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Jeanne Of The Marshes, a novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim |
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Book 2 - Chapter 13 |
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_ BOOK II CHAPTER XIII "I am afraid," Jeanne declared, "that I cannot go on. I have not the eyes of a cat. I cannot see one step before me." Her companion laughed softly as she turned round. "I forgot," she said. "You are town bred. To us the darkness is nothing. Do not be afraid. I know the way, every inch of it. Give me your hand." "But I cannot see at all," Jeanne declared. "How far is this place?" "Less than a mile," Kate answered. "Trust to me. I will see that nothing happens to you. Hold my hand tightly, like that. Now come." Jeanne reluctantly trusted herself to her companion's guidance. They made their way down the rough road which led from the home of the Caynsards, half cottage, half farmhouse, to the lane at the bottom. There was no moon, and though the wind was blowing hard, the sky seemed everywhere covered with black clouds. When Kate opened the wooden gate which led on to the marshes, Jeanne stopped short. "I am not going any farther," she declared. "Even you, I am sure, could not find your way on the marshes to-night. Didn't you hear what the fisherman said, too, that it was a flood tide? Many of the paths are under water. I will not go any farther, Kate. If there is anything you have to tell me, say it now." She felt a hand suddenly tighten upon her arm, a hand which was like a vice. "You must come with me," Kate said. "As to the other things, do not be foolish. On these marshes I am like a cat in a dark room. I could feel my way across every inch of them on the blackest night that ever was. I know how high the tide is. I measured it but half an hour since by Treadwell's pole. You come with me, miss. You'll not miss your way by a foot. I promise you that." Even then Jeanne was reluctant. They were on the top of the grass- grown dyke now, and below she could dimly see the dark, swelling water lapping against the gravel bottom. "But you do not understand," she declared. "I do not even know where to put my feet. I can see nothing, and the wind is enough to blow us over the sides. Listen! Listen how it comes booming across the sand dunes. It is not safe here. I tell you that I must go back." Her companion only laughed a little wildly. "There will be no going back to-night," she said. "You must come with me. Set your feet down boldly. If you are afraid, take this." She handed her a small electric torch. "It's one of those new-fangled things for making light in the darkness," she remarked. "It's no use to me, for if I could not see I could feel. For us who live here, 'tis but an instinct to find our way, in darkness or in light, across the land where we were born. But if you are nervous, press the knob and you will see." Jeanne took the torch with a little sigh of relief. "Go on," she said. "I don't mind so much now I have this." Nevertheless, as they moved along she found it sufficiently alarming. The top of the bank was but a few feet wide. The west wind, which came roaring down across the great open spaces, with nothing to check or divide its strength, was sometimes strong enough to blow them off their balance. On either side of the dyke was the water, black and silent. Here and there the torch light showed them a fishing-smack or a catboat, high and dry a few hours ago, now floating on the bosom of the full tide. They came to a stile, and Jeanne's courage once more failed her. "I cannot climb over this," she said. "I shall fall directly I lift up my feet." Kate turned round with a little laugh of contempt. Jeanne felt herself suddenly lifted in a pair of strong arms. Before she knew where she was she was on the other side. Breathless she followed her guide, who came to a full stop a few yards farther on. "Turn on your light," Kate ordered. "Look down on the left. There should be a punt there." Jeanne turned on the torch. A great flat-bottomed boat, shapeless and unwieldy, was just below. Kate stepped lightly down the steep bank, and with one foot on the side of the punt, held out her hand to Jeanne. "Come," she said. "Step carefully." "But what are we going to do?" Jeanne asked. "You are not going in that?" "Why not?" Kate laughed. "It is a few strokes only. We are going to cross to the ridges." Jeanne followed her. Somehow or other she found it hard to disobey her guide. None the less she was afraid. She stepped tremblingly down into the punt, and sat upon the broad wet seat. Kate, without a moment's hesitation, took up the great pole and began pushing her way across the creek. The tide was almost at its height, but even then the current was so strong that they went across almost sideways, and Jeanne heard her companion's breath grow shorter and shorter, as with powerful strokes she did her best to guide and propel the clumsy craft. "We are going out toward the sea," Jeanne faltered. "It is getting wider and wider." She flashed her torch across the dark waters. They could not see the bank which they had left or the ridges to which they were making. "Don't be afraid," Kate answered. "After all, you know, we can only die once, and life isn't worth making such a tremendous fuss over." "I do not want to die," Jeanne objected, "and I do not like this at all." Kate laughed contemptuously. "Sit still," she said, "and you are as safe as though you were in your own armchair. No current that ever ran could upset this clumsy raft. The only reason I am working so hard is that I do not want to be carried down past the ridges. If we get too low down we shall have to walk across the black mud." Jeanne kept silence, listening only to the swirl of the water struck by the pole, and to the quick breathing of her companion. Once she asked whether she could not help. "There is no need," Kate answered. "Shine your torch on the left. We are nearly across." Almost as she spoke they struck the sandy bottom. Jeanne fell into the bottom of the boat. Kate, with a little laugh, sprang ashore and held out her hand. "Come," she said, "we have crossed the worst part now." "Where are we going?" Jeanne asked, a little relieved as she felt her feet land on the sodden turf. "Towards the Hall," Kate answered. "Give me your hand, if you like, or use your torch. The way is simple enough, but we must twist and turn to-night. It has been a flood tide, and there are great pools left here and there, pools that you have never seen before." "But how do you know?" Jeanne asked, in amazement. "I can see nothing." Her guide laughed contemptuously. "I can see and I can feel," she said. "It is an instinct with me to walk dry-footed here. To the right now--so." "Stand still for a moment," Jeanne pleaded. "The wind takes my breath." "You have too many clothes on," Kate said contemptuously. "One should not wear skirts and petticoats and laces here." "If you would leave my clothes alone and tell me where you are going," Jeanne declared, a little tartly, "it would be more reasonable." The girl laughed. She thrust her arm through her companion's and drew her on. "Don't be angry," she said. "It is quite easy now to find our way. There is room for us to walk like this. Can you hear what I say to you?" "I can hear," Jeanne answered, raising her voice, "but it is getting more difficult all the time. Is that the sea?" "Yes!" Kate answered. "Can't you feel the spray on your cheeks? The wind is blowing it high up above the beach. Let me go first again. There is an inlet here. Be careful." They came to a full stop before a dark arm of salt water. They skirted the side and crossed round to the other side. "Be careful, now," Kate said. "This way." They turned inland. In a few minutes her guide stopped short. "Turn on your torch," she said. "There ought to be a wall close here." Jeanne did as she was bid, and gave a little stifled cry. "Why, we are close to the Red Hall!" she said. Kate nodded. "A little way farther up there is a gate," she said. "We are going in there." "You are not going to the house?" Jeanne asked, in terror. "No," Kate answered, "I am not going there! Follow me, and don't talk more than you can help. The wind is going down." "But it is the middle of the night," Jeanne said. "No one will be astir." "One cannot tell," Kate answered slowly. "It is in my mind that there have been strange doings here, and I know well that there is a man who watches this place by day and by night. He has discovered nothing, but it is because he has not known where to look." "What do you mean?" Jeanne asked hoarsely. "Wait!" her companion said. They passed through the wooden gate. They were now in a little weedy plantation of undersized trees. The ground was full of rabbit holes, and Jeanne stumbled more than once. "How much farther?" she asked. "We are getting toward the house." "Not yet," Kate answered. "There are the gardens first, but we are not going there. Wait a moment." She felt for one of the trees, and passed her hand carefully round its trunk. Then she took a few steps forward and stopped short. "Wait!" she said. She lay flat down upon the grass and was silent for several minutes. Then she whispered to Jeanne. "Don't turn on your torch," she said. "Lie down here by my side, put your ear to the ground, and tell me whether you can hear anything." Jeanne obeyed her breathlessly. At first she could hear nothing. Her own heart was beating fast, and the boughs of the trees above them were creaking and groaning in the wind. Presently, however, she gave a little cry. From somewhere underground it seemed to her that she could hear a faint hammering. "What is it?" she asked. Kate sat up. "There is no animal," she said, "which makes a noise like that. It is somewhere there underground. It seems to me that it is some one who is trying to get out." "Some one underground?" Jeanne repeated. Kate leaned over and whispered in her ear. "There is a passage underneath here," she said, "which goes from the Hall to the cliffs, and a room, or rather a vault." "I know," Jeanne declared suddenly. "Mr. De la Borne showed it to us. It was the way the smugglers used to bring their goods up to the cellars of the Red Hall." "We are just above the room here," Kate said slowly, "and I fancy that there is some one there." A sudden light broke in upon Jeanne. "You think that it is Lord Engleton!" she declared. "Why not?" Kate answered. "Listen again, with your ear close to the ground. Last night I was almost sure that I heard him call for help." Jeanne did as she was told, and her face grew white as death. Distinctly between the strokes she heard the sound of a man moaning! _ |
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