Part 10 (1/2)
”I shall break it open--with your help, my friend.”
”I give no more help, friend Sevier--or Guillaume, or what you like--till I see my money. Deuce take it, the fellow may be armed!”
”I did n't engage you for a picnic, Monsieur Paul.”
”It's the pay, not the work, that's in dispute, my friend. Come, you have the money, I suppose? Out with it!”
”Not a sou till I have the papers!”
The Captain nodded his head. ”I was right, as usual,” he was thinking to himself, as he felt his breast-pocket caressingly.
The wind rose to a gust and howled.
The voices became inaudible. The Captain bent down and whispered.
”If they force the door open,” he said, ”or if I have to open it and go out, you 'd do well to get behind that straw there till you see what happens. They expect n.o.body but me, and when they 've seen me they won't search any more.”
He saw, with approval and admiration, that she was calm and cool.
”Is there danger?” she asked.
”No,” said he. ”But one of them wants some papers I have, and has apparently engaged the other to a.s.sist him. M. de Roustache feels equal to two jobs, it seems. I wonder if he knows whom he's after, though.”
”Would they take the papers by force?” Her voice was very anxious, but still not terrified.
”Very likely--if I won't part with them. Don't be uneasy. I sha'n't forget your affair.”
She pressed his arm gratefully, and drew back till she stood close to the trusses of straw, ready to seek a hiding-place in case of need.
She was not much too soon. A man hurled himself violently against the door. The upper part gave and gaped an inch or two; the lower stood firm, thanks to the block of wood that barred its opening. Even as the a.s.sault was delivered against the door, Dieppe had blown out the candle. In darkness he and she stood waiting and listening.
”Lend a hand. We shall do it together,” cried the voice of M.
Guillaume.
”I 'll be hanged it I move without five thousand francs!”
Dieppe put up both hands and leant with all his weight against the upper part of the door. He smiled at his prescience when Guillaume flung himself against it once more. Now there was no yielding, no opening--not a c.h.i.n.k. Guillaume was convinced.
”Curse you, you shall have the money,” they heard him say. ”Come, hold the lantern here.”
CHAPTER VII
THE FLOOD ON THE RIVER
That Paul de Roustache came to the rendezvous, where he had agreed to meet the Count, in the company and apparently in the service of M.
Guillaume, who was not at all concerned with the Count but very much interested in the man who had borrowed his name, afforded tolerably conclusive evidence that Paul had been undeceived, and that if either party had been duped in regard to the meeting it was Captain Dieppe.
Never very ready to adopt such a conclusion as this, Dieppe was none the less forced to it by the pressure of facts. Moreover he did not perceive any safe, far less any glorious, issue from the situation either for his companion or for himself. His honour was doubly involved; the Countess's reputation and the contents of his breast-pocket alike were in his sole care; and just outside the hut were two rascals, plainly resolute, no less plainly unscrupulous, the one threatening the lady, the other with nefarious designs against the breast-pocket. They had joined hands, and now delivered a united attack against both of the Captain's treasured trusts. ”In point of fact,” he reflected with some chagrin, ”I have for this once failed to control events.” He brightened up almost immediately. ”Never mind,”
he thought, ”it may still be possible to take advantage of them.” And he waited, all on the alert for his chance. His companion observed, with a little vexation, with more admiration, that he seemed to have become unconscious of her presence, or, at best, to consider her only as a responsibility.
The besiegers spoke no more in tones audible within the hut. Putting eye and ear alternately to the crevice between door and door-post, Dieppe saw the lantern's light and heard the crackle of paper. Then he just caught, or seemed to catch, the one word, said in a tone of finality, ”Five!” Then came more crackling. Next a strange, sudden circle of light revolved before the Captain's eye; and then there was light no more. The lantern had been lifted, swung round in the air, and flung away. Swift to draw the only inference, Dieppe turned his head. As he did so there rang out a loud oath in Guillaume's voice; it was followed by an odd, dull thud.
”Quick, behind the trusses!” whispered Dieppe. ”I 'm going out.”