CHAPTER XVI: CAPTURED
Her first thought was to search elsewhere, although she immediatelyrealised the uselessness of any such attempt. The message had been inher pocket as she recalled distinctly; she had fully intendeddestroying it at the same time she had torn up the letter ofinstruction, but failed to do so. Now it was in the hands of the LaRue woman, and would be shown to the others. Stella blew out the lightand sat down by the open window endeavouring to figure out what allthis would mean. It was some time before she could recall to memorythe exact wording of the telegram, but finally it came to her bit bybit:
If any clues, advise immediately. Willis digging hard. Letter ofinstruction follows.
FARRISS.
There was no mention of names, yet these people could scarcely fail torecognise that this had reference to the Cavendish case. Their fearswould lead to this conclusion, and they could safely argue that nothingelse would require the presence in Haskell of a New York newspaperwriter. Besides, if the man Enright had recognised her and knew of herconnection with the _Star_, it was scarcely probable that he would bewholly unfamiliar with the name of Farriss, the city editor. No, theywould be on guard now, and she could hope to win no confidence. Thethought of personal danger never once entered her mind. Timidity wasnot part of her nature and she gave this phase of the matter nothought. All that seriously troubled her was the knowledge that shewas handicapped in the case, unable to carry out the plans previouslyoutlined.
From now on she would be watched, guarded against, deceived. Thatthese people--Enright particularly--were playing a desperate game forbig stakes, was already evident. They had not hesitated at murder toachieve their ends, and yet the girl somehow failed to comprehend thatthis discovery by them, that she was on their trail, placed her inpersonal peril.
There were two reasons causing indifference--a carelessness engenderedby long newspaper experience, and a feeling that the telegram told solittle they would never realise how far the investigation hadprogressed. All she could do then, would be to remain quiet, watchclosely for results, and, if necessary, have some one else sent outfrom the home office to take up the work. But meanwhile she mustcommunicate with Westcott, tell him all that had occurred. She wouldsend him a note the first thing in the morning.
Somewhat reassured by this reasoning, she was still seated there,staring out into the night, when Enright and Beaton returned. It musthave been late, for the street was practically deserted, the saloonseven being closed. The hotel was silent, although a lamp yet burned inthe office, the dull glow falling across the roadway in front of thedoor. Stella heard the tread of horses' feet, before her eyesdistinguished the party approaching, and she drew back cautiously. Inthe glow of the light she could perceive four men in saddle halted infront of the hotel, three of whom dismounted, and entered the building,the fourth grasping the reins of the riderless animals, and leadingthem up the street. No word was spoken, except an order to thedeparting horseman, and the girl could not be certain of the identityof those below, although convinced the first two to disappear withinwere Enright and Beaton. She heard the murmur of voices below and theheavy steps of the men as they came slowly up the stairs. Then a dooropened creakingly and she caught the sound of a woman's voice.
"Is that you, Ned?"
"Sure; what are you doing up at this hour?"
"Never mind that. Who have you got with you?"
"Enright and Lacy--why?"
"I want you all to come in here a minute; don't make so much noise."
A voice or two grumbled, but feet shuffled along the bare floor, andthe door creaked again as it was carefully closed behind them. Stellaopened her own door a crack and listened; the hall, lighted only by asingle oil-lamp at the head of the stairs, was deserted and silent.She stole cautiously forward, but the voices in Miss La Rue's room weremuffled and indistinct, not an audible word reaching her ears. The keywas in the lock, shutting out all view of the interior. Well, what wasthe difference? She knew what was occurring within--the stolentelegram was being displayed, and discussed. That would not delay themlong, and it would never do for her to be discovered in the hall.
Convinced of the uselessness of remaining, she returned to her ownroom, closing and bolting the door.
This time she removed some of her clothing, and lay down on the bed,conscious of being exceedingly tired, yet in no degree sleepy. Sherested there, with wide-open eyes, listening until the distant doorcreaked again, and she heard the footsteps of the men in the hall.They had not remained in the chorus girl's room long, nor was anythingsaid outside to arouse her suspicions. Reassured, Miss Donovansnuggled down into her pillow, unable to distinguish where the menwent, but satisfied they had sought their rooms. They would attemptnothing more that night, and she had better gain what rest she could.It was not easy falling asleep, in spite of the silence, but at lastshe dropped off into a doze.
Suddenly some unusual noise aroused her, and she sat upright, unablefor the moment to comprehend what had occurred. All was still,oppressively still; she could hear the pounding of her own heart. Thensomething tingled at the glass of her window, sharply distinct, asthough a pebble had been tossed upward. Instantly she was upon herfeet, and had crossed the room, her head thrust out. The light in theoffice had been extinguished, and the night was black, yet she couldmake out dimly the figure of a man close in against the side of thehouse, a mere hulking shadow. At the same instant he seemed to moveslightly, and some missile grazed her face, and fell upon the floor,striking the rug with a dull thud. She drew back in alarm, yetimmediately grasped the thought that this must be some secret message,some communication from Westcott.
Drawing down the torn curtain, she touched a match to the lamp andsought the intruding missile. It had rolled beneath the bed--a smallstone with a bit of paper securely attached. The girl tore this openeagerly, her eyes searching the few lines:
Must see you to-night. Have learned things, and am going away. Godown back stairs, and meet me at big cottonwood behind hotel; don'tfail.
J. W.
Her breath came fast as she read, and crunched the paper into the palmof her hand. She understood, and felt no hesitancy. Westcott had madediscoveries so important he must communicate them at once and there wasno other way. He dare not come to her openly at that hour. Well, shewas not afraid--not of Jim Westcott. Even in her hurry she was dimlyconscious of the utter, complete confidence she felt in the man; evenof the strange interest he had inspired. She paused in her hastydressing, wondering at herself, dimly aware that a new feeling partlyactuated her desire to meet the man again--a feeling thoroughly aliento the Cavendish mystery. She glanced into the cracked mirror andlaughed, half ashamed at her eagerness, yet utterly unable to suppressthe quickened beat of her pulse.
She was ready almost in a minute, and had blown out the lamp. Againshe ventured a glance out into the street below, but the skulkingfigure had disappeared, no one lurked anywhere in the gloom. There wasnot a sound to disturb the night. She almost held her breath as sheopened the door silently and crept out into the hall. Stella possessedno knowledge of any back stairway, but the dim light enabled her toadvance in comparative quiet.
Once a board creaked slightly, even under her light tread, and shepaused, listening intently. She could distinguish the sound of heavysleepers, but no movement to cause alarm, and, assured of this, creptforward. The hall turned sharply to the right, narrowing and becomingdark as the rays of light failed to negotiate the corner. Twenty feetdown this passage ended in a door. This was unlocked, and yieldedeasily to the grasp of her hand. It opened upon a narrow platform, andshe ventured forth. Gripping the hand-rail she descended slowly intothe darkness below, the excitement of the adventure causing her heartto beat like a trip-hammer.
At the bottom she was in a gloom almost impenetrable, but her feet felta cinder path and against the slightly lighter sky her eyes managed todistinguish the gaunt limbs of a tree not far distant, the only onevisible and d
oubtless the cottonwood referred to in the note.
Shrinking there in the black shadow of the building she realisedsuddenly the terror of her position--the intense loneliness; thesilence seemed to smite her. There occurred to her mind the wild,rough nature of the camp, the drunkenness of the night before; the widecontrast between that other scene of debauchery and this solitude ofsilence leaving her almost unnerved. She endeavoured to recall hersurroundings, how the land lay here at the rear of the hotel. Shecould see only a few shapeless outlines of scattered buildings, notenough to determine what they were like. She had passed along that waytoward the bridge that afternoon, yet now she could remember little,except piles of discarded tin cans, a few scattered tents, and a cattlecorral on the summit of the ridge.
Still it was not far to the tree, and surely there could be no dangerat this hour. If there had been Westcott would never have asked her tocome. The very recurrence of his name gave her strength and courage.Her hands clenched with determination and she drew in a long breath,her body straightening. Why, actually, she had been frightened of thedark; like a child she had been peopling the void with the demons offancy. It struck her as so ridiculous that she actually laughed toherself as she started straight toward the tree, which now seemed tobeckon her.
It was a rough path, sandy, interspersed with small rocks, and led downinto a gully. The tree stood on the opposite bank, which was so steepshe had to grasp its outcropping roots in order to pull herself up.Even after gaining footing she saw nothing of Westcott, heard no soundindicating his presence.
A coyote howled mournfully in the distance, and a stray breath of airstirred one of the great leaves above into a startled rustling. Shecrept about the gnarled trunk, every nerve aquiver, shaded her eyeswith one hand, and peered anxiously around into the gloom. Suddenlysomething moved to her right, and she shrank back against the tree,uncertain if the shapeless thing approaching was man or beast. He wasalmost upon her before she was sure; then her lips gave utterance to alittle sob of relief.
"Oh! You frightened me so!"
The man stopped, scarcely a yard away, a burly figure, but with faceindistinguishable.
"Sorry to do that," he said, "but no noise, please."
She shrank back to the edge of the bank, conscious of the grip of agreat fear.
"You--you are not Mr. Westcott?" she choked. "Who are you? What is ityou want?"
The man laughed, but made no move.
"Hard luck to come out here to meet Jim, an' run up against a totallydifferent proposition--hey, miss?" he said grimly. "However, thisain't goin' ter be no love affair--not yit, at least. If I wuz you Iwouldn't try makin' no run fer it; an' if yer let out a screech, I'llhav' ter be a bit rough."
"You--you are after me?"
"Sure; you've been playin' in a game what's none o' your business. NowI reckon it's the other party's turn to throw some cards. Thought yerwas comin' out yere ter meet up with Jim Westcott, didn't yer?"
She made no answer, desperately seeking some means of escape, the fullsignificance of her position clear before her.
"Got a nice little note from Jim," the fellow went on, "an' lost notime a gittin' yere. Well, Westcott is not liable to be sendin' feryer again very soon. What ther hell----"
She had dashed forward, seeking to place the trunk of the tree betweenthem, the unexpected movement so sudden, she avoided his grasp. Butsuccess was only for an instant. Another hand gripped her, hurling herback helplessly.
"You are some sweet little lady's man, Moore," snarled a new voiceraspingly. "Now let me handle this business my own way. Go get thatteam turned around. I'll bring the girl. Come on now, miss, and theless you have to say the better."
She grasped at the bark, but the fellow wrenched her loose, forcing herforward. Her resistance evidently angered him, for he suddenlysnatched her up into the iron grip of his arms and held her there,despite her struggles.
"Keep still, you damn tiger-cat," he hissed, "or I'll quiet you forgood. Don't take this for any play acting, or you'll soon be sorry.There now, try it again on your own feet."
"Take your hands off me then."
"Very well--I will; but I've got something here to keep you quiet," andhe touched his belt threateningly.
"What is it you want of me? Who are you?"
"We'll discuss that later. Just now, move on--yes, straight ahead.You see that wagon over there? Well, that is where you are bound atpresent. Move on pronto."
She realised the completeness of the trap into which she had fallen,the futility of resistance. If the man who seemed in control exhibitedany consideration, it was not from the slightest desire to show mercy,but rather to render the work as easy as possible. She was ashelplessly in his power as though bound and gagged. Before themappeared the dim outline of a canvas covered wagon silhouetted againstthe sky, to which was hitched a team of horses.
As they approached the shapeless figures of two men appeared in thegloom, one at the head of the team and the other holding back thecanvas top. Her guard gripped her arm, and peered about through thedarkness.
"Isn't Ned here yet?"
"Yes, all right," answered a muffled voice to the left. "I just cameout; here are the grips and other things."
"Sure you cleaned up everything?"
"Never left a pin; here, Moore, pass them up inside."
"And about the note?"
"She wrote that, and pinned it on the pillow."
"Good, that will leave things in fine shape," he laughed. "I'd like tosee Jim's face when he reads that, and the madder he gets the less hewill know what to do."
"And you want us to stay?" asked the other doubtfully.
"Stay--of course; I am going to stay myself. It is the only way todivert suspicion. Good Lord, man, if we all disappeared at once theywould know easy enough what had happened. Don't you ever believeWestcott is that kind of a fool. More than that--there will be nosafety for us now until we get him out of the way; he knows too much.Whereas your fat friend--old money-bags?"
"He thought it best to keep out of it; he's back inside."
"I imagined so; this sort of thing is not in his line. All ready, Joe?"
The man at the wagon muttered some response.
"Then up you go, miss; here, put your foot on the wheel; give her alift, will you?"
Anxious to escape further indignities, and comprehending theuselessness of any further struggle, with a man on either side of her,Miss Donovan silently clambered into the wagon, and seated herself on awide board, evidently arranged for that purpose. The fellow who hadheld back the top followed, and snuggled into the seat beside her. Shenoticed now he held a gun in his hand, which he deposited between hisknees. The leader drew back the flap of canvas endeavouring to peerinto the dark interior.
"All set?"
"Sure."
"Well, keep awake, Joe, and mind what I told yer. Now, Moore, up withyou, and drive like hell; you must be in the bad lands before daylight."
A fellow clambered to the seat in front, his figure outlined againstthe sky, and picked up the reins. Those within could hear theshuffling of the horses' feet as though they were eager to be off. Thedriver leaned forward.
"Whoa, there, now; quiet, Jerry. Did you say I was to take the ridgeroad?"
"You bet; it's all rock and will leave no trail. Take it easy andquiet until you are beyond Hennessey's ranch, and then give them thewhip."
The next moment they were under way, slowly advancing through thedarkness.
The Strange Case of Cavendish Page 16
