At her building, the driver helped her out of the carriage and bade her good night, and she stepped inside the dark front hallway. She was in a somewhat relaxed frame of mind, with Armand’s fate the only thing worrying her.
Lost in her thoughts, she started for the stairs. Too late she heard a movement behind her, and in the next instant a hood of some sort was thrown over her head and tied tightly about her throat. She tried to scream, but only a gasp and a choking sound could escape her lips.
At the same time she was taken roughly in hand and shoved back out into the cool night. She felt herself float somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. Her weak struggles made no impression on her captors, who, uttering oaths, tossed her onto the floor of a carriage and held her there as the vehicle rattled over many cobblestoned streets.
Enid no longer struggled as she lay there. Now she merely fought to breathe. Every minute that she was forced to remain smothered by this hood, with its taut cord secured tightly around her neck, was unendurable to her. She moaned a little and prayed that her ordeal would soon be over. Then she reached the brink of her endurance and descended into a void of darkness.
Something had changed. Enid slowly opened her eyes and realized the hood was no longer over her head. She could see; she was able to breathe again. She tried to move and discovered that her ankles and wrists were tightly bound. She was in a candlelit room that smelled of dampness, dirt, and gin.
As her senses returned, she raised her head a bit. She was lying on a rough cot in a miserable little hovel. There was only one other piece of furniture in the room: a plain chair on which rested the pewter candleholder. Then she heard the sound of an accordion being played somewhere below and the occasional bursts of drunken male laughter.
She tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Tried to think back to what had happened and how she had come to this vile place. The laughter sounded again, intruding on her thoughts. And then she remembered. She had entered the front hall and been attacked and taken prisoner.
Esmond! The master spy had no doubt spread a false rumor of his departure to put them off guard. And now he had taken her as a hostage. He might do anything to her. Surely he would try to balance the debt he felt was owed him! Enid’s mind whirled dizzily.
The door of the room creaked open, and a hunched-over, elderly crone peered in. The sunken eyes studied Enid to see if she was awake. The old woman did not attempt to speak, but made a chewing motion with her dried-up mouth. Then she vanished in the same silence with which she had entered.
Enid surmised that the old woman was some derelict who had been given the task of watching her. Her head ached and her ankles and wrists had begun to throb. She had the unhappy conviction that she had run out of luck. That the danger she had managed to elude for so long had finally caught up with her. She asked herself bleakly if this was to be the end of her great romance with Armand. He was either rotting in prison or dead by the guillotine, and she was a prisoner of the master spy, the vilest of all the revolutionists!
The door creaked open again, and this time an enormous woman came in. She wore a bright yellow dress with a dirty white shawl tossed over her shoulders. Her many-chinned face was both cruel and none too clean. Her hair was a dark, frizzled mess. The woman came over and gazed down at Enid with cold venom in her beady eyes.
“So you’re a lady!” she sneered. “That’s what they tell me!”
“Please!” Enid cried. “I’m in pain! Please free me!”
The fat woman laughed hoarsely. “That’s not why I’m here, dearie, not by any chance. Don’t snivel at me! I have small use for genteel ladies like you who think you’re better than the rest of us. Well, we’ll see about that!”
From the folds of her dress she withdrew a half-empty bottle of gin. She pulled out the cork and took a generous swig of the colorless liquid. Then she bent over Enid and forced the mouth of the bottle between her lips.
Enid tried to move her head away, but the woman was surprisingly agile for her size. She managed to keep the bottle in Enid’s mouth, allowing the burning gin to pour down her throat and choke her. Only when Enid began to gag did the woman remove the bottle. By that time a goodly quantity of gin had involuntarily been swallowed by the helpless Enid.
“Don’t choke on it, dearie!” the fat woman chided her. “The likes of me was brought up on gin. Good for you, it is. Brings out the woman in you. That’s what all my girls say, and they should know!”
Enid’s throat was afire, and her head was reeling from her fear and from the beginning effects of the liquor. She sobbed, “Don’t torture me!”
The woman roared with laughter, every pound of flab jiggling in unison, and applied the bottle once more to Enid’s lips. Enid bit the woman’s fingers and received a stunning blow for her deed. She had the choice of having her teeth bashed in or accepting the bottle again. She allowed some more gin to enter her mouth and slide down her throat. Again she gagged, and again the bottle was drawn away.
“How do you feel, dearie?” the woman asked.
The room was careening wildly around. Enid gasped, “I’m ill! I’m going to be sick! I’ll choke if you don’t release me!”
“The gin is beginning to warm you, dearie,” the woman gloated. “Time has come to cool you off.”
She finished the remaining gin, threw the bottle away, and then began systematically to rip all the clothing from Enid’s body. Enid felt her navy wool dress being torn roughly away, then her lace décolletage insert, then her petticoats—until at last she lay there completely naked, totally exposed.
“Well, my lady,” the enormous woman cackled, “you look much like the rest of us! Slim enough, to be sure, and good-sized above! You have a pair, no doubt of that!”
As she finished speaking, the door creaked open again. With eyes slightly blurred, Enid turned to see a delighted-looking Andrew and his simpering friend Claude enter the room.
Andrew exclaimed, “Excellent, Mother Mag! Is everything ready?”
The woman turned to him and shook with laughter. “Whenever you like, sir!”
Andrew came over to the cot and bent down close to Enid so that she could clearly see the scar on his face.
“Did you think I’d let you off so easily?” he sneered. “Not bloody likely!”
“You!” she managed thickly. She was sickened by the thought that she had been so wrong. It hadn’t been Esmond—it was Andrew!
“Claude had you followed. The rest was easy. And tonight I shall have my revenge. My witnesses will testify that you came to a brothel, got drunk on gin, and indulged in the debauchery to which you are so addicted. We’ll see then if the courts will grant you your freedom! Especially when I inform them of my distress and my desire to keep you for my wife and reform you!”
Enid moaned and closed her eyes.
“Did she get plenty of gin?” Andrew asked Mother Mag.
“More than a third of a bottle! She’s drunk as a turnip!” The fat woman shook again with cruel glee.
Andrew leaned over Enid and hissed, “You are so anxious for men, I shall stand by and see you supplied with a dozen or so!”
Terror cut through her fuddled brain and she opened her eyes. “No! Please!” she begged him.
“Too late for pleading,” he said. “I have neglected my husbandly duties, so you claim. Now I shall have the great delight of standing by and watching you be well served.”
The vicomte concurred. “It is the very epitome of justice, dear Andrew!”
“Bring them in!” Andrew told Mother Mag.
She waddled to the door and shouted hoarsely, “Ready, boys? A shilling a turn! Pay as you take your place!”
There was a moment’s pause, and then a tall, gaunt man stepped hesitantly into the room, followed by a short oldster in a dirty jacket and breeches and a greasy periwig. Behind him was a young seaman whose vacant face bore a wide grin. The last man to enter was a burly brute with a broad, ugly face.
Mother Mag took a stand at the foot of the bed and crowed. “There she is, boys, and she’s ready for you! A real lady! All right, you vagabond, give me your shilling and get to it.”
The gaunt man at the head of the line hesitated. “Is there to be no screen? Nothing to make it private?”
“All in the open, that’s the way it’s to be,” Mother Mag told him. “Look at those rosy breasts and the cut of those thighs! Now, enough stalling. Give me the shilling!” She held out her hand.
He passed it to her, and there were titters and some rude jests from the men waiting behind him. Still the gaunt man hesitated. He approached the cot awkwardly and then gave Andrew and the vicomte a worried look.
“Why are they here?” he asked Mother Mag. “Why should they be allowed to watch?”
Andrew spoke up. “It is our wish to see you at your manly work! Get on with it, fellow!” The vicomte giggled and placed a forefinger in his mouth, his eyes greedy for the carnal scene about to be played for them.
At this point, the other men impatiently urged the first one on. Looking unhappy, he began to undo his breeches and dropped them to the floor. Enid caught a glimpse of his enlarged member as he sank slowly on top of her. She closed her eyes and for the first time was grateful for the gin, which would help blot out the pain and the disgrace.
The gaunt man penetrated her and was soon panting with delight. The others waiting their turn cried out encouragements, as they would for two mangy mongrels in the act of coupling. Mother Mag roared with laughter and Andrew and Claude joined her in expressing their own glee. Enid’s cries of discomfort and terror only goaded them on.
Enid was once more on the brink of unconsciousness when she heard the sound of a pistol shot from below. It was a signal for the worthy on top of her to jump up and scramble into his breeches. His associates let loose with cries of consternation and fear. Mother Mag cursed loudly, and Andrew began a series of rapid-fire questions about the best way to depart without being seen. The voices ebbed and faded as eventually everyone moved out of the room.
Enid lay there moaning. Then she heard her name being called. She gathered all her strength to cry out in return, “Here! In here!”
Gustav came rushing into the room, pistol at the ready. When he saw the condition she was in, he uttered several French oaths and quickly cut her bonds with his pocketknife. Then he sat her upright on the cot, and removing his jacket, put it on her. He buttoned it up and thus covered her nakedness to her knees.
“You’ll be all right,” he said as he lifted her in his strong arms and started out of the room.
She had no clear memory of what followed afterward. It was hours before the effects of the gin and her shattering experience wore off. When she came to full awareness, she found herself in Gustav and Susie’s small bedchamber, tucked snugly in their bed.
Susie was bending over her. “You poor dear!” she murmured.
Enid stared at her. “Gustav came … he saved me!”
“Don’t upset yourself,” Susie pleaded. “The doctor said you mustn’t. He’ll be back later.”
“How did you know?” Enid’s voice was hoarse, her throat was sore, and her entire body was a throbbing, aching mass.
“I was up here when they took you,” Susie exclaimed. “I went downstairs and saw them put you in a carriage. Luckily, at that very moment Gustav arrived in another carriage. We followed the carriage you were in to the brothel on the docks. Then Gustav had to get help to break into the place.”
“They humiliated me and intended to degrade me even more,” Enid whispered.
“That despicable Lord Andrew!” Susie cried. “When Gustav and his men broke into that awful place, they had to battle their way up to you. That gave Andrew time to get away with that French fop.”
“He escaped?”
“Yes. Mother Mag took them up to the roof, and they jumped across to the next building and then to another. By the time Gustav realized what had happened, they were gone.”
“Andrew is the most evil of all,” Enid murmured.
“He won’t get away with this,” Susie declared indignantly. “Gustav and his men have gone to Andrew’s home now. If he’s hiding there, they’ll settle with him, and if he hasn’t gotten there yet, they’ll wait for him. You can be sure he’ll pay.”
Enid made no reply. A great lassitude had swept through her, and she closed her eyes. Once again she lapsed into a sleep that was not a real sleep.
When she awoke again, Susie had some warm gruel ready for her. Enid ate the gruel and felt somewhat better.
“I hope Gustav doesn’t get into any trouble,” she worried.
“Don’t let that concern you,” her friend urged.
“Andrew has many corrupt friends like himself,”
Enid told Susie. “It is hard to strike back at him.”
“I know.”
“If my father learns what happened, he will be beside himself with rage,” Enid fretted. “And he certainly won’t want me to remain in London if he finds out.”
“Who will tell him?”
“I don’t know, but to be truthful, I don’t think I dare remain in the city if Andrew goes free and unpunished.”
“Try to rest a while longer,” Susie suggested. “I’ll let you know when Gustav gets back.”
A weary Gustav returned an hour later. He came into the bedchamber and took Enid’s hand in his. “Are you all right?”
“I’m much better,” she said. “What about him?”
“He’s taken cover!” The fencing instructor’s face expressed his disgust. “Gone into some hole, like the slimy rat he is!”
“I didn’t think he would show up at his house.”
“Both he and that Frenchman have vanished. The servants say they don’t know where either one is. They may be lying, but I frightened them with every sort of threat. I found out nothing.”
“So he is hiding somewhere, safe from punishment,” Enid stated calmly.
“I wish I could have gotten my hands around his throat just once!”
“Perhaps it is for the best, Gustav. I would not want you to become a murderer on my account.”
“I would gladly have killed him!”
“I know that, and I daren’t think of what would have happened to me if you hadn’t appeared when you did.”