fell breathless. There was no use trying to fight this man.... There was a cruelty in his touch which spoke of nameless things.... And so she lay motionless, nursing her injured wrists, trying desperately to think what she must do.

Meanwhile, watching her keenly from the tail of his eye, Hawk Kennedy was reading the heliotrope letter, spelling out the English word by word. Fascinated, Beth saw the frown of curiosity deepen to interest and then to puzzled absorption.

"Interestin'--very," she heard him mutter at last, as he glanced toward the bed. "Holy Russia. H----! What's this mean, girl? Who _is_ Peter Nichols? Answer me."

"I--I don't know," she said.

"Yes, ye do. Where did ye get this letter?"

"He left it at--at my house last night."

"Oh! _Your_ house! Where?"

"In the village."

"I see. An' this scrawl on the envelope--you wrote it----"

Beth couldn't reply. He was dragging her through the very depths of humiliation.

At her silence his lips curved in ugly amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Anastasie!" he muttered. "Some queen that--with her purple paper an'

all. And ye don't know who she is? Or who Pete is? Answer me!"

"I--I don't know," she whispered. "I--I don't, really."

"H-m! Well, he ain't what he's seemed to be, that's sure. He ain't what he's seemed to be to you and he ain't what he's seemed to be to me. But whoever he is he can't put anything over on _me_. We'll see about this."

Beth straightened and sat up, watching him pace the floor in deep thought. There might be a chance that she could escape by the window.

But when she started up he ordered her back roughly and she soon saw that this was impossible.

At last he stopped walking up and down and stared at her, his eyes narrowed to mere slits, his brows drawn ominously together. It seemed that he had reached a decision.

"You behave yourself an' do what I tell ye an' ye won't be hurt," he growled.

"Wh-what are you goin' to do?" she gasped.

"Nothin' much. Ye're just goin' with me--that's all."

"W-where?"

"That's my business. Oh, ye needn't be scared of any love makin'. I'm not on that lay this trip."

He went to the drawer of Peter's bureau and took out some handkerchiefs.

"But ye'd better be scared if ye don't do what I tell ye. Here. Stand up!"

Beth shrank away from, him, but he caught her by the wrists and held her.

"Ye're not to make a noise, d'ye hear? I can't take the chance."

And while she still struggled desperately, he fastened her wrists together behind her. Then he thrust one of Peter's handkerchiefs in her mouth and securely gagged her. He wasn't any too gentle with her but even in her terror she found herself thanking G.o.d that it was only abduction that he planned.

Hawk Kennedy went to the window and peered out up the path, then he opened the door and looked around. After a moment he came in quickly.

"Come," he muttered, "it's time we were off."

He caught her by the arm and helped her to her feet, pushing her out of the door and into the underbrush at the corner of the cabin. Her feet lagged, her knees were weak, but the grasp on her shoulder warned her of cruelties she had not dreamed of and so she stumbled on--on into the depths of the forest, Hawk Kennedy's hard hand urging her on to greater speed.

CHAPTER XIX