"I shall break it open--with your help, my friend."

"I give no more help, friend Sevier--or Guillaume, or what you like--till I see my money. Deuce take it, the fellow may be armed!"

"I did n't engage you for a picnic, Monsieur Paul."

"It's the pay, not the work, that's in dispute, my friend. Come, you have the money, I suppose? Out with it!"

"Not a sou till I have the papers!"

The Captain nodded his head. "I was right, as usual," he was thinking to himself, as he felt his breast-pocket caressingly.

The wind rose to a gust and howled.

The voices became inaudible. The Captain bent down and whispered.

"If they force the door open," he said, "or if I have to open it and go out, you 'd do well to get behind that straw there till you see what happens. They expect n.o.body but me, and when they 've seen me they won't search any more."

He saw, with approval and admiration, that she was calm and cool.

"Is there danger?" she asked.

"No," said he. "But one of them wants some papers I have, and has apparently engaged the other to a.s.sist him. M. de Roustache feels equal to two jobs, it seems. I wonder if he knows whom he's after, though."

"Would they take the papers by force?" Her voice was very anxious, but still not terrified.

"Very likely--if I won't part with them. Don't be uneasy. I sha'n't forget your affair."

She pressed his arm gratefully, and drew back till she stood close to the trusses of straw, ready to seek a hiding-place in case of need.

She was not much too soon. A man hurled himself violently against the door. The upper part gave and gaped an inch or two; the lower stood firm, thanks to the block of wood that barred its opening. Even as the a.s.sault was delivered against the door, Dieppe had blown out the candle. In darkness he and she stood waiting and listening.

"Lend a hand. We shall do it together," cried the voice of M.

Guillaume.

"I 'll be hanged it I move without five thousand francs!"

Dieppe put up both hands and leant with all his weight against the upper part of the door. He smiled at his prescience when Guillaume flung himself against it once more. Now there was no yielding, no opening--not a c.h.i.n.k. Guillaume was convinced.

"Curse you, you shall have the money," they heard him say. "Come, hold the lantern here."

CHAPTER VII

THE FLOOD ON THE RIVER

That Paul de Roustache came to the rendezvous, where he had agreed to meet the Count, in the company and apparently in the service of M.

Guillaume, who was not at all concerned with the Count but very much interested in the man who had borrowed his name, afforded tolerably conclusive evidence that Paul had been undeceived, and that if either party had been duped in regard to the meeting it was Captain Dieppe.

Never very ready to adopt such a conclusion as this, Dieppe was none the less forced to it by the pressure of facts. Moreover he did not perceive any safe, far less any glorious, issue from the situation either for his companion or for himself. His honour was doubly involved; the Countess's reputation and the contents of his breast-pocket alike were in his sole care; and just outside the hut were two rascals, plainly resolute, no less plainly unscrupulous, the one threatening the lady, the other with nefarious designs against the breast-pocket. They had joined hands, and now delivered a united attack against both of the Captain's treasured trusts. "In point of fact," he reflected with some chagrin, "I have for this once failed to control events." He brightened up almost immediately. "Never mind,"

he thought, "it may still be possible to take advantage of them." And he waited, all on the alert for his chance. His companion observed, with a little vexation, with more admiration, that he seemed to have become unconscious of her presence, or, at best, to consider her only as a responsibility.

The besiegers spoke no more in tones audible within the hut. Putting eye and ear alternately to the crevice between door and door-post, Dieppe saw the lantern's light and heard the crackle of paper. Then he just caught, or seemed to catch, the one word, said in a tone of finality, "Five!" Then came more crackling. Next a strange, sudden circle of light revolved before the Captain's eye; and then there was light no more. The lantern had been lifted, swung round in the air, and flung away. Swift to draw the only inference, Dieppe turned his head. As he did so there rang out a loud oath in Guillaume's voice; it was followed by an odd, dull thud.

"Quick, behind the trusses!" whispered Dieppe. "I 'm going out."

Without a word she obeyed him, and in a moment was well hidden. For an instant more Dieppe listened. Then he hurled the wooden block away, its weight, so great before, seemed nothing to him now in his excitement. The crack of a shot came from outside. Pulling the door violently back, Dieppe rushed out. Two or three paces up the slope stood Guillaume, his back to the hut, his arm still levelled at a figure which had just topped the summit of the eminence, and an instant later disappeared. Hearing Dieppe's rush, Guillaume turned, crying in uncontrollable agitation, "He 's robbed me, robbed me, robbed me!"

Then he suddenly put both his hands up to his brow, clutching it tight as though he were in great pain, and, reeling and stumbling, at last fell and rolled down to the bottom of the hollow. For an instant the Captain hesitated. But Guillaume lay very still; and Guillaume had no quarrel with the Countess. His indecision soon ended, Dieppe ran, as if for his life, up the slope to the top of the hill. He disappeared; all was left dark and quiet at the hut; Guillaume did not stir, the lady did not stir; only the door, released from its confinement, began to flap idly to and fro again.

The Captain gained the summit, hardly conscious that one of those sudden changes of weather so common in hilly countries had pa.s.sed over the landscape. The mist was gone, rain fell no more, a sharp, clean breeze blew, the stars began to shine, and the moon rose bright. It was as though a curtain had been lifted. Dieppe's topographical observations stood him in good stead now and saved him some moments'

consideration. The fugitive had choice of two routes. But he would not return to the village: he might have to answer awkward questions about M. Guillaume, his late companion, there. He would make in another direction--presumably towards the nearest inhabited spot, where he could look to get more rapid means of escape than his own legs afforded. He would follow the road to the left then, down the zigzags that must lead to the river, and to some means of crossing it. But he had gained a good start and had the figure of an active fellow. Dieppe risked a short cut, darted past the Cross and straight over the road, heading down towards the river, but taking a diagonal course to the left. His intent was to hit the road where the road hit the river, and thus to cut off the man he pursued. His way would be shorter, but it would be rougher too; success or failure depended on whether the advantage or disadvantage proved the greater. As he ran, he felt for his revolver; but he did not take it out nor did he mean to use it save in the last resort. Captain Dieppe did not take life or maim limb without the utmost need; though a man of war, he did not suffer from blood fever. Besides he was a stranger in the country, with none to answer for him; and the credentials in his breast-pocket were not of the sort that he desired to produce for the satisfaction and information of the local custodians of the peace.

The gra.s.sy slope was both uneven and slippery. Moreover Dieppe had not allowed enough for the courage of the natives in the matter of gradients. The road, in fact, belied its cautious appearance. After three or four plausible zig-zags, it turned to rash courses and ran headlong down to the ford--true, it had excuse in the necessity of striking this spot--on a slope hardly less steep than that down which the Captain himself was painfully leaping with heels stuck deep in and body thrown well back. In the result Paul de Roustache comfortably maintained his lead, and when he came into his pursuer's view was no more than twenty yards from the river, the Captain being still a good fifty from the point at which he had hoped to be stationed before Paul came up.

"I 'm done," panted the Captain, referring both to his chances of success and to his physical condition; and he saw with despair that across the ford the road rose as boldly and as steeply as it had descended on the near side of the stream.

Paul ran on and came to the edge of the ford. Negotiations might be feasible since conquest was out of the question: Dieppe raised his voice and shouted. Paul turned and looked. "I 'm a pretty long shot,"

thought the Captain, and he thought it prudent to slacken his pace till he saw in what spirit his overtures were met. Their reception was not encouraging. Paul took his revolver from his pocket--the Captain saw the glint of the barrel--and waved it menacingly. Then he replaced it, lifted his hat jauntily in a mocking farewell, and turned to the ford again.

"Shall I go on?" asked the Captain, "or shall I give it up?" The desperate thought at last occurred: "Shall I get as near as I can and try to wing him?" He stood still for an instant, engaged in these considerations. Suddenly a sound struck his ear and caught his attention. It was the heavy, swishing noise of a deep body of water in rapid movement. His eyes flew down to the river.

"By G.o.d!" he muttered under his breath; and from the river his glance darted to Paul de Roustache. The landlord of the inn at Sasellano had not spoken without warrant. The stream ran high in flood, and Paul de Roustache stood motionless in fear and doubt on the threshold of the ford.

"I 've got him," remarked the Captain simply, and he began to pace leisurely and warily down the hill. He was ready for a shot now--ready to give one too, if necessary. But his luck was again in the ascendant; he smiled and twirled his moustache as he walked along.

If it be pardonable--or even praise-worthy, as some moralists a.s.sert--to pity the criminal, while righteously hating the crime, a trifle of compa.s.sion may be spared for Paul de Roustache. In fact that gentleman had a few hours before arrived at a resolution which must be considered (for as a man hath, so shall it be demanded of him, in talents and presumably in virtues also) distinctly commendable. He had made up his mind to molest the Countess of Fieramondi no more--provided he got the fifty thousand francs from M. Guillaume. Up to this moment fortune--or, in recognition of the morality of the idea, may we not say heaven?--had favoured his design. Obliged, in view of Paul's urgently expressed preference for a payment on account, to disburse five thousand francs, Guillaume had taken from his pocket a leather case of venerable age and opulent appearance. Paul was no more averse than Dieppe from taking a good chance. The production of the portfolio was the signal for a rapid series of decisive actions; for was not Dieppe inside the hut, and might not Dieppe share or even engross the contents of the portfolio? With the promptness of a man who has thoroughly thought out his plans, Paul had flung away the lantern, hit Guillaume on the forehead with the b.u.t.t of his revolver, s.n.a.t.c.hed the portfolio from his hand, and bolted up the slope that led from the hut to the summit; thence he ran down the road, not enjoying leisure to examine his prize, but sure that it contained more than the bare ten thousand francs for which he had modestly bargained. A humane man, he reflected, would stay by Guillaume, bathe his brow, and nurse him back to health; for with a humane man life is more than property; and meanwhile the property, with Paul as its protector, would be far away.

But now--well, in the first place, Dieppe was evidently not a humane man, and in the second, here was this pestilent river flooded to the edge of its banks, and presenting the most doubtful pa.s.sage which had ever by the mockery of language been misnamed a ford. He was indeed between the devil and the deep sea--that devil of a Dieppe and the deep sea of the ford on the road from Sasellano. What was to be done?

The days of chivalry are gone; and the days of hanging or beheading for unnecessary or unjustified homicide are with us, to the great detriment of romance. Paul, like the Captain, did not desire a duel, although, like the Captain, he proposed to keep his revolver handy. And, after all, what was called a ford must be at least comparatively shallow.

Give it a foot of depth in ordinary times. Let it be three or four now. Still he could get across. With one last look at the Captain, who advanced steadily, although very slowly, Paul de Roustache essayed the pa.s.sage. The precious portfolio was in an inner pocket, the hardly less precious revolver he grasped in one hand; and both his hands he held half outstretched on either side of him. The Captain watched his progress with the keenest interest and a generous admiration, and quickened his own pace so as to be in a position to follow the daring pioneer as rapidly as possible.

As far as depth was concerned, Paul's calculation was not far out. He travelled a third of his way and felt the ground level under him. He had reached the bottom of the river-bed, and the water was not up to his armpits. He took out the portfolio and thrust it in between his neck and his collar: it gave him a confined and choky feeling, but it was well out of water; and his right hand held the revolver well out of water too. Thus prepared, yet hoping that the worst was over, he took another forward step. Breaking into a run, the Captain was by the edge of the stream the next moment, whipped out his revolver, pointed it at Paul, and cried, "Stop!" For although one does not mean to fire, it is often useful to create the impression that one does.

The action had its effect now, although not exactly as Dieppe had antic.i.p.ated. Flurried by his double difficulty, Paul stopped again and glanced over his shoulder. He saw the barrel aimed at him; he could not risk disregarding the command, but he might forestall his pursuer's apparent intention. He tried to turn round, and effected half the revolution; thus he faced down-stream, and had his back to the full force of the current. Although no deeper than he had feared, the river was stronger; and in this att.i.tude he offered a less firm resistance.

In an instant he was swept off his feet, and carried headlong down-stream, dropping his revolver and struggling to swim to the opposite bank.

"I can't afford to have this happen!" cried Dieppe, and, seeing how the current bore his enemy away, he ran swiftly some fifty yards down the bank, got ahead of Paul, and plunged in, again with the idea of cutting him off, but by water this time, since his plan had failed on land.

Here it is likely enough that the two gentlemen's difficulties and activities alike would have ended. Paul went under and came up again, a tangled, helpless heap of legs and arms; the Captain kept his head above water for the time, but could do nothing save follow the current which carried him straight down-stream. But by good luck the river took a sharp bend a hundred yards below the ford, and Dieppe perceived that by drifting he would come very near to the projecting curve of the bank. Paul was past noticing this chance or trying to avail himself of it. The Captain was swept down; at the right instant he made the one effort for which he had husbanded his strength. He gathered his legs up under him, and he stood. The water was only half-way up his thigh, and he stood. "Now for you, my friend!" he cried. Paul came by, quite inanimate now to all appearance, floating broadside to the current.

Leaning forward, the Captain caught him by the leg, throwing his own body back in an intense strain of exertion. He lost his footing and fell. "I must let him go," he thought, "or we shall both be done for."

But the next moment he felt himself flung on the bank, and the tension on his arms relaxed. The current had thrown the two on the bank and pursued its own race round the promontory, bereft of its playthings.

Drenched, huddled, hatless, they lay there.

"A very near thing indeed," said the Captain, panting hard and regarding Paul's motionless body with a grave and critical air of inquiry. The next moment he fell on his knees by his companion.

"Perhaps he carries a flask--I 've none," he thought, and began to search Paul's pockets. He found what he sought and proceeded to unscrew the top.

Paul gasped and grunted. "He 's all right then," said the Captain.

Paul's hand groped its way up to his collar, and made convulsive clutches. "I 'd better give him a little more room," mused Dieppe, and laid the flask down for a minute. "Ah, this is a queer cravat! No wonder he feels like choking. A portfolio! Ah, ah!" He took it out and pocketed it. Then he forced some brandy down Paul's throat, and undid his collar and his waistcoat. "A pocket inside the waistcoat!

Very useful, very useful--and more papers, yes! Take a drop, my friend, it will do you good." Thus alternately ministering to Paul's bodily comfort and rifling his person of what valuables he carried, Dieppe offered to the philosophic mind a singular resemblance to a Finance Minister who takes a farthing off the duty on beer and puts a penny on the income tax.