Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction; Love stories; Nobility -- Fiction
There was no struggle. Chase and Selim were upon the stupefied islanders
before they could move, covering them with their rifles. The wretches
fell upon their knees and howled for mercy. While Deppingham was holding
his wife's limp form in his arms, calling out to her in the agony of
fear, utterly oblivious to all else that was happening about him, his
two friends were swiftly disarming the grovelling natives. Selim's knife
severed the cords that bound Bobby Browne's hands; he was staring
blankly, dizzily before him, and many minutes passed before he was able
to comprehend that deliverance had come.
Ten minutes later Chase was addressing himself to the four islanders,
who, bound and gagged, were tied by their own sashes to trees some
distance from the roadside.
"I've just thought of a little service you fellows can perform for me in
return for what I've done for you. All the time you're doing it,
however, there will be pistols quite close to your backs. I find that
Lady Deppingham is much too weak to take the five miles' walk we've got
to do in the next two hours--or less. You are to have the honour of
carrying her four miles and a half, and you will have to get along the
best you can with the gags in your mouths. I'm rather proud of the
inspiration. We were up against it, hard, until I thought of you fellows
wasting your time up here in the woods. Corking scheme, isn't it? Two of
you form a basket with your hands--I'll show you how. You carry her for
half a mile; then the other two may have the satisfaction of doing
something just as handsome for the next half mile--and so on. Great,
eh?"
And it was in just that fashion that the party started off without delay
in the direction of the château. Two of the cowed but eager islanders
were carrying her ladyship between them, Deppingham striding close
behind in a position to catch her should she again lose consciousness.
Her tense fingers clung to the straining shoulders of the carriers, and,
although she swayed dizzily from time to time, she maintained her trying
position with extreme courage and cool-headedness. Now and then she
breathed aloud the name of her husband, as if to assure herself that he
was near at hand. She kept her eyes closed tightly, apparently uniting
every vestige of force in the effort to hold herself together through
the last stages of the frightful ordeal which had fallen to her that
night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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