"It's not fair; it's not fair!" she screamed. "She shan't be saved! Me too; me too!" and she shook her ironbound hands impotently at the aeroplane. Purse and his men looked on aghast, for Lady Wyke was now up to her middle in the sand.
There was no word, from Craver, and no cry from Claudia. The rope had dropped truly, and one end was in her hands, while the other was fastened to the seat of the machine. Edwin kept his engine going at full speed, swung low, and then curved for the ascent. The rope tightened, there came a steady pull, and Claudia was plucked from peril, just as the sands had her in their grip up to the knees. With an angry, despairing cry, Lady Wyke saw her hated rival swinging in the air and borne out of danger as the aeroplane slanted skywards with a rush. Then the pilot descended lower and lower gradually, until the rescued girl, now on firm ground, was able to let go her hold. With a faint moan she did so, and sank insensible on the sands, while the aeroplane rose in the air to sweep upward majestically, to skim over the cliffs, and finally to alight with a run near the barn.
But Lady Wyke saw nothing of this. Swiftly and surely the greedy sands sucked her down into their depths. Her waist, her shoulders, her neck disappeared, while the sergeant and the coastguards looked on helplessly. With ropes and board the rescuers scrambled down the cliffs just as the miserable woman's black head vanished for ever. Without a sound, she went down into the halls of death, by a far more cruel road than the one she had forced her husband to travel. And when Claudia awoke from her death-like trance she was lying in the sheltering arms of her lover.
"Lady Wyke?" she murmured, feebly. Edwin silently pointed to the quicksands, which gleamed and glittered, and appeared to smile in the evening light. There was not a sign of the evil woman who had been swallowed up by them. And the incoming tide began to break in little waves over her nameless grave.
[CHAPTER XXVI.]
With the death of Lady Wyke and the discovery of her wickedness came the end of trouble. There certainly remained a little to be endured by those connected with the tragedy, for the whole strange story was made public. That led to an invasion of Hedgerton by reporters, photographers, and many morbid-minded people in search of sensation. The Rectory was besieged, and Edwin, to protect Claudia from worry, was compelled to grant interviews. The girl herself remained in her room for some days, as she had received a severe shock. But that did not prevent her portrait from appearing in the illustrated papers, since it was procured from Mr. Lemby.
The pirate was in his element. Far from disliking such publicity he gloried in it, and turned it, to good account. Money was what he wanted, and money was what he intended to get--as much as he could conveniently screw of this person and that. He charged for interviews; he had his photograph sold in the streets and in shops; he swanked and swaggered all over the place with a view to impress everyone with his importance. And he succeeded; for the case caused such a sensation that an enterprising music-hall manager offered the buccaneer an engagement at a large weekly salary. Mr. Lemby, therefore, appeared in a kind of Captain Kidd costume to relate wild adventures in the South Seas and in Australia. Both Edwin and Claudia were horribly ashamed. As for Mrs. Craver, her indignation knew no bounds.
"What kind of a man is this," she wrathfully demanded, "to have such a daughter as you, Claudia? People didn't do these things when I was a girl."
"It won't last long," replied Claudia with a sigh. "Very soon the novelty will wear off, and then father will go back to Australia."
"I'm sure I shall be glad." said the little lady, drawing herself up in a dignified way. "And I don't mean any disrespect to you, my dear, when I say so. You are a sweet girl, and will make Edwin an ideal wife. Your father is fascinating in some ways, and has many good qualities. All the same, he should not try and make capital out of this dreadful case."