It was a new thing that a yacht of such size should come to anchor off the Island. Ichabod watched curiously as the vessel slackened heavily and then let a light anchor drop from the starboard side of the bow. Presently, he saw a small boat put off from the yacht, rowed by two sailors, and carrying two passengers in the stern. When he made sure that a landing was intended, Ichabod went down to the point to greet the unexpected visitors.
As the boat touched the landing, the two men stepped ashore and advanced toward Ichabod, who greeted them hospitably.
"Howdy, men! Ye are welcome to Ichabod's Island. But it's a leetle unusual to have a call from boats o' your class.... Jones is my name—Captain Ichabod Jones, at your service!"
The shorter man stepped forward, and introduced himself as Jack Scott. He presented his companion as his friend, Roy Morton.
"Captain Jones," the stranger began, "we are now, I take it, just at the entrance to the Beaufort Inlet."
"Yes, yender is the Inlet," Ichabod replied.
The other spoke with curt incisiveness.
"We're in a hurry. We'd like to ask you a few questions. It's plain no craft of any size could pass your Island without attracting notice. We're looking for a yacht stolen from her anchorage in the North River. She has now been missing for several days. The last report we've been able to get is that she was seen passing out of Pamlico into Core Sound. Do you know the whereabouts of any such boat? Her name wasThe Isabel."
"The Isabel!" Ichabod answered. "Thar she lays!"
The two men followed the direction of the horny hand—and saw! Roy Morton felt a sick dizziness crash upon him. In that moment of agony, he believed that the girl he loved was forever lost.
A few handfuls of sea water dashed into Roy's face by Ichabod, together with a rough massage by Van Dusen, soon brought the young man around again.
"I must have the truth," he declared, "no matter how terrible. Was the young woman lost?"
"Why, no, young man," the fisherman answered; "least-wise, not in the wreck. I took her out o' the water myself. She was plumb full o' swallered brine, but I had that out o' her in a jiffy. I took her into my shack an' got her all right exceptin' her haid. Poor thing never did speak to me but once."
"Then she died!" Roy cried, in a tone of anguish.
But Ichabod shook his head emphatically.
"Not as I knows on," he declared; "unless that nervous-actin' skunk has killed her since he took her away in the small boat. Had I knowed what I l'arned yesterday at the wireless station, I'd 'a' held on to the gal. I saw she was pretty bad, not bein' able to talk, an' so I told the man I took off o' the wreck that what she needed was an M.D. Leavin' him in charge, fer he seemed to know a heap about medicine himself, I put the rag on the skiff, an' sailed to town for the Doctor. When I got back, I found that the thievin' rascal had stole my pet rooster, a pair o' blankets—an' the woman, an' had gone off in the gasoline tender what come ashore from the wreck. O' course, they went up the Sound—to God knows whar! The woman ain't safe with no sich critter as that feller. If the gal is much to you, which I 'lows she is from your tantrums, ye had best make all haste to git her. I was jest a-fixin' to go to Beaufort an' take out a warrant fer the feller fer murder, an' charter a gasoline boat, prepared to go through hell if need be to save that gal an' put the sallow-skinned varmint, what took her, behind the bars o' the county jail."
"Warrant for murder?" Van Dusen demanded, suddenly alert, "What do you mean, Captain Jones? Has this man killed some one?"
"Wall, I reckin!" Ichabod answered grimly. "Thar was a feller a-sailin' around the wreck o'The Isabel, which, as ye see, is all busted to pieces by an explosion after she struck an' the beatin' on her of the big storm waves. When this feller looked down by the engine, he saw a dead man a-lookin' back up at him. He looked closter before he hurried away, an' saw that the poor devil was chained to the wreck. Now, that bein' the case, an' this feller that's got the gal bein' the man in charge o' the yacht, then whyain'the wanted for murder?"
Van Dusen nodded his head understandingly.
"This clears up part of the mystery," he said to Roy. "Now, if we can only catch Garnet and save Miss Marion, the case will be happily ended. The whole thing is clear in my mind, but we have still to find the proof."
"Them's the names the feller give me," the fisherman vouchsafed, "when he introduced himself to me. I 'lowed he was 'most crazy from his scare. Say, men! Do you know I think that feller was a-takin' dope, an', furthermore, since I've had time to think it over, I'm almost certain I saw him puttin' some under the gal's skin. As folks around here only use Baitman Drops or swallers pills, I took a spot on the gal's arm fer a skeeter bump. I didn't know what the shiny thing was that he slipped in his pocket when he saw me a-lookin'. Since then the Doctor has told me he 'lowed it was a hypodermic. First he called it a gun, but when he discovered that I thought he meant a shootin' iron, because I said it was too small fer that, why, then he give me the other name. O' course, I had heard that other name afore."
"This whole business is goin' to turn out just as I outlined it to you, Roy," Van Dusen asserted. "These things are unusual, but I don't think you need have any fears for Miss Marion, provided she doesn't starve, or meet with some accident through the foolhardiness of this crazy Garnet. The thing I suggest is to solicit the aid of Captain Jones, and have him act as our pilot. We should also charter several small gasoline boats and go through the waters of this shallow Sound and its tributaries like a fine-toothed comb. It's haste now that is important. We'll probably find the fellow hidden away in some remote fisherman's home where he can administer to the wants of his patient, while avoiding capture. I believe that he is, even though deranged, terrorized at the thought of arrest, so that he will not dare come out into the open. That's the reason he left the comfortable quarters of the Island."
Roy was all eagerness to begin the work forthwith, and Ichabod proffered all the assistance in his power.
"Jest a minute, men," he said, "till I swaller my coffee an' put out the fire, then Ichabod Jones will be ready to show ye every nook an' corner o' these-here waters; an' if that skunk ain't got out of 'em or gone to the bottom, we'll git him—an' git him right!"
After leaving Norfolk,The Hialdohad covered many miles. Arthur Van Dusen when he acted, moved with deliberation as well as speed. Already, on the way down, every avenue of escape had been blocked. It would have been impossible forThe Isabelto escape over the route by which the pursuers had come. She would have been seized the moment she showed at any port. The thoroughness of these precautionary measures was the reason why it was not until now thatThe Hialdohad dropped anchor at Beaufort Inlet.
The only area that remained unsearched was the Core Sound section. The searchers had taken advantage of the night, when there was little else that they could do, to run down to the Inlet in order to find out if the yacht had passed out to sea through the channel.
They were reasonably certain now that the Doctor and the young woman were not a great way off. Van Dusen was confident of speedily running down the culprit, and he was exultant over the prospect. But Roy was still tortured with anxiety concerning the safety of the girl he loved.
Before coming out of the shack to go aboardThe Hialdo, Ichabod took time to tidy up his person a little. This, for the sufficient reason that they were going first to Beaufort, where it might be that he would encounter Sarah Porter. It would never do for her to see him except properly "spruced up" for a trip to town. There was, in addition, the fact that he was about to go aboard a handsome yacht, where, as he knew, everybody went about habitually "dressed up." As he took a parting glance into his tiny bit of mirror, the old fisherman indulged in a self-satisfied smirk, and spoke aloud.
"I'd be willin' to bet that when them fine fellers gits to be as old as me, they can't tell as how ten single women kissed 'em all in one day, an' another one, by cracky, made eyes an' jest didn't darst!"
Having thus said, Ichabod hurried off to his visitors, and a minute later was following them up the ladder to the deck ofThe Hialdo. Van Dusen had taken on a pilot at Ocracoke, so that they had no trouble in following the intricate round-about ship's channel to the town.
Captain Ichabod directed the place of anchorage. This was in the small channel directly in front of the Inlet Hotel, where Sarah Porter reigned supreme. They would use her wharf in going ashore. He admitted to himself that he had been pleased over being kissed by the "young fry"; but he also admitted that the chief appeal to him had been made by the elderly woman who had looked on so disapprovingly from her place in the Doctor's launch.
Van Dusen was anxious to call first upon the Collector of the Port. That office here had become, of late years, rather unimportant, since the action of the tides had filled the Inlet with sand, to such an extent that very few vessels of the ocean-going steamer type could get over the bar. The Collector's business was confined to seeing that yachts and other vessels of small draft had their proper papers. There was no United States Marshal located in the town, and the case ofThe Isabelwas plainly one to be handled by the Treasury Department.
It was unnecessary for Ichabod to guide the detective further than the wharf, for the Custom House, with its identifying flag, stood near the landing. So, the Captain felt himself at liberty to visit the hotel, where he reclined at ease in a rocking chair on the porch, and enjoyed an intermittent conversation with the hostess of the inn. Roy remained on board the yacht, at his friend's bidding, in order to recover from the shock he had suffered on hearing Ichabod's story.
Van Dusen found the Collector anxious to be of service in every possible way. He suggested that the services of the Sheriff should be enlisted, and that a warrant for the arrest of Doctor Garnet should be secured from the Justice of the Peace, for robbery, to be sworn to by Ichabod, since that offense had been committed within the jurisdiction of the state courts.
The Sheriff, when called up over the telephone, agreed to supply three deputies, each equipped with a copy of the warrant. Finally, two small launches, each carrying one of the Sheriff's men, were chartered to voyage in different directions for the search, while the third would go aboardThe Hialdo. Other business prevented the Sheriff from giving his personal aid in the quest. Ichabod was interrupted during his pleasuring on the porch by a telephone call, which requested him to report at once to Squire Chadwick's office in order to swear to the necessary papers.
But the fisherman forgot the imperative summons as his hostess came out on the porch to bid him farewell.
"Do ye realize, Sarah Porter, that this is the very fust time in over twenty year that I've come to your house except on business, without some fishes, terrapin, scallops, or sich to sell fer the hotel?"
Miss Porter blushed like a girl.
"Well, seein' as how you mention it, I reckon it's a fact." Her manner did not betray how often she had wondered, and perhaps grieved, over that fact during the score of years.
Then, Ichabod at last took heart of courage, and spoke boldly:
"This time, Sarah, arter due deliberation, an' study, Ichabod has come to ye to give something away. Tain't nothin' that comes out o' these waters or sands or marshes. Tain't gold, nor yit silver, but somethin' that nobody in all these years could 'a' bought, had they tried. Could ye guess what it mout be, Sarah?"
There came a certain dreaminess into the woman's eyes, which, if a little dimmed, had by no means lost their luster.
"I never was good at guessing, Ichabod," she said simply. "I cal'late you'll jest have to tell me. I know from the way you speak that it must be something perfectly splendid."
"Wall, now, you may think it more wuthless than plain seaweed, an' if ye do, why ye must speak right out, Sarah. What I have come to offer ye is Ichabod Jones' love!"
Ichabod waited through a full minute for the answer that failed to come. The woman's eyes were gazing out over the broad expanse of the Atlantic, which opened so gloriously before them. He took one of her hands in his, and pressed it gently as he went on speaking.
"It's true that I'm some old, but I ain't crippled. An' arter all these years o'—yes, oh, hell!—I want to be loved ag'in. Sarah, I'll tell ye, an' it's God's truth, I never did love that triflin' woman. I have come to that idea arter a long time o' thinkin'. I was young, an' I thought I loved her, but, Sarah, I just had my haid turned. Time is now tellin' my true feelin's."
Still the woman made no answer, but her very silence gave encouragement to the wooer.
"I'm through with fishin' an' lonely livin', whether or no, Sarah. All these years that I've hung around alone, it hain't cost me much to live, an' I've got a right smart o' money saved up. Ye know, this hotel ain't big 'nough fer all the Yankees that'd like to stop on the way up an' down offen their yachts. I was a-thinkin' las' night what a thing it'd be for me an' you to be real partners, an' let me spend some o' the savin's to double the size o' the hotel, an' hire 'nough help to take the strain offen you in runnin' o' it."
The mingling of romance and practical worldly advantage won Miss Porter's consent to the plea of her suitor. Perhaps, either would have sufficed of itself; certainly, together, they were irresistible. Ichabod was all a-tremble with happiness and pride, as the spinster coyly offered her cheek to his kiss.
He started guiltily a moment later, as a huge negress appeared in the doorway, and bawled at him:
"Mr. Ichabod, the 'phone is a-callin' yoh-all."
Captain Ichabod Jones stepped briskly into Squire Chadwick's courtroom—which was otherwise the parlor in his modest home. Van Dusen, that very shrewd detective, observed that the old man trod with a jauntier step than heretofore, and that his expression was one of smug complacency. He wondered a little as to just what might have occurred to make this change so swiftly. He could not guess that a romance of twenty years was concerned, but his observant eyes told him that in some mysterious fashion this aged native had found a new happiness in life within the hour.
That happiness indeed was a thing assured in the opinion of Captain Ichabod. The smile that Van Dusen found so hard to interpret was the outward expression of great things within the old man's soul. He had loved his loneliness. Now, he was rejoicing that no more would his life be lonely! The gulls and fish-hawks and sand-crabs could take possession of the old shack that had sheltered him for years. He cared nothing for that. Shortly, he would be known as Ichabod Jones, proprietor of a fashionable tourist hotel. He chuckled, and his lips moved into the travesty of a kiss.
"I'm a-sayin' good-bye to that-thar hermit o' Captain Icky's Island, what lived thar fer twenty year. He hain't a-goin' to live thar no more."
The warrant was speedily signed and duly sworn to, after which Van Dusen and Captain Jones hurried to board the yacht. The two chartered motor boats arrived. SinceThe Hialdohad the legs of the others, it took both in tow to bring them to the point whereat the search was to start. On reaching the Island, the red skiff also was taken in tow at Ichabod's suggestion, since its draft would permit it to penetrate shallows impenetrable to the other craft.
At a point midway between Harker's Island and Smyrna, Uncle Ichabod directed that one of the chartered boats should be sent over and along the shores of the Island, then to proceed up the Banks shore, but not so far as to prevent the deputy from covering the southerly section of Core Sound with his field-glasses in order to detect any attempt to retrace the route by the Doctor in the tender. This launch having been dispatched,The Hialdoresumed her course, with the other boats still in tow.
The next objective in the cruise was Atlantic—a long way up the Sound. Thence, it was the intention to send the other chartered boat back along the westerly shore, with instructions to go into every inlet and cove and bay, no matter how small, provided they could navigate it, there to make diligent inquiry of every person seen on the shores.
Van Dusen had already prepared reward notices, offering five thousand dollars for the safe return of Ethel Marion, and one thousand dollars for the capture of her abductor. These posters were given to the deputies with instructions that they should be posted in every fishing hamlet. It was the belief of the detective that the effect of these would be to send out a swarm of fishing boats to search every nook and cranny of the territory.
Before turning in from the main channel to the pier at Atlantic, Van Dusen had the second patrol boat turned loose under the charge of his deputy. He gave instructions that four blasts of the yacht's siren should be understood as a signal for the smaller craft to return toThe Hialdo.
It was learned beyond doubt at Atlantic that the Doctor and Ethel had been there. There were a score of witnesses to the fact. The entire hamlet was loud in its praises of this stranger, who, by his skill, had saved a life without thought of fee. Captain Ichabod's anxious inquiries elicited the information that there was indeed a Dominick rooster aboard the tender, perched on the forward deck. One boy, of a fine imaginative mind, declared that the bird was tethered by a string tied to one of his legs. That false information stirred the wrath of Uncle Icky, so that he was moved to mutter:
"Yep, I reckin they're a-savin' 'im fer broth—consarn 'em!"
At the principal store in the town, soon after the arrival of the yacht, there was a scene of unusual excitement. Conspicuously posted was the notice typewritten by Van Dusen of the reward for Doctor Garnet's capture. But here sentiment was overwhelmingly strong in the physician's favor. A local orator made an impassioned speech to defend this wonderful physician, who had shown such ability in saving of life without charge. He insisted that the townsfolk should throw out the "furriners" who desired the arrest of such a man.
Van Dusen was in a desperate hurry, but when he sensed the feeling of the crowd, he was at pains to tell them, very simply, the facts. He declared that, in all probability, the physician who had been guilty of the kidnapping was a crazy man.
After touching at Atlantic, it was decided to sail the yacht to the northward, along the mainland shore, with the little red skiff still in tow. There was more depth of water on this side and, in consequence, a larger number of inhabited points, from which news might be gathered. At the end, there was a lighthouse, where the keeper would have seen every boat that passed.
The yacht stopped at the Squire Goodwin landing. There they learned of the recent presence of the physician and his patient. Thence, they went on to the lighthouse, where they were reassured by the keeper's firm assertion that the tender had not passed. It seemed to Van Dusen now that the little boat must be bottled up, so that its discovery and capture could be only a matter of a few hours. But there still remained one tract to be explored.
For the voyaging over these shallows, the red skiff was needed. The three men entered it, cast off from the yacht, hoisted sail, and set forward toward the desolate land of the sand dunes, the wild ponies, the goats and the beach-combers.... And it was Captain Ichabod who sat in the stern, handling proudly both sheets and tiller.
The lowly home where Ethel had passed the previous night was as a palace compared with this structure of beach-provided boards and shingles, over the threshold of which she was ushered, supported on the arm of her protector, Doctor Gifford Garnet. As she stepped over the sill, she had a sense of apprehension, that ran over her flesh like chills. They were the physical expression of fright. She was downright afraid of this dark, dank, dungeon-like room. Her emotion was emphasized by a realization that her escort was a mentally unbalanced, drug-mad man. Ethel, realizing something of the danger in her environment, had set herself to carry a bold demeanor. She would not let the man know either her fears or her suspicions. She meant to assume toward him an air of confidence.
There was a single window in the room, which had a wooden shutter, swung on leather hinges. This was closed, so effectively that not a particle of light filtered in from outside. It was only by the illumination through the open door that any light entered. Ethel hobbled across the room to the window, and threw open the shutter.
The setting sun threw its rays freely into the interior of the shack, as the girl looked about her. She saw tiers of bunks on either side. In the center of the room were a table and some rough chairs. An oil lamp stood upon the table. In a corner of the room were a cook-stove and the ordinary utensils for cooking. A curious conglomeration showed on some shelves at one side. In some of the bunks, there were blankets. Ethel regarded those blankets with satisfaction. They would mean warmth for the night, should she be compelled to spend it here.
The Doctor's nerves did not improve. While the girl dropped down to rest on one of the uncomfortable chairs, he walked the floor to and fro in silence. His muscles were twitching, and his eyes were wide-lidded, though the pupils were only pin-points.
Ethel watched him closely. Now, when at last her suspicions were aroused, she studied as if for her own salvation every aspect of this man, whom at first she had looked on as her savior, but now regarded with a dread unspeakable.
At last, to relieve the tension of her terror, she requested the Doctor to go out to look for a sail or any craft that he might hail. He went obediently enough. As soon as he had left the room, she moved her seat so that she could watch him.
He walked hurriedly to the boat, where, using water from the jug, he prepared another measure of the drug and shot it into his arm. When he had done this, he raised the vial that had held the pellet of morphia, and stared at its emptiness with affrighted eyes. Then, at last, with a cry of utter despair, he cast the bit of glass into the sea. The watcher understood that he had used the last atom of the drug. The knowledge filled her with new dismay. She had already learned something as to what must be the tortures of the drug-addict deprived of his supply.
After vainly scanning the horizon for a few minutes, Garnet returned to the hut, carrying the girl's blankets in one hand, the water jug in the other. When he had set the jug by the stove, he went to the cleaner-looking of the bunks, where he deftly arranged the blankets for his patient.
The sight of his preparations brought an increase of Ethel's distress at the prospect of a night to be passed in the company of the distraught man there before her. In her misery, she murmured passionate prayers for the coming of her lover to save her from the unknown perils of the night. Her situation seemed to her desperate beyond endurance. Yet, she could not fly from it by reason of her injured ankle. She had no recourse but to remain inactive, helpless, in an agony of dread. She could not take comfort from the thought that the man had always treated her with scrupulous respect. Now, he was no longer sane, and his past courtesy could offer no promise for the future. Had she but known, she might have been comforted by the fact that the long-continued secret indulgence in morphia had killed in him every desire and passion save one—a mad craving for the drug itself, and for more, and more.
Ethel urged the Doctor to share with her the food provided for them by Mr. Goodwin. But he refused, declaring that he was too greatly worried over the misfortune in which she was involved. The girl then decided that she would not dare to sleep while the crazed man was present with her. She determined to remain in her seat. She was so worn with fatigue that she did not dare lie down on the comfortable blanket, where she would be unable to resist falling asleep. So she sat huddled in a mood of sick misery, while the Doctor ceaselessly paced to and fro the length of the hut, like a wild beast caged.
Presently, Garnet halted, and insisted that Ethel should lie down in the bunk to rest. This she refused to do, and she persisted in her refusal when urged a second and a third time. But, after her third refusal, Garnet regarded her with an expression of utter despair. Then he spoke, in a changed voice, shaken with emotion.
"Miss Marion, I believe that you have become afraid of me!"
Having uttered the words, he sank down heavily on one of the vacant chairs. His breath came hard and fast. He seemed like a man about to suffer a stroke of apoplexy. Then, suddenly, he burst into tears.
The man's loud sobbing stirred the girl's sympathies. She even felt a little guilty, since her conduct had caused this final outburst of wretchedness. She was eager to soothe him. Certainly, he could not be dangerous now. She hobbled across the room toward him.
But the physician ceased his sobs at her approach. He sat erect and by a brusque gesture checked her advance. He spoke to her in a toneless voice.
"Miss Marion, when first you regained consciousness, you asked me to tell the story of your kidnapping. Owing partly to your condition at that time and partly to a certain dread of my own, I only gave you a part of the story. I promised to tell the rest later. That time has now arrived. I have waited for a moment when I should feel that you had lost confidence in me, for the moment when I should know that you no longer trusted me. I delayed because I hated to confess my weakness. I wished to appear before you still as a strong man. And let me assure you that you are not in any slightest danger from me. It is true, I am a nervous wreck. And yet, at this moment, my mind is clear. I realize that the time has come for me to make my confession to you. In the hope that it will render your judgment of me less harsh, I shall tell you my whole story. It begins back in the days when I was taking my course in the medical school."
Ethel was amazed over the change that had so abruptly taken place in the man. It seemed indeed that he had recovered, at least in some measure, his accustomed poise. He appeared less afflicted with nervousness in this new eagerness to talk. She returned to her chair and again seated herself. There she sat in rapt attention as she listened to the weird narrative of a great man's folly and degradation. As the tale unfolded, the girl's heart was like a lute swept by chords and dissonances of emotion. She was thrilled to horror, moved to strange sympathy; by turns fearful and sympathetic.
"I believe," the Doctor went on, "that I was a more than ordinarily hard-working student. Night after night I burned the midnight oil. I was ambitious to forge ahead. I was eager to finish my course and to begin the practice of the profession that I so deeply loved. I was possessed by a feeling that I had been created for this calling. I believed that I was destined to obtain eminence in my chosen career.
"Everything went well until I became friends with a certain young tutor in the university. He noticed that I was working hard, and that sometimes I would begin the day tired and depressed, when, naturally, my mind would not be as bright as it should be.... The man was a vampire of viciousness—only desirous to corrupt.... And I was an easy mark! The only excuse I have to offer is my age.
"This man was a drug-fiend. He used morphia slyly, knowing full well what the outcome must be. It was that hideous knowledge that made him eager to enchain others, even as he himself was enchained, so that he would not be alone in the final catastrophe.
"One day when I was in the dumps, he came to me, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said:
"Gifford, come with me. I want to make a new man out of you.' ... He did!—the kind of man you'll know me to be when my story is done.
"I went with him to his room. From a small bottle, he handed me a pellet, with instruction to swallow it. I must ask no question—merely return to my work, and see if it did not ease my labors. I did as directed. I found the promised relief—I could do wonders. Very soon, I became the leader of my class. There were no questions asked. Whenever I felt depressed, I went to the tutor's room and he came to my rescue.
"It was nearly a month before I was certain what he was giving me. As you, Miss Marion, have trusted me as a friend, so I trusted this man. One day I went back to this fellow for more 'Brain Food'—as I had innocently begun to term it. I had been accustomed to entering his room without knocking, but on this occasion the door was locked. He heard me rattling the knob, and called out to know who was there. I shouted in answer and said it was Garnet after more Brain Food. He then unlatched the door and admitted me. His coat was off and one arm was bare. Upon a small stand was a hypodermic outfit. I was surprised, for I had never seen the fellow take medicine of any kind. He laughingly remarked that I was just in time—that he was not feeling quite himself and so was taking a little Brain Food 'the other way.'
"I guessed now that the drug I had been taking was indeed morphia. For a moment, I was startled and alarmed. But the fright was of short duration. I had already developed a craving for this thing that so helped me on with my work. The tutor bade me remove my coat, roll up my shirt-sleeve, and allow him to give me a little Brain Food in his way. Needless to say, I did as he ordered. That was my first 'shot'.... Years ago, that man killed himself—perhaps in remorse for his crime against me and others corrupted by him."
The Doctor sat silent for a long minute in brooding contemplation over this beginning of the vice that had mastered him, and now threatened at last to destroy him.
"It was not long after this," he resumed, still with that toneless monotony of voice, "that I began my life-work. Sometimes, I would go for long periods without resorting to the needle. That has helped me in the deception of my patients. For long intervals, I could endure without the drug. Then, during periods of great mental strain and physical depression from all-night vigils, I would invariably fall back upon my old Brain Food. Occasionally, such a relapse would develop into what might be termed a morphia spree. It was at the time of my last spree that—to my destruction, and your discomfiture and suffering—I was called to treat you aboardThe Isabel."
It seemed to Ethel that Doctor Garnet wearied of his long discourse. He now arose from his chair, and once again he began to pace the floor uneasily. It appeared that he was debating in his mind whether or not he should continue his narrative.
Ethel, moved to pity by the man's evident deep distress, suggested that he should put off the further telling until morning when he would be rested. She urged him to repose in one of the bunks until the morrow, after which she would listen to him again. But to this he objected, declaring that he had made up his mind to tell the whole story. Unless she should refuse to listen, he would continue. Ethel admitted her willingness to hear the remainder of the narrative.
"I suppose," the Doctor continued, still in that dead level of monotonous recitation, "at the time that I boarded the yacht that you were suffering so greatly from your injured ankle that you did not detect my deplorable condition. Of course, I should not have gone in answer to your call. But I realized that you were alone, and I had explicit instructions from your father to care for you. So, duty called me. Then, after administering to you a sedative of extra strength, in the next instant I injected more of the death-dealing drug into my own arm. From that moment, the Doctor Garnet that you knew and trusted became a Mr. Hyde. Gifford Garnet did not wish to do you harm——"
"But——"
"But Mr. Hyde became obsessed with an insane desire to have you—a young woman absolutely pure in heart—to have you enjoy with him the wonderful sensations derived from the hideous drug to which he was subject."
The revelation, shocking as it was, brought a profound relief to the listening girl. The confession shone like a sun through the mists of fear that had fallen upon her. She listened now in a mood, not of fright, but all of pity.
"I told you when you asked me about the fate of the kidnappers that the ring leader had escaped. That was the truth. He did escape. But he's here to-night, a prisoner—a confessed criminal, in your hands, Miss Marion.
"I drugged the man in charge of the yacht. Then I chained him to the engine. When he aroused from his stupor, I had everything ready for the yacht's sailing. I forced the man to answer the bells as given from the bridge, under penalty of death. The most of the time I kept you under the influence of my drug. Much of the trip is a blank to me. Why we were not swallowed up in the great waters of the Atlantic, I cannot understand. It must have been, Miss Marion, that God stretched out His Arm to save you.... At the time the yacht struck and was destroyed, I was a raving maniac.
"Then, somehow, I once again became sane. That was while I watched an old fisherman, who rescued you from the pounding seas.
"At last, I remembered the man chained to the engine. It was fear of him that made me flee. When the kindly old fisherman went in search of a physician for your sake, I was wild with the desire of flight. I could see always the accusing eyes of that man there in the depths of the sea, staring up at me—his murderer!... So, I took you and fled with you in the tender."
Ethel looked at the man, whom she had known and trusted as the family physician, with widened eyes of horror. This trusted friend, by his own avowal, was not only thief and kidnapper—he was a murderer!
Doctor Garnet, seeing the effect made upon the girl by the conclusion of the story, did not approach her or try to relieve her, as had been his wont. At the moment he felt himself too low, too despicable, to lay his hands on this fair girl, even as a physician. Moreover, he knew that it would not be long ere she recovered her calm. Indeed, only a few minutes elapsed before Ethel had passed through the crisis of her emotion. Her mind clear again, she stared at the man with an unconcealed repugnance, under which he cringed. She thought with dismay of the dreadful thing Doctor Garnet had done. She even wondered now with new distress as to what her friends must have thought concerning her secret departure. It seemed to her that the truth was too fantastic a thing to be credited by the world at large. It would scoff at this explanation of a young girl's sailing for days with a man, practically alone, on her own yacht. She shuddered at thought of the slanders sure to be her portion. How her father would grieve over this disgrace of his daughter! How Roy——Appalled, she thrust the terrifying thought from her mind.... And there was the murder of the caretaker! Would the public not believe her an accomplice, by consent at least, in that forcible holding of him to the engine?
Ethel's thoughts veered to Roy again. But, now, there was something of comfort in her musing. It occurred to her that he at least would believe the truth, though all the rest of the world should mock at it as a lie. Besides, there was the message she had thrown into the sea for him, which she had seen picked up by the fisherman. There was no doubt in her mind now that Roy had received it. There came a little glow of courage in her heart as she reflected that even at this very moment he was searching desperately for her.... Had she been outside the cabin just then, she might have seen the lights ofThe Hialdo, on which her lover was being carried to Beaufort, there to receive the news of her having left Ichabod's Island alive.
A new courage for herself left her free to feel compassion toward the miserable being who had done her such grievous wrong. She could guess in some measure from the man's lined and haggard face and twitching body how great was his suffering and remorse. From the fact that he had made such a full confession of his guilt, she knew that he would make every restitution in his power. Sympathy for him, added to sympathy for herself, proved too much for her self-restraint. Woman-like, she hid her face in her arms outstretched on the table, and wept.
After a little while, the fit of weeping ended. The girl brushed away the tears, and again sat erect. Then, for a long time, neither she nor the man opposite her moved or spoke. What, indeed, was there for her to say to him who had made her his victim? She had not the heart to reproach him. She could find no word of comfort. It seemed to her that there could be no assuagement of his misery—that he were better dead. If he lived, he must be a fugitive from justice, or, if captured, he must be tried and condemned for murder. Or he might end his days in a mad-house. Surely, death were preferable.
But Ethel knew that Doctor Garnet, despite her earlier belief, was not mad. Notwithstanding the tortures he endured, his narrative to her had revealed a mind lucid and sane. She wondered suddenly if, after all, it might be possible somehow to save him from the law's penalty? Yet, the damning evidence of the murdered man in the wreck of the yacht could not be concealed. The consequence of it would be that there could be no safety for the guilty one—at least on this continent.
That last phrase brought inspiration to the girl. There flashed into her mind a thought of another continent, where death was riding ruthless over countless thousands. There, under a new identity, this miserable creature might return to his manhood, might once again exercise his great skill in behalf of suffering humanity, might indeed atone for the past, might win a martyr's crown.... If he could but be smuggled out of the country!
It was hours past midnight now; a ghostly trace of dawn showed in the eastern sky. The physician, it was evident, was fighting desperately against the anguish induced by his abstinence after over-indulgence in the drug. But, presently, he noted through the open doorway the lightening of the horizon. Once again, now, he spoke to Ethel.
"Miss Marion, it's near daylight and the wind is still holding to the same course it was blowing yesterday. I see little chance of getting away from this place until there is a change. It is, I should judge, about twenty miles to Portsmouth. With your permission, I shall set out for there at once, in order to procure a boat and then return to you. I'm sure that I can make it. I shall be spurred on by two of the strongest incentives: one is my anxiety in your behalf; the other—for I shall be frank with you—is my anxiety to reach a physician. I know that unless I can secure relief within a few hours I shall become insane."
He paused for a moment, and then added in a voice surcharged with emotion:
"This has been a terrible night. It was a horrible ordeal for me to make my confession to you. But now I feel the better for it. I have fought my hardest to retain my self-control, and I have succeeded thus far. Now, if you can only continue to be brave for a few hours, I'll have you safely on your way home."
"But do you consider that you are equal to the trip, Doctor?" Ethel inquired doubtfully. "Twenty miles is a long, long distance for one in your state of body and mind. Oh, how I wish my ankle was fit, so that I could stand the journey! But, of course, you most certainly have my permission, Doctor Garnet. That is, on one condition."
"And what is that condition, Miss Marion?"
"I want you to go under sealed instructions. I shall write these out and give them to you, but you must not read them until you have gone ten miles up the shore. Before you answer, let me tell you that in those instructions you will find nothing but what is to the best interests of both yourself and me."
"I owe you every obedience," the Doctor declared instantly, though there was a note of astonishment in his voice. "It shall be as you wish."
At her request, Doctor Garnet provided Ethel with his fountain-pen and some pages torn from his memorandum-book. She wrote her instructions hurriedly, folded them and gave them to the physician, who bestowed them in his coat-pocket. Then, with a short word of farewell, he set forth on his journey, while the girl, standing in the doorway, looked after him with brooding eyes. When he had disappeared from view, she seated herself on the doorstep and mused for a long time on the curious adventures through which she had passed, and of which the end was not yet come. She felt a great content over being thus alone, gladdened by a sheer relief at the absence of the Doctor. She no longer felt any fear, and presently she limped across to the bunk that had been prepared for her, where she quickly fell asleep on Ichabod's blankets. When at last she awoke, it was after a sound slumber of some hours, for the sun was now high in the heavens. She found herself greatly refreshed, and a desire came on her for the added refreshment of a plunge into the sea. There was no sign of a human being anywhere within sight, so she undressed and entered the water.
When her bath was ended, and she was again clothed, Ethel found a stick to serve her as a cane, and with its aid made a halting ascent of one of the sand dunes. She was surprised and pleased at the manifest improvement in her ankle. There remained little pain, even when her weight bore upon it in walking, and the swelling was greatly reduced, so that she was able partly to button her shoe over it. From the crest of the sand dune, she was able to look out over a wide expanse of the waters all round-about.
To the eastward, she could see for miles out over the bosom of the Atlantic. Far away in the distance, she saw a large steamer headed toward the north. At sight of it, she was swept with a sick longing to be on board, bound back to home and lover. Scattered over the surface of the Sound were visible many small sails of the fishing boats, darting to and fro, many skirting the shore. These were, however, located far away to the southwest, miles distant from where she stood. It was evident that, for the time being at least, there would be no opportunity to signal for help. A sudden realization of hunger drove her back to the shack.
Ethel gathered sticks from the shore for the rusty ramshackle stove. She lighted them with matches brought from the tender. Soon she had water boiling for coffee, and presently, with the remnants left from Mrs. Goodwin's supply, the girl was able to make a meal that seemed wonderfully savory to her sharpened appetite.
As the day lengthened, Ethel's mind busied itself with the problem of finding a means to signal her presence. There was always the possibility of the physician's failure to reach his destination. Prudence demanded that she herself should make every effort possible for relief. From her reading, she remembered how shipwrecked castaways in similar plight had used a shirt or any white garment as a flag of distress. She saw a net-pole lying on the strand, which, she believed, she could drag to the top of the sand dune, in spite of her ankle's weakness. Her muslin petticoat would serve as the banner. The idea no sooner presented itself than she proceeded to its execution. The moving and the erection of the heavy pole taxed her strength to the utmost, but it was at last accomplished, and its white flag fluttered bravely in the light breeze. Ethel looked with pride on her achievement, and dared to believe that her father, could he have seen her now, would have praised her courage and resourcefulness. She felt oddly like a soldier who has scaled the wall in the face of the enemy, and planted his flag in triumph on the rampart—though hers was a flag of truce. She surveyed her work complacently, though every muscle was aching from long-continued digging in the shifting sand with her bare hands and the tramping it into firmness about the pole.
When again she glanced out over the Sound, Ethel saw off to the northward a small skiff sailing toward her. Even at this distance, she was sure that it was approaching her refuge. It was evident that her signal had been seen. She sat down, and stared eagerly. She felt suddenly faint in the reaction of joy over the prospect of rescue. Then, a minute later, the castaway was forgotten in the woman. She hastily pulled her signal banner from the pole, wadded it under her arm, and hurried down the dune to the hut. Having accomplished its extraordinary purpose so valiantly, the white flag should now disappear to perform its ordinary useful service.