She was overreacting, she told herself. It was merely an odd feeling, a momentary shiver that she would normally have disregarded. Had she not seen a man who looked like Cosmo Glass yesterday, she would have thought nothing about it at all. There had been no one in the woods or anywhere around the path. Indeed, it was likely that she had not even seen her stepfather yesterday. He would not have followed them to London, and even if he had, he would have immediately tried to get money out of their new relatives, not skulked around watching them. Her imagination had simply run away with her. Still, she could not help but be glad they were traveling with Sir Royce.
The carriage ride that afternoon was much the same, except that Mary’s weariness and boredom seemed to arrive even earlier. Finally, they pulled into the courtyard of another inn and disembarked. Everyone was tired and ready for bed, so they ate quickly. Mary did not feel particularly sleepy, but she could see that her sisters were flagging—and Miss Dalrymple was practically snoozing over her plate.
Rose went to bed almost as soon as they climbed the stairs to their room, and she was asleep within a few minutes. Mary puttered about quietly, but with Rose asleep, there was little to do, so she soon climbed into bed. It took some time for her to go to sleep, but she must have dozed off, for a noise brought her awake. Mary turned her head and saw a man silhouetted against the moonlight that streamed in through the open window. Terror seized her throat.
The man was turned away from her, walking slowly and carefully toward the window. He was huge and strangely misshapen. In the next instant, Mary realized that the bed beside her was empty and that the intruder was carrying Rose away over his shoulder.
Chapter 13
Mary screamed at the top of her lungs and jumped out of bed. “Royce! Royce! Help!”
She ran toward the intruder, and he whirled, startled. He wore a cap pulled low on his forehead and his collar was turned up; a dark half-mask obscured most of the rest of his face. He turned and ran the last steps to the window and flung his leg over. Mary threw herself at him, grabbing for her sister’s arm.#p#分页标题#e#
“Rose!” She wound up clutching the man’s jacket instead and pulled on it for all she was worth, again yelling Royce’s name. The man let out a curse and jerked away from her.
She stumbled back, then righted herself and lunged forward again. There was the sound of a door crashing open down the hall, followed by running footsteps. The intruder shrugged Rose’s limp form from his shoulder and shoved her at Mary. Mary staggered backward under Rose’s sudden weight and crashed to the floor. The back of her head hit the bedpost with a blinding pain, and suddenly everything went dark.
“Mary! Mary! Wake up!”
She was aware of being held, a muscular arm around her shoulders, her head leaning against something hard and warm. It felt good and somehow reassuring, especially the rhythmic thumping beneath her ear. She was being jiggled, and next there was a sharp little sting to her cheek.
“Blast it, Mary! Wake up!”
She opened her eyes, and a man’s face swam above her. Her stomach lurched, and she quickly closed her eyes again.
“Mary! Thank God. Come on, now, open your eyes again and look at me. It’s Royce.”
Royce. She smiled to herself. In the next instant, full consciousness came back to her, and she remembered everything.
“Oh! Rose! Is she here? Is she all right?” Mary opened her eyes and struggled to sit up.
“She’s right here on the floor beside you. Don’t exert yourself. I think you’ve had a nasty crack on the head. What the devil happened? Why is the window open?”
“The man! He was taking her—he was taking her out the window.” She sat up despite Royce’s advice, and though her head throbbed painfully, she no longer felt woozy.
“The devil!” Royce released her and stood up, going to the open window. He leaned out, looking in both directions. “There’s no sign of him.” He turned to Mary. “Are you all right by yourself ? I want to take a look outside.”
“Yes, I’m fine. Go.”
He left the room, and Mary sat where she was, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. She reached one hand up to her head and felt around gingerly. With a wince, she brought her hand down. There was a sticky liquid on her fingers, and she realized that the wound must have bled.
She turned to her sister, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor beside her. “Rose? Rose, can you hear me?”
Mary tugged at Rose’s shoulder. She was lying on her side, but Mary’s tug rolled her onto her back. Mary smoothed the tangle of her hair back out of her face. Rose’s eyes were closed, her face still. For one terrified instant, Mary thought her sister was dead, but then she saw the slow rise and fall of Rose’s chest.