CHAPTER XIX.

IN CORRIGAN'S POWER

For the moment after Corrigan made his assertion that Deb must do as he said, the terrified girl could not speak. She stared at the man in terror.

"Wha--what do you mean?" she gasped at last.

"You heard what I said," he answered coolly. "I want no nonsense from you either."

"But--but--what are you treating me so for?"

"That's my business, Miss Willington."

"And I must consider myself your prisoner?" she added, growing more pale than ever.

"That's it."

"You have no right to keep me here."

"Perhaps not, but you must remember that might makes right in some cases."

"Where is my brother Jack? I do not believe that you have told the truth about him."

"If you don't believe me, why do you want me to answer your questions?" he returned with a wicked grin on his unshaven face.

"You have harmed Jack in some way--I am sure of it!"

"No, no! To tell you honestly I haven't the least idea where he is," said Corrigan hastily.

Under no circumstances did he wish to stand for the crimes which his brother-in-law had committed. As it was, he felt that he had enough to answer for on his own account.

There was an awkward pause after this. Then of a sudden Deb started to scream, but he quickly clapped his hand over her mouth.

"None of that!" he said, roughly. "If you won't be quiet, do you know what I'll have to do?"

"I guess you are mean enough to do almost anything!" burst out poor Deb.

"I'll have to gag you, that's what. I won't have you yelling for help, remember that!"

"But I do not wish to remain here!" insisted Deb, desperately.

"Oh, pshaw! I won't hurt you. Sit down and keep quiet."

But the girl could not compose herself and began to walk up and down the mill floor. She wished to get to the door and edged in that direction, but Corrigan quickly headed her off.

"You come with me," he said, presently. "I ain't going to trust you down here any more."

"I shan't go a step with you," she answered, vehemently. "O, Mr. Corrigan, please let me go! Please do!" And she clasped her hands and held them out toward him.

"Don't cut up so, Miss Willington. As I said before, I shan't harm a hair of your head. But I must make you stay here for a while. Now come with me."

"But where do you wish me to go?"

"There is a loft overhead. I must lock you up there, but only for a little while."

"But why are you doing this?"

"As I said before, that must remain my business. Come."

She shook her head.

"I--I cannot!" she cried, and began to weep.

Muttering something under his breath the villain caught her by the arms, just as he had caught her when he had come for the model, and in a trice he was carrying her up to the loft. She struggled as best she could but this availed her nothing.

"Now you keep quiet, or I'll surely gag you," he said, as he set her down on the dusty floor. "If you start up any kind of a racket it will be the worse for you."

Having thus delivered himself, Corrigan went below again, closing the door to the loft behind him and fastened one of the bolts which was there to hold it in place.

Left to herself, Deb stood dazed for a moment in the center of the floor. Then she tottered to an empty box standing near and sank upon this, the picture of misery and despair.

What should she do? What could she do?

Over and over she asked herself the questions, but without reaching a satisfying answer. She was the prisoner of a wicked man, and to get away from him appeared impossible.

The loft was very dusty, and from overhead hung huge cobwebs full of dirt and spiders. It was quite dark, for the only window was a little affair overlooking the river and the four tiny panes of this were thick with grime, the accumulation of years.

At last she arose, and with a long-drawn sigh made her way toward the window. It was nailed fast and could not be raised, so she had to content herself with scraping some of the dirt from the glass and looking through the spots thus afforded.

She could see but little, and nothing which gave her satisfaction. Below her was the broad and swift-flowing river, and beyond was a grassy bank, backed up by brush and tall trees. No boat was in sight, nor any human being.

She listened attentively, and not hearing Corrigan began to wonder if he had left the building.

"If he has I must escape somehow," she told herself. "I wonder if I can't pry open that door?"

She knelt over the door and tried it with her bare hands. But this was not sufficient, and getting up she looked around for something which might prove useful to her. In a corner of the loft rested a rusty iron bar, somewhat sharpened at one end. She brought this forth and after inspecting it felt certain that it would prove just what was needed.

Approaching the trapdoor she called out softly:

"Mr. Corrigan! Mr. Corrigan, are you down there?" And then, receiving no answer, she went on: "Mr. Corrigan, I must speak to you. Won't you please listen?"

Still the silence continued, and now her heart arose within her. He must certainly have gone away, and if that was so, now was her time to escape!

Trembling with anxiety, Deb began to work away on the door with the iron bar. At last she got the end of the bar in the crack of the door, and then she began to pry the door upwards. At first it refused to budge, but suddenly the bolt gave way and then the door came open with ease.

She was at liberty, or at least liberty was within her grasp, and with her heart thumping madly in her breast, she began to descend to the floor below, bar in hand. Once she thought she heard a noise outside and stopped short. What if that awful man should be coming back! But the noise ceased and was not repeated, and she went on and soon stood at the spot where he had first made her a prisoner.

The door to the roadway was open, and poor Deb could hardly resist the temptation to fly forth at the top of her speed. But then she remembered that Corrigan might be within easy distance of the mill. If that was so, and he caught sight of her, he would surely make after her.

"I must watch my chance, and if he is around, I must get away on the sly," was what she told herself. Curiously enough, while up in the loft, she had not discovered Jack's model, which was tucked away out of her sight.

With bated breath she tiptoed her way to the open doorway and peered forth. No one was in sight on the road, nor at the water's edge near the mill. All was as silent as a tomb, save for the distant rushing of the water over the rocks.

Waiting no longer, Debt left the mill and started for the road. She was still terribly frightened and ran on as if some great demon was after her trying to clutch her shoulder. In her agitation she did not notice a tree root growing in her pathway, and catching her foot in this, she pitched headlong on the stones and grass.

It was a cruel fall, and as she fell she could not keep back a cry of alarm, followed by one of pain, for her elbow was hurt not a little.

At the cry there was a crashing in the bushes overlooking the river at a point above the mill, and a moment later Corrigan appeared. He had gone out on a point of land to see if he could catch sight anywhere of Andy Mosey.

"What! did you get away?" he roared.

"Let me go!" screamed Deb. "Oh, my elbow! Let me go!"

"Let you go nothing!" he answered, and caught hold of her once more. "Come back with me! Come back this minute!"

"No, no!" she moaned. "I--I don't want to go back!"

"But you shall go back," he answered. And despite her struggles he lifted her into his arms once more and returned with her to the mill.