CHAPTER XIX.
PLANNING THE PIRATE’S CAPTURE.
“But all this,” said Kane, “does not track the fellow across the briny.”
“I am coming to that.”
“You figure that he has taken her—or is taking her—to Anjou?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“In the first place, Kane, he must have decided, in his own mind, that this trip of his across the ocean, with Bessie as a passenger on the Shadow, is his last and only chance.”
“I should say so.”
“And at the end of that voyage lies his fate.”
“Humph! Well?”
“Before he decided to take the terrible risk of capturing Bessie and carrying her away as his prisoner, he must have made up his mind that all outlawry, save that one act upon which his mind was resolved, must be a thing of the past.”
“Perhaps so. Who knows?”
“I think I know. I think I am putting myself in the place of that man. ‘Put yourself in his place’ is a pretty good maxim, when you wish to get at the real inwardness of an act committed by another.”
“I believe that. Go on, please.”
“When he got away with the Shadow and resolved to capture Bessie, he figuratively took the bit in his teeth.”
“I should say he did.”
“But you must not forget that he could not place himself in a worse position than that in which he already found himself, so far as his future and his desires were concerned. In short, old man, he has thought it all over with great calmness, and, as calmly, he has selected—Bessie, or death.”
“By Jove, Nick!”
“Without her, life has seemed to him not worth the living; and without having first had an opportunity to explain things to her, as they really were, death itself seemed almost impossible. Don’t you understand, that if he had gone away somewhere and killed himself quietly, that all her life Bessie would have thought of him—if she thought of him at all—as a despicable scoundrel?”
“Well, she would have been pretty nearly right.”
“Granted; but not from his standpoint.”
“Well, then——”
“The other side of the picture which he saw was this: He could capture her; he could take her, a captive, aboard the Shadow; he could keep her there, a passenger, a guest, and an unwilling—or, perhaps, a willing—listener to his plea. In either case, she would have heard it. In either case, he would have had an opportunity to explain. In either case, she would be compelled to listen to him, and in either case, she would in the end think not so ill of him as she had thought. He believed that he could prove to her, while she was aboard the pirate cruiser, that he was not all bad; he believed that he could convince her that it was because of true love for her that he had dared to do that thing; he believed that there might be enough romance in her nature to induce her to listen to him under such circumstances, where she would never have done so else; he believed that there was a possibility that she might really love him, and that love would triumph over all obstacles.
“But—and here is the crucial point—he believed that if he failed, that if she refused utterly to listen to him, that is she scorned him, she would at least be led to believe in the purity of his motives, and to think of him after his death as one not so utterly bad as she had pictured him.”
“After his death?”
“Why, yes; for if my idea is at all correct, he means to kill himself at the end of the voyage, if he finds that he cannot win her forgiveness and her love. He is a Frenchman, remember; he is romantic; he has staked his entire fortune, and his life, as well, upon this throw, and if he loses, he will shrug his shoulders and put a bullet through his brains as calmly as he stood upon the deck of the Shadow and told you that if you resisted him, he would shoot.”
“And so, you think——”
“I think—nay, I almost know, that he will take Bessie directly to Anjou—to that château of his. I think he will treat her as an honored guest. I believe that she will suffer no inconvenience, and, least of all do I regard her as in personal danger. And at the end of the cruise of the Shadow, I believe that if she so wills it, he will open wide the way for her to go free.”
Kane was silent for a long time, as were the others; but at last the millionaire raised his head again and spoke.
“Nick,” he said, “there is always a chance that you may be wrong, isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
“Then let us look at both sides of this question.”
“Very well.”
“Suppose that you are all in the wrong?”
“Well?”
“Suppose that your conjectures as to Count Cadillac’s ultimate purpose are wrong, and that he has no more idea of taking her to Anjou than you have? We won’t depart from the original theme, that you believe he will treat her square—for I agree with you about that silk-purse-and-sow’s-ear business—but suppose that his intention is merely to keep her a prisoner where she is, on board the Shadow, until such time as she will agree to become his wife; eh?”
“Go ahead, Kane. You have not finished yet.”
“No; I haven’t. Suppose all that; eh? He can live by following up his piratical profession, and the devil himself can’t catch him. If he is pursued too hotly, he can go under water and stay there until the pursuit has drawn off.”
“Granted. What more?”
“Well, there isn’t any more—at least, there isn’t much more. But suppose all that, now, where would you look for him, in such a case?”
“That is quite a different question, Max.”
“I know it is; but we have got to answer it. You see, Nick, it goes without saying that we start for Anjou at once. If he is going there with her, he will arrive there before we could possibly do so ourselves, for the Shadow is one of the swiftest things I ever saw in the water.”
“She is that.”
“Well, if he is going there, he will be there already when we arrive. If he is not going there, where will he be?”
“Somewhere at the opposite side of the world, most likely.”
“But where?”
“My dear fellow, I cannot answer that any more than you can.”
“Well, that is what we have got to consider—and just as sure as you are sitting there, I don’t believe we will find him at his château. No man, I don’t care a rap how much of a silk purse he happens to be, is going to give up life, and hope, and everything else, without continuing the struggle as long as there is a possibility of coming out winner.”
“That is quite true.”
“Well, then, the question comes down to this: If Cadillac does not take Bessie to his château, where shall we look for them? But wait; you need not reply to that now, for you have not had time to think about it, and you are no more capable of answering it than I am, at the present moment. I will change the question. How shall we look for them?”
“I had thought,” replied Nick slowly, “of taking passage on one of the fast ocean liners for the other side, and hastening direct to Anjou; but your last suggestion puts a different face upon it. There is another and a better way.”
“Now, we are getting at it. What is the other and the better way? Remember, I don’t care a picayune what it costs, even if it goes up into the millions.”
“I know that; but I don’t think it will approach the millions.”
“What is it?”
“This: You and I will take the midnight train to Washington. In the morning, early, we will call upon the President. We will explain the situation to him, and unless I am greatly mistaken, he will find a way to place the Dolphin at our disposal at once. She is at the Washington navy-yard now. I happen to know that. He will also direct the department of state to cable all over the world to have the Shadow intercepted, wherever she may appear.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“In that way we will arrive at Anjou quicker than we could if we traveled by a regular ocean liner, and so had to make part of the journey overland after we arrived in France. We can go directly to his château, doubtless. It will not be hard to find.”
“And say, Nick.”
“Yes.”
“It may be that he will have set Bess at liberty before we get there. We may find that she has gone to Paris or London, and is there awaiting us, after cabling the fact that she is safe and well.”
“It is possible.”
“Well, I was going to say this: If that should turn out to be the case, what, then?”
“What, then?” replied Nick. “Why, then you may return to New York with Bessie, if you like, but you can leave me behind, for I’ve got an engagement to keep with Count Cadillac; and, Max, I’m going to keep it, if I have to search over the whole world to find him in order to do it. I’ve got several questions to ask him, and he’s got a few answers to give. He has taken one step too far in this business for Nick Carter ever to let up on him.”
“Bully for you, Nick! But, I say! Suppose—eh?—suppose we should find that Bessie has forgiven him, and married him?”
For a moment the detective did not reply; but then, very quietly, he said:
“I think, Max, that we won’t try to cross any bridges until we get to them.”
CHAPTER XX.
A WEIRD VOICE OF THE NIGHT.
It is not necessary to give in detail here the record of Nick Carter’s trip, accompanied as he was by Maxwell Kane, to Washington; and of his interview with the President very little need be said, save that the detective’s prophecy was fully fulfilled.
The Dolphin was placed at their disposal at once, and there was no time lost in sailing. Moreover, the state and navy departments were set in motion, and information concerning the pirate was despatched all over the world, so there could be little doubt that he could exist for a long time on the high seas without being captured.
The Château Cadillac was readily found when the detective and his friend arrived in the neighborhood.
It was an extremely old building, founded, no doubt, in the Middle Ages. It bore evidence that time after time it had sunk into ruins, only to be again reclaimed. No doubt it had been stormed and torn almost from its foundations early in its history; but now it looked merely what it was—a historic old pile of graystone, moss-grown and ivy-wreathed, with a huge, square tower at one end of it, which clung to the edge of an abrupt precipice jutting out over the sea, so that it seemed as if it must topple and fall into the rock-bound and turbulent waters.
But it had stood there through many ages, defiant of storm and time alike; and it stood there now, as the two men approached it, grim, uninviting, repellant, gloomy, almost terrible.
Nor was the approach to it more inviting than its appearance. It was situated at the apex of a neck of land which jutted out into the sea, and thus formed a treacherous-looking harbor on one side of it, while the endless water tossed and fumed, and threw spray hundreds of feet into the air on the other.
From the foundation of the old castle to the water below was a fall of a sheer hundred feet, and if you add to this ninety feet more, which was approximately the height of the tower itself, you will get some idea of its appearance.
Small, oblong windows appeared at intervals along the height of the tower. Their position was irregular, almost as if they were there merely to give light upon winding stairs, which ascended inside. Back of the tower was a huge building, irregular in shape, and representing several periods in the history of the country. Behind all this, the land stretched away, narrowing as it extended inland, until part of it which adjoined the mainland was little more than a causeway.
The Dolphin had approached from the sea, early that morning, and the detective, from her deck, had taken a thorough view of the harbor and all the surrounding territory.
No sign whatever of the Shadow had been discovered, and after standing on and off awhile, the Dolphin had sailed away again, and disappeared from view from the château, if, indeed, she had been seen from there at all.
But, nevertheless, the Dolphin had not gone far.
Three miles away a place had been discovered where the detective and his friend could be put ashore, and they had left the despatch-boat—really a vessel of war under that name—and embarked for the balance of their adventure on foot.
But the Dolphin was not to desert them. She was to stand on and off until she was signaled from the shore; and there was a code of signals arranged between her commander and the detective which made it possible for them to communicate in the night, as well as during the day.
As the two approached the causeway together, it was impossible to tell whether the castle was deserted or not. There certainly was no outward sign of life about the building, and already each of them had decided in his own mind that their search here would probably be fruitless.
However, the Dolphin had paused long enough before she arrived off the Château Cadillac for Nick to go ashore and communicate with the American ambassador in Paris, and by that means he had discovered that nothing whatever had been heard of Miss Harlan, or of her daring abductor, or, indeed, of the vessel in which she had been stolen away.
“I am afraid we are on the wrong scent, Nick,” said Kane, as they crossed the causeway together.
“Wrong or right, we will know one thing or the other for a certainty before we search elsewhere,” replied the detective. “I cannot disabuse my mind of the idea that he would bring Bessie here. Cadillac was no fool. He would know that the navies of the world would be after him since his exploit in capturing her. He would realize that you would report the matter at Washington, and that the cables would be kept hot about him. He could not hope to escape with the Shadow. Pirates cannot rove the seas now as they used to do, old man.”
“I know that.”
“Then you can bank upon it that he has brought Bessie here. You can make up your mind that the Shadow is somewhere at the bottom of that little harbor, waiting until Cadillac has further need of her. Remember that he can sink her at will. Remember that those steel masts of hers are nothing more or less than means by which she can be approached and her pumps set to work to raise her after she has been immersed and abandoned for a long time. I do not know, but I have no doubt that he could leave her there for the better part of a year and then raise her again at will.”
“And what shall we do now, Nick?”
“Do? Why go to the castle.”
“But how are we to get inside?”
“I do not know that—yet.”
“The thing doesn’t look as if we could ever get inside of it, if those who are already there should choose to keep us out.”
“Max, I never saw a house in my life which I could not find a way to enter, if I started out to do it.”
“Great Scott! You don’t call that thing a house, do you?”
“Well, it’s a house, all right, so far as my remark goes. I’ll find a way to get inside.”
“There is one thing in our favor.”
“What is that?”
“If there happens to be anybody there, on the watch, they won’t be apt to see our approach. These rocks along here shelter us, you know.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Better keep out of sight as much as possible.”
The time was late in the afternoon. It was now approaching dark, in fact. The day had been a cloudy one, and now a drizzling rain was falling. Taken all in all, the time for their descent upon the castle could not have been a more propitious one.
The two strode on silently, side by side, for some distance, when Kane spoke again.
“Are you going to tackle the front door and demand admittance?” he asked, while he paused a moment for breath.
“Not on your life!” was the reply.
“Eh? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get inside the place secretly, if possible.”
“But——”
“Look here, Max. We have got to work on the principle that Bessie is a prisoner inside that old pile of stones, haven’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. We will start out on the proposition that that is a fact. Now, if Cadillac is there, he probably considers himself more or less safe, for a time at least. He does not suppose that we would have tracked him here quite so suddenly. You see, he will have argued that we have considered him as having returned to the pirate business for good, and will, therefore, search the seas, and, perhaps, a few islands in the seas, for him.”
“Well?”
“In the meantime he has come here with the Shadow. He has sunk her under water somewhere inside that harbor, where, by the way, she will be a good deal safer than she would on top of it, for it looks like a treacherous spot to me.”
“And what then?”
“Why, then he has taken his captive ashore. He has had her conducted to the castle. He has fastened her away in some great room, probably in the tower, given her servants to wait upon her, and, in fact, done everything on earth for her comfort, save the one thing of giving her back her liberty.”
“Humph!” said Kane. “I’m not half so sure of that as I pretended to be when we were discussing it in the presence of my wife and her mother.”
“Never mind. That is my idea, just the same. And, anyhow, if she is there, and if he is there, you can rest assured that if we went to the door of the place and demanded admittance, it would doubtless be granted us, but, all the same, we would see no sign of the people we are looking for, and we would be told that the count is in America.”
“And all the time the count would be nicely hidden somewhere in the old building. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes.”
“So you propose to make the search without anybody being put wise to the fact that you are doing it, eh?”
“Exactly. You see, I have started on the proposition that the count will consider himself safe here, at least for a time; on the proposition that he has not yet begun to keep very strict watch along this causeway we have just crossed.”
“But he has probably watched the sea, Nick,” interrupted Kane.
“I presume so.”
“Then he saw the Dolphin this morning.”
“Well, suppose he did so? There is nothing strange in seeing a vessel approach the coast and sail away again, is there? She showed no flag; and you don’t suppose he would know the Dolphin by sight, do you?”
“He is a sailor, and a good one. He would know that she was American.”
“He might at that. But, even so, he would still be watching the sea for her return, and not paying much attention to the land approach. There, Kane; let us stop here. It will be dark now in a quarter of an hour, and then we can approach without any danger of being discovered.”
“Can you find your way, Nick, among all these rocks and pools, and along this slippery cliff, in the dark?”
“Indeed I can. I have taken all my bearings, Max. And now, there is nothing to prevent us from enjoying a smoke while we wait.”
They found a shelter under a shelving rock, where they were protected from the storm, and there they seated themselves, lighted their cigars, and disposed themselves to such comfort as they could find while they awaited the time to advance.
“Under ordinary circumstances, Max,” said the detective, “I should prefer to undertake this business to-night alone. I don’t suppose you care to be left outside, do you?”
“Not in a thousand years, Nick! No, no! I’m in this thing to a finish. And, besides, it is more than likely that you will run into some sort of a scrap inside that old rookery. If you should, you will need help, and I want to be on hand.”
“All right. Now, see if you can refrain from talking for about five minutes, while I do a little thinking. After that it will be time for us to start on.”
“Midnight would be about the proper time for burglarious enterprises, wouldn’t it?”
The detective did not reply, and Kane also lapsed into silence. So the moments passed, until, at last, suddenly the detective rose to his feet, stretched himself, yawned, threw away the stump of his cigar, and said:
“Come on, Max.”
“Going?”
“Yes.”
“I’m right behind you, old chap, and I’ll continue right behind you until the end of the chapter, if anybody should ask you.”
The walls of the castle loomed in front of them as they advanced, like the outlines of some great, historic beast. The night was much too dark for them to see anything distinctly, but their eyes had not been blinded by exposure to light of any kind, and so, in effect, they were enabled to see quite clearly as they advanced.
Once the detective paused and seemed for a moment to hesitate.
“I only wish,” he said presently, “that it were possible for us to make a circuit of the old pile.”
“Why?” asked Kane.
“There must be a light in one or more of the windows, somewhere. Say, Max, I think I can get around the thing if I try. Will you wait here for me if I promise faithfully to return to this spot after you before I attempt to enter the building?”
“What are you going to try to do? Go around it, looking for lights?”
“Yes.”
“Then what is the matter with me going one way while you go the other? We would meet at the other side, you know.”
“All right. You go that way,” and Nick pointed with his finger in the direction he wished Kane to take. “Do you remember,” he added, “the long, low, galleylike building we noticed from the deck of the Dolphin? The one which stretches out like a two-story stone bowling-alley, from that wing of the castle to the edge of the cliff?”
“Yes.”
“I hardly think you will be able to get past that. Wait for me there.”
“Well, if I can’t get past it, you can’t. How are we going to get together?”
“Leave that to me. Will you wait for me there?”
“Yes.”
“Then skip along. If you discover a window with a light in it, make a mark on your memory so that you can locate it later.”
“Sure.”
“Keep a sharp eye out for everything that might be important.”
“I’ll do that; but suppose I run against a man, or a dog, or anything of that kind; eh?”
“You will have to decide what to do when the emergency arises. I would much rather you would not kill anybody, or be obliged, even, to shoot your gun; but all the same, don’t take any chances. So long. I’ll meet you where I said.”
The route which the detective selected for himself was, of course, the one which he regarded as the most dangerous one.
He had, during the day, both from the deck of the Dolphin and also from the land, later, studied the outward appearance of the castle with great care.
From the sea it had seemed to him that it was impossible to skirt the base of the tower without falling from the cliff into the sea; but from the land side, as they approached the building, before they reached the causeway, he had decided differently.
Nevertheless, he knew that a path around there would be narrow and dangerous, and he preferred to take the risk himself rather than have Kane attempt it. As he made his way forward now, he steadily approached nearer and nearer to the walls of the huge building—that is, the main building; that part of it which extended backward away from the tower and along the neck of land.
The walls rose beside him, grim, silent, forbidding.
He hurried along close to them, and on his left he could hear the roar of the sea, where it dashed against the rocks a hundred feet below him. The edge of that precipice, he knew, was not more than ten feet from him, and the darkness had now become so intense under the walls of the castle that he could barely discern the ground on which he trod.
Suddenly he came to an abrupt stop, face to face with a second wall, which seemed for a moment to bar his further progress; but he quickly discovered that it was merely a buttress of the castle, and he speedily made his way around it, although in doing so he was compelled to approach so near to the edge of the cliff that the slightest misstep would have precipitated him into the abyss below.
Then on again, however, without accident.
At last, after he had passed two more such buttresses, and each with more danger of falling than the last, he arrived at the tower.
There he paused a moment; and then, as he was on the point of starting forward again, he was suddenly held spellbound in his tracks by the sound of a voice which seemed to be calling to him from among the clouds; and he was amazed and almost unbelieving when he recognized in the words that were uttered his own name.
“Nick Carter! Nick Carter!”
Twice he heard it, and then all was silent again, save for the pounding of the waves against the rocks below.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE MEN INSIDE THE CASTLE.
There was something so weird and so unreal in the sound of his own name, coming to the detective as it did, seemingly from the infinity above him, that for a moment he quite refused to believe that his ears had not deceived him.
Remember, there was the thundering of the waves against the rocks all around him; the boom of the surf as it broke beneath its own weight and violence farther out toward the sea; the sobbing and moaning of the wind over the bleak cliff and through the ruins of the older part of the castle, and the faint cries of sea-birds coming to him from far away to windward. All this tended to render him uncertain about the voice which seemed to call to him from the black sky over his head; just as all this made it impossible to determine whether the voice, if it were indeed a voice, had proceeded from a man or a woman.
But sober second thought reassured him.
Who, but one person in all the world, could have called to him there?
He knew that it was impossible, even if Bessie Harlan were indeed a prisoner inside the old château, that she should have witnessed his approach, or that she should have recognized him from her aerie window, even if she had discovered the approach of two pedestrians before the gathering darkness had hidden them from view. But he explained the seemingly inexplicable phenomenon in quite another way than that.
“If Bessie is a prisoner there,” he reasoned to himself, “she believes absolutely that Max and I will come to her rescue, sooner or later. If she is a prisoner there, she is confined in a room which overlooks the sea—a room in this very tower, in fact; and if all that be true, that call of hers was simply a wail of impatient waiting and longing, called out by her to the heavens, the clouds, the sea, the wide, wide world. Not in the hope that it would literally be heard, perhaps, but, nevertheless, a call to us to hasten.”
Several moments he waited, wondering if there would be a repetition of the call; and then, when one came, he wondered again if he should reply to it. His better judgment told him not to do so, and so presently he turned away to pursue his course around the castle.
But he discovered, presently, that he had been deceived in his surmises that it would be possible for him to skirt the tower between it and the water, and, at last, satisfied that he could not do so, he turned back again over the course he had come.
He was not long in arriving at the spot where he had left Kane, but he did not pause there. After hesitating just one instant in order to get his bearings properly, he started forward again toward the place where they had agreed to meet.
When he arrived there, however, Maxwell Kane was not there, and the detective could discover no trace of him in any direction. He waited a few moments, thinking that something might have detained him, and that he had, therefore, not yet arrived, although he knew all the time that nothing of an ordinary nature could have done so.
There were no impediments in the way between the spot where they had parted and where they agreed to meet.
Nick had just traversed every inch of it, and he had met with no obstacle of any kind, nor had he seen a sign of life or a light anywhere.
For that very reason he figured that doubtless something had attracted the attention of Kane after his arrival at the place of meeting, and he had gone to investigate. But after he had waited fully half an hour, the detective decided that it was time for him to move.
He had not a doubt now that something had happened to his companion. He was confident, however, that Kane could not have fallen, or have met with an accident, without the intervention of another person.
Presently he scribbled these five words: “Wait here till I return,” on a leaf torn from his book of memoranda, and, wrapping it in a handkerchief, he weighted it with a pebble and left it where the white of the cambric would attract the attention of Kane, should he regain the spot before the detective could get back again.
“And now to break my way into that castle,” he mused. “And I must take extra care, too, for if some prowlers around this old pile have captured Kane, they will be on the lookout for me as well.”
The low building, which resembled a bowling-alley more than anything else, and which extended from one wing of the castle to the edge of the bluff on the side toward the harbor, had evidently been erected originally to serve as a passageway between the château and the water when the weather was inclement; and this was the building which was before him now. But in inspecting it from a distance the detective had decided that this would provide a means of entrance. It was almost windowless, and such as it contained were much too small and too high from the ground to serve his purposes.
He therefore turned again toward the castle, and hurried toward a spot where he remembered to have seen a wealth of ivy growing against the old walls. He had not forgotten their locality, and he went directly to the spot.
The ivy was old and tough, and had grown firmly in its place, so that when he placed his hands upon it he knew that it would sustain him readily. He recalled the fact that the ivy trailed across several windows, and so he began at once to make his way up it.
The dampness of the falling rain had rendered the ivy in such a condition that it gave out no sound as he climbed, while the dark background against which he clung afforded no opportunity for prying eyes to discover him.
He climbed rapidly, for he realized now that haste was necessary. The strange call to him from the window of the tower, and the disappearance of Maxwell Kane, had convinced him that all was not to be as smooth sailing as he had anticipated.
Soon he arrived at a window, set deeply into the wall, and casemented for defense in time of attack. But this window had long been in disuse, and even the glass had been replaced by heavy planking, to keep out the wind and weather.
There were two more stories above that one, he remembered, and he continued on, after a pause of only a moment. The second window at which he arrived was in the same condition as the first, so in clambering on, he worked to the right as well as upward, until he arrived at the top story of the old building. Here the third window offered the same impediments as had the others, so he continued on in a straight line toward the front of the castle.
Suddenly, however, he stopped. Directly in front of him, not three feet distant, a light had suddenly shot through the darkness, coming, as he quickly discovered, from one of the windows.
These were set so far back into the wall that it is doubtful if the sunlight could ever, even under the most auspicious conditions, penetrate to the interior of the room; and it was almost as difficult for a light from the interior to filter to the outside. Two steps more upon the vine which held him suspended in mid-air brought him to the window, so that he could see what was passing inside the room, and he peered cautiously around the casement.
He was rather surprised, then, to discover that he was looking into what had once been a part of a suite of rooms, set aside, doubtless, for royalty, or for especially honored guests at the castle. The room itself was very large, and had once been magnificently appointed, but now its furnishings were tawdry and soiled, yellowed with age, and musty from disuse.
Nevertheless, there were many persons within the room. Nick counted six men there. Four of them were seated at a table engaged in a game of cards, and the other two were standing near, observing the game.
They were so engrossed in their occupation that it did not occur to one of them to look toward the window. But the detective did not linger there to watch them. Instead, he lowered himself sufficiently so that he could pass unobserved beneath the window, and then continued on his way, taking careful note of the location of the room in the meantime.
He had noted, too, that he would have to pass two more windows before he arrived at one which did not open directly into that room, and so he did not pause again in his advance until he reached the third. Here, also, as he raised himself, he discovered that there was a light; but as he peered into the room through the narrow window he was assured that, for the moment, at least, it was unoccupied.
The window, too, was slightly ajar; that is, it was open perhaps half an inch, doubtless for the sake of ventilation. He stepped into the embrasure, which was very deep, and slowly pushed the window open in front of him. A second and more comprehensive glance rendered him positive that nobody was in the room, and with another slightly harder pressure, he opened the casement wide, and stepped inside, closing it, as he had found it, after him.
The room was quite large—possibly twenty-five feet square; and it was used as a sleeping-room; but he had no time to take in further details of the place, for at that instant he heard steps approaching through a corridor, and he had barely time to leap behind the door when it was opened from the outside.
Nick had in that instant prepared himself to leap upon the person who approached, whoever it was, and conquer him, preparatory to continuing his investigations through the castle; but fate kindly stepped in and served him a good turn at this juncture.
The opening of the door, together with the already open window, created a draft which the flame of the lamp, burning on the table, could not withstand. As the door swung open, the lamp flared, sputtered for an instant, and then went out, leaving the room in total darkness.
Nick could not even discover the outlines of the person who had entered the room, but a round, French oath, in a masculine voice, cursing at the ill luck, left him in no doubt that it was a man.
The extinguishing of the lamp, however, afforded Nick an excellent opportunity to act, and as the man stepped forward toward the table, in order to strike another light, the detective slipped quietly and quickly past him into the corridor. The man had left the door ajar when he stepped forward toward the table, but Nick had the presence of mind to close it, and to close it with a bang, exactly as if the draft had caught it and slammed it shut.
Then he waited a moment and listened, to discover if his deception had been successful; but there was no further sound from the interior of the room, and the detective concluded that the man had relighted his lamp and disposed himself to reading or some other employment, with no thought that he had passed so near to the person of an intruder.
And just at this point Nick made another discovery which was interesting: there was an inside and outside door to each of the rooms on that corridor. That is, there was one for general use—the one which he had already made use of—and another which opened outward into the corridor, doubtless for use in emergencies.
This door was much heavier than the outside one. They were relics of old days when the castle was likely to be stormed, and the occupants might be compelled to fight from room to room, holding one after another until they were finally driven from all.
Whatever the original uses were, the present one was manifest. The detective lost no time in closing that outside door, and he was agreeably surprised to discover that it was provided with a huge key, which he had no difficulty in removing and replacing on the outside. In another instant he had locked it.
That done, he passed along the corridor toward the doors of the room wherein he had seen the six men; and he had no difficulty in locating it, for he had counted carefully from the outside.
And these doors—there were two of them, he closed and locked in the same manner as he had served the others, so that presently he was satisfied that whatever adventures he might encounter inside the old château these seven men whom he had seen would take no part in them.
“And now for the tower,” he said, aloud, as he turned away.
CHAPTER XXII.
A COMBAT WITH THE RAPIERS.
But it was fated that Nick Carter was not to proceed at once to the tower of the castle.
The distance from where he turned again toward the front of the building, to that part of it which might properly be called the tower, was some hundreds of feet, and he had gone not more than half the distance when, just as he was passing a door, it was opened suddenly and a man stepped out upon the corridor, confronting him.
It would be difficult to determine which of the two was the more greatly surprised by the encounter, but it was certainly the detective who recovered from it first.
The man who confronted him paused in amazement. Then, when he perceived Nick was a stranger, he opened his mouth to cry out something. But on that instant Nick leaped forward. As he did so, the man started backward, with the cry still unuttered.
His step backward avoided the blow he would have received, but not all the consequences of it, for the detective, perceiving in time that his hand would fall short of reaching the fellow, altered his intention and turned his onslaught into a rush, so that his two hands fell upon the man’s chest, and he was thrown backward into the room where the detective followed him with a bound.
He closed the door almost with the same motion with which he had passed through it, and then, with his back against it, calmly drew his revolver while the man was rising from the floor, where he had fallen.
“Who the devil are you?” demanded the man, in French. “Sacre, mon ami, but that is an odd way you have of making your presence known. And why, monsieur, do you make use of the revolver?”
“Merely to convince you of the wisdom of preserving silence,” replied Nick, smiling grimly.
“Silence?” The Frenchman chuckled audibly. “My dear sir, one might yell his lungs loose here, and not be heard inside an adjoining room. These walls were made to withstand sieges. And, besides, if I may venture to inquire, wherefore should I offer to cry out? Eh?”
The Frenchman had stepped back, and Nick saw that he was evidently a character; and he realized, moreover, that the man had not the least idea that he himself was an intruder in the castle. Then, as if to confirm him in that opinion, the man added:
“Ha! I understand. I comprehend monsieur’s tendencies—his wish. It is to fight; no?”
The detective could not avoid a smile, but he made no other reply.
“Ha! I have guessed it,” continued the Frenchman, rubbing his hands together ecstatically. “It is to fight with me that monsieur comes here at this hour. Monsieur is a guest of Count Jean. Perhaps monsieur came to the château on board the yacht with the count. Is it not so? Yes? And the count has told monsieur about Antoine Lafetre. No? It is so; no? Yes? And monsieur has not the belief that Antoine is the greatest fencing-master of the age. Ha! Monsieur has come to witness a proof of it, perhaps. Believe me, monsieur shall be gratified. Monsieur shall be convinced. Yes!”
Nick Carter permitted him to run on without interruption, for the fellow’s prattle told him at once many things he desired to know, the most important of which was the fact that Count Jean de Cadillac had in reality arrived at the château in the Shadow and was now inside the castle.
It told him, also, that here before him was a conceited Frenchman, by profession a fencing-master, who considered himself the “greatest that ever was.” A person who had not an idea beyond the horizon of his own egotism; but, above all, a person who, if Nick could win his confidence, would impart all the information he possessed.
And so, without hesitation, he at once assumed the part for which the French fencing-master cast him. He shrugged his own shoulders in true French fashion, and having returned the revolver to the side pocket of his coat, he raised his eyes, turned out the palms of his hands and replied:
“Yes. I have heard that you, Monsieur Antoine, have some idea of fence, but—parbleu!—it is nothing to what I can do. Monsieur Antoine has not the requisite strength of the wrist; not the quickness of the eye; not the nimbleness of the feet upon the floor; not the touch, the curve, the twist, the reach with the arm; not the——”
“So? Is it so? Does the monsieur believe what he says to be true? Ha! It is a relish that you have brought to me, monsieur. I will instruct you in the fence; no? Yes! You shall see. Will the monsieur be kind enough to step this way?”
This room, like the other which Nick had seen, was large. It was evidently the home of the fencing-master, for the walls were covered with foils, swords, rapiers, broadswords, battle-axes, staves, dueling-pistols, masks, gauntlets, chest-shields, shoulder-pads—in short, everything was there which belonged to the arts of offense and defense with the blade.
At one end of the room was a raised section, which extended, perhaps, an inch above the surface of the floor, and this was filled with fine, white sand; and it was toward this spot that the Frenchman conducted the detective.
“Look,” said the fencing-master, pointing toward some hooks against the wall. “If monsieur will divest himself of his coat; so. Ah! It is a pleasure, a relish that monsieur has brought to me. I will produce my most superb foils——”
“Foils!” exclaimed Nick, with some outward show of contempt. “Rapiers, if you please. The foils are for children.”
“Ha! It is magnificent! It is glorious! But we fence, then, not for death? No? For the little touch of the master; is it not so? Yes? For the little twinge at the lobe of the ear; for the prick like a pin-point at the nipple of the breast. Ha! Grand! Magnificent! Monsieur has the true idea. Foils are for children. The fence shall not be seriously to wound the opponent, then? No? No! It shall be to draw the spot of blood, like the glow of a ruby, one, two, three times? Yes! Three times in succession. Ha! If you do that, you shall be the victor. En garde, monsieur!”
While the Frenchman was talking he was also preparing himself for the combat, and every nerve in his lithe body seemed to be alive with joy at the prospect. Egotism is the first requisite for a fencing-master.
Nick Carter excelled in the art of fence, as he did in all other exercises of self-defense. In his youth his father had neglected none of these requirements in preparing the son for his career, and he was as perfect in the use of the foil, the rapier, the broadsword, the staves, and all weapons of the kind as he was with rifle or revolver. Then, add to the perfection of science the wonderful strength which reposed in his muscles, and any fencer will tell you that nothing on earth should be able to defeat him.
And so the two faced each other, smiling; Nick calm, confident, reposeful; the Frenchman alert, eager, and thrilling with pleasure. It is no child’s play to fence with needle-pointed rapiers without delivering or receiving a serious wound, and only the most expert of fencers would dare to undertake it.
Like all fencers, when they begin a combat, these two felt of one another’s strength of wrist, celerity of action, keenness of guard and thrust, and foot movement; and after a few parries the Frenchman leaped back out of reach for a moment, while he lowered the point of his weapon and exclaimed:
“La, la! But it is magnificent. Grande! Glorious! Monsieur is a foeman worthy to meet the best. He has the strength of wrist—ah! And the foot movement—yes! But I will show him that he has met one who is greater than he. En garde, monsieur!”
Both had done the “feeling,” and they now went at the combat seriously; and Nick, feeling that the time was, perhaps, short, if he was to accomplish all he wished to do that night, determined to win out as soon as possible.
He therefore attacked the Frenchman like a cyclone. He seemed to cover himself with steel; his weapon glinted like a thousand gems through the air, darting in and out like flashes of lightning, forming a perfect shield around his head and breast, and, at the same time, dancing through the guard of his opponent with every thrust he made. And yet, for a long time he got no nearer to the master than that. The Frenchman was really superb in the practise of his art. He was a master of it; but he was not a master of the man who stood in front of him like a granite pillar, suddenly infused with the animation of a spirit and the strength of a Hercules.
After a few moments of this furious attack, Nick saw that his opponent was giving ground. He realized that the pace was telling upon him, and that his own superior strength was overpowering his adversary.
The Frenchman was rapidly tiring. Once he leaped back to avoid a thrust, and would have called for a rest had not Nick laughingly guyed him by asking calmly if he were tired.
Lafetre was tired; but he would sooner have died then and there than to have confessed it, and he returned to the game with redoubled energy. But although the will was there, the steam to keep it going was not. His wrist was tired. The strength of Nick’s arm had strained it more than he would have believed possible before “monsieur” entered the room so strangely.
Then, suddenly, the detective discovered his opportunity. He stepped forward quickly, almost inside the Frenchman’s guard; and then——
Thrust, thrust—parry—thrust.
His weapon darted out like the tongue of a toad in three quick flashes of light. The first of these touched and half-pierced the Frenchman’s right ear; the second performed the same service for the left one; the third pinked him on the breast, so that a little spot of blood, not larger than a pea, appeared suddenly upon the surface of the hitherto spotless linen.
And then, before the Frenchman had time to utter a word, the detective turned his rapier in a circle, caught the other under the hand-guard and tore it from the fencing-master’s hand, so that in another instant it fell clattering at the opposite side of the room.
For a moment Lafetre seemed utterly dazed by what had happened; and then, with a cry, he leaped forward, fell upon his knees at Nick’s feet, and, seizing his hands in his own, kissed them rapturously.
“Magnificent!” he cried. “Never have I seen such fence! Ah, monsieur, I am your slave henceforth. You have the wrist of steel, the quickness of lightning, the eye of omnipotence. It is my first defeat, monsieur, but it is a victory even to have had the honor to fence with one so great. Command me. I am your servant. Your slave, from this hour.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SUMMONS AT THE DOOR.
The Frenchman meant what he said, too. There could be no doubt of that. Sincerity, as well as rapture and admiration, were depicted on his face as he knelt there before the detective, kissing his hands.
For a moment Nick regarded him intently, and then he said:
“Rise, Monsieur Lafetre, for, be assured, you are the best fencer with whom I have ever contended.”
“Ah! Is it so? Is it true, what you say to me, monsieur?”
“Yes; it is quite true.”
“Then I am content; yes, I am content. It is an honor but to have fenced with such as you are; but to be told that I am the greatest with whom you have ever contended—ah! that is the rapture, indeed. And you, monsieur? I have not yet the honor of hearing your name.”
“Nor has any other person within the château,” replied Nick.
“Ha! Say you so? Then you came here by stealth? Eh? Is it true?”
“Yes; it is quite true.”
“To meet me? To meet Antoine Lafetre? To fence?”
“It seems that I did come here to meet you, and to fence with you,” replied Nick slowly. “But there was also another purpose in my coming.”
“Ah, monsieur! I think—perhaps—that I comprehend.”
Lafetre had regained his feet by this time, and both were rapidly resuming their outer clothing. To this last remark Nick did not reply. He waited to see what the Frenchman would have to say next.
“It is the madame; no? The lady who came over the sea with Monsieur Jean? Yes?”
Nick nodded an affirmative.
“Monsieur is—perhaps—a relative? No? A brother, a—can it be that monsieur is the husband of madame?”
“No,” said Nick. “I am none of those; but I am her defender. I have come here to rescue her. To take her away. To restore her to her friends.”
“And I am gladdened. I am content. It is as it should be. I, myself—I, Antoine Lafetre, should have constituted myself her defender as soon as possible. Only to-day—this afternoon—the madame took me into her confidence. She told me of the friends who love her, who are on the other side of the water—in America, where I should so much like to go.”
“Would you, indeed?” asked Nick. “Then give me a helping hand in this matter, and you shall return with me. And I think I can promise you that your art will bring you in a big revenue over there, from those whom you will teach to fence.”
“I thank you, monsieur. Perhaps, after I have performed the service which monsieur asks of me, I shall have the honor to accept monsieur’s offer. But now—see!”
Lafetre thrust one hand into the pocket of his coat and drew forth two letters, which he gave into Nick’s hands; and to the detective’s surprise he saw that one of them was addressed to himself, and the other to Maxwell Kane.
The latter he returned into the Frenchman’s hands; then, holding the other before his eyes, he said:
“This one is for me, monsieur.”
“Ah! Then you are the Nicholas Carter—no?—who is Mademoiselle Harlan’s affianced. Is it not so? No? She did not tell me so, but I gathered that much from what she has told me. Mademoiselle is beautiful, monsieur.”
“Is she well? Is she safe? Has she been injured in any way? Is she suffering?” asked the detective rapidly.
“Mademoiselle is well, though greatly troubled,” replied Lafetre gravely. “She is also safe, since I, Antoine, am here to lay down my life in her defense at any moment. She has not been injured, save in her pride, and she does not suffer only because of the separation from her friends.”
“Thank you, Lafetre. She indeed found a friend when she discovered you. Now, where is she at the present moment?”
“She is in the great tower, monsieur.”
“And can you take me there?”
“Not now, but later? Yes. I was there but now. It was then that she gave me the letters to send. I told her that I did not know how soon they might be despatched. Ah! monsieur, I little thought—I, Antoine—that I should have the felicity of delivering one of the letters by hand, and so soon, and to the greatest of all fencers in the world.”
“Is she alone in the tower-room, Antoine?”
“Ah! Monsieur does me even a greater honor. He admits me to his friendship by making use of one of my baptismal names in addressing himself to me. No; she is not alone. Monsieur Jean de Cadillac is with her; but later? Yes. She will be alone. He will not remain. He has gone to plead his hopeless cause again.”
“And who besides the count is there with her?”
“There is no one, monsieur.”
“Then, come. We will go there at once. You will lead the way. I have something to say to him as well.”
“But monsieur is mad to think of such a thing. There are a hundred armed men in this castle, all ready to do the bidding of the count at a mere gesture of his hand. Perhaps the Monsieur Cartier does not know, but they are smugglers. This is their headquarters. It is to this place where they bring the spoils of their trade. And it is I who am also a prisoner here as well as mademoiselle. I discovered the smugglers’ secrets, unwisely. I have been detained a prisoner two years. I have the freedom of the château—yes—but beyond it? La, la! If I should attempt that, a bullet would stop me. But there is one among the smugglers—yes—who is my friend. It was through him whereby I hoped to mail the letters, although I greatly fear they might not have gone. But monsieur is mad to think of going to the tower while the count is there. There are a hundred armed men in the château, and he has but to signal to them.”
“I don’t care if there are a thousand,” said Nick. “Take me there.”
“If monsieur insists——”
“I do insist.”
“Eh, bien. It is done. But first, monsieur, my rapier; and a pistol or two. If it is to fight—and it will be so—it is well to be prepared.”
Lafetre was as cool now and as determined as the detective himself. He had no fear; that was evident. He only needed a leader.
Nick watched him while he coolly provided himself with such weapons as he needed—the rapier, with which he had contended against the detective, a pair of revolvers, and a short sword which he buckled on the side opposite the rapier.
“It is well to be provided,” he said nonchalantly. “The rapier is a long weapon with which to fight ruffians, such as these men are. Sometimes a bludgeon will knock it from your hand when nothing else would do so; and then, you see, I have this to fall back upon. No? Come, monsieur. I am ready.”
He led the way from the room then, closing the door after him. In the corridor it was dark, but the Frenchman seemed to know the way perfectly well, and he started forward without hesitation, although greatly to Nick’s surprise, in the direction opposite that in which the tower was located.
Nick stopped him.
“The tower is not in that direction,” he said, whispering in his ear.
“No, monsieur; but our way to it lies in this direction. We turn down a corridor to the right, and then again toward the tower. Then we shall arrive at the place we want.”
“Good!” said Nick. “Go ahead.”
As they were passing the doors which Nick had fastened on the outside he called Lafetre’s attention to them, touching the button of his pocket electric light in order to do so.
Lafetre nodded and smiled.
“They cannot get out,” he said, “unless they climb down by way of the vines; and so it was, I have no doubt, that you entered; no? In this room are the officers of the two vessels which do the smuggling. In that room yonder should be the captain of one of them. The other captain is ill. He is in England, where it is said he will die. He was wounded by a coast guard.”
“And the men—where are they?” asked Nick.
“They are below, monsieur; two floors. On what you would call the ground floor. Ah! that magic light of yours, monsieur. It is fine; but we do not require it now.”
They went on again, silently and swiftly. They turned through the corridor to the right as Lafetre had indicated, and then again toward the tower. Presently they arrived at the foot of a flight of winding, stone stairs, which led upward through the darkness, toward the summit of the tower. Here Nick touched the button of his light again and glanced at his watch.
“It is nine o’clock, Antoine,” he said.
“Yes, monsieur. At ten the count would retire, if we did not disturb him.”
“And the men? What do they do with themselves?”
“Ah! They smoke, and gamble, and drink themselves into a stupor. By midnight they would be, for the most part, helpless.”
“Then why have you not sought such an opportunity to escape from the château?”
“There are always guards, monsieur. They are always on the watch. Once, when one of them slept at his post, Monsieur Jean discovered him, and shot him dead.”
“Indeed!” muttered the detective. “There is something of the sow’s ear about him, after all.”
“What was monsieur pleased to remark?”
“Lead on, Antoine. Let us lose no time.”
They went on in silence after that, winding up the stairs until it seemed to Nick that they should long ago have arrived at the summit of the tower. But at last Antoine paused before a door of solid oak, and, pointing at it, he said:
“Mademoiselle is there, monsieur. Monsieur Jean is with her. I think if you knock, he will open: and there is no other way of gaining admittance, for the door is solid. But if he will open—ah! Then we will enter before he has the opportunity to close it again. Is it not so? No? Yes!”
Nick Carter raised his hand and rapped loudly against the door.