The Thin Red Line; and Blue Blood Part 59

Benito shook his head, groaned, and pointed to his wounded arm.

"I see you have been hit; but that won't prevent your talking. Tell me exactly what happened--it's your only chance; if you don't, we will wait till your arm is healed, and then hang you here in the middle of the hut-town. Come, speak out."

"You will spare my life if I tell you?"

"Perhaps: if it is the truth. We shall have means of finding out. But look sharp!"

In feeble, faltering accents Benito told his story, laying stress on the villainy of others and making light of the part he had himself played.

While the provost-marshal was examining the trembling wretch his a.s.sistants had been making a thorough search of the shop. They came presently to their chief, laden with a number of papers: letters, pa.s.ses signed by Gortschakoff, and other doc.u.ments of a compromising character, plainly proving that this place had long been the centre of a cunningly-devised secret correspondence with the enemy.

"There's enough to hang you both, and perhaps others too, at home. As for you," he turned to Benito, "I will have you removed to the Balaclava hospital. You will be better looked after there, and we shall have you under our hands when required. Your accomplice, the commander-in-chief will deal with, I trust, very summarily; we have overwhelming proofs of his guilt."

Major Shervinton returned to his office, where the prisoners anxiously awaited his verdict.

"Take Joe away, and put a double sentry over him. I shall ride over to headquarters to report the whole case."

"Oh, good, kind, beneficent sir," began Joe, wringing his hands, "spare me! There no word of truth in all this. I done nothing, I swear. I unjustly accused. I--"

"March him out," said Shervinton. "Such vermin as you must be ruthlessly destroyed.

"And the lad, sir?" asked an a.s.sistant.

"To be sure; I had forgotten. Well, boy, you have behaved uncommonly well. What shall we do for you?"

"Nothing," she faltered out, "only save him--save Mr. McKay."

"Mr. McKay! Do you know him? What--when--?" asked Major Shervinton, greatly surprised at the agonised accents in which Mariquita spoke, yet more, seeing that her eyes were filled with tears. "Who are you?

Where do you come from?" he went on, examining the little creature attentively.

He noticed now for the first time the delicate skin, the clear-cut, regular features, the l.u.s.trous, eyes; he remarked the fragile form, the shy, shrinking manner of the lad, who stood diffidently, deprecatingly, before him, and he said to himself, "What an exceedingly handsome boy! Boy!" he repeated, and now suddenly a doubt crossed his mind as to the proper s.e.x of the young person who evinced such a tender interest in Stanislas McKay.

"Some secret romance, probably," he went on, smiling at the thought, but quickly changing his mood as he remembered how tragic its end was likely to be.

"I will do all I can to save him, rest a.s.sured," he went on aloud, "and if we recover him from the clutches of the enemy he shall certainly know how much he owes to you."

The vivid blush that overspread her cheeks at these words betrayed her completely.

"But, my poor child," went on the provost-marshal, in a kindly, sympathetic voice, "what are we to do with you? It was madness, surely, for you to venture here. Have you any friends? Let me see you safe back to them. Where do you live?"

Mariquita in a low voice explained that she was employed at Mother Charcoal's.

"Does she know about you?"

"Yes," acknowledged Mariquita, in a still lower, almost inaudible voice.

"She is a good old soul, and may be trusted to take care of you.

Still, her canteen is no place for such as you. You shall stay with her, but only till we can send you on to one of the troopships with female nurses on board."

Having thus decided, Shervinton himself escorted Mariquita to Mother Charcoal's, and then rode on to headquarters.

He arrived there half-an-hour after Colonel Blythe, and the news he brought threw fresh light upon the disappearance of poor McKay.

"There is a woman at the bottom of it, of course," said Sir Richard Airey. "These papers prove it," putting his finger upon the bundle Shervinton had seized at the Maltese baker's.

"Two women, unless I'm much mistaken," replied the provost-marshal, and he went on to tell of Mariquita's devotion.

"Devotion, indeed," said the general, "but to no purpose, I fear. We have little hope of saving McKay. Lord Raglan is in despair. Prince Gortschakoff refuses distinctly to surrender the poor fellow, or spare his life."

"One woman's devotion outmatched by another's reckless greed. But, should McKay be sacrificed, she--his murderess--must not escape," said Blythe, hotly.

"Ah! but how shall we lay hands on her? Who knows her?" asked Sir Richard.

"One of my officers--Hyde. We shall get her through him," and Blythe repeated what the old quartermaster had said that morning.

"Yes, he evidently knows. He would be the best man to pursue her--to bring her to judgment for her villanies. There is enough in these papers to convict her. But he could hardly leave the Crimea just now."

"He happens at this moment to be going down to Scutari, on sick leave: he could easily go on."

"Is he strong enough?"

"He is gaining strength daily; it is only a wounded arm."

"That will be best. I will arrange with Lord Raglan to give him leave, provided he will accept the mission."

Without further delay Blythe went back to his camp and told Hyde all that had occurred.

"Go! Of course I will go. This very day, if the doctor will let me. I will unmask her; I will spoil her game. If I cannot save Stanislas, at least she shall not benefit by her crime."

"You are sure you can find her?"

"Trust me! People in her position are easily found. The first Court Guide will give you her address. She holds her head high, and must pay the penalty of greatness."

The prospect of starting soon for England on such an errand seemed to restore Hyde to energy and strength.

"Not fit to travel!" he said to the doctor, who still expressed some doubts on that head. "Why, I am fit for anything."

"Nonsense, man! You won't be able to use your arm for weeks."

"I shan't want it. My head's sound and clear; that's the chief thing.

The moment I get my leave and my orders, I'm off."

They gave Hyde a pa.s.sage home in the _Himalaya_, a man-of-war transport, and at that time one of the swiftest steamers afloat. At the most, the journey would not occupy more than twelve days or a fortnight. He might not be able or in time to do much for Stanislas in his present peril, but he at least hoped that retribution might follow fast on the betrayal of his friend.

CHAPTER VII.