by Frank Savile
CHAPTER XV
PERINAUD'S NEWS
A full mile out in the offing _The Morning Star_ swung at her anchorage,dipping and swerving lazily over the incoming rush of the Atlanticswell. The dawn-light was soft behind the white bastions of the town'ssea-wall; the harsh glare of the fully risen sun was yet to come. Alittle boat put out from the shore, zigzagging across the wide lakewhich is bounded on the south by the headland and on the north and westby the ring of transports, merchantmen, and cuirasses of the FrenchMarine. She tacked and came about at short intervals as if those whosailed her had need of haste, or at any rate of the distraction ofattempting speed even if it could not be attained. She sidled, at last,towards the yacht's companion ladder.
Claire Van Arlen rose from her deck chair as the boat's sail dropped.She walked towards the taffrail and looked down. She had used herbinoculars upon the little craft ever since its start from the shore,and had finally recognized Daoud. His companion, a uniformed man, whoselong limbs seemed to occupy the whole of the space between stern andstem, had his head swathed in bandages.
Daoud was the first to scramble aboard. He stood before her with bentshoulders, the picture of dejection.
She breathed a little quickly.
"Yes?" she asked. "You have brought news--of what?"
The tall man swung himself off the ladder, drew himself upright, andsaluted.
"Mademoiselle, I am Sergeant Perinaud, attached to the office of themilitary police here. I attended M. Aylmer during our ride in pursuit ofthe man named Landon, who was escaping with certain desert knaves of theBeni M'Geel. We overtook them--"
"_Mademoiselle, I am Sergeant Perinaud_"]
She interrupted with an exclamation of delight.
"You have the boy?" she cried. "You recovered him?"
He shook his head.
"No, Mademoiselle. We were betrayed into an unfortunate ambush. We lostfive men out of ten in addition to further losses at an earlier date inthe proceedings. Monsieur le Capitaine has been badly hurt."
He looked at her keenly with a sort of speculative curiosity. And Daoudfrowned. For there was no sign of commiseration in her glance. Sheshowed annoyance, almost disgust.
"You had your hands upon these men and they escaped you?" she cried.
"We were within a very little of arresting them, Mademoiselle, but by anArab trick in which I regret to say they showed more intelligence thanwe were capable of divining, they defeated us. I am directed by Majord'Hubert to report to you fully on the incident if you desire it."
She made a vehement gesture.
"If!" she cried. "If!"
With an accession of woodenness in his demeanor, the sergeant drewhimself up yet more stiffly, repeated his salute, and in a few precisewords gave the story of the pursuit. But, as he described Aylmer's fall,it was to be noted that his voice and bearing relaxed. A tinge of thedramatic colored his level tones. His eyes--his hands were called uponto emphasize the description of the headlong plunge into the black trapof the silo--indicated the feelings of an onlooker rather than a merereporter, as he described the sealing of the prison mouth. And as shelistened, she gave a little gasp. In the background Daoud flung hiscolleague a little nod of approval.
"And then?" she asked breathlessly. "And then?"
"I was unhorsed, Mademoiselle, and somewhat beaten about the head, as isevident. I found shelter in a neighboring patch of mallow, where, aftera season, I was joined by my friend here. The Beni M'Geel havingdeparted, we watched their route as a matter of precaution for a mile ortwo, and then returned. We were unable to deal with the slab upon thecellar mouth."
This time his voice had been level enough, but he made his pauseeffective.
She gasped again.
"You left him there?"
He smiled.
"Yes, Mademoiselle, but not without rendering him assistance. Not beingable to remove the stone, we merely dug another entrance. The outerearth was hard and baked, but after pecking off a few inches with ourknives we fetched water from the river and easily softened it. Wefashioned a couple of wooden shovels. Thus we dug down into the prisonin an hour or two. We found the captain delirious."
"Yes?" she said again, eagerly. "You brought him away?"
"Mademoiselle forgets that we had no horses. Daoud remained with him. Iwalked to our nearest outpost--at Ain Djemma--to fetch assistance."
His tones were absolutely matter of fact, but some instinct ofcomprehension made her look at him yet more keenly and thus note theweariness which his voice could hide, but not his drawn features.
"You walked, how far?" she questioned.
"I have no exact idea, Mademoiselle. For some hours. I could not obtaina surgeon; there was but one at the post and his hands were full. Anorderly of the ambulance came with me with a _cacolet_ and a smallescort of Chasseurs. But we have not dared to remove the captain, whosefever has reached a serious height. The orderly advised that I shouldcome direct to the town and obtain either medical help, or, if possible,one of the _Dames de la Croix Rouge_. But there is an epidemic of feverat the hospital and an influx of wounded from the Tirailleurs' foray offour days back. Neither surgeon nor nurse can be spared for one man."
For a moment there was silence again. Perinaud looked at her with a sortof questioning apathy, with the detached air of one having done his dutyand awaiting the decrees of fate. But Daoud moved restlessly, and thenbroke into speech, as if some irresistible impulse moved him.
"I think my master is likely to die, Mademoiselle," he said.
And then he, too, waited, in a sort of queer, hushed expectancy, as ifhis words must result in some definite action.
"We have medical comforts on board," she said quickly. "We will putanything we possess at Captain Aylmer's service."
Perinaud nodded again solemnly.
"The dislocated shoulder has been dealt with, Mademoiselle, and thebroken bone set. The orderly, also, has quinine for the fever, which ishigh. We might be doing right, perhaps, in taking back any otherremedies which your intelligence can suggest."
His tone was meditative and judicial, and intimated quite distinctlythat this was a side issue and not the objective of his present mission.He continued to stare at her steadily, without any tinge of offence, butwith a questioning directness which spoke volumes. "I am waiting," itseemed to say. "I have given you your cue. Speak your part."
She looked from him to the Moor, read the same message in the latter'sair of anticipation, and then spoke, desperately.
"What is it?" she demanded. "You want--something?"
The man looked not exactly embarrassed but disconcerted, surprised. Hiseyebrows rose a fraction, he flashed a swiftly inquiring glance at theMoor. The other nodded.
"The captain's fever and delirium is very great, Mademoiselle," he saidslowly. "We thought--" He hesitated. "The captain, in his wanderings,used your name frequently."
She understood in a moment. Aylmer, in his fevered unconsciousness,had--what had he done? Placed himself, and her, in a false position?These stolid, unimaginative men, at any rate, regarded her as hisfiancee! She was not eager, vehement, to rush to her lover's side! Nowonder they showed astonishment.
She stood silent, perturbed, at a loss. And the two impassive faceswatched her. And again a tiny spasm of fear throbbed through her. Fatewas fighting for this man, it seemed. Helpless, unconscious, cast awayin this rat-hole in the wilderness, his plight worked for him where hisown powers could not. His very helplessness appealed to her. Could sherefuse the duty which was being plainly forced upon her by the mutemessage of those four watching eyes? Her imagination began to work. Shesaw a gloomy pit, a white face wasted with fever, heard a voice which,unconsciously, perhaps, but still appealingly, called upon her name. Andthis was the debonair soldier who had ridden out three days before todo--what? Her bidding, no less. A flush rose to her brow.
"I have not a nurse's training," she assured Perinaud quietly, "but Iwill come with you, if you will wait."
The sergeant sal
uted.
"At Mademoiselle's service," he said placidly, and then turned towardshis colleague and sighed, a deep suspiration eloquent of relief.
At the door of the saloon she hesitated. She could see her father at hisdesk, bent over his papers, writing methodically. A sudden irritatedsense of shyness fell upon her. Surely he, too, could not misunderstand.
He looked round at her entrance. Without preamble she repeated thesergeant's report, speaking in level, matter of fact tones. Sheannounced her decision to return with Perinaud and his escort.
Her father's first comment was no more than his usual deferential littlenod. But there was a slightly strained silence between them as shefinished speaking--a silence which gave him time for reflection.
"You think your presence necessary, likely to benefit him?" he saidquestioningly.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"He has been wounded in our service," she said. "These men seem toexpect much of my nursing--I who have never nursed. I hardly see a wayto refuse graciously."
Again her father made his little obeisance of assent.
"I could charge myself with an explanation," he said gravely. "There isno reason for you to go against your wishes. I fear there is littleprospect of our being of real help."
Then a sudden throb of protest surged up in her. The vision of the darkcellar and of the fevered lips which called constantly upon her namebecame vivid, more vivid than before. To her own amazement she realizedthat she wanted to go, that the thought of those two horsemen riding outinto the wild with their message of repulse had become abhorrent to her.She felt suddenly pitying, protective. The feminine, indeed, thematernal, instinct gripped her.
The blood rose to her cheeks.
"I should prefer to go," she said quietly.
Van Arlen made a little gesture of finality.
"The sooner, then, the better," he said, and moved briskly towards hisown cabin, summoning the steward to his councils as he went.
The dusk was falling over them with grateful coolness as, eight hourslater, they rode over the brink of the gorge and saw below them theblack spectral shape of camel's-hair tents and the white dwellings ofthe _duar_. A lantern newly lit twinkled a welcome. A stallion neighed agreeting from his pickets as he heard the sound of advancing hoofs, anda couple of men in white uniform came to the door of a white-domed hoveland stood awaiting them.
One, a dapper, black-moustached little man with the Geneva Cross uponhis sleeve, hastened to help Miss Van Arlen to alight.
"Monsieur sleeps, Mademoiselle," he informed her, as she reached theground. "It is a matter of temperatures--and the subsequent weakness.Mademoiselle may have good hope that matters will yet go well."
His smile was reassuring and, in spite of his obvious youth, almostpaternal. At the tent door he turned and laid his finger upon his lips.There must be no feminine want of self-restraint, he implied. The sightof one dear to her in his hour of helplessness must not leave herunstrung. She must be brave.
She followed with her father into the shadows within.
He lay with his arms outflung. A light coverlet was over him, but thedamp of perspiration gleamed upon his forehead and neck. He movedrestlessly, breathing with a panting sound.
"We poise much on Monsieur's recognition of Mademoiselle when he wakes,"explained the orderly, and offered a smirk of intelligent sympathy toMademoiselle's father.
She looked down, and a strange sense of unreality in the situationseized her. The white, fever-stricken face on the pillow seemed aspectre--a caricature of something familiar. A queer sense of anger, asif some well-liked possession had been meddled with and defaced byoutsiders, rose in her heart. An instinct which she could not explainset her kneeling beside the pallet bed, her eyes fixed on its occupant.
Wearily, drowsily, Aylmer opened his eyes.
And then his smile dawned, slowly, incredulously, till the glory ofassurance had become convincing. He pronounced her name.
In the background, emotional thrills travelled across the orderly'sfoolishly sentimental countenance. He took mental notes of a situationwhich bulked largely and enticingly in a letter to an apple-cheekeddamsel in far-away Provence a few days later. "Such are the rewards ofthe soldier, my soul," he explained. "Love? Its cords are strong to dragits devotees even across this waste wilderness of Africa!" Wherein hedid one of the most fertile lands upon the habitable globe a vileinjustice. But your true lover is invariably a poet and girdled withmerely a poet's limitations, while the apple-cheeked demoiselle'sromantic sensibilities were quickened to the point of tears.
Mr. Van Arlen moved forward to his daughter's side with a suddenlyinstinctive motion. And she understood it. The embarrassment of thesituation had at once become plain to him; his desire was to clear it,he was framing words--courteous, no doubt, but without any trace ofsentiment--to assist her in this. He would do it admirably; his tact wasbeyond question.
And she?
Again she felt a sudden thrill of protest. No, how could they dealcoldly with this man, now? It would be less than womanly--would it evenbe common fair play? He was down. Surely till he was up again, theindomitable soldier she knew and feared, honor forbade their strikingeven at his self-assurance.
Her hand was laid upon her father's arm, pressing it in gentleremonstrance. Then she leaned towards the bed.
"We have come to thank you," she said quietly. "You have suffered muchfor us, too much."
His smile was fading while she spoke.
"I--I failed," he muttered. "I had my hands upon him, and failed."
"Ah, but you mustn't think us unjust, always," she answered. "What youintended--that is what we look at. You have worked for us ceaselessly.And now you suffer for us. You must accept our gratitude for that."
He shook his head slowly, and his gaze wandered past her to Van Arlen'sface.
"It is a check," he said slowly, "but only a check. He is not going towin." His eyes grew suddenly clear and his lips grim. "I shall followhim to the end," he said.
The orderly moved forward and rearranged the coverlet. He lookedsignificantly at a flush which had risen to Aylmer's cheek.
"It is better that Monsieur should not excite himself," he explainedamiably. "Mademoiselle is here; matters are going well. Monsieur willconvalesce all the quicker if he avoids emotion."
Aylmer pushed at the rearranged coverlet with a gesture of irritation.He drew himself into a sitting posture.
"Don't think that I have flung up the sponge!" he cried. "Before, beforethis weakness came over me I arranged for the future. Daoud has seen tothat; he has put matters in train. Landon will be watched--if necessary,followed. And when I am up again--" he smiled savagely--"when I take thetrail for the second time, he will pay in full, as I promised heshould."
And his voice rang firm as he caught sight of the Moor silhouettedagainst the evening light at the tent door.
"That is so?" he demanded. "You have seen to this among your friends?"
Daoud came forward a couple of respectful paces.
"Be assured, Sidi," he said, "that this man will not move a yard but Ishall have due knowledge of it, in time. He cannot leave North Africa,and I be ignorant of it. Our hands may lag, but they will grip him atthe last."
Aylmer gave a little sigh of satisfaction and lay back. And his eyesrose to Van Arlen's half appealingly, half defiantly.
"You see?" he said. "At any rate, I am doing--my best."
The other bowed, but not his automatic, courteous little bow with whichhe punctuated his everyday conversation. There was a moisture in hiseyes. He leaned forward and took the hand which moved restlessly acrossthe coverlet.
"If I had had a son," he said, "he could have done no more. Take mythanks, Captain Aylmer, for all that you are and have been; take them infull."
Aylmer gave a little nod of content.
"I'll take them," he smiled, "for what I have been to you, and that isless than nothing. But for what I am going to be--I'll earn them forthat, earn them!"