It would not occur to them then that anything was wrong – not until very much later when she did not return.
‘What can I do? What can I do?’ she asked herself desperately.
She glanced again at the two men behind her. They were most unpleasant and definitely not countrymen.
She was not certain as to where they came from, but judging by their accents they must have come from the worst slums.
They progressed further down the mossy path until the wood came to an end.
Just inside the wood Yolanda could see the remains of what she knew had once been a slate mine.
In the past most large estates had mined their own slates to repair the roofs of cottages and barns and to employ local people.
Nowadays most of the old country slate mines had been closed down as it was so much cheaper to buy slates and tiles that were manufactured in their thousands in large factories in the North of England.
She had often seen what remained of the slate mine when she had been riding and she thought it looked rough and unsafe and should be filled in.
Now the men walking ahead were coming to a halt in front of the mine.
Yolanda knew instinctively that that was where she was going to be taken a prisoner.
“Get down!” the chief ruffian demanded.
It was an abrupt order, but for the moment Yolanda hesitated.
“What do you – want me to do?” she asked.
“You’re be goin’ to write a letter to your rich Papa. Come on and don’t waste too much time about it.”
Yolanda dismounted and felt thankful that neither of the men holding Chestnut made any attempt to help her.
Then, when the leader started to walk down into the mine, she hesitated.
“What about my horse?” she asked him nervously.
He turned back.
“He be a-goin’ to be our messenger – ’e’ll take the letter to your Papa and then ’e’ll come to no ’arm.”
She patted Chestnut as if to reassure him and then with a sinking heart she followed the leader down into the mine.
There were broken stones, fallen foliage and pieces of wood scattered about, as she passed into the mine itself.
Because there were so many holes in the roof it was not difficult to find the way.
There was a clearing where the ruffian stopped and he was now standing in front of a broken wooden chest.
On top of it was a bottle of cheap ink, a pen and a sheet of paper.
“Yer write what I tells yer,” he commanded, “and no tricks or yer’ll be sorry.”
Yolanda did not answer him – she merely picked up the pen.
“Tell yer rich Papa yer be our prisoner and us wants ten thousand pounds for yer.”
Yolanda gave a gasp.
“He cannot pay all that money. Anyway he will not have it with him.”
The chief ruffian gave a smirk.
“I knows that, but ’e’s plenty o’ time to go to the bank afore it gets dark and that be what ’e’s a-goin’ to pay us.”
“Supposing he refuses?” asserted Yolanda.
“Then yer can tell ’im us will kill yer or per’aps yer’ll die o’ starvation.”
“I am sure he will come to find me.”
The man laughed and it was not a pleasant sound.
“Who’d think o’ lookin’ for a pretty lady like yer in this old mine? They says in the village it ain’t been used fer years and some thinks it be ’aunted so they won’t come anywhere near it.”
Yolanda thought that this was very likely true.
Anyway why should anyone look for her in a slate mine that had lain empty for years and years?
There was not a thing she could do, she considered, but write down what the ruffian demanded.
Slowly she dipped the quill pen into the ink.
“Now no tricks!” he wheezed menacingly. “I can read, so yer write just what I’ve told yer to say or yer’ll be sorry.”
He waved the stick he was holding in his hand.
Yolanda thought for a moment that he was about to hit her.
She gave a little cry and moved backwards.
“Just yer do now as what I says or it’ll be the worse fer yer.”
Because it was easier, Yolanda knelt down to write the letter.
She wrote,
“Dearest Step-papa,
I have been captured and held prisoner by a gang that has been operating in the neighbourhood.
They are now demanding ten thousand pounds for my safe release.”
Whilst she was writing the ruffian had been looking over her shoulder.
“Tell ’im to put it under the gate at the end o’ that there field where yer ’as the jumps.”
“Oh, the paddock you mean?”
“Yes. Us wants the money there as soon as it be dark and if anyone touches the man as collects it, yer’ll die, yer tell ’im that!”
Obediently, as there was nothing else she could do, Yolanda wrote down what he had just said.
“Now yer sign it with love and kisses,” he crowed jeeringly.
“I am sorry that this should have happened,” wrote Yolanda. “Please save me, Step-papa, I am so terrified.”
She signed her name and then she paused. She thought that the ruffian was about to take the paper from her, so she added quickly,
“Please feed Pizarra at six o’clock.”
Then she put down the pen and lent back.
The ruffian behind her picked up the paper.
“What be this ’ere that yer’ve written?” he enquired suspiciously.
“It’s about my dog. I always feed him every day at six o’clock and he will be hungry.”
He grunted, but did not say anything, just walked away with the paper in his hands.
Yolanda looked around.
She realised there was nothing to sit on except the ground or the broken wooden chest, so she sat on the edge of it.
Then she heard the gang talking up above.
To her surprise the chief ruffian came back.
“Have yer got a pin?” he asked. “Us ’as to pin yer note on the ’orse’s saddle and if it ain’t stuck firm yer rich Papa won’t be a-gettin’ it.”
Yolanda had fastened her blouse at the neck with a small brooch, so she unfastened it and held it out to him.
He took it and looked closely at it to see if it was worth anything and then he disappeared again.
She thought that they must be taking Chestnut back to the paddock and turning him loose.
When he was seen alone, someone was sure to think that there had been an accident.
They would undoubtedly think she had been thrown and they would catch Chestnut and then see the note.
She was wondering desperately what her stepfather and Lord Milborne would then do.
If they immediately sent for the Police, she thought there was every likelihood that the men would either kill or injure her to stop her from giving evidence against them.
It seemed impossible that her stepfather would give such a large sum of money to these desperadoes.
But what was the alternative?
The whole situation was desperately depressing.
‘What on earth can I do?’ thought Yolanda again.
Then, because she was really extremely frightened, she started to pray.
As she fervently prayed to God, she felt somehow that if her stepfather could not save her, Lord Milborne would think of a way of doing so.
How, she had no idea.
She only thought that there was indeed something about him that would resent giving in to blackmail, so by some miracle somehow he would save her.
Up above the gang were talking amongst themselves.
Yolanda was aware that one of them was about to mount Chestnut.
It became obvious that the talking had degenerated into an argument and their voices became louder and louder as they quarrelled with each other.
Listening carefully, she could
make out that they were arguing about who should take the horse back.
Finally someone was chosen and she heard him ride off, whilst hoping and praying that he would not be cruel to Chestnut.
She was certain that by now her stepfather and Lord Milborne would have finished their breakfast.
They would be about to mount their horses whilst wondering where she was.
They might come to look for her and if they saw Chestnut being ridden by a stranger, they might force the villain to tell them where she was.
This idea, however, was soon shattered.
Some time later the chief ruffian came down below.
“Yer ’orse be back in the paddock – ” he began.
“I hope that the man who rode him was gentle with him,” insisted Yolanda.
“’E be all right – that man is the one us chooses when us ’as to steal an ’orse, so ’e knows if they be good or bad. It be a pity us can’t keep that ’un.”
He spoke to her in a mocking manner and Yolanda thought it was more dignified to ignore it.
So she merely remarked,
“I am glad you have taken Chestnut back safely.”
“Now us be a-goin’ to make sure that ye’re safe. There be a nice little cell all ready for yer, if yer’ll come this way.”
Yolanda’s heart sank into her boots, but there was nothing she could do.
She walked behind him further into the mine.
Then, when she was afraid they might be going even deeper, he stopped.
On the left there was what looked like a small cave with a dim light coming through several holes in the roof, not large enough for anything but a rabbit to climb through.
“This ’ere be where yer can rest, lidy and the way us’ve just come’ll be blocked and if yer were to go the other way yer’ll fall down into the mine. So if yer ’urt yerself, don’t blame me!”
“I will stay here, but I would like something to sit on.”
“After a sofa and chairs, be yer?” he jeered. “That be somethin’ us ’aven’t got. But yer can ’ave the bit o’ old wood yer’ve been writin’ on, if that be yer fancy.”
“It will be better than nothing,” she sighed.
He went and fetched the broken wooden chest.
He carried it to where Yolanda was standing and plumped it down in the middle of the cell.
Then he said,
“Now no tricks. If yer tries to escape us’ll catch yer and tie yer up. Yer’ll find that real uncomfortable, yer can be sure o’ that. If yer screams us’ll gag yer – ”
“I shall be extremely quiet and stay here until I am rescued.”
The ruffian laughed.
“Rescued! Yer’ll stay ’ere till yer Papa’s money comes, and when that ’appens, yer can walk ’ome. Be that clear?
“It be no use expectin’ Bucking’am Palace, but if ye’re good and give us no trouble, I’ll give yer somethin’ to eat when us ’as our meal.”
“Thank you, I would be very grateful.”
The man gave Yolanda an appraising look.
“I’ll say one thing for yer. Yer’ve the sense not to make a fuss. Some women’d be screamin’ and cryin’ and a lot o’ good it’d do ’em. But I tells yer again, one scream or one cry and yer’ll be gagged!”
He walked away and Yolanda settled down on the broken chest, which was just strong enough to hold her.
She thought it was better than sitting on the rough floor that was grey and dirty from slate chippings.
She wondered frantically if her stepfather or Lord Milborne could possibly understand the postscript she had written at the bottom of her letter.
She felt that they were both intelligent enough to do so, but at the same time she could not have put anything that was too obviously a clue to her whereabouts.
‘They will never think of the slate mine,’ she told herself, ‘unless one of them speaks Spanish.’
Time seemed to pass very slowly.
She knew by the heat of the sun coming through the holes in the roof when it was midday.
It was a full half-an-hour later that the chief ruffian brought her some food.
It was not very appetising and she thought it must have been made up at a local inn where they had stayed or eaten.
It consisted of a tiny sandwich of thick bread, made from badly ground flour with a speck of tasteless ham that had doubtless been home-cured.
With the disgusting sandwich came a small bottle of the cheapest and, she decided, nastiest beer that could be purchased in the neighbourhood.
There was no question of the beer being poured into anything and someone had knocked the top off the bottle, so it was difficult to drink without cutting her lips and mouth.
However, she was both hot and hungry so she drank the beer and ate some of the sandwich.
Now the gang had come underground so that they would not be seen.
They were just a short distance away from her in the mine and she could hear them laughing and talking.
If she listened intently, she could hear every word they were saying and it was not particularly edifying.
They made jokes that she thought were exceedingly vulgar.
It was the chief ruffian who talked the most.
“I tells yer what us’ll do, my boys,” Yolanda could hear him saying, “when us gets this ’ere money, us’ll go abroad. Us ’ave ’ad all us’ll get out o’ this lot and it’ll be a bit dangerous if they tells the Police and they be a-lookin’ for us.”
“Where’ll us go?” someone asked.
“Across the Channel. The food be good in France and the women more fun than this ’ere lot.”
They all laughed at this remark.
And then followed several lewd jokes that Yolanda did not care to listen to.
*
The day wore on.
She thought despairingly that it would never end.
She wondered if her stepfather had gone to the bank to draw out the money.
He could afford it – of course he could!
But she considered it would be very humiliating if he should have to pay such a huge sum to keep her alive.
Now the sun was beginning to set and she realised that it would soon be dusk.
If the money for her was to be paid, her stepfather would by now be taking it to the paddock.
It was a clever place for the gang to have chosen as the gate at the end of the paddock could not be seen from the stables.
If they wanted to arrest the man who had come for the money, there was nowhere anyone could hide.
‘Perhaps,’ Yolanda pondered, ‘they will just put it down and trust to their honesty to let me go free.’
Then she was praying again – praying for help.
Not only to her stepfather but also to Lord Milborne to come and save her.
She had the most terrifying feeling that if they did not pay the money at once, the gang really would kill her.
Even to think of it made her shiver.
She had by now completely convinced herself that the chief ruffian was clearly nothing more than a hardened criminal who would stop at nothing.
Now it was dusk and through one of the holes in the ceiling she could see the first evening star.
It was then suddenly, when all was quiet, that there came the bark and snarl of a dog.
It was a very noisy bark and its snarl turned into a yelp – the dog seemed to be barking loudly at something that was upsetting it.
Because it all sounded so strange, Yolanda went, as she had not done before, to the opening into her cave.
She looked along the passage towards the gang.
She could just see that they were standing up and she heard the chief ruffian yell,
“Two o’ yer go at once and stop that damned dog. It’ll attract attention.”
“Shall us shoot it?” one of the gang asked.
“Don’t be a fool,” he replied. “A shot’ll carry for miles. Just knock ’im off, so ’e don’t make
that row.”
Even as he spoke the dog yelped again.
Its noise sounded almost shattering in the darkness outside.
“Now just ’urry up and stop ’im, yer fools.”
Yolanda could hear two men scurrying up onto the ground above.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Yolanda listened, as she knew the gang beyond her were listening.
There was a shrill yelp from the dog – then silence.
She heard the chief ruffian guffaw,
“That’s got ’im!”
A moment or two later the dog started again – it was yelping, growling fiercely and then yelping again.
She thought that the men must have been pursuing him.
She moved quietly even nearer to the gang.
The chief ruffian was bellowing,
“What the devil be they a-doin’, the fools? Go up and ’elp ’em. That dog must be a-runnin’ round in circles and they can’t get near ’im.”
“Us’ll finish ’im orf,” one of the gang exclaimed.
Yolanda could hear their footsteps as they climbed up above.
The dog gave another long yelp and then silence.
She hoped that the poor animal was not dead or in pain.
She was just about to walk back to her cell, when to her astonishment there came the same yelp, but this time it was a little louder.
Next the dog was growling savagely as if someone was attacking him.
Peeping around the corner, Yolanda could see the chef ruffian wildly waving his arms.
She reckoned, although she could not see his face, that he was very angry.
“Fools. Oafs! Idiots!” he was screaming.
Then came a flood of oaths.
“I’d better go up now and ’elp ’em,” the only other gang member left volunteered.
But there was not much enthusiasm in his voice.
“I’ll come with yer,” the chief ruffian insisted. “If us ain’t that careful, us’ll ’ave people comin’ to see what’s ’appenin’. Where’s me stick?”
He must have found it.
Yolanda heard him scampering away followed by the other man.
In order to hear better she moved to where they had been sitting.
There were the remains of their supper lying in a mess on the floor and there were several bags and boxes lying against one wall, which she guessed must contain the loot they had stolen.
Now the dog above was snarling really ferociously and then he gave a loud yelp.
A Battle of Brains Page 12
