Ethel’s plan was hastily revealed.
The position was exceedingly perilous; time was short,
and this was the only way of escape.
It was the priest who had concocted
it, and he had thought of it as the only plan by which
Hawbury’s rescue could be effected. This
ingenious Irishman had also formed another plan for
the rescue of Minnie and her sister, which was to
be attempted in due course of time.
Now no ordinary mode of escape was
possible for Hawbury. A strict watch was kept.
The priest had noticed on his approach that guards
were posted in different directions in such a way that
no fugitive from the house could elude them.
He had also seen that the guard inside the house was
equally vigilant. To leap from the window and
run for it would be certain death, for that was the
very thing which the brigands anticipated. To
make a sudden rush down the stairs was not possible,
for at the door below there were guards; and there,
most vigilant of all, was Girasole himself.
The decision of the Irish priest was
correct, as has been proved in the case of Dacres,
who, in spite of all his caution, was observed and
captured. Of this the priest knew nothing, but
judged from what he himself had seen on his approach
to the house.
The plan of the priest had been hastily
communicated to Ethel, who shared his convictions
and adopted his conclusions. She also had noticed
the vigilance with which the guard had been kept up,
and only the fact that a woman had been sent for and
was expected with the priest had preserved her from
discovery and its consequences. As it was, however,
no notice was taken of her, and her pretended character
was assumed to be her real one. Even Girasole
had scarcely glanced at her. A village peasant
was of no interest in his eyes. His only thought
was of Minnie, and the woman that the priest brought
was only used as a desperate effort to show a desire
for her comfort. After he had decided to separate
the sisters the woman was of more importance; but
he had nothing to say to her, and thus Ethel had effected
her entrance to Minnie’s presence in safety,
with the result that has been described.
The priest had been turning over many
projects in his brain, but at last one suggested itself
which had originated in connection with the very nature
of his errand.
One part of that errand was that a
man should be conveyed out of the house and carried
away and left in a certain place. Now the man
who was thus to be carried out was a dead man, and
the certain place to which he was to be borne and
where he was to be left was the grave; but these stern
facts did not at all deter the Irish priest from trying
to make use of this task that lay before him for the
benefit of Hawbury.
Here was a problem. A prisoner
anxious for escape, and a dead man awaiting burial;
how were these two things to be exchanged so that the
living man might pass out without going to the grave?
The Irish priest puzzled and pondered
and grew black in the face with his efforts to get
to the solution of this problem, and at length succeeded to
his own satisfaction, at any rate. What is more,
when he explained his plan to Ethel, she adopted it.
She started, it is true; she shuddered, she recoiled
from it at first, but finally she adopted it.
Furthermore, she took it upon herself to persuade Hawbury
to fall in with it.
So much with regard to Hawbury.
For Minnie and her sister the indefatigable priest
had already concocted a plan before leaving home.
This was the very commonplace plan of a disguise.
It was to be an old woman’s apparel, and he
trusted to the chapter of accidents to make the plan
a success. He noticed with pleasure that some
women were at the place, and thought that the prisoners
might be confounded with them.
When at length Ethel had explained
the plan to Hawbury he made a few further objections,
but finally declared himself ready to carry it out.
The priest now began to put his project
into execution. He had brought a screw-driver
with him, and with this he took out the screws from
the coffin one by one, as quietly as possible.
Then the lid was lifted off, and Hawbury
arose and helped the priest to transfer the corpse
from the coffin to the straw. They then put the
corpse on its side, with the face to the wall, and
bound the hands behind it, and the feet also.
The priest then took Hawbury’s handkerchief
and bound it around the head of the corpse. One
or two rugs that lay near were thrown over the figure,
so that it at length looked like a sleeping man.
Hawbury now got into the coffin and
lay down on his back at full length. The priest
had brought some bits of wood with him, and these
he put on the edge of the coffin in such a way that
the lid would be kept off at a distance of about a
quarter of an inch. Through this opening Hawbury
could have all the air that was requisite for breathing.
Then Ethel assisted the priest to lift the lid on.
Thus far all had been quiet; but now
a slight noise was heard below. Some men were
moving. Ethel was distracted with anxiety, but
the priest was as cool as a clock. He whispered
to her to go back to the room where she belonged.
“Will you be able to finish it?” she asked.
“Sure an’ I will only don’t
you be afther stayin’ here any longer.”
At this Ethel stole back to Minnie’s
room, and stood listening with a quick-beating heart.
But the priest worked coolly and dextrously.
He felt for the holes to which the screws belonged,
and succeeded in putting in two of them.
Then there was a noise in the hall below.
The priest began to put in the third screw.
There were footsteps on the stairs.
He screwed on.
Nearer and nearer came the steps.
The priest still kept to his task.
At last a man entered the room.
Ethel, who had heard all, was faint with anxiety.
She was afraid that the priest had not finished his
task.
Her fears were groundless.
Just as the foremost of the men entered
the room the priest finished screwing, and stood by
the coffin, having slipped the screw-driver into his
pocket, as calm as though nothing had happened.
Three of the screws were in, and that was as many
as were needed.
The men brought no light with them,
and this circumstance was in the priest’s favor.
“You’ve been keeping me waiting long,”
said the priest, in Italian.
“You may be glad it wasn’t
longer,” said one of them, in a sullen tone.
“Where is it?”
“Here,” said the priest.
The men gathered around the coffin,
and stooped down over it, one at each corner.
Then they raised it up. Then they carried it out;
and soon the heavy steps of the men were heard as
they went down the stairs with their burden.
Ethel still stood watching and listening.
As she listened she heard some one
ascending the stairs. New terror arose.
Something was wrong, and all would be discovered.
But the man who came up had no light, and that was
one comfort. She could not see who it was.
The man stopped for a moment in front
of Minnie’s door, and stood so close to her
that she heard his breathing. It was quick and
heavy, like the breathing of a very tired or a very
excited man. Then he turned away and went to
the door of the front-room opposite. Here he
also stood for a few moments.
All was still.
Then he came back, and entered Hawbury’s room.
Now the crisis had come the
moment when all might be discovered. And if so,
they all were lost. Ethel bent far forward and
tried to peer through the gloom. She saw the
dark figure of the new-comer pass by one of the windows,
and by the outline she knew that it was Girasole.
He passed on into the shadow, and toward the place
where the straw was. She could not see him any
more.
Girasole stepped noiselessly and cautiously,
as though fearful of waking the sleeper. At every
step he paused and listened. The silence reassured
him.
He drew nearer and nearer, his left
hand groping forward, and his right hand holding a
pistol. His movements were perfectly noiseless.
His own excitement was now intense,
his heart throbbed fiercely and almost painfully as
he approached his victim.
At last he reached the spot, and knelt
on one knee. He listened for a moment. There
was no noise and no movement on the part of the figure
before him.
In the gloom he could see the outline
of that figure plainly. It lay on its side, curled
up in the most comfortable attitude which could be
assumed, where arms and legs were bound.
“How soundly he sleeps!” thought Girasole.
He paused for a moment, and seemed
to hesitate; but it was only for a moment. Then,
summing up his resolution, he held his pistol close
to the head of the figure, and fired.
The loud report echoed through the
house. A shriek came from Minnie’s room,
and a cry came from Mrs. Willoughby, who sprang toward
the hall. But Girasole came out and intercepted
her.
“Eet ees notin,” said
he, in a tremulous voice. “Eet ees all ovair.
Eet ees only a false alarm.”
Mrs. Willoughby retreated to her room,
and Minnie said nothing. As for Ethel, the suspense
with her had passed away as the report of the pistol
came to her ears.
Meanwhile the coffin was carried out
of the house, and the men, together with the priest,
walked on toward a place further up the shore and
on the outskirts of the woods. They reached a
place where a grave was dug.
At this moment a pistol-shot sounded.
The priest stopped, and the men stopped also.
They did not understand it. The priest did not
know the cause of the shot, but seeing the alarm of
the men he endeavored to excite their fears.
One of the men went back, and was cursed by Girasole
for his pains. So he returned to the grave, cursing
every body.
The coffin was now lowered into the
grave, and the priest urged the men to go away and
let him finish the work; but they refused. The
fellows seemed to have some affection for their dead
comrade, and wished to show it by putting him underground,
and doing the last honors. So the efforts of
the Irish priest, though very well meant, and very
urgent, and very persevering, did not meet with that
success which he anticipated.
Suddenly he stopped in the midst of
the burial service, which he was prolonging to the
utmost.
“Hark!” he cried, in Italian.
“What?” they asked.
“It’s a gun! It’s an alarm!”
“There’s no gun, and no alarm,”
said they.
All listened, but there was no repetition
of the sound, and the priest went on.
He had to finish it.
He stood trembling and at his wit’s
end. Already the men began to throw in the earth.
But now there came a real alarm.