The Castle Of The Shadows

by A. M. Williamson

Suddenly a tall figure rose up on a slight eminence and waved its arms, then disappeared again so quickly that it might almost have been a fantastic shadow; but quickly as it had come and gone, Roger and George knew that their hope had not been in vain. Convict 1280 had completed the first stage of his journey. He had seen them coming to the rescue, and he had given them the secret of his hiding-place.

The two men were alone in the launch. Now, without a word, Roger Broom headed it for the point where the figure had appeared. There was a strange confusion of emotions in his brain, which still left it clear to act. Under his habitual air of lazy indifference he hid strong feelings, and at this moment they worked within him like fermenting wine. In this adventure he was playing for great stakes. Twice in the last year had Virginia refused him; her love and her beautiful self were all that Roger craved for in the world, but he had meant never to ask for them again, when this mad scheme of rescue had been conceived. He had opposed it as foolish and impossible; then Virginia had hinted that, if he would join her in it, giving help and advice, she would refuse him nothing. After that day he had thrown himself into the adventure heart and soul, saying little, but doing all that man could do. Though his few words had sometimes discouraged Virginia's ardent hopes, he had doggedly meant to succeed if he had to die in the supreme effort. He had put his whole soul into the work, with no other thought until to-day. Then—he had seen what George Trent had seen; a certain look in Virginia's eyes as they pleaded with Maxime Dalahaide to free himself. Her lips had said: "Do this for your sister's sake." But her eyes had said: "Do it for mine." Never had such a light shone in those beautiful eyes for Roger; never would it so shine for him; and he knew it well, with a dull, miserable sickening of the heart, which was like a pinch from the hand of Death.

In a moment the whole face of the world had changed for him. He was a man of honour, and he would go on along the path which he had traced out for himself; but the wish to succeed in his task for the sake of success was murdered by that sweet light in a girl's eyes. Something coldly calculating said to Roger Broom that it would be a good thing for him if Maxime failed to come to the rendezvous, on that night or any other night; or, if, in case he came, he should be retaken. Should this happen, Virginia's implied promise need not hold good, but Roger thought he knew her generous heart well enough to be certain that she would in the end reward him for what he had tried to do, even though—not through his fault—the fight had been in vain. On the other hand, if he and George succeeded in saving Dalahaide, in bringing Dalahaide to Virginia—but Roger would not quite finish that thought in his mind. Resolutely he turned his back upon it, yet it grinned an evil, skeleton grin over his shoulder, and he could not make his ears deaf to the whisper that though he could and would hold Virginia to the keeping of her bargain, her heart would always have a holy of holies shut away from him.

Roger hated the cold Voice that explained his heart to his head, and he did his best not to listen. But all he could compass was not to let himself be guided by its promptings. If he had desired Dalahaide's escape as whole-heartedly as before, he could have worked for it no harder than he did; still, he experienced no warmth of gladness at sight of the dark figure silhouetted for an instant against a moonlit haze. Trent was not close to him in the launch, and yet somehow he felt the thrill of joyous relief which shot through the younger man's body at the signal, and envied it. But all was different with George; he could afford to be single-minded. Roger knew very well that George was in love with Madeleine Dalahaide, and that there was nothing he would not sacrifice for the happiness of giving her back her brother.

As Roger Broom wrestled with his own black thoughts, the launch, which had hitherto slipped swiftly toward its goal, dividing the rushes and reeds of the lagoon, refused to move on. The lush, green barricade was too thick to be cut through by its clean bow and the force of its powerful little electric motor.

"It's no good," whispered George. "We can't get on any farther. This is what I was afraid of. He'll have to come out to us. Thank goodness, if we can't get through, neither can the sharks."

"Where is he? Can you see him?" Roger asked. And the Voice was loud in his ears again.

"No, I wish I could. I don't like to sing out. This luck of ours so far is too good to last."

"Stand up and wave your hand. Perhaps he'll see and reply," said Roger.

Somehow he wanted George to take the initiative now. He was afraid of being unconsciously guided by the Voice.