PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT.
When I heard Mackenzie’s name pronounced by those fair lips and realized that the scoundrel had dared to force his way to Miss Hatherton’s bedchamber, I was put in such a rage as I had never known before. I did not wait for further information, but, brushing past the girl, I leaped through the open window. There was a narrow balcony beyond it—as I knew—which ran along the side of the house, and looked down on a paved courtyard overshadowed by an adjoining building.
Being familiar with the hotel, I was at no loss to account for the means by which the villain had entered and fled. I dashed at once to the end of the balcony, which was within easy reach of the limbs of a tree that grew up from the court. As I peered down from the shadows, I heard a rustling noise, and the next instant I saw a man at the base of the tree; it must have taken him all this time to descend the trunk. I was sure that I recognized Mackenzie, and as he made off I took aim with my pistol and fired. A sharp cry and an oath followed the report, but the fellow sped on to the end of the court, where a passage led out to a back street. Here a voice hailed him; showing that one or more had shared his enterprise.
But a moment had passed since I leaped out of the window, and now I found Captain Rudstone at my side.
“Did you hit him?” he demanded.
“I think so,” I replied; “but he ran like a deer.”
“He’ll not run far if I can get sight of him. To take the scoundrel will be a good card in our hands!”
With that the captain swung himself into the tree, and went down hand over hand, from limb to limb, with the agility of a cat. He was on the ground before I could have counted ten.
“Do not follow me,” he called up: and then he vanished in the shadows across the court.
I would have preferred to take a part in the chase, but I swallowed my disappointment and returned along the balcony. The pistol-shot had raised some clamor in the neighborhood. I could hear men shouting, and several lights were moving in the opposite house. I climbed through the window into the room, where I found Monsieur and Madame Ragoul and their three servants all in a state of excitement. Miss Hatherton had by this time put on a dressing-gown and slippers, and seemed to have entirely recovered from her fright. She blushed prettily as she saw me.
“You have not killed him. Mr. Carew?” she asked.
“I fear not,” I replied; “but Captain Rudstone hopes to take him.”
“It will be a shame if he escapes,” cried Madame Ragoul. “Oh, the pig—the wicked robber! He might have strangled the pretty English mademoiselle!”
The servants were rolling their eyes and shivering with fear, and Monsieur Ragoul was dancing about, with his red nightcap hanging to one ear.
“I am ruined!” he wailed. “The good name of my house is gone! Never—never did such a thing happen before! The officers of the law will enter—they will demand why a pistol is fired to waken the quarter!”
“Coward, be quiet!” snapped his wife. “The affair is no fault of ours.”
I judged it was time to interfere. The distant clamor had not perceptibly increased, and I saw some chance of keeping the matter a secret, which was a thing greatly to be desired.
“Monsieur Ragoul, I think there need be no publicity,” said I. “Will you be so good as to close the window and draw the curtains, and also put out that candle you are holding?”
He obeyed me promptly, and just as the room was darkened Baptiste made a tardy appearance. I explained the situation to him in a few words, and then I turned to Miss Hatherton.
“I trust you are none the worse,” I said. “I deeply regret that you should have suffered such an outrage—”
“And I am sorry to have put you to so much trouble on my account,” she interrupted. “This is twice you have come to my help at a time of need.”
“Then I am twice honored,” I replied. “But, tell me, was the scoundrel indeed Mr. Mackenzie?”
“I am sure of it, Mr. Carew. I woke suddenly, and saw him standing in the moonlight at the foot of my bed. When I screamed the second time he vanished through the window. It was the shock that unnerved me. I beg you to believe that I am not ordinarily a coward.”
“The adventure would have terrified the bravest of women,” I answered. Bending to her ear, I added, in a whisper: “As for Mr. Mackenzie, I take it he was seeking the dispatches?”
“Yes, he doubtless thought I still had them,” Miss Hatherton replied. “I am afraid he will pay dearly for his folly if Captain Rudstone overtakes him.”
Even as she spoke a startling thing happened. In the silence of the room we all heard the faint report of a pistol. The sound came from some distance away, and in the direction of the upper town.
“That was the captain’s shot,” I declared.
“Or Mr. Mackenzie’s,” the girl suggested, in a tone of alarm.
“The saints save us!” cried Monsieur Ragoul. “This is worse and worse!”
I was for going out to investigate, but Miss Hatherton would have it that such a step meant danger, and I yielded reluctantly to her pleadings. However, I persuaded the little Frenchman to let me into the courtyard, by which way I knew the captain would return if he was able. We went downstairs, accompanied by Baptiste, and Monsieur Ragoul unbarred and opened the side door. .
When I stepped into the court I was relieved to discover that the immediate neighborhood was comparatively quiet. But at a distance, in the direction whence the shot had come, a confused clamor was audible. I had been listening no more than a minute when I heard footsteps, and across the moonlit court came Captain Rudstone. My heart leaped for joy at the sight of him. Without a word he motioned us into the house, and closed and fastened the door. Then I knew that he had bad news.
“Monsieur Ragoul,” he said, “will you go and tell Miss Hatherton to dress at once and to put in a parcel as many of her belongings as she can carry in one hand. Be quick!”
The Frenchman dared not ask any questions. He departed in a state of alarm and mystery, and Baptiste and I were left alone with the captain. The latter rested a hand on my shoulder.
“Mr. Carew,” he said gravely, “you remember the question I put to you an hour ago? You have no longer any choice in the matter; we must leave Quebec at once—within a few minutes. That is, if we can.”
“What do you mean?” I asked hoarsely. “What has happened?”
“Much,” he replied. “In the first place, you wounded Mr. Mackenzie in the right arm. In the second place, I followed the ruffians for a quarter of a mile—there were two of them—and finally came up with them at a lonely spot. I tried to take them both, but they resisted fiercely. To save my own life I shot and killed Mackenzie’s companion, a Northwest man named Tredennis. Mackenzie fled, raising the alarm as he ran, and by a detour I got back to the hotel unobserved.”
“There is likely to be trouble over the affair,” said I; and indeed I felt more alarm than I put into my voice.
“Trouble?” cried the captain, with some irritation. “By Heavens, Mr. Carew, it’s as black an outlook as I ever faced! Mackenzie knows his power, and he will hatch up a devil of a lie. In Quebec feeling runs high against the Hudson Bay people, and the authorities openly favor the Northwest Company. I tell you there will be warrants out for our arrest within the hour—perhaps in less time. And you must perceive what the result will be if we are taken. Lord Selkirk’s dispatches will fall into the hands of our enemies; you and I will be thrown into prison. And God only knows what will become of Miss Hatherton!”
I felt a sensation as of a hand clutching at my heart. I knew that the situation was as dismal as Captain Rudstone had painted it—that we could not expect fair dealing from the authorities of Quebec. And the thought of the girl’s peril, if she should be left to the wiles of Cuthbert Mackenzie, put me in a mind to accept any opportunity of escape that offered.
“What is your plan?” I asked.
“The Yankee ship Speedwell sails for the Bay in the morning,” the captain replied. “She lies anchored a short distance down the river, and we must get on board as soon as possible. I have known her master, Hiram Bunker, of Salem, for several years.”
I made no objection to the arrangement. Baptiste had been listening, and a few sentences put everything clear. He was trusty and I saw a way to utilize him.
“Off with you to the river—to the landing at the foot of Bonaventure Street,” I directed. “There are plenty of boats about. Get possession of one, and wait for us.”
Captain Rudstone warmly approved this step. We let Baptiste into the court, locked the door, and hurried upstairs. In the hall we encountered Miss Hatherton, fully dressed and carrying a small bundle. The brave girl had promptly obeyed instructions, though ignorant of what they meant. When we explained our purpose she showed an admirable pluck and spirit, putting herself entirely in our hands, and urging us to be off without delay. Monsieur Ragoul seemed disposed to give us some trouble at first, but that blew over when we presented him with a few gold pieces, and pointed out to him that our departure was for his own good. Our destination, of course, we did not reveal.
In ten minutes more we were ready to start. My musket was strapped to my back, and the captain and I had each a bundle containing a change of clothes. We came quietly down the dark stairs, monsieur and madame leading the way, and the servants bringing up the rear—traversing the hall, we turned toward the side exit. And just then, on the front door of the hotel we heard a loud and sudden thumping.