CHAPTER V.
That night, heavily veiled, she entered the park, alone. She wasfamiliar with the contour and walks and knew the location of the longsteps, but in her agitation, she thoughtlessly took to the walk on theleft of the main entrance.
The darkness was not deep. Above could be seen stray fleecy clouds,flitting athwart the vast realms of space, while the atmosphere nearthe earth's surface was laden with a thin vapor. Down low on thehorizon, above the line of hills, swung the half-moon, aglow with softpale light, while the nearby electric arcs were scarcely affected bythe haze that enveloped them. Every element seemed to have conspiredto make the night a fit one in its baneful purpose.
As she proceeded, endeavoring to control her fears, though her heartbeat wildly with misgivings, the stillness of the night was brokenonly by the sound of her own footfalls on the cement pavement, andever and anon were mingled with the distant attenuated sounds ofbelated cosmopolitan life. At times her walk would be rapid, then slowand hesitating, almost a halt, as she approached some indefiniteobject, and as the clouds sped hurriedly across the face of the moon,grotesque shadows loomed up suddenly, shying her into moments ofterror until discovered to be fantastic bushes or other odd-shapedgrowths.
Her sustained, keen, alert watchfulness preyed severely upon her tensenerves. At length she arrived at the place she thought designated inthe note. She stepped off the walk onto the grass, and stood under thedeeper darkness of a cedar. The stillness was profound; so much sothat she fancied she could hear the throb of her own tumultuous heart.
And to add to the unseasonable moment, the weird, uncanny howl of ajackal, confined in the park menagerie, pierced the night air andcaused cold shivers to race up and down her frame.
"It's a lonely spot," she whispered to herself. "And this is the topof the long walk. Now the time--yet! I can see no one. I do not feelsafe."
Just then a man moved slowly from the shadows near the fountain. Heleisurely walked toward the reservoir. She watched him for a moment,until the pale moonlight again faded away, and darkness shut him fromview. Then, as if by inspiration, she suddenly remembered that thenote directed her to the top of the "long steps." In her excitement,she had taken the wrong direction, and was then at the top of the longwalk.
Cautiously as possible, she crept down the bank, crossed the bridge,that spanned the park's main artery, and though confusing in thedarkness, she at last found her way to the appointed place withoutmeeting or seeing anyone, but with nerves almost snapping asunder, andso fatigued that her limbs trembled.
She sat on a bench near a clump of small firs to get a little rest,and while peering through the darkness, which at that point wasfaintly illumined by the mass of distant lights spread over the citybefore and beneath her, she made out the figure of a man walkingleisurely on the drive below where she was sitting.
She arose to her feet, and silently stepped in the deep shadow of aclump of trees, and watched him. She took him to be the same man shehad seen a little while before near the fountain. As she watched him,another man, who had been concealed in the grove of trees, recentlytrimmed out to make way for the traditional group of Indians inbronze, "The Coming of the White Man," and which now graces thespot--stole up with cat-like tread behind her, and then, quite close,halted, and silently stood regarding her.
Virginia was watching the stranger on the road, almost directly belowher, with such intense eagerness as to be quite unconscious of thedark shadow behind her.
"Perhaps I am being watched," she thought. "I will go down the steps."She turned about, and was terrified to discover a roughly-clad man ather elbow. Her heart seemed to stop its beat.
"What do you mean? Who are you?" she gasped.
The man lifted his hat, bowed and softly said: "Bees a-note a dafraid, Signora de Virginia. Eesa nota-a do you-a da harm. I come to dameet-a you."
His easy, respectful manner reassured her. Relieved, she said: "Thenit was you who sent me the note this morning?"
"He, he, he, he," he chuckled low, but exultantly. "Eesa tole-a daself a-da letta would-a da fetch a-you."
"What do you want--what am I--who are you?"
He turned his head aside, and muttered to himself. "She doesn'trecognize me as the old cripple," and evaded a direct answer by askingher: "Donna you da know-a me?"
"Your voice sounds like"--and she thought of the old cripple whointruded on Mr. Harris' grounds a few nights since. "Yes--what"-- Andshe halted, unable to frame her thoughts into words.
He laughed low and gutturally. "He, he, he, he, eesa be a da fine-aartiste. Make-a da boss actor--like-a Salvina--bime by, eh?"
"You--you--you kidnapped little Dorothy," she almost shrieked,forgetting her fear, and searching him with glittering eyes.
Jack Shore, for it was he, chuckled gleefully.
"You make-a da wild-a guessa, Signora, Eesa not-a da old-a cripple."
"You were in disguise, a beggar. I gave you money. What have you donewith the child?"
"What-a da child-a?" he asked, gruffly.
"Dorothy Thorpe!"
"He, he, he, he," he again chuckled, and sharply turned on her: "Whotole-a you, Eesa gott-a da kid?"
"What did you want to meet me here for? Was it not to tell me whereDorothy is?"
"Oh, he, he, he, he," he laughed. "Eesa jessa da thought-a youdalike-a see me--alone--at night, Signora." And he watched her from thecorners of his eyes, as, with bent head, he muttered:
"Turnoppsis, carrotsis, ca-babbages, black-a da boots, steal-a dachil. Anyting dees-a gett-a da mon. Go back a da sunny Italy!"
"What was your motive for kidnapping the child?" she asked, withoutheeding his significant answer.
"Da mon!" he promptly replied. Up to that moment he had equivocated.
"You are frank," she rejoined, and then asked: "Is Dorothy safe?"
"Youse-a da bet she's a da safe," he proudly replied.
"Ah!" It was a sigh of glad relief that she uttered, for she believedthe man's statement to be true, and with the information her spiritsrose.
"How many of you are there in this?" she quietly asked.
"Eesa not-a da beeze, jess-a da myself."
"You told me you sent the note requesting this meeting. Who wrote it?It was not you!" she demanded.
Jack was not expecting so pointed a question and was thrown somewhatoff his guard by her abrupt eagerness. He answered thoughtlessly--or,it may have been, indifference to the importance.
"Eesa my good-a da friend."
"So there are at least two of you in this 'over the road' business?"
Chagrined, he thought how easily he had been trapped. "Hang it! Ididn't mean to make a break like that." And then he exclaimed, betweenhis teeth, for he realized too late the slip of his tongue.
"See-a da here. Da mon. Eesa want. How much-a you-a da give to gett-aback-a da kid? Speak a da quick."
Virginia perceived he was getting angry and restless.
It was about that time that Sam, who was lying on his stomach in aslight depression, peered over the rise in the ground a short distancefrom the two. He was a little too far away to hear distinctly, exceptoccasional words, as their voices were pitched in a low key.
"How much will I give?" replied Virginia, surprised, and then hervoice lowered again.
"You are a poor man, no doubt, but you have your liberty, which ispriceless, and I warn you of the severe penalty for the offense youare committing. It is most dangerous business."
"Liberty, wid out-a da mon! Eesa be damn! Say, Signora, yous-a come-adown wid a da handsome da mon--Eesa take de kid--wid da longa golda hairso nicey da shiney, and da bigg-a da brown eyes."
"Dorothy, I am sure!" she thought.
"Well, what do you call the handsome mon?"
"Eesa note-a bees-a da hard. Eesa cheap at-a da twenty thous."
"Twenty thous--what!"
"Bigg-a da round flat dollairs!"
"Twenty thousand dollars!" angrily exclaimed Virginia, for the momentforgetting herself, and th
en again her voice fell almost to a whisper.
"You dare ask that from me! Knowing that I have but to call and thepolice would hound you to prison."
Jack swiftly wheeled about and rolled his eyes in alarm. The wordpolice startled him, and for the moment he verily believed they werewithin call, a circumstance he at once set down to his laxwatchfulness, but he soon felt reassured, and, turning upon her said,sarcastically:
"Oh, that-a beesa a lettle a da game-a. He, he, he, he," he laughedlow and gleefully, in strange contrast to the white of his eyeballs,which shone with sinister effect as he leered at her.
"Two play-a dees-a da trick, Signora! Wouldn't yous-a look-a da wellbees-a compan-e-on ove-a mine, in a da pen, eh, Signora. He, he, he,he," he again laughed.
"Eesa don-a da know some-a da ting about eesa da Duc, eh! Eesa don-ada hear a da game between ee mand a da Signora da Virginia, eh!Sacremento!" He fairly ground out the last word between his teeth.
Virginia shuddered and then involuntarily exclaimed: "Villain!"
Jack turned upon her swiftly, ceremoniously bowed, and again leered ather. Then, with a most offensive smirk playing about his mouth, said:"Tank-a da Signora, my a da pard."
Her face burned with the red that flushed up. She felt that even thedarkness could not conceal her flaming cheeks. She bent her head inhumiliation and shame at the all too well merited rebuke.
For a moment there followed intense stillness. She thought of what hehad possibly heard at the Harris reception. "His disclosure wouldincriminate me with Rutley. Still, it matters not. My duty to my God,my home and Constance is to make reparation for the wrong I havedone."
She broke the silence in an assumed, haughty tone. "Well, as you arepoor and in need, I will give you five hundred dollars upon return ofthe child; but if you do not comply by noon tomorrow I shall informthe police."
"Eesa bett-a note!" he replied, with an unmistakable menace in hisvoice. "Eef yourse da squeal on a da ma, Signora--look-a da out!" Andso saying, he slowly drew his finger across his throat.
The action was most significant. "Eesa bett-a da keep a da mum!Understand-a! Youse-a geeve a me a da twenty da thouse-a dollair,youse-a take a da kid--but youse-a da squeal!" and he drew close andhissed at her--"Bett-a da look a for her eesa mong a da weeds in a daWillamette."
His attitude was so threatening, and his speech uttered with suchsavage earnestness, that it drove all courage from her heart. Againshe felt, as once before, at the Harris reception, how puny a thingshe was in the presence of a strong, masculine rascal.
She, however, quickly mastered the momentary sickening alarm that hadseized her, and assuming a bold, threatening manner, in which sheastonished herself, for she felt anything but defiant just then, saidin a voice low and determined:
"Scoundrel! If you harm that child, I, myself, will weave the rope tohang you!"
Jack leered at her. "So Signora"--laughed, laughed low and derisively."Ha, ha, ha, Signora lak-a da job, eh? Eesa mak-a da boss a hang-aman, eh?"
Jack could not repress a smile of admiration at her courage, and hislips quivered to exclaim: "God, she is game!"
"An-a deesea lettle white-a da hands-a," he sneered. "Stain 'em all ada red, eh?" and he chuckled low, as though amused. "Oh, ha, ha, ha."Suddenly he changed his tone and again continued threateningly. "Nowlook-a da ere. Eef-a youse-a da want a kid, gett-a da mon a daquick--twenty da thous, for eesa tink a da move-a da way. May beesgett-a da organ en-a da monk, go down South Amereek. Eef youse-a dannada squeal, da kid bees-a da safe; but effe youse-a da tell a po-lis,eesa mak-a da me a devil," and he again drew close to her and hissedout between his teeth.
"When eesa be lik-a dat, Eesa does a da murda," and so saying, hethrust his hand inside his double-breasted short coat, and partiallydrew out a glittering knife. "Eesa you da see?"--and he leaned over toher, a sinister glint shooting from the corner of his eye--"Eesa slitmore's a da one-a windpipe." As he replaced the knife, a low whistlesounded off toward the right. It startled him, for he muttered as ifalarmed. "Ha, some one is watching me." And without another word ormoment of delay, glided off southward, and disappeared in thedarkness.
Sam having seen the glitter of a knife against the dim city lights,unconsciously gave a low whistle of warning, and sprang to his feet.He believed Virginia was in imminent peril.
For a moment he stood irresolute, unwilling to uncover his identity toher or to in any wise have her think he had been shadowing her. Thenfeeling satisfied she was not hurt, he sped away on the track of theItalian.
Virginia was alone. She, also, had seen the figure of a man suddenlyloom up on the right and then hasten after the supposed Italian.
The terror that now had seized her, the strain that gave artificialcourage, so worked upon her nerves as to produce a trembling of herlimbs, and to avoid a threatened collapse she sank down on the grass.
Her strength gradually returned, her agitation quieted and she beganto think with lucidity. She had been followed by whom? Most likely adetective in the pay of her brother.
"Thank God!" His unknown presence at a perilous moment had beensweetly welcome. "Dorothy is not dead," she thought. "Thank Heaven forthat, too; but she is in the hands of a murderous scoundrel, who wouldnot hesitate to shed innocent blood were his own safety jeoparded."
An attempt at rescue by the police would, no doubt, result in thedeath of Dorothy. She must act alone, act at once. Having arrived atthat conclusion, she arose to her feet. To get Dorothy home was thefirst thing to be done--the mother's life depended upon that.
How could she get twenty thousand dollars to pay the ransom? She benther head in thought. She had been instrumental in the ruin anddisgrace of her only brother's happy home. If it was in human power torestore happiness to that home, she would do it. The Italian is indesperate need of money. She could hypothecate her income; sell herjewels.
"I will offer him all I can possibly obtain--then, if he will notrelease Dorothy," and her voice took on a soft, strange, resolutecalmness. "God helping me, I will take her from him, even though," andshe looked at her own little white hands, "these do become stained redin the work."
Then she made her way out of the park, and returned to her home.
An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West Page 8
