CHAPTER III
THE GATHERING OF THE LEGIONARIES
One week from that night, twenty-seven other men assembled in thestrange eyrie of _Niss'rosh_, nearly a thousand feet above the city'sturmoil. They came singly or in pairs, their arrival spaced in such amanner as not to make the gathering obvious to anyone in the buildingbelow.
Rrisa, the silent and discreet, brought them up in the privateelevator from the forty-first floor to the Master's apartment on thetop story of the building, then up the stairway to the observatory,and thus ushered them into the presence of the Master and Bohannan.Each man was personally known to one or the other, who vouchedabsolutely for his secrecy, valor, and good faith.
This story would resolve itself into a catalogue were each man to benamed, with his title, his war-exploits, his decorations. We shallhave to touch but lightly on this matter of personnel. Six of themen were Americans--eight, including the Master and Bohannan; fourEnglish; five French; two Serbian; three Italian; and the othersrepresented New Zealand, Canada, Russia, Cuba, Poland, Montenegro, andJapan.
Not one of these men but bore a wound or more, from the GreatConflict. This matter of having a scar had been made one primerequisite for admission to the Legion. Each had anywhere from one tohalf a dozen decorations, whether the Congressional Medal, the V.C.,the Croix de Guerre, the Order of the Rising Sun, or what-not.
Not one was in uniform. That would have made their arrival far tooconspicuous. Dressed as they were, in mufti, even had anyone notedtheir coming, it could not have been interpreted as anything but anordinary social affair.
Twenty-nine men, all told, gathered in the observatory, clearlyilluminated by the hidden lights. All were true blue, all loyal tothe core, all rusting with ennui, all drawn thither by the lure of theword that had been passed them in club and office, on the golf links,in the street. All had been pledged, whether they went further or not,to keep this matter secret as the grave.
Some were already known to each other. Some needed introduction. Suchintroduction consumed a few minutes, even after the last had come andbeen checked off on the Master's list, in cipher code. Thebrightly lighted room, behind its impenetrable curtains, blued withtobacco-smoke; but no drop of wine or spirits was visible.
The Master, at the head of the table, sat with his list and tookaccount of the gathering. Each man, as his name was called, gave thatname in full, briefly stated his service and mentioned his wound.
All spoke English, though some rather mangled it. At any rate, thiswas to be the official language of the expedition, and no other was tobe allowed. The ability to understand and obey orders given in Englishhad, of course, to be one essential requisite for this adventurousband of Legionaries.
When all the credentials had been proved satisfactory, the Masterrapped for order. Silence fell. The men settled down to listen, intense expectancy. Some took chairs, others occupied the divan, stillothers--for whom there were no seats--stood along the walls.
Informal though the meeting still was, an air of military restraintand discipline already half possessed it. The bright air seemed toquiver with the eagerness of these fighting-men once more tothrust out into the currents of activity, to feel the tightening ofauthority, the lure and tang of the unknown.
Facing them from the end of the table, the Master stood and spoketo them, with Bohannan seated at his right. His face reflected quiteanother humor from that of the night, a week before, when first thisinspiration had come upon him.
He seemed refreshed, buoyant, rejuvenated. His eyes showed fire. Hisbrows, that had frowned, now had smoothed themselves. His lips smiled,though gravely. His color had deepened. His whole personality, thathad been sad and tired, now had become inspired with a profound andsoul-felt happiness.
"Gentlemen all, soldiers and good men," said he, slowly. "In a generalway you know the purpose of this meeting. I am not given to oratory. Ido not intend making any speech to you.
"We are all ex-fighters. Life, once filled with daring and adventure,has become stale, flat, and unprofitable. The dull routine of businessand of social life is Dead Sea fruit to our lips--dust and ashes. Itcannot hold or entertain us.
"By this I do not mean that war is good, or peace bad. For the vastmajority of men, peace is normal and right. But there must be alwaysa small minority that cannot tolerate ennui; that must seek risks anddaring exploits; that would rather lay down their lives, today, insome man-sized exploit, than live twenty-five years longer in the dullsecurity of a humdrum rut.
"Such men have always existed and probably always will. We are all,I believe, of that type. Therefore you will all understand me. I willunderstand you. And each of you will understand the rest.
"Major Bohannan and I have chosen you and have invited you herebecause we believe every man in this room is precisely the kind ofman I have been defining. We believe you are like ourselves, dyingof boredom, eager for adventure; and willing to undergo militarydiscipline, swear secrecy, pledge honor and risk life itself, providedthe adventure be daring enough, the reward promising enough. If thereis anyone here present who is unwilling to subscribe to what I havesaid, so far, let him withdraw."
No one stirred. But a murmur arose, eager, delighted:
"Go on! Go on--tell us more!"
"Absolute obedience to me is to be the first rule," continued theMaster. "The second is to be sobriety. There shall be no drinking,carousing, or gambling. This is not to be a vulgar, swashbuckling,privateering revel, but--"
A slight disturbance at the door interrupted him. He frowned, andrapped on the table, for silence. The disturbance, however, continued.Someone was trying to enter there against Rrisa's protests.
"I did not bring you up, sir," the Arab was saying, in broken English."You cannot come in! How did you get here?"
"I'm not in the habit of giving explanations to subordinates, orof bandying words with them," replied the man, in a clear, ratherhigh-pitched but very determined voice. The company, gazing at him,saw a slight, well-knit figure of middle height or a little less,in aviator's togs. "I'm here to see your master, my good fellow, notyou!"
The man at the head of the table raised a finger to his lips, insignal of silence from them all, and beckoned the Arab.
"Let him come in!" he ordered, in Rrisa's vernacular.
"_A, M'alme_" submitted the desert man, standing aside and bowing asthe stranger entered. The Master added, in English:
"If he comes as a friend and helper, uninvited though he be, wewelcome him. If as an enemy, traitor, or spy, we can deal justice tohim in short order. Sir, advance!"
The stranger came to the foot of the table. Men made way for him. Hestood there a moment in silence, dropped his gauntlets on the tableand seemed peering at the Master. Then all at once he drew himself up,sharply, and saluted.
The Master returned the salute. A moment's silence followed. No manwas looking elsewhere than at this interloper.
Not much could be seen of him, so swaddled was he in sheepskin jacket,aviator's helmet, and goggles. Leather trousers and leggings completedhis costume. The collar of the jacket, turned up, met the helmet. Ofhis face, only the chin and lower part of the cheeks remained visible.
The silence tautened, stretched to the breaking-point. All at once themaster of _Niss'rosh_ demanded, incisively:
"Your name, sir?"
"Captain Alfred Alden, of the R.A.F."
"Royal Air Force man, eh? Are you prepared to prove that?"
"I am."
"If you're not, well--this won't be exactly a salubrious altitude foryou."
"I have my papers, my licenses, my commission."
"With you here?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well," answered the Master, "I will examine them in due time.English, American, or--?"
"I am a Canadian." answered the aviator. "I have seen nearly twoyears' active service. I rank as an ace. I bear three wounds and havebeen cited several times. I have the Distinguished Service Cross. Whatmore need I tell you, sir?"
"How did you come here? It's obvious my man didn't bring you up."
"I came in my own plane, sir," the stranger answered, in a dead hushof stillness. "It just now landed on the roof of this building. If youwill draw the curtains, there behind you, I believe you can see it foryourself."
"I heard no engine."
"I volplaned in. I don't say this to boast sir, but I can handle theaverage plane as accurately as most men handle their own fingers."
"Were you invited to attend this meeting by either Major Bohannan orby me?"
"No, sir, I was not."
"Then, why are you here?"
"Why am I here? For exactly the same reason that all the rest arehere, sir!" The aviator swept his arm comprehensively at the ranks ofeagerly listening men. "To resume active service. To get back to duty.To live, again! In short, to join this expedition and to share all itsadventures!"
"Hm! Either that, or to interfere with us."
"Not the latter, sir! I swear that!"
"How did you know there was going to be an expedition, at all?"demanded the Master, his brows tensed, lips hard, eyes very keen. Theaviator seemed smiling, as he answered:
"I know many things. Some may be useful to you all. I am offering youmy skill and knowledge, such as they may be, without any thought orhope of reward."
"Why?"
"Because I am tired of life. Because I want--must have--the freedom ofthe open roads, the inspiration of some great adventure! Surely, youunderstand."
"Yes, if what you say is true, and you are not a spy. Show us yourface, sir!"
The aviator loosened his helmet and removed it, disclosing a mass ofdark hair, a well-shaped head and a vigorous neck. Then he took offhis goggles.
A kind of communal whisper of astonishment and hostility ran round theapartment. The man's whole face--save for eyeholes through whichdark pupils looked strangely out--was covered by a close-fitting,flesh-colored celluloid mask.
This mask reached from the roots of his hair to his mouth. It slopedaway down the left jaw, and somewhat up the cheekbone of the rightside. The mask was firmly strapped in place around the head and neck.
"What does all this mean, sir?" demanded the Master, sharply. "Why themask?"
"Is that a necessary question, sir?" replied the aviator, while a buzzof curiosity and suspicion rose. "You have seen many such during thewar and since its close."
"Badly disfigured, are you?"
"That word, 'disfigured,' does not describe it, sir. Others havewounds, but my whole face is nothing but a wound. No, let me put itmore accurately--there is, practically speaking, no face at all. Thegaping cavity that exists under this mask would certainly sicken thestrongest men among you, and turn you against me.
"We can't tolerate what disgusts, even if its qualities be excellent.In exposing myself to you, sir, I should certainly be insuring myrejection. But what you cannot see, what you can only imagine, willnot make you refuse me."
The Master pondered a moment, then nodded and asked:
"Is it so very bad, sir?"
"It's a thing of horror, incredible, awful, unreal! In the hospitalat Rouen, they called me 'The Kaiser's Masterpiece.' Some of the mosthardened surgeons couldn't look at me, or dress my--wound, let us callit--without a shudder. Ordinary men would find me intolerable, if theycould see me.
"Unmasked, I bear no resemblance whatever to a man, but rather to someghastly, drug-inspired dream or nightmare of an Oriental Dante. Thefact that I have sacrificed my human appearance in the Great Causecannot overcome the shrinking aversion that normal men would feel,if they could see me. I say only this, that my mutilation isindescribable. As the officer and gentleman I know you to be, youwon't ask me to expose this horror!"
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