The Firefly of France

by Marion Polk Angellotti

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE FIREFLY OF FRANCE

  He was very weak indeed; it seemed a miracle that, at the sounds below,he had found strength to drag himself from his bed and crawl inch byinch to the room of the secret panel to mount guard there; and no soonerhad he soothed Miss Falconer than he collapsed in a sort of swoon. Welaid him on the chest, and I fetched a pillow for his head and strippedoff my coat and spread it over him. I took out my pocket-flask, too, andforced a few drops between his teeth. In short I tried to play the game.

  When his eyes opened, however, my endurance had reached its limits.With a muttered excuse,--not that I flattered myself they wanted me tostay!--I left them and stumbled into the room of the squires, takingrefuge in the grateful dark. I don't know how long I sat there, elbowson knees, hands propping my head; but it was a ghastly vigil. In thisround, unlike the battle in the hall, I had not been victor. Instead, Ihad taken the count.

  I knew now, of course, that I was in love with Esme Falconer. Judgingfrom the violence of the sensation, I must have loved her for quite awhile. Probably it had begun that night in the St. Ives restaurant; forwhen before had I watched any girl with such special, ecstatic, almostproprietary rapture? Yes, that was why, ever since, I had been cuttingsuch crazy capers. From first to last they were the natural thing, theprerogative of a man in my state of mind or heart.

  Many threads of the affair still remained to be unraveled. I didn't knowwhat the duke was doing here, what he had been about for a month past,how the girl, far off in America, had guessed his whereabouts and hisneed; nor did I care. His mere existence was enough--that and Esme'slove for him. All my interest in my Chinese puzzle had come to awretched end.

  "Confound him!" I thought savagely. "We could have spared him perfectly.What business has he turning up at the eleventh hour? He didn't crossthe ocean with her. He didn't suspect her unforgivably. He didn't helpher, and disguise himself as a chauffeur for her, and wing Schwartzmann,and bruise up the other chaps and send them rolling in a heap. This ismy adventure. He must have had a hundred. Why couldn't he stick to hishigh-flying and dazzling and let me alone?"

  The murmur of voices drifted from the lord's bedchamber. I could guesswhat they had to say to each other, Miss Falconer and her duke. TheFirefly of France! Even I, a benighted foreigner, knew the things thattitle stood for: heroism, in a land where every soldier was a hero;praise and medals and glory; thirty conquered aeroplanes--a record overwhich his ancestors, those old marshals and constables lying effigied ontheir tombs of marble with their feet resting on carved lions, must nodtheir heads with pride.

  "Mr. Bayne!"

  It was Miss Falconer's voice. I rose reluctantly and obeyed the summons.The Firefly was sitting propped on the chest, white, but steadier, whileEsme still knelt beside him, holding his hand in hers.

  "I have been telling Jean, Mr. Bayne, how you have helped us." Theradiance of her face, the lilt of her voice, stabbed me with a jealouspang. I wanted to see her happy, Heaven knew, but not quite in thismanner. "And he wants to thank you for all that you have done."

  The Duke of Raincy-la-Tour spoke to me in English that was correct, butquaintly formal, of a decided charm.

  "Monsieur," he said, "I offer you my gratitude. And if you willtouch the hand of one concerning whom, I fear, very evil things arebelieved--"

  I forced a smile and a hearty pressure.

  "I'll risk it," I assured him. "The chain of evidence against you seemedfar-fetched to say the least. They pointed out accusingly that yourfather and your grandfather had been royalists, and that therefore--"

  He made a gesture.

  "May their souls find repose! Monsieur, it is true that they were.But if they lived to-day, my father and grandfather, they would not betraitors. They would wear, like me, the uniform of France."

  He smiled, and I knew once for all that I could never hate him; thatmere envy and a shame of it were the worst that I could feel. Everythingabout him won me, his simplicity, his fine pride, his clearness of eyeand voice, his look of a swift, polished sword blade. I had never seena man like him. The Duchess of Raincy-la-Tour would be a lucky woman; somuch was plain.

  I found a seat on the window ledge, the girl remained kneeling by him,and he told us his story, always in that quaint, formal speech. Asit went on it absorbed me. I even forgot those clasped hands for anoccasional instant. In every detail, in every quiet sentence, therewas some note that brought before me the Firefly's achievements, themarauding airships he had climbed into the air to meet, the foes he hadswooped from the blue to conquer, his darts into the land of his enemieswhere there was a price upon his head.

  The story had to do with a night when he had left the French linesbehind him. His commander had been quite frank. The mission meant hisprobable death. He was to wear a German uniform; to land inside thelines of the kaiser, to conceal his plane, if luck favored him, amongthe trees in the grounds of the old chateau of Ranceville; to get whatknowledge and sketch what plans he could of defenses against which theFrench attacks had hitherto broken vainly, and to bring them home.

  All had gone well at first. His gallant little plane had winged its wayinto the unknown like a darting swallow; he had landed safely; and afterhe had walked for hours with the Germans about him and death beside him,he had gained his spoils. It was as he rose for the return flight thatthe alarm was given. He got away; but he had five hostile aircraft afterhim. Could he hope to elude them and to land safely at the French lines?

  It was in that hour, while the night lingered and the stars still shoneand the cannon of the two armies challenged each other steadily, thatthe Firefly of France fought his greatest battle in the air. Since hiswhole aim was escape, it was bloodless; he had to trust to skill andcunning; he dared manoeuvers that appalled others, dropped plummet-like,looped dizzily, soared to the sheerest heights. He had been wounded. Theframework of his plane was damaged. Still he gained on his foes and wonthrough to the lines of France.

  "But I might not land there," he explained. "The Germans followed. Amist had closed about us, hiding us from my friends below. I heardonly my propeller; and that, by now, sounded faint to me, for I wasweakening; one shot had hit my shoulder and another had wounded my leftarm."

  The girl swayed closer against him, watching him with eyes of worship.Well, I didn't wonder, though it cut me to the heart. Even afairy prince could have been no worthier of her than thisJean-Herve-Marie-Olivier; of that at least, I told myself dourly, I mustbe glad.

  "As I raced on," said the duke, "there came a certain thought to me.We had traveled far; we were in the country near Prezelay, my cousin'shouse. The village, I knew, was ruined, but the chateau stood; and ifI could reach it, old Marie-Jeanne would help me. You comprehend, myweakness was growing. I knew I had little more time."

  The shrouding mist had aided him to lose those pursuing vultures. Thelast of them fell off, baffled,--or afraid to go deeper into France. Nowhe emerged again into the clear air and the starlight. The land beneathhim was a scudding blur, with a dark-green mass in its center, theforest of La Fay.

  And then, suddenly, he knew he must land if he were not to loseconsciousness and hurtle down blindly; and with set teeth and sweatbeading his forehead, he began the descent. At the end his strengthfailed him. The plane crashed among the trees. "But Saint Denis, whohelps all Frenchmen, helped me,"--he smiled--"and I was thrown clear."

  From that thicket where his machine lay hidden it was a mile toPrezelay. He dragged himself over this distance, sometimes on his handsand knees. Soon after dawn Marie-Jeanne, answering a discordant ringing,found a man lying outside the gate and babbling deliriously, hermaster's cousin, in a blood-soaked uniform, holding out a bundle ofpapers, and begging her by the soul of her mother to put them in thecastle's secret hiding-place.

  She did it. Then she coaxed the wounded man to the rooms opening fromthe gallery and tended him day and night through the weeks of fever thatensued. From his ravings she learned that he was in danger and fearedpursuers
; and with the peasant's instinct for caution, she had not daredto send for help.

  "It was yesterday," the duke told us, "that my mind came back. I knewthen what must be thought of me, what must be said of me, all overFrance." He was leaning on the wall now, exhausted and white, butdauntless. "No matter for that--I have the papers. You recall thehiding-place?"

  He smiled as he asked the question, and Miss Falconer smiled back athim. Getting to her feet, she ran her fingers across the oak panel overhis head, where for centuries a huntsman had been riding across a forestglade and blowing his horn. The bundle of his hunting-knife protrudedjust a little; and as the girl pressed it, the panel glided silentlyopen, revealing a space, square and dark and cobwebby.

  Something was lying there, a thin, wafer-like packet of papers, thepapers for which the Firefly of France had shed his blood. She held themup in triumph. But the duke was still smiling faintly. He thrust onehand into his shirt and drew out a duplicate package, which he raisedfor us to see.

  "Behold!" he said. "They are copies. All that I sketched that night nearRanceville, all that I wrote--I did not once, but twice. These I carriedopenly, to be found if I were captured. But those you hold went hiddenin the sole of my boot, which was hollowed for them, so that if I weretaken and then escaped, they might go too!"

  I had read of such devices, I remembered vaguely. There was a story of ayoung French captain who had tried the trick in Champagne and succeededwith it, a rather famous exploit. Then I thought of something else. Igot up slowly.

  "You have two sets of papers?" I repeated.

  "As you see, Monsieur."

  "Then I'll take one of them," said I.

  Miss Falconer was looking at me in a puzzled fashion. As for the duke,his brows drew together; his figure straightened; the cool glint grew inhis eyes.

  "Monsieur," he stated somewhat icily, "such things as these are notsouvenirs. When they leave my possession they will go to the supremecommand."

  "Certainly," I agreed, unruffled. "That will do admirably for the firstpackage; but about the second--no doubt Miss Falconer told you thatwe have German guests downstairs? Perhaps she forgot to mention theleader's name, though. It is Franz von Blenheim. And I don't care tohave him break down the door and burst in on us, on her specially; Iwould rather, all things considered, interview him in the hall."

  The Firefly's face had altered at the name of the secret agent; hewas now regarding me with intentness, but without a frown. As for MissFalconer, the trouble in her eyes was growing. I should have to becareful. Accordingly I summoned a debonair manner as I went on.

  "If you'll allow me," I said, "I will take the papers down to him. Hewon't know that they are copies; he will snatch at them, glad of thechance. And since he is in a hurry, he probably won't stop to parley. Hewill simply be off at top speed, and leave us safe.

  "Of course, that is the one unpleasant feature of the affair, hisgoing." At this point I glanced in a casual manner at the Duke ofRaincy-la-Tour. "It seems a pity to let him walk off scot-free, to planmore trouble for France; but that is past praying for. I could hardlyhope to stop him, except by a miracle. If there is one, I'll be onhand."

  Would the duke guess the hope with which I was going downstairs, Iwondered. I thought he did, for his eyes flashed slightly, and hestirred a little on the chest.

  "Such a miracle, Monsieur," he remarked, "would serve France greatly. Asa good son of the Church, I will pray for it with all my heart!"

  "I hope to come back," I went on, "and rejoin you. But if I shouldn'tfor any reason,"--with careful vagueness,--"you must stay here,barricaded, till they are gone. Then Miss Falconer can drive her carto the nearest town and bring back help for you. You see, it will beentirely simple, either way."

  The girl, very white now, took a swift step toward me.

  "Simple?" she cried. "They will kill you! They hate you, Mr. Bayne, andthey are four to one. You mustn't go."

  But the duke's hand was on her arm.

  "My dear," he said, "he has reason. This friend of yours, I perceive,is a gallant gentleman. Believe me, if I had strength to stand, he wouldnot go alone."

  He held out the papers to me, and I took them. Then we clasped hands,the Firefly and I.

  "_Bonne chance, Monsieur_," he bade me with the pressure.

  "Good luck and good-bye," I answered. "Miss Falconer, will you come tothe door?"

  She took up the candle and came forward to light me, and we went insilence through the room of the squires and through the ante-chamber andinto the room of the guards. She walked close beside me; her eyes shonewet; her lips trembled. There were things I would have given the worldto say, but I suppressed them. To the very end, I had resolved, I wouldplay fair. We were at the outer door.

  "Good-by, Miss Falconer," I said, halting. "You mustn't worry;everything is going to turn out splendidly, I am sure. Only, now that wehave the papers, it ends our little adventure, doesn't it? So beforeI go I want to thank you for our day together. It has been wonderful.There never was another like it. I shall always be thankful for it, nomatter what I have to pay."

  I stopped abruptly, realizing that this was not cricket. To make up,I put out my hand quite coolly; but she grasped it in both of hers andheld it in a soft, warm clasp.

  "I shall never forget," she whispered. "Come back to us, Mr. Bayne!"

  For a moment I looked at her in the light of the candle, at her lovelyface, at the ruddy hair framing it, at the tears heavy on her lashes.Then I drew the bolt and went out and heard her fasten the door.