Toward daybreak, they fell into a troubled sleep, but by seven o’clock, they again awoke to all the horrors of their situation. After dressing, they remained in their room some time, fearing to go down stairs. They finally mustered up the courage to go into the kitchen, where they found Norah, going on with her work, as if nothing had happened. The sisters glanced at her in a half-frightened way, and she said:
“Shure, Mary, and didn’t yees hear the row last night? Faith, thin, they had a foine time playin’ their tricks on the masther. Didn’t yees hear them, Alice?”
Then was taken the fatal step which placed the sisters in the power of the scoundrels.
“No,” said Alice; “was anything going on?”
“There was, indade,” replied Norah. “Yees must ha’ slept sound the night, not to ha’ heerd thim bys that was here about midnight. There was a whole pack of thim, and, d’yees know, they broke in the door to the bar-room. The blaggards came into my room, aven, and axed if the masther was there. But, after all, they was very dacent gintlemin on a bit of a lark, and they spent their money fraly. Kelly spakes well of thim.”
“We did not hear anything,” said Alice; “at least, I did not; did you, Mary?”
Mary did not answer. She could not decide what to do; but, as Alice had adopted that course, she thought best not to contradict her. She, therefore, pretended not to have heard the question, and walked into the sitting-room. She dusted the furniture mechanically, and then went to the window and looked out. On every side, she saw evidences of the severity of the storm. The snow was two feet deep on a level, and the roads were all blocked by almost impassable drifts. No one would venture out that day, unless compelled by some great necessity.
The girls prepared breakfast as usual; but, when Blake came in, they were unable to look him in the face. He sat down alone with them, as there were no boarders in the house, and talked in a very gentle and sorrowful tone about the unfortunate occurrence of the previous night. He said that he would take care that no harm should come to them. The boys had only tried to have a good joke at his expense, little thinking it would turn out so seriously. He would see that no one should ever hear anything about the matter, and that the girls’ reputation should not suffer.
The sisters said nothing, whatever, finishing their breakfast in complete silence. After their work was done, they went into the sitting-room, to talk over what had happened.
“Mary,” said Alice, “I want William to take us both home. How I wish he would come up this morning!”
“I do not intend to remain here any longer,” said Mary. “I would go home at once, if it were possible; but look at the roads! They are impassable, and the railroad is worse. Kelly says that no trains passed last night, and he thinks none will pass to-day. We cannot go to Coldwater, as we know only Mrs. Cox, and she is angry with me for leaving her. I would not let her know what has happened for the world, as she is a gossip, and would spread the story everywhere. The best course for us to pursue is to give notice that we shall leave at the end of the week. Blake is really sorry for us, and will prevent any one from molesting us until then; and when we get home, father and mother will know what to do, in case the story gets abroad. As soon as William comes, he shall take our trunks home, and we will follow on Saturday.”
After further conversation, this plan was adopted; so when Blake came into the room, Mary told him that they were going home permanently on Saturday, as they could not stay in a place where they were subjected to such insults.
Blake expressed his regret at losing them, as they had always been so capable and trustworthy; but, under the circumstances, he could not blame them for leaving. He would guarantee that no one should ever learn the reason of their departure, outside of those engaged in the “joke.” He had always admired the purity of their characters, and the thought, that he had been the means of sullying their reputations so irreparably, filled him with sincere sorrow. He could not sufficiently condemn his own conduct.
In this way, while apparently trying to lessen their fears, he was, in reality, working on their feelings in a most alarming manner. The only trouble which the girls anticipated, was the talk which would be made about them, if the story got abroad; but Blake cunningly magnified the scandal which would result, while professing to be able to keep it quiet. By making it appear that their guilt would be universally believed, if the story should ever get out, he made them think that he, alone, could save them from infamy. In this, he fully succeeded, as he was aware of Alice’s falsehood to Norah, and, by casually referring to it, he showed them that the best thing for them was to keep the whole affair perfectly quiet. He talked so kindly, and seemed to feel so sorry, as almost to win the girls’ respect, and he induced Mary to promise never to tell his wife.
He had now gained the point for which the plot had been laid, and felt confident of success in the whole scheme of abduction. He had sufficiently compromised the girls to accomplish two objects, as he thought. Having taken the first steps in deception, the girls would be afraid to appeal to any one, except their own family, for aid, and he proposed to get them out of the reach of their friends, as quickly as possible. He then intended that Harris, Dick, and Joe should tell the story of having found him in bed with the girls, to blacken their characters, and make their abduction appear like a voluntary flight. The falsehood which Alice had told Norah would, also, play an important part, as corroborating the theory that Blake had actually seduced the girls, before their flight. This would probably prevent pursuit by the officers of the law, while the Wells family would not have the means to hunt for him. The time that would elapse before the affair would become known, and the delay created in the early investigation, would give him such a start as to make his capture impossible, even if the county authorities should conduct the search.
Like all criminals, he was expert in hiding his tracks; but he had forgotten one thing—that crime invariably carries its own punishment, and that there is no escape for the guilty.
CHAPTER 7
DINNER WAS SERVED at the usual hour, and Blake acted in the same kind, gentle manner as before. While the meal was in progress, Sloan entered the room, walked over to Alice, and put his arm around her neck. She sprang away from him in terror, while Blake rushed over to protect her, seemingly in a towering passion.
“Sloan, didn’t you do enough harm last night? Get out of this room!” he commanded, as if speaking to a dog.
Sloan turned upon him savagely, but, seeing that Blake was in earnest, he fairly cringed and said, as he crawled out of the room:
“I didn’t mean any harm. I’ll see you when you come out.”
Both the sisters felt the blow, but did not know what to do. They went immediately to their room, and Mary said:
“What is to prevent others from making the same kind of advances that Sloan has made? If William would only come, he would take us away at once; but there are no trains running, and there is no one to help us.”
They dropped on their knees and prayed for help, as only those can pray, who are driven to the verge of desperation.
Sloan and Blake had a meeting in the barn.
“You are acting wrong,” said Blake. “I had just succeeded in calming down the girls, when you must come in and spoil everything, by taking liberties with Alice.”
“Yes, d—n it, isn’t she mine?” asked Sloan. “Haven’t I a right to kiss her when I please?”
“Pshaw! you’re a fool! Don’t you understand that we shall have to use strategy? If you act properly, she will be yours bye-and-bye, but if you try to force things, you will find yourself in the penitentiary. I thought you had some common sense. She is young, she is courageous, and if you take liberties with her, the game is up. Many decent people come to my restaurant, and if they should hear her scream, they would burst in on you, and then where would you be? You fool! I wish I never had had anything to do with you. I see my mistake now.”
“Well,” said Sloan, in a conciliatory manner, “I will do
just as you say, provided I am certain of having Alice.”
“What do you want to talk about it for? You must keep quiet, or you will get them excited, and they have friends all around to whom they might go. I’ll tell you what you must do. It will be a hard job, but it can’t be helped. You must go to Bronson, get a double sleigh with plenty of buffalo robes, and come here by eleven o’clock to-night. I will have the girls drugged by that time, and we will carry them off at once.” As he spoke, he drew a small phial of laudanum from his pocket.
Sloan touched the laudanum to his tongue and asked:
“Will that put them to sleep?”
“Yes,” said Blake; “it is laudanum. We can keep them drugged with it for seven or eight hours, and even longer by renewing the dose.”
An expression of brutal admiration came into Sloan’s face, as he said:
“Blake, you’re a bully fellow! What a fool I have been to kick against you! You’re just the man for me!”
“All right; now listen. I am going to carry them off to-night, so you must tell Harris to have a couple of bed-rooms warm and comfortable for us on our arrival. Tell him to have Dick and Joe on hand to carry the girls into the house, as we shall be too numbed by the cold to do anything. Be sure to tell him to have the house quiet, with no outsiders around. Take this money, one hundred dollars, and give it to Harris to pay all expenses, including Dick and Joe.”
“I’m your man,” said Sloan, and he started off at a rapid pace for Bronson.
At supper, Blake acted in the same manner as at breakfast and dinner, taking pains not to say anything to hurt the feelings of the sisters. He was so kind and reassuring in his conversation, that the girls began to have great confidence in him. He acted his devilish part well.
At nine o’clock, as the girls said good-night and started to go to bed, Blake said:
“Mary, you and Alice must be wholly exhausted from the terrible shock you received last night, and I am afraid you will be so nervous as to be unable to rest well. Let me give you each a glass of wine. It will quiet your nerves and make you sleep.”
Mary, at first, declined, but Blake pressed it upon her so urgently, yet politely, that she, at length, consented. The girls were both very weak and faint, as they had not felt like eating anything all day, and Mary thought that perhaps a glass of wine would do them good.
“I will set the wine outside the door of your room,” said Blake, “and you need not drink it until you are getting into bed.”
The girls then went to their room, and about ten o’clock, Blake came up with two glasses of wine. He set the waiter down on a chair close to the door, knocked, to let them know he had brought the wine, and went down stairs. When he had gone, Mary brought the wine into the room, and, with Alice’s assistance, barricaded the door as well as they were able. After saying their prayers, they each drank a glass of the wine and got into bed. They talked a few minutes and then dropped into a peaceful sleep. Care and fear faded out of their minds, and their only dreams were of home and parents. Finally, their sleep became heavier and deeper, until it was evident that the drugged wine had done its work.
CHAPTER 8
SLOAN ARRIVED FROM Bronson shortly after eleven o’clock. He had a wide box-sleigh, provided with movable seats, and filled with hay and buffalo robes. Silently as cats, the two men stole up to the room of the sleeping girls. They easily pushed back the slight barricade against the door, and entered the chamber. Their light revealed to them the two sisters, sleeping in each other’s arms. For a moment, even their hardened hearts were touched by the purity of the scene; but they forced back every good feeling, and proceeded with their damnable work. Lifting Alice out of bed, they hurriedly drew some of her clothing over her helpless form, wrapped her in a blanket, and laid her down. They then did the same with Mary. Both sisters were restless, in spite of the laudanum; and Mary, raising herself on one arm, muttered plaintively, as if dreaming:
“Mother! Oh! mother! Why don’t you help me!”
This powerful and touching appeal from her unconscious lips, had no effect, except to cause Blake to administer an additional dose of the drug to both girls.
“There,” said he, with an oath, “I guess that will quiet them.”
He then packed some of the girls’ clothing into a carpet-sack and put it into the sleigh. Sloan then lifted Alice in his arms, carried her down to the sleigh, and quickly covered her up completely with blankets and buffalo robes, as he feared that the cold air might revive her. Blake followed with Mary, whom he placed beside Alice. He then seated himself by them to watch, while Sloan sprang to the front seat to drive. The horses were kept at the top of their speed, where the drifts would permit, and, in about two hours, they arrived at Harris’ tavern.
As the panting horses dashed up, Dick and Joe came out and assisted Blake and Sloan to carry the unconscious girls to the rooms which had been prepared, and which were separated from each other only by folding doors. Alice was placed in one bed, and Mary in the other, while Blake and Sloan returned to the bar-room to get warm. When thoroughly warmed through, they instructed Harris not to disturb them in the morning, took a drink of brandy, and went to the rooms of the girls.
That night was consummated the crime which sent Blake and Mary to their graves—the guilty and the innocent. Blake had succeeded so far in his villainy, but, ere long, the avenger was to be upon his track.
It was nearly nine o’clock the next morning before Mary began to regain consciousness, and, for a time, she lay in a semi-stupor. Gradually, a dull, throbbing pain in her temples awakened her, and she opened her eyes. Everything was new and strange to her. She must be crazy, she thought, and she said aloud:
“Oh! mother, what is it?”
Then she stretched out her hand, as if to touch Alice beside her, but touched Blake, instead. Her eye followed her hand; and, on seeing Blake, a dazed comprehension of the truth flashed through her mind. She sprang from the bed, hastily drew some of her clothes about her, and rushed to the door, which was locked. Blake also jumped from the bed, and approached her.
“Mary,” said he, in a stern, commanding voice, “take care! Remember, that now you are mine! I will do anything for you, if you will only love me. I love you truly. I tried to banish your image from my heart, but could not. I then determined that you should be mine. To accomplish this end, I sent my wife to visit her mother; and then carried out the plan which has placed you in my power. You must yield to me, and love me, or I will kill you.”
“Kill me, kill me at once! You are a monster! I know I am ruined, but oh! let me go from here!” Mary answered.
As Blake approached to take hold of her, she shrieked, “Murder! murder!” with all the energy of despair. At the same moment, came a piercing shriek from the adjoining room.
Sloan was a coarser villain than Blake, and, as Alice, on awakening, sprang from his side, with a scream, he struck her a blow that knocked her down. He then lifted her up and put her into bed.
“There, d—n you,” said he; “I’ll teach you not to put on airs. You’re mine, now, and you’ve got to obey me.”
Alice neither moved nor spoke, and Sloan, seeing that she had swooned, became frightened. He rushed down to tell Harris, and the latter sent his wife up. Mrs. Harris was a hardened wretch, who, like many another fallen creature, gloated over the ruin of innocent girls. She was capable of attempting any crime, which would bring in money.
I shall not try to describe the agony of those pure young sisters; it would be impossible for pen to give an adequate idea of their sufferings. Escape was impossible. They were in the hands of as inhuman monsters as ever drew breath; but there was no help for them, and they were forced to submit.
What a fate was theirs! Young, innocent, lovely, and entirely ignorant of the sin and misery of the world, they were dragged away from all that made life dear, and made to suffer cruelly, both mentally and physically. But their future trials were even worse than their present. They still had to pass through the mo
st degrading of ordeals, from which Mary was to find escape only in death. What earthly punishment could be devised severe enough to punish justly the brutes who had debauched them?
Blake and Sloan went down stairs, leaving Dick and Joe to watch the girls, who were not allowed to leave their respective rooms. In the afternoon, Blake drove over to the restaurant, to get the girls’ trunks and remaining clothes, which he brought to Bronson about dusk.
In the meantime, the girls had dressed themselves, but they had eaten nothing all day, and they began to be faint and weak. On his return, Blake went in to see Alice, and found her weeping.
“Won’t you have some wine?” he asked.
“Oh! yes,” said Sloan; “she will take anything I offer her. I have been teaching her to mind me without making a fuss about it.”
Blake passed into Mary’s room, and asked her if she would take some wine. She was so weak and sick that she could not speak, so she merely nodded her head in assent. He then went down stairs, where he met Sloan.
“It is well they are dressed,” said Blake. “We shall not have any bother with them when they start out. Take some wine and cake up to Alice, and I will take some to Mary. We must leave here by the evening train. I have sent word to my wife to come and take charge of the restaurant; telling her that Mary had gone home sick, and that Alice had gone to nurse her. We must strike for the West and keep out of danger. We have got the girls pretty well broken in, but we must watch them, for if they give us the slip, their brother will be after us in no time. We must keep them stupefied with the laudanum, and prevent any one from speaking to them, or seeing their faces. Hurry up! we have no time to lose.”
Sloan went up to see Alice, and made her eat some food and drink some wine, while Blake took some wine and cakes to Mary, and left her alone. Mary knelt down before she ate, and prayed her Heavenly Father to deliver her from the power of her enemies.
The Best American Mystery Stories of the 19th Century Page 22
