Part 16 (1/2)
”Who can tell? I saw him last on the road across the river--it leads to Sasellano, I believe.” Dieppe kept his eye on his vanquished opponent, but Guillaume threatened no movement. The Captain dropped the revolver into his pocket, stooped to pull up a tuft of gra.s.s with moist earth adhering to it, and, with the help of his handkerchief, made a primitive plaster to stanch the bleeding of his ear. As he was so engaged, the sound of wheels slowly climbing the hill became audible from the direction of the village.
”You see,” he went on, ”you can't return to the village--you are on too good terms with the police. Let me advise you to go to Sasellano; the flood will be falling by now, and I should n't wonder if we could find you a means of conveyance.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the road behind him.
”I can't go back to the village?” demanded Guillaume, sullenly.
”In my turn I must beg you to remember that I now carry a revolver.
Come, M. Guillaume, we 've played a close hand, but the odd trick 's mine. Go back and tell your employers not to waste their time on me.
No, nor their money. They have won the big stake; let them be content.
And again let me remind you that Paul de Roustache has your twenty thousand francs. I don't think you 'll get them from him, but you might. From me you 'll get nothing; and if you try the law--oh, think, my friend, how very silly you and your Government will look!”
As he spoke he went up to Guillaume and took him by the arm, exerting a friendly and persuasive pressure, under which Guillaume presently found himself mounting the eminence. The wheels sounded nearer now, and Dieppe's ears were awake to their movements. The pair began to walk down the other side of the slope towards the Cross, and the carriage came into their view. It was easy of identification: its broken-down, lopsided top marked it beyond mistake.
An instant later Dieppe recognised the burly figure of the driver, who was walking by his horses' heads.
”Wonderfully convenient!” he exclaimed. ”This fellow will carry you to Sasellano without delay.”
Guillaume did not--indeed could not--refuse to obey the prompting of the Captain's arm, but he grumbled as he went.
”I made sure of getting your papers,” he said.
”Unlooked-for difficulties will arise, my dear M. Guillaume.”
”I thought the reward was as good as in my pocket.”
”The reward?” The Captain stopped and looked in his companion's face with some amus.e.m.e.nt and a decided air of gratification. ”There was a reward? Oh, I am important, it seems!”
”Five thousand francs,” said Guillaume, sullenly.
”They rate me rather cheap,” exclaimed the Captain, his face falling.
”I should have hoped for five-and-twenty.”
”Would you? If it had been that, I should have brought three men with me.”
”Hum!” said the Captain. ”And you gave me a stiff job by yourself, eh?” He turned and signalled to the driver, who had now reached the Cross:
”Wait a moment there, my friend.” Then he turned back again to Guillaume. ”Get into the carriage--go to Sasellano; catch Paul if you can, but leave me in peace,” he said, and, diving into his pocket, he produced the five notes of a thousand francs which Paul de Roustache, in some strange impulse of repentance, or grat.i.tude, had handed to him.
”What you tell your employers,” he added, ”I don't care. This is a gift from me to you. The deuce, I reward effort as well as success--I am more liberal than your Government.” The gesture with which he held out the notes was magnificent.
Guillaume stared at him in amazement, but his hand went out towards the notes.
”I am free to do what I can at Sasellano?”
”Yes, free to do anything except bother me. But I think your bird will have flown.”
Guillaume took the notes and hid them in his pocket; then he walked straight up to the driver, crying, ”How much to take me with you to Sasellano?”