“He was just a boy, a student in Paris, when an unscrupulous man hired him to carry a package to the United States. He accepted and when the boat landed at New York he was arrested and searched. The package was found upon him. It was opened and found to contain stolen diamonds worth a fortune.
“The youth was sentenced to two years in Leavenworth for smuggling, but when his time is up he will be taken back to Paris to be tried for the theft. The possession of the gems is enough to convict him. It means twenty-five years in a French dungeon.
“That, my curious friend, is why I seek the letter. Do you understand now?”
“Yes,” said I, “It makes a number of things clear to me. For instance, Joshua Barton is the man who wrote the letter and Blake is the fellow who received it. Probably they are the thieves who stole the diamonds.”
“Do you know Barton?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“He is a thief and a cheat.” It was said bitterly. “Yet he is so fortified with money and a fine reputation that it is impossible for a friendless woman to make a case against him.”
With gesture of unutterable weariness she turned to go, but I raised up on one elbow and called her back.
“Sonia,” said I, “what is in the next building that makes you weep so bitterly.”
In the doorway she turned on me, drew a swift, nervous breath and stood there rigidly. Her face was blanched, her eyes terror stricken. One look at her and I was instantly sorry that I had spoken.
“Don’t talk about that,” she replied in a voice that trembled, “and if you get out of here, stay away from that building. Promise me.”
“Well, I—”
“Promise!”
“I promise.”
She left the room and this time I did not try to stop her. Instead I lay back on my pillow and thought of the things she had said. Barton, whoever he was, must be a thorough thief and Blake was probably his accomplice.
But why was Blake now making such a desperate effort to recover the paper? And what did its message mean? My thoughts ran back over its words; they sounded harmless enough. Yet they must have some hidden meaning to make a young girl associate herself with brigands, lead men to commit murder, and cause the kidnaping of a respectable young physician.
With an oath to see the adventure through to the end, I dismissed the matter from my mind and speedily went to sleep, and when I awoke, hours later, the helpless feeling had passed away and I was quite myself once more. I lay upon my couch stretching my legs and flexing my arms when the girl returned, carrying a small glass of whisky which I emptied readily.
“That,” she said as she watched me drain the tumbler, “is the potion you spoke of this morning.”
“Do you mean it?” I asked her,
“I have been thinking over what you said,” she replied, withdrawing her hand. “You must leave here. Listen to me carefully. Later to-night I will lift the bar which locks your door from the outside. Make your way to the wharf. You will find boats there. Get away! Your life is in danger.”
“But Sonia—”
“Do as I say. I can’t explain now. Something has happened.”
“I can’t leave you here,” I protested.
I was on my feet now and she walked up to me and placed her hands upon my shoulders.
“You are a brave fellow, doctor,” she said. “Good luck to you.”
And with that she hurried toward the door.
“One question, Sonia,” I begged. “This fellow in the prison. Are you — in love — with him?”
She paused and gave me a hard look from her deep eyes. Then she smiled demurely.
“Yes,” she said simply. “I love him very much.”
Chapter X
Two Coups in One
Midnight. The full moon, riding high in a cloudless sky, cast its yellow light into my prison and threw grotesque shadows upon the bare walls. For the twentieth time that night I left my bunk and stole to the door and tried to open it. This time it moved silently outward. Sonia had kept her promise.
I stepped out into the hallway and felt my way slowly down the stairs. I hoped to get out of the place without being noticed, but if Blake came upon me, I told myself that he would get the surprise of his life. I was far from the helpless man he had encountered that morning. My head was clear, my eyes were bright, and my brain was alert.
Opening the door that looked upon the courtyard I peered out cautiously. There was no one in sight. This Blake was a confident fellow. I found myself admiring the cool bravado of the man. Apparently he did not deem it worth while to have a watchman upon his river castle.
I crossed the yard quickly, gained the welcome shadow of the smaller building, and began to work my way around it toward the river where I hoped to find a boat. I had taken a few steps when I was halted by a low moan that came from within the building. A moment later the heavy silence of the island was broken by the most peculiar wailing cry that has ever struck my ears. I stood motionless, cold chills running down my spine.
It is not easy for me to describe that awful shriek. It was not the cry of a person in physical pain, but rather the agonized, sobbing wail of some one suffering great mental anguish. Whether it was man or woman I could not tell.
I stood stock-still and waited. Once more the cry arose from within the building and this time it ended in a long-drawn note of despair. This was followed by a weird rattling of chains. I hesitated, not knowing what to do next. The words of the girl in the green dress came back to me:
“Don’t go near that building!”
In the uppermost story of the mill a light flashed on and I saw the shadows of two figures upon the drawn window shade. They were probably coming to investigate. It was high time for me to be off. I slid around the corner of the building and took to my heels, scuttling into a dense clump of bushes that lined the crooked path to the river.
I soon came to the wharf, a small but substantial affair which had the look of having been recently constructed. Three rowboats were swinging in the current at its lower end and I had just indulged in a smile at the ease with which my escape had been managed when my ear caught the sound of heavy footsteps and a man hove into view. He came upon the wharf and began to stamp to and fro, singing all the while in a deep, robust voice:
I smiled again. Here was real luck. The singer of ribald songs was the huge youth who had ransacked my room. I had a score to settle with him.
Looking hastily about me I seized a stout piece of wood that was on the ground and balanced it in my hand. It would do very nicely, I told myself, as I moved toward the singing sentry. When I came to the edge of the wharf I flattened myself close to the timbers and waited until he had walked within a few feet of me and had turned back; then I hopped from my hiding place and followed him stealthily.
As he swung about again he faced me, eyes wide, mouth agape. For an instant we stood there; then his big hand went toward his belt, but he was far too late. I laughed as I brought the club down upon his head, and the force of the blow pitched him from his feet and sent him sprawling upon the boards. In the next few moments I did some fast work.
I loaded the big young man into one of the boats, after separating him from a wicked-looking pistol, cut the other two boats adrift and then shoved out into the river, pulling at the oars with all my strength. The current was strong and I was carried downstream with every stroke, but I did not mind. I could always walk back.
In the bottom of the boat my guest stirred and blinked at me from glassy eyes.