Then they came into the kitchen, a kitchen so much as usual that Persis could almost believe the happenings of the past twenty-four hours had been a complete nightmare. For Mam Rose was busy at her usual tasks, and both Sukie and her younger companion working well under her eyes.
But Persis, herself, might have been invisible. None of them looked up or appeared to notice her and, before she could thank Carrie properly for the shelter and tending the other had given her, she too, was gone. Dr. Veering's instructions, or rather Crewe's delivered through the doctor, carried her on, into the back of the lower hall, up that much narrower and steeper staircase used by the servants.
Only there were lamps in the rooms tonight and a different feeling in the house. It was alive and-expectant-somehow that word came into Persis' mind as she gathered up the loose robe with both hands and hurried up the staircase, seeking the chamber which had been assigned her, ridden somehow by the need for haste.
She had been expected, that was very sure she saw as she entered for there was a hip bath filled and waiting behind a screen, towels laid out to her hand. Only Molly was missing.
Shedding the robe, she washed, reveling in the soft herb scent of the soap. There would be no time to deal with her hair, except to work it into the most possible coiffure, rather more severe than her usual one. And only time could fade the bruises showing black and ugly on her skin. Some had been spread with Carrie's ointment and that she washed off, making use of a box of salve left well in sight on the wash stand.
Persis deliberately selected one of her brighter dresses-a rose with satin stripes and rather more lace than usual about the shoulder bertha. It seemed to lend color to her face, and in a way that kind of courage a woman gains when she knows she is well and fittingly clad for some occasion.
Her hair was the hardest to handle. Carrie must have dried it and gotten some of the saltwater out of it. But there was no way Persis could produce the fashionable side curls. She braided and rebraided twice until she got top loops which looked at least smooth and then defiantly fronted them with her coral-topped comb, adding the coral earrings, which were a part of the same set, to offset the lack of ear curls.
Studying her reflection in the gold-edged mirror Persis was not entirely satisfied. But at least she presented the most proper appearance within her ability to achieve. She gathered up a handkerchief, folding it into a small drawstring bag of rose satin, just as the gong which had always heralded dinner sounded from the lower floor.
Looking herself straight in the eyes of her mirrored reflection, Persis raised her chin a fraction. But, before she moved to the door of the chamber she hesitated and made one more choice. Her hand closed on the false fan. Carried this way no one might guess that it was not real-and she felt safer with it for protection.
17.
Persis reached the head of the stairs as the mellow tones of the gong sounded a second time. Pausing, she summoned all her courage. What game Crewe Leverett would play she could not guess. But, a little to her amazement, she discovered that her confidence in him was as great as once had been her acceptance of Uncle Augustin's complete command of any situation.
There was no one she could see below, but there came the murmur of voices through the high-ceilinged rooms and she descended step by step composedly. Her hands were covered with mitts of white silk thread she herself had skillfully knitted, and in the left she gripped the dagger fan. Though that she needed any such weapon she doubted.
"Miss Rooke-"
The voice from below was low, clear, and unmistakable. Persis felt a wave of relief as she looked down at the man who had moved into the brightest pool of lamplight. Most of his figure was muffled in a dressing gown of green and gold, such a robe as a king might envy him. And the bulky bunching of the material on one shoulder, the flapping sleeve, told her that he had probably chosen this garb because his injuries could not allow him a coat. But she could also see as he moved the cream-white trousers of Southern evening dress, and his hair was carefully arranged, his face, in spite of a bruise or two, impassive.
"Should you-" she tripped a little faster down those remaining stairs between them, "not be resting?"
There was an odd light in his sea-blue eyes. "Rest for the weary, eh? Veering would have me in bed again, eating slops and half-mad with my own worries. No, Persis," he had dropped his first formal salutation. "There shall be time enough for rest later. One deals with a snake before it can truly strike. Now, they are awaiting us- though they do not know it. Play up, my girl, give them your haughtiest stare and your grandest manner."
He bowed a fraction and held out his good arm. Making herself smile, Persis curtsied and laid her fingertips on the heavy brocade covering his forearm near his wrist. She longed for him to give her some clue as to what was about to happen, but there seemed to be no time, for already he was urging her on toward the entrance to the dining room.
More than the light of a single lamp beamed out through that door and Persis heard the sound of voices growing louder, but at that moment she was too flustered to make much sense of the words. Then-Crewe took a step into the full beam of that light as if he would first face any trouble, but she was only a step behind.
The long table had been covered with the whitest of fine linen and spaced along it were five candelabra, which seemed to Persis to light the room with a steady glare not far from the fullest reach of the sun. She was so dazzled for a second or two that it was difficult to sort out the company gathered around the table.
But the moment of instant silence, which had followed their entrance, in its way steadied her. And though her face felt frozen in expression, she hoped it expressed only polite acceptance of the fact that dinner was served.
A chair grated on the floor as the man at the end of the table pushed that back and rose to his feet. Her own companion broke the silence first: "Lydia, my dear, you are looking well tonight-"
The blonde girl's breath hissed. Her dress, an elaborate one of lace ruffles and bows in a delicate blue, was in sharp contrast to her face. That was a mask of fear, her usually full lips flattened against her teeth, her eyes very wide and staring.
"One would begin to think," Crewe Leverett glanced about the table, his eyes catching each who sat there for an instant of meeting, "that this was indeed a festive occasion. May we be allowed to share the secret also?"
Persis' momentary bedazzlement was gone, she could identify some of those gathered here. Others were strangers. And in that company Lydia was the only woman-sitting on the right of the man who had arisen so suddenly.
The girl had seen Ralph Grillon in his working clothes, as master of a ship of which he was manifestly proud. Now he wore a super-fine cloth jacket of dark blue, a ruffled shirt and complicated cravat, trousers of black strapped under shoes never meant to tread the deck of a working wrecker.
His handsome face was not flushed, and if he had paled under his tan, it was not visible in the softer light of the many candles. But his eyes-Persis might have shuddered at the look of them earlier-now she seemed armored against any threat from the Bahamian captain.
There was Dr. Veering, twirling the stem of a half-filled wine glass between his fingers, his glance turning from Crewe to those at the table, back again-although he showed no expression. But was rather as one who watched a play.
Three other men sat along the board-one wearing a captain's jacket, its insignia dimmed from the breath of the sea.
"Yes," Crewe continued, "a festive occasion. Captain Van Home," he nodded to the stranger who arose and made a rather awkward bow, "and naturally Julio Valdez-"
The man on the other side of Grillon showed his teeth in what might have been meant to be a smile, but his eyes were very cold and calculating.
"It's been a long time, Valdez," Crewe continued, "though, of course, I knew that our account was not yet completed."
"Account?" The man's dark eyebrows lifted. "If one deals with thieves, Captain Leverett, one can only expect trouble to come of it."
"How correct you are in that prediction, Valdez. 'Deal with thieves.' But why do you not follow your own wisdom?"
"Halden had no right to Lost Lady!" Valdez put palms down on the table, leaned forward, angry animation in his narrow face. "Mariana Valdez had no right to sell what was ours since we cleaned this isle of the rabble of Indians who infested it. I am Julio Valdez; there was a Valdez ruling here before your country even had a name to call itself by."
"Granted," Crewe commented. "But Martin Valdez was, there is no doubting, the heir-in-law. When he died his property passed to his wife and she sold it to Halden. I believe your offer, complete with threats if I am not mistaken, was thrown out of court and you were warned off. If Halden then chose to sell to me it was a perfectly correct transaction with not a hint of illegality about it-no matter how hard you have since tried to prove that true. Times have changed since the days of Satin-shirt Jack-"
The dark-faced man drew in his breath with a hiss which made Persis think of a threatening snake. Dr. Veering still kept his expression of lazy watchfulness, and the Dutch captain looked merely as if he were at a complete loss. Persis expected Crewe next to carry battle to Ralph Grillon himself, but instead he looked to Lydia.
"Is this occasion of your devising, my dear?"
Persis hoped that never would anyone use such a tone of voice to her. But Lydia had recovered quickly from any surprise she might have felt at her brother's sudden appearance.
"It is an occasion, yes," she returned in a voice as cool as his, but edged with defiance. "I am the betrothed wife of Captain Grillon."
"How very interesting," was Crewe's comment. "Has he yet explained how he intends to rid himself of the present Madam Grillon? Though I cannot but believe that he has already planned some highly ingenious method-not that such are always successful. My own appearance here is proof of that."
Lydia rose from her seat, her face contorted into an ugliness which was near that of the strange mask Askra had worn.
"Liar! Liar!" She beat both small fists upon the table. Her wine glass trembled and went over, discharging its contents, like newly shed blood, across the white linen. "Ralph will marry me-"
"Since bigamy is a crime, both here and in the islands, that presents a problem," Crewe continued his even, considered speech. "He does have a wife-oh, it is true enough," now he had a faintly contemptuous tone. "Do you think I am too dim-witted to check on any young buck who comes paying his addresses to my sister? But the present situation must task even his abilities. How do you balance the situation, Grillon? Is it Lost Lady and what you can gain here, against that which might or might not fall to your hands through Caroline Rooke?"
Persis started. Who was Caroline Rooke? In a second or two her mind leaped forward in a guess. Ralph Grillon had talked of a missing heir. She had always accepted that the child of James was a man-but what if the opposite were true and her rival for the Rooke fortune was a woman? Was that why Grillon knew so much and in such detail as to taunt her?
"If you were a whole man-" for the first time Ralph Grillon spoke, "I'd call you out-"
Crewe shook his head, an odd half smile on his face.
"Do not try to play the gentleman here, Grillon."
"No!" Both Lydia's hands were at her lips now, half-muffling what she had to say. "You can't keep me here with your lies! Ralph loves me-we're to be married-"
"Where?" asked her brother. "In the islands-or in Key West?"
"It doesn't matter. He'll take me away-he-" Suddenly her voice was gone. Persis saw that the younger girl's eyes were fixed not on her brother but on that seemingly closed fan she herself had brought with her.
"No!" Lydia backed away and her long skirts pushed against the chair behind her, sending it crashing to the floor, the noise so startling that Persis herself shook for a moment. But her brother seemingly had no interest in the fan.
"You little fool," he said with a kind of weariness which made Persis uneasy. So far he had held them all, and more than half of these gathered here must be his enemies. "He wants Lost Lady-thanks to providence and the courage of this lady he did not succeed in his first attempt. It was a mistake, Grillon, to leave the sea to do your ill work for you; it is always capricious as you should know by now."
"You were in no harm!" Lydia cried out. "Just left for a space so Ralph could-could-"
"Make sure of me." Crewe was brutally direct now, as if his weariness was increasing so he felt he must make a swift end to this confrontation. Persis saw Dr. Veering move unobtrusively up the table, come to stand at Crewe's other side, and that action added to her worry. "Yes, Lydia. I was left well bound, in a dug-out which had been holed-death was already lapping at me when you left."
She shrank even farther away and now her eyes went to Grillon.
"That is a lie-you would say anything to-"
But some slight change on the Bahamian's face must have broken her last defense against the truth. "But why, Ralph, why?"
"I have already said it-Lost Lady-" Crewe returned. "Once he no longer needed your help-another accident-" He tried to shrug and winced. Dr. Veering put a hand gently on the well-swathed shoulder.
Persis saw a deathly pallor spread across Lydia's face.
"To-to-kill-" the younger girl said as if it required all the possible effort left in her to bring out the words.
"Just so," Ralph Grillon spoke for the second time. He, too, had taken several steps away from the table and with him moved the man who called himself Julio Valdez and three of the others who had remained silent during this exchange. "And since I am now master of the Key-" There was a pistol in his hand now, deadly, and steady. And the others held them also.
Lydia had hidden her face in her hands and was crying -fast becoming hysterical.
"Since I do hold the Key," Grillon continued, "it would seem that the game is not yet played out."
There was a queer dizzy feeling in Persis' head for a moment or two. It was as if she had seen, or been a part of this same scene before. Only for a second rift out of time other faces, hard, brutal, fitted like masks of smoke across the faces of those in this room. She dropped her hand from Crewe's arm, fumbled with the false fan until its inner deadly steel core appeared. They would be killed-these monsters from the sea-she was- A sound, strident, carrying, drew her back into herself. She was once more Persis Rooke and not another who had looked upon death as a welcome door to another kind of safety.
Ralph Grillon threw back his head and laughed like a boy.
"Done in, by Neptune himself!"
"Wait and see-"
Persis was sure that Dr. Veering was lending Crewe more support than it looked. Yet his voice remained steady.
"There is nothing to wait for-that's the Stormy Luck!" Ralph was exultant. "With your men safely housed I'll have what I came for and be away. Though it was a pity you did not play the part you were set, Captain." He shook his head, the old reckless mockery plain on his face. "It would have been so much more convenient all around. I could have done very well as master here. Now, m'dear," he bowed to Lydia, "this time I fear I shall have to say good-bye in earnest. Though I have much to thank you for-"
Her face was blotched, tear-reddened. She looked like a child who had been slapped by a trusted hand.
"But I'm to go-"
"Your big brother is infernally right. Dear Caroline would hardly welcome you; she will only welcome me because I am a source of future wealth for her now- thanks to your clever little fingers and your ability to concoct interesting drinks."
"Then-then it's true?"
"That I am married to Caroline Rooke; yes, that is the truth-though I had another claim, y'know. It would not have held in court, of course, but it was enough to send me prying into old secrets. Amos had more than one son on the wrong side of the blanket. Though he was only really sure of James. My father was born out of a shorter entanglement, one he found easy to forget. So dear Caroline was my cousin. Thus we joined forces as soon as we knew there were pickings to be had. Not that I fancied Caroline particularly. She has a hag's own temper and I can think about her more happily when there's a goodly portion of the sea between us. But we were both Rookes, you see, and we weren't going to let Amos' hoard go to anyone else.
"Now that I can destroy the papers, I am sorry, Cousin Persis," he made a mock bow in Persis' direction, "to say that you have had a very fatiguing and fruitless journey -"
For the second time the conch trumpet sounded.
"I would suggest," Crewe said evenly as the last of that braying, mournful sound echoed around the well-lighted room, "that you do not count on calm seas yet a while."
"With the Luck coming into the wharf and no one but you to say me 'no'-?"
But one of the silent men who had backed him had stepped to the window which was open to the night save for the netting which kept the insects out. Ralph Grillon jerked a quick glance in his direction.
"What's to do, Grimes?"
"There's trouble-down on the wharf. And your double lantern ain't ridin' on the bowsprit neither!"
Ralph backed to the window. "Cover them," he ordered. Only when the Bahamian saw Crewe caught fully in the sights of his companion's boarding pistol did he turn his own head to look.
And they could hear now-more than the moan of the conch trumpet heralding the arrival of a sail. There were shouts and the roar of at least one pistol. Grillon's lips grew thin in a grimace.
"The Luck?" He looked directly at Crewe.
"A prize crew," the other returned as calmly as ever.
"Damn you to hell! But how-" Then Grillon caught at his self-command with a speed Persis would not have thought native to one of his temperament. "So-and now what do we do?" But he did not lower the pistol and the look in his eyes brought back to the girl a flash of strange and terrible memory-of a mound torch lit and a sacrifice delivered to masked priests. So might those have looked upon their prey.
"We do nothing." Crewe moved forward to the nearest chair and lowered himself into it, keeping his bandaged shoulder well from the back so that he leaned forward as if about to pour himself a glass of wine. "It is what you will do, Grillon. By rights I could have you before the courts for conspiracy, attempted murder, perhaps even piracy-and certainly for theft."
"But you have an alternative, of course. A desperate man might even take a few desperate measures, were he driven too far," Grillon cut in. His pistol's deadly mouth was again held steadily level, and now it seemed to Persis to be sighted on Crewe's head.
"I have an alternative. But not for any fear of that armament you are so keenly trusting to. You are a liar, a cheat, and a would-be murderer," Crewe spoke with the deliberation of a justice pronouncing sentence. "However, you will return what you have stolen and you will sail from here-with your men. Mainly because my sister is a fool. I will not have her stand in any court to be smeared as you would gladly smear her to save your own skin."
Ralph Grillon suddenly laughed, and then dropping his pistol to his side, he gave Lydia a deep bow.
"By all means-a lady's name is above-"
"Close your mouth!" For the first time Crewe raised his voice, and Persis saw the anger which must have seethed within him for hours rise to the surface. "Do not try my patience too far."
As the pistol disappeared beneath his coat, Ralph Grillon gave him a half salute.
"You are really the fool, you know," he said frankly. "To let me go so."
"Yes, I should have you killed, should I not?" Once more Crewe had obtained command of himself. "But I hunt my own snakes, Grillon; I give no orders to another to do that. Now you will tell Dr. Veering exactly where you put the gold and papers taken from my strongbox, plus those which belong to Miss Rooke. When those papers are returned, you shall be free to go-"
There was a sound at the door behind them. Persis glanced around. Mr. Harvery stood there, and behind him crowded the bosun of the Nonpareil, two of her crew.
Again Grillon bowed. "Your forces have arrived, I see. Very well, Veering. You will find what the Captain wishes in a rock crevice just above tide level out on the point. The rock which guards it is the highest one in sight."