The Wages of Virtue Part 35

John Bull and Reginald Rupert looked at each other, and then turned back quietly to where the Sergeant was lying.

"Cerebral hemorrhage," suggested John Bull. "I struck him on the side of the head."

"'Eart failure," suggested 'Erb. "I set on 'is 'ead till 'is 'eart stopped, blimey!"

"Apple Plexy, I opine," put in the Bucking Bronco. "All comes o' gittin'

excited, don't it?"

"He certainly made himself perfectly miserable when I took his bayonet away," admitted Legionary Rupert.

"Anyhow, it's a fair swingin' job nah, wotever it was afore," said 'Erb.

Whatever the cause and whosesoever the hand, Sergeant Legros was undoubtedly dead. They removed the belts, straightened his limbs, closed his eyes and 'Erb placed the dead man's kepi over the face, bursting as he did so into semi-hysterical song--

"Ours is a 'appy little 'ome, I wisht I was a kipper on the foam, There's no carpet on the door, There's no knocker on the floor, Oo! Ours is a 'appy little 'ome."

"Shut that d.a.m.ned row," said Legionary Rupert.

"Carmelita, honey," said the Bucking Bronco, stroking the hair of the weeping girl. "Yew got the brains. Wot'll we do? Shall we stop an'

look arter ye? Will yew come on pump with us? Will yew ketch the nine-fifteen ter Oran? Yew could light out fer the railroad _de_-pot right now--or will yew stick it out here, an' see ef they takes away yure licence? They couldn't do nuthin' more.... Give it a name, little gal--we've gotter hike quick, ef we ain't a-goin' ter stay."

Carmelita controlled herself with an effort and dried her eyes. Not for nothing had her life been what it had.

"You must all go at once," she said unhesitatingly. "Take Signor Rupert's money and make for Mendoza's in the Ghetto. He'll sell you mufti and food. Change, and then run, all night, along the railway.

Lie up all day, and then run all night again. Then take different trains at different wayside stations, one by one, and avoid each other like poison in Oran; and leave by different boats on different days. I shall stay here. After trying for some hours to revive Legros, I shall send for the picket. You will be far from Sidi then. I shall give the Police all information as to the fight, and as to the murder of _that_, by Malvin; and shall conceal nothing of Legros' murderous attempt upon the Legionnaire Bouckaing Bronceau and of his death by _apoplessia_....

They will see he has no wound.... This will give weight and truth to my evidence to the effect that it was a fair, clean fight and that no blame attaches to le Legionnaire Bouckaing Bronceau.... Where am I to blame?

... No, you can leave me without fear. Also will I give evidence to having heard you plotting to make the promenade in different directions and to avoid the railway and Oran...."

The Bucking Bronco was overcome with admiration.

"Ain't that horse-sense?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

Laying her hands upon his shoulders, Carmelita looked him in the eyes.

"And when you write to me to join you also, dear Americano, I will come," she said. "I, Carmelita, have said it.... Now that _that_ is dead, I shall be able to save some money. Write to me when you are safe, and I will join you wherever you are--whether it be Napoli or Inghilterra or America."

"G.o.d bless ye, little gal," growled the American, folding her in his arms, and for the first time of his life being on the verge of an exhibition of weakness. "We'll make our gitaway all right, an' we couldn't be no use ter yew in prison hyar.... I'll earn or steal some money ter send yer, Carmelita, honey."

"I can help you there," put in Legionary Rupert.

"You and your loose cash are the _deus ex machina_, Rupert, my boy,"

said John Bull.... "But for you, the Russians would hardly have got away so easily, and now a few pounds will make all the difference between life and death to Buck and Carmelita, not to mention yourself and 'Erb."

"I am very fortunate," said Rupert, gracefully. "By the way, how much have we left Carmelita?" he added.

"Exactly seven hundred francs, Monsieur," she replied. "Monsieur drew one thousand, he will remember, and the Russians after all, needed only three hundred in addition to their own roubles."

"What are you going to do, 'Erb?" asked John Bull. "You haven't committed yourself very deeply you know. Legros can't give evidence against you and I doubt whether Tant-de-Soif or Djoolte will.... I don't suppose any of the others noticed you, but there's a risk--and ten years of Dartmoor would be preferable to six months in the Penal Battalions.

What shall you do?"

"Bung orf," replied 'Erb. "I'm fair fed full wiv Hafrica. Wot price the Ol' Kent Road on a Sat'day night!"

"Then seven hundred francs will be most ample for three of you, to get mufti, railway tickets and tramp-steamer pa.s.sages from Oran to Hamburg."

"Why three?" asked Rupert.

"You, Buck and 'Erb," replied John Bull.

"Oh, I see. You have money for your own needs?" observed Rupert in some surprise.

"I'm not going," announced John Bull.

"_What?_" exclaimed four voices simultaneously, three in English and one in French.

"I'm not going," he reiterated, "for several reasons.... To begin with, I've nowhere to go. Secondly, I don't want to go. Thirdly, I did not kill Legros," and, as an inducement to the Bucking Bronco to agree with his wishes, he added, "and fourthly, I may be able to be of some service to Carmelita if only by supporting her testimony with my evidence at the trial--supposing that I am arrested."

"Come off it, old chap," said Rupert. "There are a hundred men whose testimony will support Carmelita's."

"Wot's bitin' yew naow, John?" asked the Bucking Bronco. "Yew know it's a plum' sure thing as haow it'll come out thet yew slugged Legros in the year-'ole when we man-handled him. Won't that be enuff ter give yew five-spot in Biribi?"

"Yus. Wot cher givin' us, Ole c.o.c.k?" expostulated 'Erb. "Wot price them blokes Malvin, an' Bower, an' Borjis, an' 'Ersh? Fink they'll shut their 'eads? An' wot price that bloomin' psalm-smitin', Bible-puncher of a George Washington of a Joolt? Wot price ole Tarntderswoff? Git 'im in front of a court martial an' 'e wouldn't jabber, would 'e? Not arf, 'e wouldn't. I _don't_ fink."

"And don't talk tosh, my dear chap, about having nowhere to go, please,"

said Rupert. "You're coming home with me of course. My mother will love to have you."

"Thanks awfully, but I'm afraid I can't go to England," was the reply.

"I must..."

"_Garn_," interrupted 'Erb. "I'm wanted meself, but I'm a-goin' ter chawnst it. No need ter 'ang abaht Scotland Yard.... I knows lots o'

quiet juggers. 'Sides, better go where it's a risk o' bein' pinched than stop where it's a dead cert.... Nuvver fing. You ain't goin' ter be put away fer wot you done, Gawd-knows-'ow-many years ago. That's all blowed over, long ago. Why you've bin 'ere pretty nigh fifteen year, ain't yer? Talk sinse, Ole c.o.c.k--ain't yer jest said yer'd raver do a ten stretch in Portland than 'arf a one in Biribi?"

John Bull and Reginald Rupert smiled at each other.

"Thanks awfully, Rupert," said the former, "but I can't go to England."

Turning to the c.o.c.kney he added, "You're a good sort, Herbert, my laddie--but I'm staying here."

"Shucks," observed the American with an air of finality, and turning to Carmelita requested her to fetch the nuggets, the spondulicks, the dope--in short, the wad. Carmelita disappeared into her little room and returned in a few moments with a roll of notes.

"Well, good-bye, my dear old chap," said John Bull, taking the American's hand. "You understand all I can't say, don't you? ...

Good-bye."

"Nuthin' doin', John," was the answer.

"Hurry him off, Carmelita, we've wasted quite time enough," said John Bull, turning to the girl. "If he doesn't go now and do his best for himself, he doesn't love you. Do clear him out. It's death or penal servitude if he's caught. He struck Legros before Legros even threatened him--and Legros is dead."

"You hear what Signor Jean Boule says. Are you going?" said Carmelita, turning to the American.

"No, my gal. I ain't," was the prompt reply. "How can I, Carmelita? ...

I'm his pal.... Hev' I got ter choose between yew an' him?"