It was just before the dinner hour, and the dusk of a wonderful October night had fallen on the hedges, the clumps of evergreens, the rows of close-clipped box.A full moon was just showing itself above the tree-tops, turning the lake into moving silver.
Fred rose from his wicker chair and, crossing to his young bride, touched her hair fearfully with the tips of his fingers.
"What if we don't know anybody, Win," he said, "and nobody knows us? It's been a perfectly good honeymoon, hasn't it? If you just look at it that way, it works out all right.We came here really for our honeymoon, to be together, to be alone--"Winnie laughed shortly."They certainly have left us alone!" she sighed.
"But where else could we have been any happier?" demanded the young husband loyally."Where will you find any prettier place than this, just as it is at this minute, so still and sweet and silent? There's nothing the matter with that moon, is there?
Nothing the matter with the lake? Where's there a better place for a honeymoon? It's a bower--a bower of peace, solitude a--bower of--"As though mocking his words, there burst upon the sleeping countryside the shriek of a giant siren.It was raucous, virulent, insulting.It came as sharply as a scream of terror, it continued in a bellow of rage.Then, as suddenly as it had cried aloud, it sank to silence; only after a pause of an instant, as though giving a signal, to shriek again in two sharp blasts.And then again it broke into the hideous long drawn scream of rage, insistent, breathless, commanding; filling the soul of him who heard it, even of the innocent, with alarm.
"In the name of Heaven!" gasped Keep, "what's that?"Down the terrace the butler was hastening toward them.When he stopped, he spoke as though he were announcing dinner."Aconvict, sir," he said, "has escaped from Sing Sing.I thought you might not understand the whistle.I thought perhaps you would wish Mrs.Keep to come in-doors.""Why?" asked Winnie Keep.
"The house is near the road, madam," said the butler."And there are so many trees and bushes.Last summer two of them hid here, and the keepers--there was a fight." The man glanced at Keep.
Fred touched his wife on the arm.
"It's time to dress for dinner, Win," he said.
"And what are you going to do?" demanded Winnie.
I'm going to finish this cigar first.It doesn't take me long to change." He turned to the butler."And I'll have a cocktail, too I'll have it out here."The servant left them, but in the French window that opened from the terrace to the library Mrs.Keep lingered irresolutely.
"Fred," she begged, "you--you're not going to poke around in the bushes, are you?--just because you think I'm frightened?"Her husband laughed at her."I certainly am NOT!" he said."And you're not frightened, either.Go in.I'll be with you in a minute."But the girl hesitated.Still shattering the silence of the night the siren shrieked relentlessly; it seemed to be at their very door, to beat and buffet the window-panes.The bride shivered and held her fingers to her ears.
"Why don't they stop it!" she whispered."Why don't they give him a chance!"When she had gone, Fred pulled one of the wicker chairs to the edge of the terrace, and, leaning forward with his chin in his hands, sat staring down at the lake.The moon had cleared the tops of the trees, had blotted the lawns with black, rigid squares, had disguised the hedges with wavering shadows.
Somewhere near at hand a criminal--a murderer, burglar, thug--was at large, and the voice of the prison he had tricked still bellowed in rage, in amazement, still clamored not only for his person but perhaps for his life.The whole countryside heard it:
the farmers bedding down their cattle for the night; the guests of the Briar Cliff Inn, dining under red candle shades; the joy riders from the city, racing their cars along the Albany road.It woke the echoes of Sleepy Hollow.It crossed the Hudson.The granite walls of the Palisades flung it back against the granite walls of the prison.Whichever way the convict turned, it hunted him, reaching for him, pointing him out--stirring in the heart of each who heard it the lust of the hunter, which never is so cruel as when the hunted thing is a man.
"Find him!" shrieked the siren."Find him! He's there, behind your hedge! He's kneeling by the stone wall.THAT'S he running in the moonlight.THAT'S he crawling through the dead leaves! Stop him! Drag him down! He's mine! Mine!"But from within the prison, from within the gray walls that made the home of the siren, each of twelve hundred men cursed it with his soul.Each, clinging to the bars of his cell, each, trembling with a fearful joy, each, his thumbs up, urging on with all the strength of his will the hunted, rat-like figure that stumbled panting through the crisp October night, bewildered by strange lights, beset by shadows, staggering and falling, running like a mad dog in circles, knowing that wherever his feet led him the siren still held him by the heels.
As a rule, when Winnie Keep was dressing for dinner, Fred, in the room adjoining, could hear her unconsciously and light-heartedly singing to herself.It was a habit of hers that he loved.But on this night, although her room was directly above where he sat upon the terrace, he heard no singing.He had been on the terrace for a quarter of an hour.Gridley, the aged butler who was rented with the house, and who for twenty years had been an inmate of it, had brought the cocktail and taken away the empty glass.And Keep had been alone with his thoughts.They were entirely of the convict.If the man suddenly confronted him and begged his aid, what would he do? He knew quite well what he would do.He considered even the means by which he would assist the fugitive to a successful get-away.
