CHAPTER III
A SPORTING PROPOSITION
Louis de Launay, once known as "Louisiana" and later, as a general ofcavalry, but now a broken man suffering from soul and mind sickness,was too far gone to give a thought to his condition. Thwarted ambitionand gnawing disappointment had merely been the last straw which hadbroken him. His real trouble was that strange neurosis of mind andbody which has attacked so many that served in the war. Janglednerves, fibers drawn for years to too high a tension, had sagged andgrown flabby under the sudden relaxation for which they were notprepared.
His case was worse than others as his career was unique. Where othershad met the war's shocks for four years, he had striven titanicallyfor nearly a score, his efforts, beginning with the terrible five-yearservice in the _L?gion des Etrangers_, culminating in ever-mountingstrain to his last achievement and then--sudden, stark failure! Hewas, as he had said, burned out, although he was barely thirty-nineyears old. He was a man still young in body but with mind and nerveslike overstrained rubber from which all resilience has gone.
His uniform was gone. Careless of dress or ornamentation, he had sunkinto roughly fitting civilian garb of which he took no care. Of allhis decorations he clung only to the little red rosette of the Legionof Honor. Half drunk, he lolled at a table in a second-class caf?. Hewas in possession of his faculties; indeed, he seldom lost them, buthe was dully indifferent to most of what went on around him. Beforehim was stacked a respectable pile of the saucers that marked hisindebtedness for liquor.
When the cheerful murmur of his neighbors suddenly died away, helooked around, half resentfully, to note the entrance of a woman.
"What is it?" he asked, irritably, of a French soldier near him.
The Frenchman was smiling and answered without taking his eyes fromthe woman, who was now moving down the room toward them.
"Morgan _la f?e_," he answered, briefly.
"Morgan--what the deuce are you talking about?"
"It is Morgan _la f?e_," reiterated the soldier, simply, as though noother explanation were necessary.
De Launay stared at him and then shifted his uncertain gaze to thefigure approaching him. He was able to focus her more clearly as shestopped to reply to the proprietor of the place, who had hastened tomeet her with every mark of respect. Men at the tables she passedsmiled at her and murmured respectful greetings, to which she repliedwith little nods of the head. Evidently she was a figure of some notein the life of the place, although it also seemed that as muchsurprise at her coming was felt as gratification.
She presented rather an extraordinary appearance. Her costume was thefamiliar one of a French Red Cross nurse, with the jaunty,close-fitting cap and wimple in white hiding her hair except for a fewstrands. Her figure was slender, lithe and graceful, and such of herfeatures as were visible were delicate and shapely; her mouth,especially, being ripe and inviting.
But over her eyes and the upper part of her face stretched a strip ofveiling that effectually concealed them. The mask gave her an air ofmystery which challenged curiosity.
De Launay vaguely recalled occasional mention of a young womanfavorably known in the hospitals as Morgan _la f?e_. He also wasfamiliar with the old French legend of Morgan and the Vale of Avalon,where Ogier, the Paladin of Charlemagne, lived in perpetual felicitywith the Queen of the Fairies, forgetful of earth and its problemsexcept at such times as France in peril might need his services, whenhe returned to succor her. He surmised that this was the nurse of whomhe had heard, setting her down as probably some attractive,sympathetic girl whom the soldiers, sentimental and wounded, endowedwith imaginary virtues. He was not sentimental and, beholding her inthis caf?, although evidently held in respect, he was inclined to beskeptical regarding her virtue.
The young woman seemed to have an object and it was surprising to him.She exchanged a brief word with the ma?tre, declined a proffered seatat a table, and turned to come directly to that at which De Launay wasseated. He had hardly time to overcome his stupid surprise and risebefore she was standing before him. Awkwardly enough, he bowed andwaited.
Her glance took in the table, sweeping over the stacked saucers, but,behind the veil, her expression remained an enigma.
She spoke in a voice that was sweet, with a clear, bell-like note.
"Le G?n?ral de Launay, is it not? I have been seeking monsieur."
"Colonel, if mademoiselle pleases," he answered. Then suspicion creptinto his dulled brain. "Mademoiselle seeks me? Pardon, but I am hardlya likely object----"
She interrupted him with an impatient wave of a well-kept hand."Monsieur need not be afraid. It is true that I have been seeking him,but my motive is harmless. If Monsieur Doolittle, the banker, has toldme the truth----"
De Launay's suspicions grew rapidly. "If Doolittle has been talking,I can tell you right now, mademoiselle, that it is useless. What youdesire I am not disposed to grant."
Mademoiselle caught the meaning of the intonation rather than any inthe words. Her inviting mouth curled scornfully. Her answer was stillbell-like but it was also metallic and commanding.
"Sit down!" she said, curtly.
De Launay, who, for many years had been more used to giving ordersthan receiving them, at least in that manner, sat down. He could nothave explained why he did. He did not try to. She sat down oppositehim and he looked helplessly for a waiter, feeling the need ofstimulation.
"You have doubtless had enough to drink," said the girl, and De Launaymeekly turned back to her. "You wonder, perhaps, why I am here," shewent on. "I have said that Monsieur Doolittle has told me that you arean American, that you contemplate returning to your own country----"
"Mademoiselle forgets or does not know," interrupted De Launay, "thatI am not American for nearly twenty years."
"I know all that," was the impatient reply. She hurried on. "I know_monsieur le g?n?ral's_ history since he was a l?gionnaire. But it isof your present plans I wish to speak, not of your past. Is it nottrue that you intend to return to America?"
"I'd thought of it," he admitted, "but, since they have adoptedprohibition----" He shrugged his shoulders and looked with raisedeyebrows at the stack of saucers bearing damning witness to hishabits.
She stopped him with an equally expressive gesture, implying distastefor him and his habits or any discussion of them.
"But Monsieur Doolittle has also told me that monsieur is reckless,that he has the temperament of the gamester, that he is bored; in aword, that he would, as the Americans say, 'take a chance.' Is hewrong in that, also?"
"No," said De Launay, "but there is a choice among the chances whichmight be presented to me. I have no interest in the hazards incidentalto----"
Then, for the life of him, he could not finish the sentence. Hehalfway believed the woman to be merely a _demimondaine_ who had heardthat he might be a profitable customer for venal love, but, facingthat blank mask above the red lips and firm chin, sensing the frozenanger that lay behind it, he felt his convictions melting in somethinglike panic and shame.
"Monsieur was about to say?" The voice was soft, dangerously soft.
"Whatever it was, I shall not say it," he muttered. "I begmademoiselle's pardon." He was relieved to see the lips curve inlaughter and he recovered his own self-possession at once, though hehad definitely dismissed his suspicion.
"I am, then a gambler," he prompted her. "I will take risks and I ambored. Well, what is the answer?"
Mademoiselle's hands were on the table and she now was twisting theslender fingers together in apparent embarrassment.
"It is a strange thing I have to propose, perhaps. But it is a hazardgame that monsieur may be interested in playing, an adventure that hemay find relaxing. And, as monsieur is poor, the chance that it may beprofitable will, no doubt, be worthy of consideration."
De Launay had to revise his ideas again. "You say that Doolittle gaveyou your information?" She agreed with a nod of the head.
"Just what did he tell you?"
Mademoisel
le briefly related how Doolittle, coming from his interviewwith De Launay to hear her own plea for help, had laughed at her crazyidea, had said that it was impossible to aid her, and had finally, inexasperation at both of them, told her that the only way she couldaccomplish her designs was by the help of another fool like herself,and that De Launay was the only one he knew who could qualify for thatdescription. He--De Launay--was reckless enough, gambler enough, assenough, to do the thing necessary to aid her, but no one else was.
"And what," said De Launay, "is this thing that one must do to helpyou?" It seemed evident that Doolittle, while he had told something,had not told all.
She hesitated and finally blurted it out at once while De Launay sawthe flush creep down under the mask to the cheeks and chin below it."It is to marry me," she said.
Then, observing his stupefaction and the return of doubt to his mind,she hurried on. "Not to marry me in seriousness," she said. "Merely amarriage of a temporary nature--one that the American courts will endas soon as the need is over. I must get to America, monsieur, and Icannot go alone. Nor can I get a passport and passage unaided. If onetries, one is told that the boats are jammed with returning troops anddiplomats, and that it is out of the question to secure passage formonths even though one would pay liberally for it.
"But monsieur still has prestige--influence--in spite of that." Hernod indicated the stack of saucers. "He is still the general ofFrance, and he is also an American. It is undoubtedly true that hewill have no difficulty in securing passage, nor will it be denied himto take his wife with him. Therefore it is that I suggest the marriageto monsieur. It was Monsieur Doolittle that gave me the idea."
De Launay was swept with a desire to laugh. "What on earth did he tellyou?" he asked.
"That the only way I could go was to go as the wife of an Americansoldier," said mademoiselle. "He added that he knew of none I couldmarry--unless, he said, I tried Monsieur de Launay. You, he informedme, had just told him that the only marriage you would consider wouldbe one entered into in the spirit of the gambler. Now, that is thekind of marriage I have to offer."
De Launay laughed, recalling his unfortunate words with the banker tothe effect that the only reason he'd ever marry would be as a resultof a bet. Mademoiselle's ascendency was vanishing rapidly. Her na?veassumption swept away the last vestiges of his awe.
"Why do you wear that veil?" he asked abruptly.
She raised her hand to it doubtfully. "Why?" she echoed.
"If I am to marry you, is it to be sight unseen?"
"It is merely because--it is because there is something that causescomment and makes it embarrassing to me. It is nothing--nothingrepulsive, monsieur," she was pleading, now. "At least, I think not.But it makes the soldiers call me----"
"Morgan _la f?e_?"
"Yes. Then you must know?" There was relief in her words.
"No. I have merely wondered why they called you that."
"It is on account of my eyes. They are--queer, perhaps. And my hair,which I also hide under the cap. The poor soldiers ascribe all sortsof--of virtues to them. Magic qualities, which, of course, is silly.And others--are not so kind."
In De Launay's mind was running a verse from William Morris' "EarthlyParadise." He quoted it, in English:
"The fairest of all creatures did she seem; So fresh and delicate you well might deem That scarce for eighteen summers had she blessed The happy, longing earth; yet, for the rest Within her glorious eyes such wisdom dwelt A child before her had the wise man felt."
"Is that it?" he murmured to himself. To his surprise, for he had notthought that she spoke English, she answered him.
"It is not. It is my eyes; yes, but they are not to be described soflatteringly." Yet she was smiling and the blush had spread again tocheeks and chin, flushing them delightfully. "It is a superstition ofthese ignorant poilus. And of others, also. In fact, there are somewho are afraid."
"Well," said De Launay, "I have never had the reputation of beingeither ignorant or afraid. Also--there is Ogier?"
"What?"
"Who plays the r?le of the Danish Paladin?"
Mademoiselle blushed again. "He is not in the story this time," shesaid.
"I hardly qualify, you would say. Perhaps not. But there is more.Where is Avalon and what other names have you? You remember
"Know thou, that thou art come to Avalon, That is both thine and mine; and as for me, Morgan le Fay men call me commonly Within the world, but fairer names than this I have----
"What are they?"
"I am Solange d'Albret, monsieur. I am from the Basses Pyrenees. ABasque, if you please. If my name is distinguished, I am not. On thecontrary, I am very poor, having but enough to finance this trip toAmerica and the search that is to follow."
"And Avalon--where is that? Where is the place that you go to inAmerica?"
She opened a small hand bag and took from it a notebook which sheconsulted.
"America is a big place. It is not likely that you would know it, orthe man that I must look for. Here it is. The place is called 'TwinForks,' and it is near the town of Sulphur Falls, in the State ofIdaho. The man is Monsieur Isaac Brandon."
In the silence, she looked up, alarmed to see De Launay, who wasclutching the edge of the table and staring at her as though she hadstruck him.
"Why, what is the matter?" she cried.
De Launay laughed out loud. "Twin Forks! Ike Brandon! Mademoiselle,what do you seek in Twin Forks and from old Ike Brandon?"
Mademoiselle, puzzled and alarmed, answered slowly.
"I seek a mine that my father found--a gold mine that will make usrich. And I seek also the name of the man that shot my father downlike a dog. I wish to kill that man!"
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