A Tatter of Scarlet: Adventurous Episodes of the Commune in the Midi 1871

"Kill-kill-you have turned soft, I shall kill you, Chanot. Matteo of Arquà is not to be cheated!"

Leduc and Violet looked back through the door out of which they had come. The hall was dusk, but a light was burning somewhere out of sight. They could see a couple emerge out of the passage which led to the study-Chanot pushed the Arquàn in front of him. The face of the chief was calm, but of a ghastly pallor-his lips almost disappearing, so firmly were they set. His blue eyes had the dull glitter of lapis lazuli, or rather of malachite-green rather than blue. But they were not good to see. Death looked out of them, and chilled the marrow of Leduc and Violet. Not for the world would they have crossed the will of Chanot at that moment.

They could see Chardon shutting the door of the study from within, and guessed that he was left there on guard, but they could not hear Chanot's courteous last words of excuse for Matteo, "I fear this gentleman is ill. He is from Italy and troubled with fever. He will be better outside. I will conduct him."

"Shut the door and let no one pass," he added to Chardon, in a rapid whisper, "talk as if nothing had happened till I come back!" And the next moment he was pushing his prisoner along the corridor. Leduc and Violet saw them come, and made ready to fall in behind, but they were not prepared for what followed so swiftly.

Matteo le Gaucher suddenly dropped to the floor, pulling his collar out of the grasp of his captor. Then, quick as thought, he drew a long knife from his belt and struck the deadly forward blow at Chanot-the Arquàn blow below the belt for which there is no parry. But Chanot had not for nothing been President of the Athletic and Sportive Association of the Midi. He was in admirable training and his eye forestalled the Gaucher's movement. It was a fine thrust, delivered with the broad-cutting edge upward. No man, even in Arquà, could have saved himself. But Chanot had leaped aside, nimble as a cat. And the next moment the knife was stricken from the Arquàn's hand.

There was a wild, fierce struggle there on the threshold, the movements of the combatants being so quick that Leduc and Violet dared not interfere lest they should harm the wrong man. Biting, kicking, and scratching, Matteo le Gaucher was shoved out across the gravel, over the lawn and into a little clairière upon which shone directly the beam of Hugh Deventer's electric installation up on the heights of Mont St. André.

Leduc and Violet had followed marvelling, their eyes starting from their heads, eager to see the end like children at a play. They knew that this was the chief's business and that he must finish it for himself. In the middle of the green cleared space was a rustic bench, and the ground was thickly strewn with pine-cones and needles. Chanot thrust his prisoner's head down till he lay across the back of the seat, and then, without haste and calmly as a man who consults his watch, he drew from his pocket a revolver and fired once behind Matteo's ear. There was no struggle. That had gone before. Chanot was very calm, and as for Matteo he only shuddered and sank in a heap, his body swinging arms down over the rustic bench. The fierce light of the arc-lamp lay on the clairière and Matteo's shadow made a strange toad-like patch on the grey-green sward. That was all.

"Now, Leduc, and you, Violet, take up this carrion and carry him near enough to the fighting up yonder to be clear of all connection with this house. There is no treasure here. He deceived us, like the Italian he was. But I shall not deceive you."

He opened his pocket-book and took out small notes for two thousand francs. One thousand he gave to Leduc and the other to Violet.

"I shall meet you in Spain," he said, "and there I shall expect to receive from you an account of this night's mission. I am not to be trifled with as you see. I warn you to be very faithful. Take up the Arquàn, and I will see you safe outside the wall."

He unlocked the gate which opened from the grounds of the Garden Cottage into the road, and stood watching them, as they toiled painfully up the hill, Violet leading with the dead man's legs over his shoulders, and Leduc supporting his head, the long, hairy arms which had wrought so much evil trailing in the dust.

"Missa est! Amen!!" said Chanot, who had served Mass in his time, and turning on his heel he strode back towards the house of Gobelet.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE CONVERSION OF CHANOT

"The gentleman has perfectly recovered," he announced with sympathetic gravity in answer to Alida's questions. "Matteo of Arquà has long been subject to such attacks, but the best medical advice agrees that they have lost force of late, and, in fact, are not likely again to recur. As for Messieurs, the gentlemen who have taken him for an airing, they have business which calls them away before the morning, so they will not be able to return. I make their apologies. They came with us-yes-for safety, but they were not quite of our world, Chardon's and mine-eh, Chardon?"

Chardon mutely acquiesced, and Chanot sat down beside Alida, who, with a gesture of gratitude, gave him her hand.

"He frightened me," she said, smiling gratefully, "that man from Arquà. He has the Evil Eye. Thank you for taking him away. Ugh! – I can feel his hands upon me still."

Chanot kept the little hand with the silver ring upon it in both of his. He bent and kissed it reverently. As he did so the door opened and there stood in the dark passage-way a startling figure. It was Keller Bey, his head wrapped about with bandages like cere cloths, his reddish white beard shaggy and unkempt, his arm bandaged, and his dressing-gown frayed and tarnished. But in his eyes the fire of fever burned like the braise of a Yule log, dull and ominous.

With one lean finger he pointed to Chanot as he sat by the table. He called him by name.

"What do you here, bandit and traitor?" he demanded. "But for you there would have been peace in Aramon, the best of governments, and-you broke it all up. Touch not the hand of the daughter of kings! There is blood upon your own, sower of the wind, assassin, wild ass of the desert!"

Here he leaped into Arabic, understood only by Alida and Gordon Cawdor.

"Go-get hence, hound!" he thundered. "You have done enough evil-would you pursue me even to this quiet place?"

"Hush, father!" said Alida, going hastily to his side; "he has saved my life-perhaps all our lives."

"He is my enemy!"

"He is my friend!"

As Alida said this, she turned and smiled upon Chanot. The young man repressed a groan.

"If I had known," he muttered, "ah, if I had known. But it is too late."

Linn had been watching her time, and now, by a swift intervention, got Keller Bey out of the library and back to his own room. He had in fact missed her presence and wandered out in search. Then, at sight of the arch-enemy of his ideal rule, memory had returned to him.

After the departure of Keller Bey my father left the room to assure himself that all was well in the sick man's chamber, and that Linn wanted for nothing. Chanot and Alida were left practically alone, for Chardon, obedient to his chief's eye, had withdrawn into an alcove where, with a book in his hand, he slept or pretended to sleep.

"My father is wandering in his mind," she said, letting the light of her young eyes dwell upon his. "He had a bullet which grazed the brain-"

"I fired that bullet," said Chanot, with bent head.

"But not in anger-not to do him any hurt?" The voice of Alida was almost pleading now. She wanted to think well of this young man.

"Not more than any other," he answered, after a look at her. "We did not wish-we could not permit-I will not weary you with politics, but I want you to know that I put down Keller Bey. I fired the River Quarter. I was the chief of the plunderers. I deserve death a score of times. I came here to rob and if necessary to kill-"

"No-no!" cried Alida, reaching out her hand a second time. "I saw you with the little Italian. He had a knife. I saw him reaching for it, and that made me feel for mine. You see, I am from Algeria and go armed. He came to kill, if you like. But not you-you are a gentleman!"

"Thank you," said Chanot quickly, but still not taking her hand, "it will help-that which you have said-when it comes to the pinch. I am-I was a gentleman!"

"A brave one and true," said the girl, and then, something she had heard or read working in her head, she added, "gentle and a gentleman."

The day was coming up over the river, and soon the lamps in the room burned faint and yellow. Chardon, waking, opened the window by which he sat and the fresh air of the May morning fanned out the heated atmosphere. The coolness brought a faint flush to Alida's cheek and her lips grew redder.

Chanot rose to his feet and held out his hand.

"Good-bye, dear lady-I have met you too late. Yet do not think quite unkindly of me, of whom much evil will be spoken."

"Chardon," he said, "I leave you here on guard. I commit these ladies to you-should-should any of our people-you understand."

Chardon stood without bareheaded, watching his leader go. Chanot reached the Garden Cottage in time to find himself face to face with a company of soldiers-red-breeched infantry men they were, of the 131st of the line. These were under the command of a very young officer in a tremendous haste. He held a piece of paper in one hand and with the other he knocked loudly, with the hilt of his recently acquired sword, on the door of the Garden Cottage.

"I have a warrant for the instant arrest of the chief of the Aramon insurrection. I am advised that he lives here. His name is Keller, Charles Keller."

"I am the chief of the Aramon insurrection," said Chanot calmly, "I am Keller!"

The rattle of the peloton fire came irregularly from above, among the rocks of St. André. Chanot heard it and knew his fate. No lingering trial for him, no stupid military commanders murmuring sleepily over a foregone verdict.

"There against the wall-we must cross the river-there is no time to lose. Form a firing party." The young officer, in a hurry, fairly jetted out his orders.

"Mon lieutenant," said Chanot coolly, "there are ladies within the Château of Gobelet-the house you see yonder through the trees. It belongs to a great English scholar, who is a friend of Monsieur Thiers, and a historian like him. I have no objections to being shot, but you will have the goodness to let me march with you till we turn the corner of the policies. Then we will have a steep cliff and the river below, which will be convenient."

The lieutenant nodded. His men were ordered in that direction, and so it chanced that twenty of the defenders of our Château Schneider witnessed the end of the Black Insurrection of Aramon.

Jack Jaikes and the others of the old machine-gun gang greeted the appearance of Chanot guarded and marching to execution with a yell of triumph.

"Allerdyce-Allerdyce!" they shouted, and turned aside that they might see. I also went with them, not knowing aught of the history of the night. We came out on a plain sward overlooking the river. A path ran along and there was a low wall, with lizards darting everyway in the sun.

The peloton formed up with the readiness of practice, and the officer raised his sword. Chanot stepped briskly to the wall, and as he drew up his tall figure and stood facing us with squared shoulders, I think I never saw anyone so transfigured. The sullen wolfishness was all gone. His eyes shone like those of a boy engaged in some innocent frolic. But his mien was grave as befitted the circumstances. He had been smoking a cigarette when the officer accosted him. He threw away the remainder with a smile.