Part 22 (2/2)
Major d'Hubert opened his lips, shut them tight, meditated a moment, and then spoke. He turned and looked at his visitors.
”The child? Is it of a stature to be disguised as a woman?” he asked.
The sergeant interrupted with an apologetic gesture.
”The figure of the woman I suggest was not seen by me. She travelled in an _arba_. My attention was drawn to the party thus. Two hours ago a band of the Beni M'Geel, Berbers, left by the eastern gate as for Ber Rechid. They had with them two Arabs and a woman under the canopy of which I spoke. Arab and Berber, especially if the latter are of the Beni M'Geel, do not usually travel together.”
”You observed the men?”
”Not narrowly, my Major. One was of a smiling countenance, hook-nosed, and clad in a _djelab_ of brown. He walked beside the _arba_ and his talk, as I judged it, was to the woman, who, however, made no reply. The other had the hood of his _haik_ pulled far over his face. I did not see it.”
The major sat down at his desk, wrote a few lines swiftly, dashed sand upon the ink, and handed the completed note to his underling.
”Let that be taken to General d'Amade without delay. Search may at the same time be made in the town for an Englishman, his child, and a Moor attendant who landed from a launch of the _Diomede_ some three hours back. The messenger may await the general's answer and bring it to me here.”
As the giant saluted for the third time and diminished himself into the doorway, Major d'Hubert confronted his friends with a pessimistic shake of the head.
”My instinct is that Perinaud has already put his finger on the mystery.
Your milord must be a man of resource. To have engaged the services of some of these wolves of Beni M'Geel within an hour of landing in a strange town shows more than talent. It amounts to genius.”
”This servant of his, Muhammed, is no stranger to the port,” said Aylmer. ”We learned that before we left Tangier. He is a well-known gun runner, and stands high in his profession. He has made these arrangements.”
Commandant Rattier flung aside his taciturnity with a suddenly impulsive oath.
”Name of all little names!” he cried. ”Do we sit and discuss this matter as if it were a comedietta in which we take no more than the languid interest of the dilettante! Are they not to be pursued--this past master of perjury and his lieutenant? Are we to mount the town walls and wave them affectionate farewells?”
D'Hubert arched his brows with protest.
”Pursuit? Certainly there is a question of pursuit, if it is allowed. I have just sent a _precis_ of your story to the commander-in-chief with a request for his leave to send a patrol. In a very few minutes we shall learn whether or no we have his permission.”
”Permission!” Rattier roared the word in the major's face. ”I, Paul Rattier, do you see, have been made the laughing-stock of the fleet and, in time, no doubt, of half Europe! Am I to wait your general's permission to chase this scoundrel to Timbuctoo, if I so wish? I am the senior officer of marine here. I give myself leave, understand me--I!”
”And these amiable Berbers?” asked the major, sarcastically. ”Supposing they turn upon you and demand your reasons, and estimate your powers?
Suppose, to be blunt, my friend, they put a bullet through your brains?”
”Would that be any worse than wearing this hat of ridicule which this Baron de Landon has put upon my head? No Moor or Touareg or Berber shall stand between me and the object of my just retaliation, if I confront him!”
A small bell tinkled in a corner. D'Hubert made a gesture of apology as he went towards a cabinet screened from the general office. He came back grinning.
”My Paul,” he chuckled, ”there will be shortly an insuperable barrier between you and your desire. In another hour you will not be the senior officer of marine at Casablanca. I learn by wireless that the _Barfleur_, with the admiral on board, enters the roads within the hour.”
Rattier stood for an instant motionless. Then he turned and darted for the door.
Before his ringers reached the handle Aylmer's grip was on his shoulder.
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