CHAPTER XXVII
AGAIN THE WOMAN
IT seemed to me that door, now tightly closed, typified everything, and I remained staring at it, sitting motionless, with hand shading my eyes. It was all over, then—all over. There might have been friendship between us, but not love. I had come within the radius of her life too late for that. I could not comprehend how I had ever hoped it might be otherwise. Surely no act or word of hers had been meant to give me encouragement. Yet there was something in the depths of those frank eyes which had led me on, which had aroused confidence, and awakened my dream. Even now, staring at that tightly closed door, I could not entirely convince myself all was over between us. That parting contained a message of the eyes which would not permit me to think of her as being indifferent, or devoid of feeling. There was a touch of mystery about the girl which continued to tantalize and puzzle me. Even as the memory of her glance caused hope to revive, I called myself a fool for yielding to it. Surely her decision was definite enough, and she had clearly meant this was to end all. By seeking her again I would only torture us both to no purpose. It would be far better to accept her refusal, and depart as speedily as possible. Indeed, as a gentleman, nothing else remained for me to do. Whatever her unguarded eyes may have seemed to reveal, undoubtedly it was no more than kindness, upon which I had no right to presume. Her heart belonged to another; she had definitely told me so, and this knowledge alone was sufficient to decide my action. I could no longer trouble her and retain my self-respect.
I got up slowly, feeling greater weakness than I had been aware of during the excitement of our interview, and advanced to where I could survey myself in the mirror. Evidently one of my nurses had bathed my face, but my uniform jacket was sadly torn, and my appearance was not improved by the cloth bound across my forehead. I removed this, disclosing a jagged cut at the edge of the hair, which had ceased to bleed, however, and I left it uncovered, replacing my hat so that the wound was scarcely visible. A bottle of brandy, half filled, stood on the dresser, and I took a swallow, the fiery stuff sending new life through my veins. The experience of the past few hours had marked me in various ways: I looked older, my eyes heavy from lack of sleep, my face white from loss of blood, my whole appearance that of a man tired and worn out by worry and strenuous exertion. I stood staring at the reflected face, dimly aware that all the appearance of boyhood had gone out of it, realizing that it was indeed my own, yet scarcely recognizing the changed features. It seemed impossible that peril and exertion could have left such plain outward manifestations.
I was still gazing into the glass fascinated by its revelation, when, it seemed to me, the door leading into the hallway opened slightly. I could perceive the movement within the mirror, although it was noiseless, and so stealthy that I should have missed it altogether had my gaze not been concentrated upon the exact spot. Inch by inch the door opened, until sufficiently wide to permit the thrusting forward of a face. Gazing into the mirror I never moved, waiting motionless to discover who this silent visitor might be. My hands gripped the dresser, every nerve throbbing, as I saw that countenance—the haggard, ghostly lineaments of the mad woman. Our eyes met in the glass, met as if fascinated, each standing rigid from surprise, too greatly startled to cry out. There was no doubt as tn the insanity in those wild orbs staring at me, and, for the instant, I could not escape their power. They seemed to hold mt as the snake does the bird. Then my fingers gripped hard on the dresser, and I swung around, desperately resolved to make the creature captive. With my first hostile move the door clicked shut, and, before I could touch the latch, my foot caught the edge of a rug, and I fell to my knees.
The delay was merely that of an instant, and then I had flung the door wide open, and was in the hallway. A glance told me that this was the second story, but the insane woman had disappeared as completely as if dissolved in air. I could see from end to end of that hall, past the rail of the staircase, back to the fire screen hiding the secret passage, but I was there alone. The screen was in its place, and every door, so far as I could see, closed. Where had that woman vanished so quickly? It would have been impossible for her to traverse the length of that hall, and operate the tunnel entrance in so brief space of time. Could she have gone down the stairs? I sprang to the railing, and glanced below; a guard, fully armed, stood just within the front door, leaning on his rifle. No one could pass that way unobserved; then she must be hiding within one of the rooms.
So certain was I of this that I took time to the search, opening door after door, and surveying each interior thus revealed with a carefulness which convinced me they were absolutely empty. I found not a single locked door, or anything arousing my suspicion. Two rooms were in slight disorder, as if lately occupied, but nowhere did I discover the slightest trace of the woman sought. Thoroughly puzzled I came out of the last room, that in which the Irish lad and I had been imprisoned, and, scarcely knowing why, paused at the head of the stairs, to glance down once again at the sentry stationed below. He was apparently a young fellow, roughly dressed in butternut, a wide brimmed and rather disreputable hat shading his face. He lifted his eyes to the stairs, and I nearly cried out in startled amazement—as I lived, it was O'Brien! I would have believed it merely a strange resemblance had not the fellow impudently grinned up at me, making use of a peculiar gesture, which left no doubt of his identity. O'Brien, in pretence of Confederate uniform, acting as sentinel here as one of Donald's guerillas! What was the game? What had it to do with my escape? with the mystery of this house? And Jean?—did she know? Could she have passed and repassed without noticing the boy and recognizing him? These and a dozen other puzzling inquiries came leaping to my brain to add to my bewilderment. Even as I stared almost expecting the fellow to disappear before my very eyes, I saw him step back, and peer cautiously first into the parlor and then into the library. Apparently convinced that no one was near enough to observe his movements, he ran swiftly up the stairs, still grasping his rifle. Halfway up he paused, his eyes keeping a sharp lookout below.
"For the Lord's sake, sor," he whispered hoarsely, "av ye're goin' to skip, now's the toime, before the Sergeant gits here wid my relief."
"What do you mean? Have you been stationed there to let me slip through?"
"Sure, that's the programme. It's the girl that fixed it all up, an' a damn smart one she is, sor."
"Not Miss Denslow?"
"An' who the divil else would it be? Sure she picked me out from the whole bunch for the job, an' niver cracked a smoile, but them pretty oies of hers was dancin'. Just now whin she came down she give me the wink, an' said I was to pass ye out, an' niver say nothin'."
"But what are you doing here? What's the meaning of this masquerade? "
The fellow grinned, bringing his hand to a salute.
"I'm Private O'Brien, sor, of the Confed army, but damn av I know what part. I wus lift behind whin me fellow sojers departed after the late fracas. Sometimes I tell thim I belonged to Dodd's squad, sometoimes to Theilen's, an" thin agin I came over here wid Lieutenant Dunn. Divil a bit o' difference it makes so I belong to some other outfit than the fellow I'm talkin' to. It's an illigant liar I am, begorra, an' that's how I hold the job."
"Yes, but how do you come here? What sre you up to?"
"Up to gittin' away as soon as the noight comes, sor," in a whisper. "Sure thim divils shot the horse undher me, an' I came down in in a bit of bush, so shook up I did n't know me own name for an hour. Thin there was no gittin' away, an' I lay there studyin' it all out, an' watchin' thim Rebs lavin'. The way they had fixed me, I could n't see how I was iver goin' to git shut of thim except by bein' a Reb myself for a whoile. So I shtole a coat—this beauty I've got on, sor—an' a hat; an', afther the most of thim had marched away, I came out an' reported to the Sergeant. He talked to me loike hell, sor, till the girl took me part, an' since thin he's bin civil enough."
"Miss Denslow took your part?" I questioned in surprise. "What did she say?"
The Irish eyes twinkled merrily.
"Bedad, she said she knew me; that I was wan of Liftenant Dunn's cavalrymen."
"She said that?"
"Begorra she did, sor, an' I stood lookin' at her purty face wid my mouth open. It was a beautiful loi, sor, an she niver cracked a smoile while she was givin' it to him. She'd a' fooled a betther man than that sergeant wid the honest way of her, an' thim eyes a-lookin' sthraight at him. They're great divils, thim girls."
"But why did she do this? What object could she have had?"
He rubbed his sleeve across his mouth, leaning over the railing to where he could look the full length of the hall; then he straightened up, his face solemn as a preacher's.
"Begorra, at first I thought it was me manly beauty that did it. Damned av I did n't, sor, she was that foine to me, a-smoilin' beautiful, wid her broight oies lookin' stiiraight into moine. The Sergeant an' meself both got it in the neck. But afther a whoile I woke up from me dhrame; but sure i' it was sweet whoile it lasted."
"What is all this you're talking about, O'Brien? "
"About yourself, sor. Begorra, you was the wan the loidy was thinkin' about all the toime. Ivery wan of thim smoiles was on account of you. Divil a bit did the loikes of her care for aither the Sergeant or meself, so she got you out of here safe. Bedad, she about the same as tould me so wid her own rosy lips not tin minutes ago."
This knowledge of Jean's interest in me quickened my pulses, but I had no inclination to discuss such a matter with O'Brien, or to question him as to what she may have said in excitement. Indeed, at that moment I felt more anxiety to solve the haunting mystery of the house than to escape. I was afraid to depart leaving that insane, murderous woman at large.
"Did she tell you to pass me?"
"She did, sor, an' there's two horses outside, an' a clear field for the both of us."
"Well, O'Brien, I am not going," and my voice had the tone of determination. "Not now, at least; not until I can leave things in better shape here. I have n't any right to interfere with your escape, my boy, but I am going to clear up the mystery of this place before I leave these women unguarded. I have just seen that crazy woman again."
"Ye have?"
"Yes; she opened the door of the front chamber. I saw her face clearly in the mirror, but I tripped and fell, and she got away. God knows where she went, for I've hunted every room on this floor, and she could n't have come down these stairs without your seeing her."
"The tunnel, sor."
"I've thought of that, but she had no time to reach there before I was in the hall. There may be some other way leading into it, of course, which we have not yet discovered, but I am not going to run away leaving her here to commit more murders. What about you?"
"Sure I'm wid ye, sor."
"Then go back there and serve your guard. You can help me more in that way than any other just now. Keep Miss Denslow down below, if possible, and don't take your eyes off these stairs. When is your relief?"
"An hour yit, sor."
"Good: that will give me plenty of time. Get back to your post."