Heathersleigh Homecoming (5 page)

 6 
Close Encounter

Amanda darted nervously from the train across the platform area while the stocky man was glancing the other way. She kept close to the opposite side of a large woman with three children, trying to look as if she were with them. Quickly, when the coast was clear, she ran into the Trieste station.

The next scheduled train into Italy did not depart until 7:13 a.m.

Standing with bag in hand in front of the schedule board, she thought a moment.

The man would come this way looking for her any minute.

She turned and hurried outside into the darkness. The night air was warm and fragrant. On the slight breeze she could faintly smell the Adriatic Sea less than a mile away.

She began walking in search of a hotel but quickly tired of it. There was nothing nearby and the night was getting late. She did not particularly like the looks that came her way from the few people who were about, especially the men.

Exhausted, and much too warm in her heavy winter coat, Amanda finally crept back toward the station. Watching the entryway carefully, she made her way inside, then hurried to one side of the room into the corner shadows. The man appeared nowhere in sight.

She sat down on a nearby bench and tried to make herself comfortable. Slowly, one sleepless minute went by, then another. The night hours dragged on. She was afraid to close her eyes lest the man might still be about, yet was unable to keep her head from drooping in sheer exhaustion.

Somehow the dreary, miserable night passed. As light finally began to dawn Amanda was more weary than ever. Her eyelids sagged yet more heavily. Before long she was sound asleep.

Suddenly she came to herself.

She jolted upright and her eyes shot open in a fright. It was bright and light. Morning had come!

She glanced quickly at her watch. It was 6:55. She had nearly missed her train!

Hastily she jumped up, grabbed her bag, and ran to the ticket window.

With ticket in hand a few minutes later, her money now nearly three-quarters gone, she looked hurriedly around for the platform she needed.

She had just located the way to track three when suddenly Amanda's feet froze. For an instant she stood motionless, like a terrified frog suddenly caught in the death stare of a snake whose mouth was three times its size.

How could it be!

There was Ramsay walking into the station!

He had just entered from another platform with the same man she had seen last night!

Summoning every ounce of willpower she possessed, Amanda forced her legs into activity. She turned in the direction of platform three.

Resisting the impulse within her to break into a run, she began walking toward the train, which was scheduled to depart in just four minutes. Deliberately but with measured step, she made her way toward the tunnel as quickly as she dared. Any second she expected to hear a voice behind suddenly call out her name. Surely he would see and recognize the back of her coat and the hat with her brown hair coming out from under it! Every step was an agony of steady determination.

She rounded a corner out of sight of the station hall and ticketing area. Instantly Amanda broke into a frantic dash for the track.

Two minutes later she seated herself on board, as far from a window as she could get.

 7 
Across the Border

As Carneades led him into the Trieste station Ramsay hurriedly glanced about.

The place was filled with the general buzz of conversation, bustle, and noise as the morning crowd of travelers moved about in all directions at once. Ramsay looked to his right and left, scanned the area, then located the schedule board. He ran toward it.

It revealed a 7:13 departure for Milan.

“That's it,” cried Ramsay. “Seven-thirteen. Where's platform three? It might not be too late!”

“This way,” answered Carneades, lumbering into a run.

Ramsay broke into a sprint, quickly passed him, and now ran through the tunnel almost in Amanda's very footsteps of only a few short minutes earlier.

Unfortunately, the engineer of the Milan express, a crusty Italian who had worked for the railroad since he was fifteen, kept rigorously to the schedule and sent steam to wheels at the precise instant the second hand of his watch rounded the apex of 7:13 on the dot.

When the two men hurried up to the platform, therefore, it was only in time to see the last coach of the westbound train departing the station about fifty yards down the track.

A great imprecation exploded from Ramsay's lips. He saw nobody at the windows this time. But an inner conviction assured him that Amanda was on that train.

“Do you have a car?” he said to the Greek.

“A friend's,” replied Carneades. “It's outside.”

“Let's go, then!” cried Ramsay. “The train will stop at the border. If we fly, we just might be able to make it. We'll catch her there!”

Forty minutes later Amanda stepped out of the coach and followed the other passengers toward the border inspection station.

Though Italy was the third member of the Triple Alliance and on friendly terms with Germany and Austria-Hungary, she had become angered by the Austrian ultimatum to Serbia in August and had declared her neutrality. She was presently engaged in a shrewd diplomatic game between the two sides in the war. Amanda knew she would be reasonably safe once inside Italy. The delay while passports were checked would not be long. Yet with a war on, security even at a friendly border such as this had been tightened.

Amanda stood in line pulling out Gertrut Oswald's passport.
Hurry, hurry
, she thought.
Can't you move any faster!

The minutes dragged by. One by one each of the passengers was cleared through the gate, then returned on the Italian side back to the waiting train. Impatiently Amanda shuffled and glanced nervously about.

The roar of an automobile engine broke through the faint hissing coming from the stopped train. Amanda turned toward the sound. A black sedan was racing toward the scene. It screeched to a stop on the other side of the tracks about a hundred yards away. Two men jumped out from each side.

Amanda's heart suddenly leapt into her throat.

No . . . not again!
How
could
he have followed her here!

Almost at the same moment the lady in front of her walked through the gate.

“Pass,” said the guard.

Amanda shoved the stolen passport into his hand, glancing nervously back and forth between the guard and her pursuer.

Ramsay was running toward the inspection booth! His footsteps echoed on the pavement stones.

“That man,” she said frantically to the guard. “He is—”

A shout sounded.

“Stop that young woman!”

Amanda glanced fearfully behind her.

“Don't worry, Fraulein,” replied the guard, gesturing Amanda through as he handed back her passport. “We will take care of him.”

Amanda dashed through the gate and toward the train.

Ramsay ran up to the small guardhouse.

“You've got to detain that woman,” he said, flashing his passport as if to run straight through. “She is—”

“You're the one we will detain,” interrupted the guard. He stepped forward to block Ramsay's way.

“What are you doing, you fool!” exploded Ramsay. “She's English, and a spy. She's trying to get—”

A shrill whistle drowned out whatever else he might have been planning to say. Within seconds Ramsay found himself in the grip of two Austrian soldiers clutching both his arms.

“You're making a mistake,” he cried. “I'm not—”

“None of your impertinence,” rejoined the guard. “You're the one who made a mistake trying to accost that young lady.”

“You won't get away from us, Amanda!” Ramsay shouted through the gate. “I'll follow you wherever you go. You are my wife now. You cannot escape me!”

Trying desperately to shut out his voice behind her, Amanda stumbled into the train.

She found her seat and looked out the window. They were leading Ramsay away. He was struggling and straining, but to no avail. The first soldiers had now been joined by two others.

The passport line contained ten or twelve more people. If only the train would get moving before he managed to convince them that he was telling the truth.

Ten minutes later, seeing no further action outside involving Ramsay, Amanda felt the train jerk again into motion.

 8 
Dreariness

The ride to Milan was anything but pleasant.

As the minutes dragged by, Amanda's spirits slowly began to sink. Despite her success thus far, she had not managed to lose Ramsay. He knew right where she was. And she knew he would never give up.

Maybe Ramsay was right. She could never hope to escape.

What was the point of trying?

They would never let her into France anyway. Ramsay would find her eventually and take her back to Austria. What was the use? She would never get back to England.

And with what she knew, they would probably kill her. Murder did not seem to bother them. They had killed the archduke. She would likely be next.

The chilling words she had overheard from Mr. Barclay's mouth several nights ago came back to Amanda's memory:
“Find some means to
eliminate her.”

The words rang over and over in her brain . . .
eliminate her . . . eliminate her
.

Gradually despair stole over her. She could almost feel Mr. Barclay's eyes probing, staring, searching. As she imagined his gaze upon her, the former drowsiness of will slowly settled over her consciousness.

It was hopeless. Why didn't she just give in? Where was the hope in anything? What did she have left to live for?

A young lady several seats forward in the coach turned to speak to a companion. Something about the shape and expression of her face reminded Amanda momentarily of Catharine. The thought of her younger sister only saddened Amanda all the more. Catharine had always seemed so young and small that Amanda had taken her for granted. She had been shocked during her brief visit to Heathersleigh to realize what a striking woman she had become. Suddenly Amanda
missed her very much. How comforting it would be to have a sister with her right now.

But she didn't. She had sacrificed that relationship along with everything else when she left Heathersleigh. She had thrown away her past back then. Now she had thrown away her future as well.

And for what? For a man who had never really loved her at all.

Nausea swept over her at the thought of what she had allowed herself to become involved in.

It was a dreary, drizzly, disheartening day in England as well as Italy. A great cloud had descended upon the whole continent, with the five Rutherfords of Devon, spread out now across Europe, under the very middle of it. Even George, training in the Orkneys, was feeling more alone and downcast than usual. Only Catharine, the youngest of the three young people, had not been affected by the grey, dismal atmosphere.

The mood at Heathersleigh was subdued and quiet. Charles had now been gone for two days.

As she walked up to the second floor of Heathersleigh Hall, Jocelyn tried to buoy her spirits by imagining where her husband might be at this moment. He was to have set to sea at daybreak this morning, she thought. It was now midmorning. That should put them somewhere probably just off Land's End. They would soon be turning to head north.

She entered the library, where she knew Catharine had gone to read. Her younger daughter was dressed in a cheery yellow dress. Jocelyn smiled. How like Catharine to defy the weather!

“Hello, dear,” she said. “How would you like to join me for some tea? Sarah will be up with it shortly.”

“Yes, thank you, Mother—that sounds good,” replied Catharine.

“I thought I might come up and sit with you,” added Jocelyn, taking a chair opposite her daughter. “I need to lose myself in a book to get my mind off your father's being gone. Any suggestions?”

“I told you how much I am enjoying
Ben Hur
. I'm almost finished. Why don't you read it next?”

“I think I need something more along the lines of an old-fashioned romance and mystery. I don't want to have to think. It makes me too sad.”

“Because Father's gone?”

“And George . . . and Amanda.”

“
I'm
still here, Mother,” teased Catharine with a cheerful smile.

“I know, dear,” replied Jocelyn. “And you can't know how thankful I am for it! Your being with me is the one thing that makes me able to keep my head up at all.”

“Mother!”

“I mean it, dear. But at the same time, it is so incomplete when our whole family isn't together. Don't you feel it?”

Catharine nodded. “Of course. George is my best friend,” she said. “Well, except for
you
, I mean. But they'll be back, Mother. We just have to keep believing and praying for that day when we are all together again.”

“When you say that, do you include your sister?”

“Of course,” replied Catharine. “I pray every day that Amanda will come home.”

“I suppose I need to take a lesson from you,” said Jocelyn with a thin smile. “But I have to admit, praying with faith gets more and more difficult the longer she is gone. I know I have to keep hoping, but—”

The tears—always nearby—suddenly arrived on the scene again without warning.

The next instant Catharine was on her feet and at her mother's side. She knelt down beside her mother's chair and put her arms around her. Jocelyn wept freely for a few moments on the great strong shoulder of her youngest daughter, who had become a very compassionate young woman.

Gradually the two women eased back. Jocelyn dabbed at her eyes, then kissed Catharine affectionately.

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “I hadn't had my cry yet today.” She tried to laugh. “It always makes me feel better to get it over with.”

She drew in a deep breath, then rose.

“But I still think I need that mystery,” she said. “Perhaps I shall peruse the shelves a bit.—That is, after tea,” she added. “I think I hear Sarah coming with the tray.”

After two stops and the passage of about four hours, Amanda's train arrived in Milan. It was early in the afternoon.

A three-hour layover was scheduled before the next train for France. Ramsay was sure to catch up with her now, Amanda thought
hopelessly. He might even have called ahead to notify the authorities to hold her until he arrived.

The train stopped and the doors opened. Half expecting to be arrested on the spot, tentatively she picked up her carpetbag and crept out. She stepped onto the platform. No uniformed guards were waiting. But Ramsay would probably appear any moment. Her brain was in such a fog she did not think that it would have been impossible for him to arrive ahead of her.

With three dozen other passengers Amanda walked into the station, found a vacant seat, and sat down. Feeling hungry and more forlorn than she had ever been in her life, Amanda was too despondent even to find something to eat. She was beginning to feel weak. She had not eaten since sometime yesterday.

Tears of hopelessness began to fill her eyes.

Hardly realizing what she was doing, she began silently to pray.
“God, I was so stupid for not listening.
I never thought I needed anyone, but now I realize I do need your help. Please, God . . . help me.”

Amanda glanced up.

Across the station a lady was eying her strangely.