She heard the shout of Waldron for the guards and knew that the complete plan had failed. Billy’s men had been crushed by superior numbers and driven to the foot of the hill. The great man’s servants were trained soldiers. They would fight like devils inside.
With quick wit she threw in the clutch and the big touring-car shot down the road and flew over the smooth open way of Riverside Drive. In fifteen minutes she overtook the first division of horsemen on the outskirts of the city galloping to their appointed rendezvous.
“To the Palace of the Governor-General! Quick!” she shouted to the Captain. “Take my car—I can take your horse—quick! Quick! Our leader’s a prisoner—or dead—they fight and fight. Quick!”
The Captain sprang from his horse, called to the chauffeur, leaped into the car and gave his horse to Angela. She had learned horsemanship too in these two years of training.
“You know the rendezvous?” the Captain called.
“Si, signor!” Angela answered. “I know. I have been to every spot. I was to drive my leader there. I go! I tell them. You go to her quick—for God’s sake—quick!”
Urged by her low, nervous voice the horse dashed down the roadway through Yonkers and on to summon the men.
Waldron returned to the banquet hall—an automatic in each hand. He was a man of dauntless courage. The lights were on again. His assistant engineer had found the break and hastily repaired it.
The magnificent hall was deserted. Only the dead sentinels lay in pools of blood on the slippery floor. The Daughters of Jael had done their work and gone—their task to disarm the enemy and deliver the equipments to our waiting men. Every sword and automatic had fallen into their hands except those worn by the sleeping guard in their quarters and the half-dozen men who were scattered over the lawn.
Waldron quickly brought order out of chaos, barred his doors and found that he held his castle still with eighty faithful soldiers and a dozen wounded servants.