Abduction -- Fiction; Americans -- Europe -- Fiction; Love stories
“Oh, you brute! How can you suggest such a thing?” she cried, and
she longed to sit close beside him, even though he was her most
detested enemy.
“Oh, I would have saved you from that fate, never fear.”
“But you could not have known that I was inside the passage.”
“Do you suppose I came down here on a pleasure trip?”
“You--you don't mean that you knew I was here?”
“Certainly; it is why I came to this blessed spot. It is my duty to
see that no harm comes to you, Dorothy.”
“I prefer to be called Miss Garrison,” coldly.
“If you had been merely Miss Garrison to me, you'd be off on a
bridal tour with Ravorelli at this moment, instead of enjoying a
rather unusual tete-a-tete with me. Seriously, Dorothy, you will be
wise if you submit to the inevitable until fate brings a change of
its own accord. You are brave and determined, I know, and I love you
more than ever for this daring attempt to get out of Craneycrow, but
you don't know what it might have brought you to. Good heavens, no
one knows what dangers lie in those awful passages. They have not
been used in a hundred years. Think of what you were risking. Don't,
for your own sake, try anything so uncertain again. I knew you were
down here, but no one else knows. How you opened that secret door, I
do not know, but we both know what happened to one other poor wretch
who solved the mystery.”
“I didn't solve it, really I didn't. I don't know how it happened.
It just opened, that's all, and then I--oh, it was terrible!” She
covered her eyes with her hands and he leaped to his feet.
“Don't think about it, Dorothy. It was enough to frighten you to
death. Gad, I should have gone mad had I been in your place.” He put
his arm about her shoulder, and for a moment she offered no
resistance. Then she remembered who and what he was and imperiously
lifted angry eyes to his.
“The skeleton may have been a gentleman in his day, Mr. Quentin.
Even now, as I think of him in horror, he could not be as detestable
as you. Open this door, sir!” she said, her voice quivering with
indignation.
“I wish I could--Dorothy, you don't believe that I have the power to
open this door and am blackguard enough to keep you here? My God,
what do you think I am?” he cried, drawing away from her.
“Open this door!” she commanded, resolutely. He looked long and
earnestly into her unflinching eyes, and his heart chilled as if ice
had clogged the blood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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