CHAPTER VIII
[Lady Elizabeth does not know the Marquis
de Richemont]
Before he could answer, an order came for the prisoner to be brought forward. After ascending a flight of worn stone steps and going through a long dark passage, a great door was thrown open at its end, and he was confronted by a blaze of light which dazzled him at first, until, his eyes becoming accustomed to the illumination, he realized that he stood on the threshold of a splendid hall in the old keep, which had possibly once been the banqueting hall of the castle. Long lancet windows upon one side, their leaded frames filled with rich painted glass, looked out upon the sea, whose waves beating ceaselessly upon the bluff below filled the room with a subdued murmur like a strain of hushed and vibrant music, such was the elevation of the tower.
The room was massively and splendidly furnished with heavy antique furniture. The stone walls were covered with hangings of rich old tapestry from the famous looms of Arras. Here and there were portraits of distinguished members of the Westbrooke family,--women renowned for their lustrous beauty, or men who, holding the castle at different times, had made their names famous by their bravery and skill. The prisoner's feet sank into a thick, soft, luxurious carpet stretched upon the stone flags of the old floor.
Writing at a large table standing near the centre of the room and covered with candelabra, sat a bewigged old man of commanding presence dressed in a naval uniform covered with orders and stars bespeaking high rank. Farther away, with her back turned to the light, and to the door by which he had entered, a young woman sat, apparently reading intently. One glance at the graceful curve of her neck and the exquisite poise of her head told him it was she. Forgetful of everything else, he would have stepped forward, had it not been for the restraining hand of the sergeant.
"The prisoner, m' Lud," said the latter, saluting.
The admiral continued his writing a moment, and then looking up fixed his eyes keenly upon the young man. His first glance told him that he had to deal with no ordinary prisoner. He rose at once and bowed with the courtesy of a finished gentleman.
"Have the goodness to step forward, sir, and be seated," he said, pointing to the chair. "Sergeant, remain on guard where you are."
With an equally low bow to the older man, O'Neill took a few steps in his direction and sat down on the indicated chair in front of the admiral, facing him and the woman beyond, who, still intent upon her book or lost in thought, had not yet noticed his entrance. Prisoners, in fact, being every-day occurrences at the castle in these troublous times, they had ceased to interest her; still the unusual complaisance of the old man, as expressed by his voice and manner, attracted her attention; she looked up from the book without turning her head, and listened.
"I am sorry to subject you to any annoyance, sir," continued the admiral, "but the rules are very strict, and I must abide by my own regulations. We apprehend a descent upon our coast by the notorious pirate, John Paul Jones--" O'Neill started violently and bit his lip, but said nothing--"and it is my duty to take unusual precautions," added the speaker. "I must ask your name, your station, and business here."