Book: The Castle Of The Shadows

A >> Alice Muriel Williamson >> The Castle Of The Shadows




Now or never, Virginia said to herself, was the time to begin the
campaign. She seized the tide of fortune at its flood, and spoke in
English, making the most of the pretty, drawling Southern accent of the
State after which she had been named, because American girls were
privileged to be eccentric.

"Good morning," she said. "Oh, I do hope you understand my language,
because I want to tell you something."

The green-gray eyes of the Countess shone keenly between their heavy
black fringes during a silent moment of inspection, which must have shown
her Virginia divinely young, and childishly innocent of guile. At the end
of the moment she smiled.

"Yes, I understand English, and speak it a little," she responded, with a
charming accent, and in a voice musical but unexpectedly deep. "You are
American, is it not? What have you to tell me--that we have met before,
somewhere?"

At this--or Virginia imagined it--there came again a steely flash from
the black lashes. "Oh, no," said the girl hurriedly. "I never saw you
until yesterday. What I want to tell you is, that I hope you will forgive
me for staring at you as I did then. I was afraid you'd think me rude.
But I just couldn't help it, you are so beautiful. I adore beauty. You
can be sure now I'm American, can't you? for nobody but an American girl
would say such things to a perfect stranger. I'm glad I _am_ American,
for if I didn't speak I don't see exactly how I should get to know you.
And I want to know you very much. I made my cousin, Sir Roger Broom--he's
English, though I'm American--ask who you were, so I heard your name.
Mine is Virginia Beverly. Now we're introduced, aren't we?"

The Countess laughed and looked pleased. "I have seen your name in the
journals," she said--"the journals of society all over the world, that
one reads in hotels when one has nothing better to do, is it not? They
told the truth in one thing, for they said that you were _tres belle_.
And you have bought the yacht of a Spanish gentleman, whom I have known a
little. Yes, I remember it was a Miss Virginia Beverly, for it is not a
name to forget; and I love yachting."

By this time, Virginia had ordered her breakfast and received it, but she
was far too excited to make more than a pretense at eating. It was almost
as if the Countess de Mattos were playing into her hands. It seemed too
good to be true. She was afraid that something would happen to ruin all;
that she would lose her head, and by her precipitancy put the other on
her guard; yet the opportunity was too admirable to be entirely
neglected.

"If you like yachting, it would be nice if you could come and have a
day's run with us," said the girl. "The _Bella Cuba_ is at Alexandria,
and we should all love taking you. My cousin and my half-brother, George
Trent, couldn't talk of anything but you last night. Perhaps, later, we
might arrange it, if the railway journey both ways wouldn't bore you."

"On the contrary, I should be charmed," replied the Countess. She
flushed, and her eyes brightened. Virginia looked at her admiringly, yet
sharply, and said to herself: "If that rich, dark complexion of yours is
make-up--as it must be to prove my theory right--then it's the cleverest
make-up that any woman ever had as a disguise."

At this moment Sir Roger Broom and George Trent came out on to the
verandah together, both looking very much surprised to see Virginia in
conversation with the Countess de Mattos.

"Can she have said anything?" Roger thought quickly. But the calm
expression of the beautiful, dark face was in itself an answer to his
silent question.

The two men strolled up to Virginia, who asked and received permission
from the Countess to introduce her brother and cousin; and soon they were
talking as if they had known each other for days instead of moments.

The Portuguese beauty was distinctly ingratiating in her manner to all
three, so much so that Roger became thoughtful. He was more certain than
ever, if that were possible, that this woman was not Liane Devereux, for
the voice was many tones deeper, and the Countess spoke English with an
accent that was not at all French.

It seemed to him that no woman could disguise herself so
completely--face, voice, mannerisms, accent--no matter how clever she
might be; besides, Virginia's idea was ridiculous. But he began to wonder
whether the lovely Portuguese had a right to her title, or, if she had,
whether it were as well gilded as her charming frocks and her residence
at this expensive hotel would suggest at first sight.

It seemed to him that she caught too readily at new acquaintances for a
rich and haughty daughter of Portuguese aristocracy, and though he
believed that he understood, only too well, Virginia's motive for
cultivating a friendship, he was inclined to fear that the girl might be
victimized by an adventuress.

The Countess de Mattos was too handsome and too striking not to have been
remarked in Cairo, no matter how quietly she might live at the Ghezireh
Palace Hotel, and he determined to make inquiries of some officers whom
he knew there.

At all events, plans for the present were changed. Instead of a day or
two in Cairo they were to stay on indefinitely. George, as well as Roger,
was taken into the secret, but Lady Gardiner was told only the fact. She
was pleased at first, for she was fond of Cairo, and had never had a
chance to stop there in luxury before. She did not, however, like the
Countess de Mattos, who was much too handsome to be acceptable to her;
and before the slower and more prudent Roger had learnt anything, she was
primed with all the gossip of the hotel regarding the Portuguese beauty.
There was a certain Mrs. Maitland-Fox at the Ghezireh Palace, whom Lady
Gardiner had met before, and from her she gathered the crumbs of gossip
with which she immediately afterward regaled Virginia.

"They" said that the Countess de Mattos, although she might really be a
countess (and there were those who pretended to vouch for this), had
scarcely a penny. She traded on her beauty and the lovely clothes with
which some trusting milliner must have supplied her, to pick up rich or
influential friends, from whom she was certain to extort money in some
way or another. And it was Mrs. Maitland-Fox's advice that Miss Beverly
should be warned to beware of the beautiful lady.

Among his friends, Roger heard something of the same sort, and though he
was bound to admit that it was all very vague, he begged Virginia to
abandon a forlorn hope, and let the Portuguese woman alone.

"If she were really a Portuguese woman she might vanish from before my
eyes, for all I should care," obstinately returned the girl. "But she is
Liane Devereux, and if she breathed poison I wouldn't let her go till I
had torn out her secret."

"How do you mean to set about doing that?" demanded Roger.

"That is _my_ secret," said Virginia. "Only let me alone and don't thwart
me, or you'll spoil everything."

Roger waited, expectant and apprehensive. He had not to wait long.




CHAPTER VI

THE END OF THE WORLD


They stayed a week in Cairo, and at the end of that time the Countess de
Mattos had accepted an invitation to go yachting; not for a day, but for
a vague period of "dawdling," as Virginia evasively expressed it. The
beautiful Portuguese woman had hesitated at first, and confided to the
American girl that, on account of the delay in receiving an expected sum
of money, she did not quite see how she could get away in time. But
Virginia had begged the Countess not to let such a small difficulty
trouble her for a moment. She really must accept a loan to tide over the
little annoyance; it would indeed be too hard to lose the pleasure of her
companionship for the sake of a few paltry dollars, so that would be no
favour at all, or rather, the favour would be the other way round.

The "few paltry dollars" necessary turned out to be three thousand; but
if they had been three times three thousand Virginia would have lent them
just as cheerfully without the prospect of, or even wish for, their
return. With the money obtained from Virginia's practically unlimited
letter of credit in her pocket, and a hint delicately expressed that more
would be at her service whenever she wished, "as it was such a nuisance
having to keep in touch with one's bankers and people like that on a long
yachting trip when nothing was less settled than one's plans," the
Countess thought herself very well off.

"Are you in a hurry to be anywhere in particular during the next few
weeks?" asked the girl of her new friend. "No? How nice! Then let us
throw all the responsibility of planning things upon the men. What fun
never to know where we are going, but to be surprised always when we
arrive anywhere."

And the Countess de Mattos agreed. She would have agreed with almost
anything that Virginia said that day. If the American girl believed that
Providence had directed her to cross the path of this beautiful woman,
the beautiful woman was equally sure that the god of luck had put this
infatuated young heiress in her way.

Roger would hardly have consented to the carrying out of Virginia's plan,
which he called "kidnapping," had George Trent not joined his arguments
to his sister's.

"It does seem a mad idea," he admitted, "but if the woman isn't Liane
Devereux, no harm will be done, except that she'll be taken a longer
journey than she expects. If she is--ah! I know what you think, old chap,
without your lifting your eyebrows up to your hair; but, by Jove!
Virgie's got an instinct that's like the needle of a compass. When she
says 'north,' I'd bet my bottom dollar it _was_ north, that's all. If I
don't object to Virgie's associating with the Countess, you needn't--yet,
anyhow. She isn't the kind of girl to be hurt by that sort of thing, and,
besides, she'll have the dickens of a tantrum if we try to thwart her now
she's set her heart on this trick. She'd be equal to slipping anchor with
the Countess on board and leaving us in the lurch. Let's see the little
girl through on her own lines, and if the snap doesn't come off, she
can't blame _us_. Anyway, it's rougher on me than on you, for Virgie's
put me up to do the agreeable to the Countess and keep her from getting
restless before we attempt to spring our mine. A while ago I wouldn't
have asked anything better than flirting all day with such a woman, who
is as pretty and as fascinating as they're made, but I'm not in the mood
for it now, somehow. Still, we're playing for big stakes--you for yours,
Roger, I for mine."

This was the only reference he made to his interest in Madeleine
Dalahaide; but Roger guessed what was in his mind.

Lady Gardiner floundered deeper than ever into the quicksands of mystery
when she heard that the Countess de Mattos was to be one of the party for
the rest of the voyage--wherever it was to take them. What could be
Virginia's object in picking up this woman? Was it really true that she
had taken the violent and sudden fancy to her that she feigned to feel,
or did that pretense cloak a hidden motive? Kate had no clue, unless the
fact that Virginia had asked her never to mention Madeleine Dalahaide or
the Chateau de la Roche before the Countess could be called a motive. She
would have disobeyed Virginia, by way of a curiosity-satisfying
experiment, if she had not feared that the result might be disastrous and
that she would be found out.

At least she would in a gentle, tactful way have suggested objections to
the Countess de Mattos's presence on the yacht, had she not been certain
that Virginia would have frankly advised her to stay behind if she did
not like the arrangements for the rest of the trip. Much as she loved
Cairo in the height of its gay season, much as she hated the sea at all
seasons, nevertheless she was doggedly determined to see this adventure
to the end (bitter though it might be), not only to earn her thousand
pounds, but to know the secret which actually kept her waking and
wondering at night.

It really was the strangest thing that Virginia should want this
adventuress on the yacht, Kate indignantly remarked to Mrs.
Maitland-Fox. The girl had refused to take a maid because there would
not be room, yet now she dragged this creature on board to flirt with
George Trent and perhaps inveigle him into a marriage under the
impression that he was as rich as he was handsome.

But with Virginia herself, after the first few moments of surprise, Lady
Gardiner had been circumspect. She had not even dared to ask the question
burning on her lips--whether the Countess would have the locked
stateroom, or what arrangement would be made for her accommodation?
Obliged to wait for this information until the hour of going on board
again, once the Countess de Mattos's presence was to be expected without
hope of change, Kate began to be impatient to start.

The party, counting quiet, keen-eyed little Dr. Grayle, was now increased
to six, an equal number of men and women, for the Countess had readily
given up her maid. They all travelled to Alexandria together one morning,
and, boarding the yacht, Kate eagerly watched for the new guest to be
taken to her stateroom. Would the locked door be opened? No; Virginia
led her past that mysterious, closed door, to the cabin formerly occupied
by George Trent, and Kate saw that the young man's belongings, just
brought back from Cairo, had been set down inside the stateroom once
sacred to the doctor alone. In this there were two berths, and evidently
George and the medical man would "chum" together for the rest of the
voyage. The discovery did not add to Lady Gardiner's love for the
Portuguese woman, for, half forgetting her uneasiness concerning
Madeleine Dalahaide, she was now jealous of the new beauty, and it was
gall and wormwood to Kate that George Trent, lost to her, should be
making gallant sacrifices of his personal comfort for another woman.

She had written to the Marchese Loria on the first night of their arrival
in Cairo, before the acquaintance with the Countess had begun, and, as
she could learn nothing of the future programme for the voyage, it had
not seemed worth while to write again. As for the invitation to the
Portuguese woman, Kate did not see that it could be of personal interest
to Loria, and she never wrote unless she had something to say which was
of importance to him; therefore the Italian remained in ignorance that
the Countess de Mattos was a member of the little party on the _Bella
Cuba_.

So far as the trip had gone, there was nothing to excite his anxiety save
that the girl he coveted for her beauty and her money was going farther
and farther from him. But one day a telegram came for him to the Cap
Martin Hotel, where he still remained. It was dated from Port Said.
"Bound for Australia," were the three words the message contained; and
they were words of heavy import to Loria.

Australia! There was no reason why Virginia Beverly should not visit
Australia. He had heard her say that she would not be satisfied until she
had seen all the world. But if she had thought of going to Australia
before she left Mentone, she had carefully refrained from saying so. It
was more the fact that she had concealed such an intention than that she
was now carrying it out, which seemed ominous to Loria. Sydney was the
nearest place of departure for New Caledonia. In a Messageries mail boat
it took ten days to reach Noumea from Sydney; it would perhaps take
longer in a yacht like the _Bella Cuba_. And the sensible question to ask
would be, Was it likely that a bright, erratic, butterfly being like
beautiful Virginia Beverly would go so far simply for the pleasure of
seeing the prison which contained a stranger, a convicted assassin for
whom she had conceived a girlishly romantic interest?

It was not as if she could hope to meet and talk with Maxime Dalahaide
himself, have the pleasure of carrying him messages from his sister, or
perhaps even bring Madeleine to him (for the Chateau de la Roche was
empty now, in the hands of workmen, and no one, not even Loria, had been
able to learn where Mademoiselle Dalahaide and her aunt had gone). The
Italian was not unlearned in such lore of the far-away French prison-land
as could be obtained, and he had read that, though strangers were allowed
to land at Noumea, and a few had been enabled through influence to
penetrate inside the prison walls, all personal intercourse with the
convicts was strictly interdicted. Since the one almost miraculous
escape, over thirty years ago, of Henri Rochefort and Humbert, watch and
ward had been more strictly kept than ever; besides, they had escaped
from Ducos, on the Isle of Pines, which in those days had been sacred to
political prisoners, and discipline there had been, even then, lax
compared to that of the Ile Nou, the very heart of prison-land, where
Maxime Dalahaide was dragging out the weary years of his lost life.

Yet what if Virginia should have formed the extraordinary resolve of
going to Noumea? What was it to him--Loria--since she could accomplish
nothing there? Suppose, even, that among other miserable convicts she saw
Maxime--pallid, thin, sullen and hopeless, his good looks and his
brilliant audacity crushed and gone--would not the romantic feeling she
had conceived for him be instantly turned into horror and disgust? When
such a chill had withered a girl's fancy for a man, there could be no
future blossoming, and her heart might be caught in the rebound. Once,
Loria had thought that Virginia had been on the point of caring for him.
Perhaps when they met she would turn to him again, remorseful for the
pain she had caused, grateful for his unwavering loyalty; and, telling
himself these things, he was almost persuaded that it would do him more
good than harm if Virginia did go to Noumea. But he was never wholly
persuaded. A strange fear knocked at his heart, a fear that had no name.
He never quite saw its face. Like a haunting ghost, it was always behind
him, and he could hear the swish of its garments, the stealthy sound of
its footfalls; but when he turned upon it the thing was gone, leaving
only the impression of a black shadow with a veiled face inexpressibly
awful.

Loria could not sleep by night, and by day he was restless. He began to
dread an illness, and was constantly troubled with headache, which gave
him an excuse for believing that the vague, nervous apprehension he
suffered was largely the result of physical causes.

What else, indeed, could it be? He had absolutely nothing to fear. Of
this he was still continually reminding himself, when another telegram
came from Lady Gardiner, dated Sydney. "Leaving here to-morrow," she
said. "Destination unknown."

* * * * *

The _Bella Cuba_ was ten days out from Sydney Heads. Her passengers rose
early, for in the morning it was good to be alive. Virginia, fresh from
her cold, salt bath, came on deck, and saw the Countess de Mattos there,
with George Trent. Far away lay a strip of land, turning slowly from
violet to emerald as the yacht steamed nearer. Virginia saw it and
flushed. She knew what it must be, and quickly she glanced at George,
with an eager question in her eyes.

It was tacitly understood that the task of informing the Countess de
Mattos what her destination was to be must be left to Virginia; she
coveted it, while the two men did not. Still, the Portuguese might have
guessed, on seeing that strip of violet; or George might inadvertently
have given her a clue, and she would be on her guard.

But George's blue eyes met his sister's; and with the faintest shake of
his head he contrived to convey to her the intelligence that the secret
still remained a secret.

Virginia's heart was beating fast as she joined her brother and the
Countess, and her hand was not quite steady as she offered her
field-glass to the beautiful Portuguese, who had long ago begged the two
ladies on board to call her "Manuela."

"What a large island!" exclaimed the Countess. "And we seem to be making
for it. What can it be? Mr. Trent says perhaps it is a mirage. But I
think that is his joke. He likes teasing."

"I think," replied Virginia calmly, though her eyes were on the face of
Manuela, "that we must be coming in sight of New Caledonia."

As she gave this answer, Roger Broom came up the companionway, and heard
the last words, which rang out, distinctly. Instantly he knew that the
moment for which Virginia had been waiting was at hand, and he, too,
watched the Countess.

She had taken Virginia's field-glass, and was gazing through it at the
far-off land which with each moment seemed to grow more distinct. Only
the delicate, aquiline profile could be seen by the eager eyes that
looked for a sign of weakness. She did not speak at first, but a visible
shiver ran through her body. The field-glass came down rather suddenly,
and her fingers gripped it tightly as they rested on the rail. But she
did not turn her face, and continued gazing landward as at last she
echoed the words, "New Caledonia!"

"Is not that a prison for the French _forcats_?" she slowly asked.

Tacitly, the two men left the answer to Virginia. "Yes," said the girl.
"Noumea is a penal settlement. They say it is very interesting to see. We
thought that we might stop for a day or two in the harbour there."

This time the Countess turned. "Oh, but that would be terrible!" she
exclaimed. "We--they might rob and murder us, these convicts. You did not
say that we were coming to Noumea."

"It was to be one of our surprises," replied Virginia. "I thought that
you would like it."

"No, no!" ejaculated Manuela. "I do not like it at all. I have a horror
of such places and such people. This is a pleasure trip, is it not? There
is no pleasure in visiting a prison-land. Dear Virginia, dear Mr. Trent
and Sir Roger, do let us turn our faces another way and go somewhere
else."

Virginia had not lost a single changing shade of expression on the
Countess de Mattos's darkly beautiful face; but if she had been
questioned, she would have had to confess that she was disappointed in
the great effect toward which she had so long been working up. She had
half expected to see this wicked woman who, in some deadly and mysterious
way, had plotted to destroy Maxime Dalahaide, turn livid under the brown
stain which she (Virginia) suspected, gasp, totter, and perhaps fall
fainting when she heard those fatal names--"New Caledonia, Noumea." But
Manuela gave none of these evidences of distress. If she paled, the dusky
stain in whose existence Virginia so tenaciously believed hid the sign
of her emotion. It allowed a deep flush to be seen; even Virginia could
not deny that, but pallor was difficult to trace where complexion and
even lips were tinted brown and red; and the slight quivering of the
body, the dropping of the hand with the field-glass, were not so marked
that they might not be due to an ordinary, disagreeable surprise.

"I'm sorry you feel so about the place," said Virginia. "That's the worst
of planning surprises, isn't it? One can't always be sure of bringing off
a success. Now, I'm afraid we must make the best of it, for as we
arranged to come here, our stores won't last long enough to avoid New
Caledonia and go farther. We must buy butter and milk and vegetables, and
chickens and lots of things, to say nothing of coaling. But you needn't
see anything of the prison and the prisoners unless you like. The harbour
is said to be glorious, and you can stop on board and read novels, while
the rest of us do our sight-seeing, which won't take us very long."

"Sight-seeing in a prison!" exclaimed the Countess. "You English and
Americans are strange. We Latins, we never give ourselves pain that can
be avoided. There is enough that is unpleasant in life without that. Ugh!
I would rather do without butter and milk than buy it of convicts, who
may poison us in sheer spite because we are more fortunate than they.
Could we not turn round, and get back to Sydney without starving?"

"No, it couldn't be managed," said Virginia.

Manuela turned pleading eyes upon Roger and George. They were men; they
knew more about such things than women; besides she could usually make
men do what she wished. But for once she found creatures of the opposite
sex who were not to be melted by her pleading. They agreed with Virginia
that it was impossible now to avoid New Caledonia.

"And how long shall we stay?" plaintively inquired the Countess, when she
had been obliged to resign herself to the inevitable, which, to her
credit, she did with a very pretty grace. "Shall we leave again to-night,
with our poisoned food?"

"Wait till you have seen the rocks in the harbour," answered George. "If
they're as bad as the book says, they must be something to see. Anyhow,
it's only possible to get in or out between sunrise and sunset. I'm
afraid, Countess, you'll have to put up with it till to-morrow."

"Oh!" Manuela sighed a long sigh. She asked no more questions, she made
no more protests. She turned her back upon New Caledonia, and appeared to
dismiss the land of lost souls from her mind.

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