Shadow, the Mysterious Detective/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
Afraid to incur the anger of McGinnis, Helen made no further outcry after receiving his harsh command to be silent, but stood there, trembling with horror, as the treacherous waters continued to rise.
Tiny waves were rippling the surface of the water, and one of these at last sprang against her lips.
Panting, worn out, Helen felt like permitting herself to sink, and thus quickly end the horrors of her situation.
But the ripple receded, and she was again able to breathe.
She did not wish to die.
Above all, she did not wish to meet such an awful death as this.
She pictured her dead body floating in the water or stretched in the mud of the floor, and her frame was convulsed by swift-flying thrills of horror.
This mental picture nearly crazed Helen.
"No, no," she moaned. "No, no, I cannot, I will not, die in this terrible manner."
She beat the water with her hands, and clutched at it, and tried to push it back.
Slowly but softly the water continued to rise, and she could lift her head no higher, for it was even then against the under side of the floor above her.
The water was at her lips now—not a ripple, but the whole body was on a level with them.
She closed her lips, but a minute later it filled her nostrils when she breathed.
Out of her very desperation was now born a singular calmness and self-possession.
She was now able to think and reason as she could not have done before.
It is singular but true that in the face of death many people, in times of lesser danger absolute cowards, become brave and calm as any one can be.
So it was with Helen.
Whether or not she was to be drowned like a rat she did not know.
But she did know that her situation was a precarious one.
Calm now as she was, she was not long in striking on the only means whereby she could preserve her life a little longer, perhaps for a long time longer.
Throwing her head backward, she let it rest against one of the floor-beams, and thrust her face upward close to the floor.
She could now breathe again.
But she had played her last card, so to speak, and did the water rise another three inches her fate was unalterably sealed.
The position she had assumed was an uncomfortable one, but she did not allow her resolution to waver even though the tide continued to creep higher and higher, although not so rapidly as before.
At last—what a fervent prayer of thanks Helen uttered—at last she knew that the water had ceased to rise.
And then presently it began slowly falling.
At the expiration of a quarter of an hour she was able to move her head from the unnatural position in which she had placed it.
Lower and lower the water now went, in just the same regular, even pace with which it had arisen in the cellar.
Lower and lower—lower and lower—until Helen sank on her knees, her head remaining above the surface, and then she prayed as perhaps she had never prayed before.
As she was thus engaged she heard a heavy tread on the floor over her head.
McGinnis had just come in.
And he came with haste, for he had just heard of the remarkably high tide, and feared that his prisoner had fallen a victim to its cold embrace.
He now understood the meaning of Helen's cries, and their not having been repeated under such circumstances, he considered as indicating her death.
"I say—I say, down there!" he yelled. "Are you alive and kicking?"
Helen had nothing to gain by keeping silence, and as she arose from her knees, she replied in the affirmative.
"Good enough!" grunted her jailer, banging shut the trap-door.
When he afterwards brought Helen down something to eat, and saw the height to which the water had risen, he gazed at her in blank astonishment.
He could not understand how it was that she had preserved her life.
"Thunder!" he exclaimed. "How did you do it, gal? Why, there wasn't more'n an inch of space left between the water and the floor."
"I did it, though, with His assistance," said Helen, reverently.
"Whose assistance?" and McGinnis glared about him, as he asked the question, in an alarmed tone.
"His!" and Helen pointed upward as she uttered the one word in a solemn tone.
"Oh!" in a relieved tone, and the villain then laughed harshly.
He stayed by Helen while she was eating, and his evil eyes were lighted with admiration as they rested on her.
"I say," he remarked, when she had finished eating—"I say, you're a trump, even though you be such a young gal."
Helen's puzzled look was evidence that she did not comprehend at what he was driving.
"You're a smart one, too," said McGinnis. "And I think it's blamed tough on you to pen you in here."
"Then why did you do so?" demanded Helen.
"Orders, my sweet, orders—and orders must be obeyed. But, I say, how'd you like to take the place of the old woman up-stairs? You're a piece of good stuff, you are, and with a little edication, could take the shine out of any crooked woman I ever seen. As for the old crow up-stairs, jist say the word, and I'll put her out of the way, after which, orders or no orders, I'll take you outer this place."
The young girl was completely taken aback by this offer of McGinnis to make her his wife, after murdering the one he now possessed.
She was unable to say a word.
McGinnis construed her silence in another way, and advancing, would have kissed Helen, had not she retreated, holding up her hands to ward him off, her face expressive of horror and deep disgust.
He pursued her.
Helen faced him, her back to the wall.
"Keep away—leave me alone," she cried. "Keep away, or I will shriek until somebody hears me."
Her tone was a determined one, and McGinnis was shrewd enough to see that it would be foolish to bother her any farther, or her cries might be heard, and be the means of getting him into serious trouble.
He backed away, and, with an oath on his lips, went up-stairs, banging shut the trap-door behind him.
A number of times he brought her meals down to her, but never again attempted to renew his suit.
Then one night Joseph Brown paid him another visit, and they held a long conference together.
It was about Helen.
In the dead of night, not long after that, Helen was brought up from the damp and noisome place.
Some clothing was flung to her, which she was compelled to attire herself in while guarded by Mrs. McGinnis.
After being led several blocks away she was forced to enter a carriage, which was then rapidly driven away.
"Where am I being taken to?" asked Helen, in a tone that trembled as much as her body.
She felt that there were greater dangers to dread in this midnight ride than if she had remained in the cellar.
McGinnis only laughed delightedly for reply.
"I demand of you to tell me where I am being taken," and the girl spoke now more firmly.
"I'll tell you—ha-ha-ha! let me whisper," and bending forward the villain whispered a few words into her ear—words that caused the color to desert her face, that caused her to clasp her hands together, and to sink moaning into her corner of the conveyance.