Part 32 (1/2)
”Moral again,” Helm interposed; ”keep on the good side of the French!”
”That's sensible talk, sir,” a.s.sented Barlow.
”Bah!” exclaimed Hamilton. ”You might as well talk of keeping on the good side of the American traitors--a b.l.o.o.d.y murrain seize the whole race!”
”That's what I say,” chimed in the Lieutenant, with a sly look at Helm.
”They have been telling me a c.o.c.k-and-bull story concerning the affair at the Roussillon cabin,” Hamilton said, changing his manner. ”What is this about a disguised and wonderful man who rushed in and upset the whole of you. I want no romancing; give me the facts.”
Barlow's dissolute countenance became troubled.
”The facts,” he said, speaking with serious deliberation, ”are not clear. It was like a clap of thunder, the way that man performed. As you say, he did fling the whole squad all of a heap, and it was done that quickly,” he snapped his thumb and finger demonstratively with a sharp report; ”n.o.body could understand it.”
Hamilton looked at his subaltern with a smile of unlimited contempt and said:
”A pretty officer of His Majesty's army, you are, Lieutenant Barlow!
First a slip of a girl shows herself your superior with the sword and wounds you, then a single man wipes up the floor of a house with you and your guard, depriving you at the same time of both vision and memory, so that you cannot even describe your a.s.sailant!”
”He was dressed like a priest,” muttered Barlow, evidently frightened at his commander's scathing comment. ”That was all there was to see.”
”A priest! Some of the men say the devil. I wonder--” Hamilton hesitated and looked at the floor.
”This Father Beret, he is too old for such a thing, isn't he?”
”I have thought of him--it was like him--but he is, as you say, very old to be so tremendously strong and active. Why, I tell you that men went from his hands against the walls and floor as if shot out of a mortar. It was the strangest and most astounding thing I ever heard of.”
A little later Barlow seized a favorable opportunity and withdrew. The conversation was not to his liking.
Hamilton sent for Father Beret and had a long talk with him, but the old man looked so childishly inoffensive in spirit and so collapsed physically that it seemed worse than foolishness to accuse him of the exploit over which the entire garrison was wondering. Farnsworth sat by during the interview. He looked the good priest curiously and critically over from head to foot, remembering, but not mentioning, the most unclerical punch in the side received from that energetic right arm now lying so flabbily across the old man's lap.
When the talk ended and Father Beret humbly took his leave, Hamilton turned to Farnsworth and said:
”What do you think of this affair? I have cross-questioned all the men who took part in it, and every one of them says simply priest or devil.
I think old Beret is both; but plainly he couldn't hurt a chicken, you can see that at a glance.”
Farnsworth smiled, rubbing his side reminiscently; but he shook his head.
”I'm sure it's puzzling, indeed.”
Hamilton sat in thoughtful silence for a while, then abruptly changed the subject.
”I think, Captain, that you had better send out Lieutenant Barlow and some of the best woodsmen to kill some game. We need fresh venison, and, by George! I'm not going to depend upon these French traitors any longer. I have set my foot down; they've got to do better or take the consequences.” He paused for a breath, then added: ”That girl has done too much to escape severest punishment. The garrison will be demoralized if this thing goes on without an example of authority rigidly enforced. I am resolved that there shall be a startling and effective public display of my power to punish. She shot you; you seem to be glad of it, but it was a grave offence. She has stabbed Barlow; that is another serious crime; but worst of all she aided a spy and resisted arrest. She must be punished.”
Farnsworth knew Hamilton's nature, and he now saw that Alice was in dreadful danger of death or something even worse. Whenever his chief talked of discipline and the need of maintaining his authority, there was little hope of softening his decisions. Moreover, the provocation to apply extreme measures really seemed sufficient, regarded from a military point of view, and Captain Farnsworth was himself, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, a disciplinarian of the strictest cla.s.s. The fascination, however, by which Alice held him overbore every other influence, and his devotion to her loosened every other tie and obligation to a most dangerous extent. No sooner had he left headquarters and given Barlow his instructions touching the hunting expedition, than his mind began to wander amid visions and schemes by no means consistent with his military obligations. In order to reflect undisturbed he went forth into the dreary, lane-like streets of Vincennes and walked aimlessly here and there until he met Father Beret.
Farnsworth saluted the old man, and was pa.s.sing him by, when seeing a sword in his hand, half hidden in the folds of his worn and faded ca.s.sock, he turned and addressed him.
”Why are you armed this morning, Father?” he demanded very pleasantly.