A Tatter of Scarlet: Adventurous Episodes of the Commune in the Midi 1871
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CHAPTER VIII
I SEE THE SCARLET TATTER NEAR AT HAND
I might have thought much more about Gaston Cremieux and the darkfatality of his eyes, if other things had not immediately distracted myattention. The garrison had had its noon dinner in the great hall, andat one o'clock the family were served in the fine red and golddining-room, the furnishings of which had been the gift of the Emperor.Dennis Deventer sat at the top of the table with the gleeful air ofhaving dispatched the business of the day.
There was a feeling of picnic unceremoniousness about the feast. Theservants were somewhat thinned by flight, and as there was nohard-and-fast etiquette in Dennis Deventer's house on any occasion,several of the younger apprentice engineers assisted in the service,partly from a general feeling of loyalty, and partly because they likedto steal glances at the three Deventer girls--glances of which only Lizappeared conscious and or in any way prompt with a return fire.
Even Jack Jaikes, a dark figure of a Spanish hidalgo, in engineer's blueserge and pockets continually bulging with spanners, looked in and saidwith brusque courtesy:
"Anything I can do for you, Chief?"
"Nothing," said Dennis Deventer, over his shoulder, "except to come inand sit down with us."
"Thank you, Chief," answered Jaikes, "but I have dined already. I amwatching the rascals from the roof. They have gone away for a while totheir 'speak-house,' where doubtless they are talking over the matter.But it will not do to trust to appearances. I wish you would let me runthat live wire from the big dynamo in the power-house. That would curlthem up by the score if they tried any more of their rushes."
Dennis Deventer turned on him savagely, the carving-knife in hand andupheld threateningly.
"You pirate," he cried, "do as I tell you, and if I hear of yourmeddling with the wires I will blow your brains out. Don't you see thatwe have got to go on living here, and the men we have to work thefactory with are the fellows out in the brush yonder? They will try tokill us now, but they will not bear any lasting malice if a few of themare bowled over while we are defending ourselves. But electrocution by alive wire is a different thing. They can't fight us with those weapons,and I am not going to have our lives made impossible by any wholesalescientific butchery."
Jack Jaikes held his ground in the doorway, his thin body flattenedagainst the panels to let the hurrying servants and apprentices pass.
"I don't know about 'scientific butchery,'" he said, "but I do know thatsome one of them is pretty handy with the trick of short-circuiting ournew Gramme armature. It wasn't any garlic-smelling 'Gugusse' who workedthat out. I have put it right three times, so I know it was no accident.But at any rate I am going to watch, if I have to slink about thedynamo-sheds all night. I shall carry the new Henry thirteen repeater Ihad from Edinburgh yesterday, and if I don't touch up that other gang ofscientific ruffians my name is not Jack Jaikes, and I never smelt thegood Clyde water from the Broomielaw."
Having thus had the last word, he shouldered his notable new Henry rifleand strode off with his head in the air.
"Bit of buccaneer blood in that fellow," said Dennis Deventer, "a hardhorse to hold in sober times, but deuced dependable in an emergency.Hates the Frenchmen, however, and does not get on with them. Mostly Ihave to keep him on special duty, or in the office, though he is acapital engineer, and a capital 'driver' with Englishmen or Scots of hisown breed who understand him. But if he is not careful he will getsomething for himself one of these days--a knife between theshoulder-blades as like as not."
Gentle Mrs. Dennis had her lament to make.
"I wish you would give him to me to look after. He can do almostanything. He mended my spare sewing-machine which has not worked foryears, and made the missing parts himself. I believe some of them weregiven to Liz to play with when she was a little girl, and I have neverseen them since."
"By all means have Jack Jaikes to tinker at your embroidery frames--thatis, if you can tame him. For myself I do not see him in the role offamily emergency man. But you must wait till we get the things all fixedhere and the shops running handily. Then I dare say it may be just aswell for Jaikes to eclipse himself for a day or two. If you can persuadehim to spend his time in the Chateau without coming into the works tillthings cool off a bit, it will be best for all of us. He will not findhimself exactly popular for a while."
"Of course I can, Dennis," said his wife, who never doubted her powersof persuasion. "There are hundreds of things that need to be done, andthe girls and I can easily find him work for a year. The place is goingto rack and ruin. High or low hardly a bolt will slide. Not a door willlock except the outer ones which you yourself have had looked torecently. What do you say, girls?"
"It is quite true, father," said Rhoda Polly. "I was trying to get Hughto do some little things down in the kitchen yesterday, but whateverthey teach him up at St. Andre, to make himself useful is certainly notamong them. He was as dense as a French plum-pudding, and I had far moreidea of how to handle a tool, for all he is older and twice my size."
Both Hannah and Liz agreed that there was a decided missionary call forthe assistance of Jack Jaikes in the Chateau as soon as possible.Something in the tone of his youngest daughter touched Dennis Deventer'seducated ear.
He looked up sharply from his plate.
"Now, Liz," he said, "I will have no nonsense of _that_ kind!"
Liz blushed and dimpled, but kept her eyes well on her knife and forkwithout a word. But there was a smile which lurked about the corners ofher mouth which said that her father, though a wise and masterful man inhis own house, could not control what was in the mind of a young girl.
It was a family tradition that at table Dennis Deventer should not beargued with. Their mother might say inconsequent things in her purringfashion, but only Rhoda Polly was allowed to stand up to their Old Man.Even she rarely interfered, except in case of flagrant injustice ormisunderstanding, or when the subject matter under discussion had beenagreed upon beforehand in the family conclave. In Liz's case Rhoda Pollyjudged there was no cause to interfere. It had become too much Liz'shabit to count all males coming to the house as "her meat," hardlyexcluding the halt, the maimed, and the blind. If her father had noticedthis growing peculiarity, he had done so "off his own bat," and on thewhole it was a good thing. The knowledge that she was under suspicion athead-quarters might do something to keep Liz within bounds. At least ifshe did get tangled up in her own snares, she would not have the face togo to their father for pity or demands for disentanglement. Rhoda Pollyhoped that this would put some of the iron which was in her own bloodinto that of her more temperamental and impulsive younger sister.
The turmoil, the constant clatter of knives, forks, and plates, thediscussion which swayed from one side of the table to the other, thewell-worn family jests, which, because I held no key to their origin,shut me out from the shouts of merriment they provoked--all produced onme a feeling of dazed isolation. I liked the Deventers singly,especially Rhoda Polly and her father. I could talk to each with easeand an honest eye to my own profit or amusement. But I will not hide itfrom you that I found the entire Deventer family, taken together, toomuch for me.
I think I inherit my father's feeling for a "twa-handed crack" as theonly genuine method of intercourse among reasoning beings. More thanthree in a conversation only serves to darken counsel by words withoutknowledge. In a company of four my father is reduced to completesilence, unless, indeed, he assumes his gown professorial and simplyprelects. In this way alone, and on condition that nobody says a word,my father could be induced to give forth of his wisdom in company.
But a sympathetic touch on the shoulder from Rhoda Polly, one of whosepeculiarities was that she understood things without being told,delivered me from my awkwardness.
"I don't think you have been here since we all grew up," she said, witha smile. "We _are_ rather _assommant_, I admit. We stun people with ourtrick of throwing ourselves at each other's heads. But you will soon getused to the clamour. Meantime, if
I were you, I should go out and walkin the acacia avenue. It is a good place to be quiet in, and I have itin my mind that you may learn something there"--she paused amoment--"something that will take the taste of Jack Jaikes' threateningsand slaughters out of your mouth."
She had moved back her chair a little so as to let me slip out, and thenwith a nod and half-smile she launched herself into the fiercest of thefray. So keen was challenge and _replique_ just at that moment that Iwas outside the fine old tapestried dining-room without being perceivedby anyone.
I ran downstairs and reported to the sentinel on duty at the front door.I told him that I did not feel well and was going to take the air. Heasked if I had my revolvers with me, and was only pacified at sight ofthem. He had gone often with messages from the Chief to my father atGobelet, and so took an interest in me.
I skirted the house, and was just plunging into a belt of woodlandthrough which I could gain the acacia walk without being seen, when Iwas hailed from the roof by Jack Jaikes. He wanted to know where I wasgoing, and what I was going to do when I got there.
Instead of being rude and obvious I made him the reply which I knewwould baffle him.
"Ask Rhoda Polly!" I said, and he swore aloud. If he had not been safeon the roof he would have come after me at once. As it was I advised himthat he had as much responsibility as one man could safely shoulder, andthat he would do wisely not to fret about me.
With that I waved my hand and stepped into the thickest of the bushes.The little wood ran round an artificial lake, and was prolonged right tothe great wall of the Chateau policies half a mile away. It was the partof the grounds most distant from the works, and from what might becalled the centre of disturbance.
I climbed a young but good-sized plane which overtopped the wall. It hadbeen pollarded, and the step from the tree to the top of the wall wasrather a long one. I managed it, however, without difficulty, thanks tothe bough of an acacia which came swaying and trembling over from thehighway beyond. The next moment I had dropped like a cat out of theacacia boughs into the road. A young man was sitting on a fallen treetrunk, pensively smoking a cigarette, his hat pulled low on his brow,and his eyes on the road.
I had no chance to escape his notice, for the sound of my feet attractedhim and he looked up at once. He rose smilingly and held out his hand.It was Gaston Cremieux.