The Maids of Paradise Part 74

I walked to the door and laid my hand on the bra.s.s k.n.o.b.

"The world is merciless to failures," I said. "Yet even a successful spy is scarcely tolerated among the Philistines; a captured spy is a horror for friends to forget and for enemies to destroy in righteous indignation. Madame, I know, for I have served your country in Algiers as a spy,... not from patriotism, for I am an alien, but because I was fitted for it in my line of duty. Had I been caught I should have looked for nothing but contempt from France; from the Kabyle, for neither admiration nor mercy. I tell you this that you may understand my respect for this woman, whose motives are worthy of it."

The Countess looked at me scornfully. "It is well," she said, "for those who understand and tolerate treachery to condone it. It is well that the accused be judged by their peers. We of Trecourt know only one tongue. But that is the language of truth, monsieur. All else is foreign."

"Where did the n.o.bility learn this tongue--to our exclusion?" I asked, bluntly.

"When our forefathers faced the tribunals!" she flashed out. "Did you ever hear of a spy among us? Did you ever hear of a lie among us?"

"You have been taught history by your peers, madame," I said, with a bow; "I have been taught history by mine."

"The sorry romance!" she said, bitterly. "It has brought me to this!"

"It has brought others to their senses," I said, sharply.

"To their knees, you mean!"

"Yes--to their knees at last."

"To the guillotine--yes!"

"No, madame, to pray for their native land--too late!"

"I think," she said, "that we are not fitted to understand each other."

"It remains," I said, "for me to thank you for your kindness to us all, and for your generosity to me in my time of need.... It is quite useless for me to dream of repaying it.... I shall never forget it....

I ask leave to make my adieux, madame."

She flushed to her temples, but did not answer.

As I stood looking at her, a vivid flare of light flashed through the window behind me, crimsoning the walls, playing over the ceiling with an infernal radiance. At the same instant the gate outside crashed open, a hubbub of voices swelled into a roar; then the outer doors were flung back and a score of men sprang into the hallway, soldiers with the red torch-light dancing on rifle-barrels and bayonets.

And before them, revolver swinging in his slender hand, strode Buckhurst, a red sash tied across his breast, his colorless eyes like diamonds.

Speed and Jacqueline came hurrying through the hall to where I stood; Buckhurst's smile was awful as his eyes flashed from Speed to me.

Behind him, close to his shoulder, the torch-light fell on Mornac's smooth, false face, stretched now into a ferocious grimace; behind him crowded the soldiers of the commune, rifles slung, craning their unshaven faces to catch a glimpse of us.

"Demi-battalion, halt!" shouted an officer, and flung up his naked sabre.

"Halt," repeated Buckhurst, quietly.

Madame de Va.s.sart's servants had come running from kitchen and stable at the first alarm, and now stood huddled in the court-yard, bewildered, cowed by the bayonets which had checked them.

"Buckhurst," I said, "what the devil do you mean by this foolery?"

and I started for him, shouldering my way among his grotesque escort.

For an instant I looked into his deadly eyes; then he silently motioned me back; a dozen bayonets were levelled, forcing me to retire, inch by inch, until I felt Speed's grip on my arm.

"That fellow means mischief," he whispered. "Have you a pistol?"

"I gave mine to Eyre," I said, under my breath. "If he means us harm, don't resist or they may take revenge on the Countess. Speed, keep her in the room there! Don't let her come out."

But the Countess de Va.s.sart was already in the hall, facing Buckhurst with perfect composure.

Twice she ordered him to leave; he looked up from his whispered consultation with Mornac and coolly motioned her to be silent.

Once she spoke to Mornac, quietly demanding a reason for the outrage, and Mornac silenced her with a brutal gesture.

"Madame," I said, "it is I they want. I beg you to retire."

"You are my guest," she said. "My place is here."

"Your place is where I please to put you!" broke in Mornac; and to Buckhurst: "I tell you she's as guilty as the others. Let me attend to this and make a clean sweep!"

"Citizen Mornac will endeavor to restrain his zeal," observed Buckhurst, with a sneer. And then, as I looked at this slender, pallid man, I understood who was the dominant power behind the curtain; and so did Speed, for I felt him press my elbow significantly.

He turned and addressed us, suavely, bowing with a horrid, mock deference to the Countess:

"In the name of the commune! The ci-devant Countess de Va.s.sart is accused of sheltering the individual Scarlett, late inspector of Imperial Police; the individual Speed, ex-inspector of Imperial Gendarmes; the individual Eyre, under general suspicion; the woman called Sylvia Elven, a German spy. As war-delegate of the commune, I am here to accuse!"

There was a silence, then a low, angry murmur from the soldiers, which grew louder until Buckhurst turned on them. He did not utter a word, but the sullen roar died out, a bayonet rattled, then all was still in the dancing torch-light.

"I accuse," continued Buckhurst, in a pa.s.sionless voice, "the individual Scarlett of treachery to the commune; of using the telegraph for treacherous ends; of hoisting signals with the purpose of attracting government troops to destroy us. I accuse the individual Speed of aiding his companion in using the telegraph to stop the government train, thus depriving the commune of the funds which rightfully belong to it--the treasures wrung from wretched peasants by the aristocrats of an accursed monarchy and a thrice-accursed empire!"

A roaring cheer burst from the excited soldiers, drowning the voice of Buckhurst.

"Silence!" shouted Mornac, savagely. And as the angry voices were stilled, one by one, above the banging of rifle-stocks and the rattle of bayonets, Buckhurst's calm voice rose in a sinister monotone.

"I accuse the woman Sylvia Elven of communication with Prussian agents; of attempted corruption of soldiers under my command. I accuse the citoyenne eline Trecourt, lately known as the Countess de Va.s.sart, of aiding, encouraging, and abetting these enemies of France!"

He waited until the short, fierce yell of approval had died away.

Then:

"Call the soldier Rolland!" he said.

My heart began to hammer in my throat. "I believe it's going hard with us," I muttered to Speed.

"Listen," he motioned.

I listened to the wretched creature Rolland while he told what had happened at the semaph.o.r.e. In his eagerness he pushed close to where I stood, menacing me with every gesture, cursing and lashing himself into a rage, ignoring all pretence of respect and discipline for his own superiors.

"What are you waiting for?" he shouted, insolently, turning on Buckhurst. "I tell the truth; and if this man can afford to pay hundreds of francs for a telegram, he must be rich enough to pluck, I tell you!"

"You say he bribed you?" asked Buckhurst, gently.

"Yes; I've said it twenty times, haven't I?"

"And you took the bribes?"