The Wages of Virtue Part 23

Curiously enough, Sir Montague Merline's insular Englishness had survived fourteen years of life in a cosmopolitan society, speaking a foreign tongue in a foreign land, with such indestructible st.u.r.diness that it was upon the Anglo-Saxon party that he mentally relied in this strait. He had absolutely forgotten that it was the girl's own brother who was her natural protector, and upon whom lay the onus of discovering the solution of this insoluble problem and extricating the girl from her terrible position.

What could he do? It was all very well to say that the three Englishmen and the American would protect her, that night, by forming a sentry-group and watching in turn--but how long could that go on? It would be all over the barracks to-morrow, and known to the authorities a few hours later. Oh, if he could only do her up in a parcel and post her to Marguerite with just a line, "_Please take care of this poor girl.--Monty._" Marguerite would keep her safe enough.... But thinking nonsense wasn't helping. He would load his rifle in earnest, and settle scores with Luigi Rivoli, once and for all, if he returned with a gang to back him. Incidentally, that would settle his own fate, for it would mean a Court Martial at Oran followed by a firing-party, or penal servitude in the Zephyrs, and, at his age, that would only be a slower death.

All very well for him and Rivoli, but what of the girl? ... What ghastly danger it must have been that drove them to such a dreadful expedient.

Truly the Legion was a net for queer fish. Poor, plucky little soul, what could he do for her?

Never since he wore the two stars[#] of a British Captain had he longed, as he did at that moment, for power and authority. If only he were a Captain again, Captain of the Seventh Company, the girl should go straight to his wife, or some other woman. Suddenly he rose to his feet, his face illuminated by the brilliance of the idea which had suddenly entered his mind.

[#] Since increased to three, of course.

"_Carmelita!_" he almost shouted to the empty room. He bent over the crying girl again, and shook her gently by the shoulder.

"I have it, little one," he said. "Thank G.o.d! Yes--it's a chance. I believe I have a plan. Carmelita! Let's get out of this at once, straight to the Cafe de la Legion. Carmelita has a heart of gold...."

The girl half sat up. "She may be a kind girl--but she's Luigi Rivoli's mistress," she said. "She would do anything he ordered."

"Carmelita considers herself Rivoli's wife," replied the Englishman, "and so she would be, if he were not the biggest blackguard unhung.

Very well, he can hardly go to the woman who is practically his wife and say, 'Hand over the woman you are hiding.'"

"When a woman loves a man she obeys him," said the girl, and added with innocent navete, "And I will obey you, Monsieur Jean Boule.... Anyhow, it is a hope--in a position which is hopeless."

"Get into walking-out kit quickly," urged the old soldier, "and see the Sergeant of the Guard has no excuse for turning you back. The sooner we're away the better.... I wish Rupert and the Bronco would roll up.... If you can get to Carmelita's unseen, and change back into a girl, you could either hide with Carmelita for a time, or simply desert in feminine apparel."

"And Feodor?" asked the Russian. "Will they shoot him? I can't leave..."

"Bother Feodor," was the quick reply. "One soldier is not responsible because another deserts. Let's get you safe to Carmelita's, and then I'll find Feodor and tell him all about it."

Hiram Cyrus Milton, entering the room bare-footed and without noise, was not a little surprised to behold a young soldier fling his arms about the neck of the eminently staid and respectable Legionary John Bull, with a cry of--

"Oh, may G.o.d reward you, kind good Monsieur."

"Strike me blue and balmy," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Bucking Bronco. "Ain't these gosh-dinged furriners a bunch o' b.o.o.bs? Say, John, air yew his long-lost che-ild? It's a cinch. Where's that dod-gasted boy 'Erb fer slow music on the jewzarp? ... Or is the lalapaloozer only a-smellin'

the roses on yure damask cheek?"

"Change quickly, _pet.i.te_," said John Bull to the girl as he pushed her from him, and turned to the American.

"Come here, Buck," said he, taking the big man's arm and leading him to the window.

"Don't say as haow yure sins hev' come home to roost, John? Did yew reckernise the puling infant by the di'mond coronite on the locket, or by the strawberry-mark in the middle of its back? Or was his name wrote on the tail of his little shirt? Put me next to it, John. Make me wise to the secret mystery of this 'ere drarmer."

The Bucking Bronco was getting more than a little jealous.

"I will, if you will give me a chance," replied John Bull curtly.

"Buck, that boy's a girl. Rivoli has found her out and acted as you might expect. I suppose he spotted her in the wash-house or somewhere.

She rushed to me for protection, and the game's up. I am going to take her to Carmelita."

The big American stared at his friend with open mouth.

"Yew git me jingled, John," he said slowly. "Thet little looker a _gal_? Is this a story made out of whole cloth,[#] John?"

[#] Untrue.

"Get hold of it, Buck, quickly," was the reply. "The two Russians are political refugees. Their number was up, in Russia, and they bolted to Paris. Same in Paris--and they made a dash for here. Out of the frying-pan into the fire. This one's a girl. Luigi Rivoli knows, and it will be all over the barracks before to-night. She rushed straight to me, and I am going to see her through. If you can think of anything better than taking her to Carmelita, say so."

"I'll swipe the head off'n Mister Lousy Loojey Rivoli," growled the American. "G.o.d smite me ef I don't. Thet's torn it, thet has.... The d.a.m.ned yaller-dog Dago.... Thet puts the lid on Mister Loojey Rivoli, thet does."

"_I'm_ going to deal with Rivoli, Buck," said John Bull.

"He'd crush yew with a b'ar's hug, sonny; he'd bust in yure ribs, an'

break yure back, an' then chuck yew down and dance on yew."

"He won't get the chance, Buck; it's not going to be a gutter-sc.r.a.p.

When he chased the girl in here I challenged him to fight with bullet or steel, and told him I'd brand him all over the shop till he was known as 'Rivoli the Coward,' or fought a fair and square duel.... Let's get the girl out of this, and then we'll put Master Luigi Rivoli in his place once and for all."

"Shake!" said the Bucking Bronco, extending a huge hand.

"Seen Rupert lately?" asked the Englishman.

"Yep," replied the other. "He's a-settin' on end a-rubberin' at his pants in the lavabo."

"Good! Go and fetch him quick, Buck."

The American sped from the room without glancing at the girl, returning a minute or two later with Rupert. The two men hurried to their respective cots and swiftly changed from fatigue-dress into blue and red.

"If Carmelita turns us down, let's all three desert and take the girl with us," said Rupert to John Bull. "I have plenty of money to buy mufti, disguises, and railway tickets. She would go as a woman of course. We could be a party of tourists. Yes, that's it, English tourists. Old Mendoza would fit us out--at a price."

"Thanks," was the reply. "We'll get her out somehow.... She'd stand a far better chance alone though, probably. If suspicion fell on one of us they'd arrest the lot."

"Say," put in the American. "Ef she can do the boy stunt, I reckon as haow her brother oughter be able ter do the gal stunt ekally well. Ef Carmelita takes her in, and fits her out with two of everything, her brother could skedaddle and jine her, and put on the remainder of the two-of-everything; then they ups and goes on pump as the Twin Sisters Golightly, a-tourin' of the Crowned Heads of Yurrup, otherwise, as The Twin Roosian Bally-Gals Skiporfski...."

"Smart idea," agreed Rupert. "I hope Carmelita takes her in. What the devil shall we do with her if she won't? She can't very well spend the night here after Luigi has put it about.... And what's her position with regard to the authorities? Is it a case of Court Martial or toss for her in the Officers' Mess, or what?"

"Don't know, I'm sure. Haven't the faintest idea," replied John Bull.

"If only Carmelita turns up trumps...."

"Seenyoreena Carmelita is the whitest little woman as ever lived,"

growled the American. "She's a blowed-in-the-gla.s.s heart-o'-gold. Yew can put yure shirt on Carmelita.... Yew know what I mean--yure bottom dollar.... Ef it wasn't fer that filthy Eye-talian sarpint, she'd jump at the chance of giving this Roosian gal her last crust.... I don't care John whether you shoot him up or nit. I'm gwine ter slug him till h.e.l.l pops. Let him fight his dirtiest an' d.a.m.nedest--I'll see him and raise him every time, the double-dealin' gorilla...."

"I am ready, Monsieur," said the girl Olga to John Bull. "But I do not want you, Monsieur, nor these other gentlemen, to make trouble for yourselves on my account.... I have brought this on myself, and there is no reason why you..."

"Oh, shucks! Come on, little gal," broke in the Bucking Bronco. "We'll see yew through. We ain't Loojeys...."

"Of course, we will. We shall be only too delighted," agreed Rupert.

"Don't you worry."