CHAPTER IV
HEADS! I WIN!
De Launay turned and called the waiter, ordering cognac for himselfand light wine for mademoiselle.
"You have rendered it necessary, mademoiselle," he explained.Mademoiselle's astounding revelation and the metallic earnestness ofmurder in her voice alike took him aback. He saw that her sweet mouthwas set in a cruel line and her cameo chin was firm as a rock. But herhomicidal intentions had not affected him as sharply as the rest ofit.
Mademoiselle took her wine and sipped it, but her mouth again relaxedto scornful contempt as she saw him toss off the fiery liquor. She wassomewhat astonished at the effect her words had had on the man, butshe gathered that he was now considering her bizarre proposal withreal interest.
The alcohol temporarily enlivened De Launay.
"So," he said, "Avalon is at Twin Forks and I am to marry you in orderthat you may seek out an enemy and kill him. There was also word of agold mine. And your father--d'Albret! I do not recall the name."
"My father," explained Solange, "went to America when I was a babe inarms. He was very poor--few of the Basques are rich--and he was indanger because of the smuggling. He worked for this Monsieur Brandonas a herder of sheep. He found a mine of gold--and he was killed whenhe was coming to tell about it."
"His Christian name?"
"Pedro--Pierre."
"H'm-m! That must have been French Pete. I remember him. He was morethan a cut above the ordinary Basco." He spoke in English, againforgetting that mademoiselle spoke the language. She reminded him ofit.
"You knew my father? But that is incredible!"
"The whole affair is incredible. No wonder you have the name of beinga fairy! But I knew your father--slightly. I knew Ike Brandon. I knowTwin Forks. If I had made up my mind to return to America, it is tothat place that I would go."
It was mademoiselle's turn to be astonished.
"To Twin Forks?"
"To Ike Brandon's ranch, where your father worked. It must have beenafter my time that he was killed. I left there in nineteen hundred,and came to France shortly afterward. I was a cow hand--a cowboy--andwe did not hold friendship with sheepmen. But I knew Ike Brandon andhis granddaughter. Now, tell me about this mine and your father'sdeath."
Mademoiselle d'Albret again had recourse to her hand bag, drawing fromit a small fragment of rock, a crumpled and smashed piece of metalabout the size of one's thumb nail and two pieces of paper. The latterseemed to be quite old, barely holding together along the lines wherethey had been creased. These she spread on the table. De Launay firstpicked up the rock and the bit of metal.
He was something of a geologist. France's soldiers are trained in manysciences. Turning over the tiny bit of mineral between his fingers, hereadily recognized the bits of gold speckling its crumbling crystals.If there was much ore of that quality where French Pete had found hismine, that mine would rank with the richest bonanzas of history.
The bit of metal also interested him. It had been washed but therewere still oxydized spots which might have been made by blood. It wasa soft-nosed bullet, probably of thirty caliber, which had mushroomedafter striking something. His mouth was grim as he saw the jaggededges of metal. It had made a terrible wound in whatever flesh hadstopped it.
He laid the two objects down and took the paper that mademoisellehanded to him. It seemed to be a piece torn from a paper sack, and onit was scrawled in painful characters a few words in some languageutterly unknown to him.
"It is Basque," said mademoiselle, and translated: "'My love, I amassassinated! Farewell, and avenge me! There is much gold. The goodMonsieur Brandon will----'"
It trailed off into a meaningless, trembling line.
The other was a letter written on ruled paper. The cramped,schoolboyish characters were those of a man unused to much compositionand the words were the vernacular of the ranges.
"Dear madam," it began, "I take my pen in hand to write you somethingthat I sure regrets a whole lot. Which I hope you all bears up underthe blow like a game woman, which your late respected husband sure wasgame that a way. There ain't much I can say to break the news, ma'am,and I can't do nothing, being so far away, to show my sympathy. Yourhusband has done passed over. He was killed by some ornery hound whobushwhacked him somewheres in the hills, and who must have been abloody killer because Pete, your husband, sure didn't have no enemies,and there wasn't no one that had any reason to kill him. He was cominghome from the Esmeraldas with his sheep which we was allowing towinter close to the ranch instead of in the desert to see if feedingthem would pay and some murdering gunman done up and shot him with athirty-thirty soft nose, which makes it worse. I'm sending the slugthat done it.
"Pete was sure a true-hearted gent, ma'am, and we was all fond of himspite of his being a Basco. If we could have found the murderer wewould sure have stretched him a plenty but there wasn't no clew.
"Pete had found a gold mine, ma'am, and the specimens he had in hiswar bags was plenty rich as per the sample I am sending you herewith.He tried to tell me where it was but he was too weak when we foundhim. He said he wanted us to give you half of it if we found it and wesure would do that though it don't look like we got much chancebecause he couldn't tell where it was. The boys have been looking butthey haven't found it yet. If they do you can gamble your last chipthey will split it with you or else there will be some more funeralsaround hereaways. But it ain't likely they will find it, I got to tellyou that so's you won't put your hopes on it and be disappointed.
"I am all broke up about Pete, and if there is anything I can do tohelp don't you hesitate to let me know. I was fond of Pete, ma'am, andso was my granddaughter, which he made things for her and she suredoted on him. He was a good hombre."
The letter was signed "I. Brandon."
De Launay mused a moment. "Is that all?" he asked finally.
"It is all," said mademoiselle. "But there is a mine, and, especially,there is the man who killed him."
De Launay looked at the date on the letter. It was October, 1900.
"After nineteen years," he reminded her, "the chances of findingeither the mine or the man are very remote. Perhaps the mine has beenfound long ago."
"Monsieur," replied the girl, and her voice was again metallic andhard, "my mother received that letter. She put it away and treasuredit. She hoped that I would grow up and marry a Basque, who wouldavenge her husband. She sent me to a convent so that I might be a goodmate for a man. When she died she left me money for a _dot_. She hadsaved and she had inherited, and all was put aside for the man whoshould avenge her husband.
"But the war came before I was married, and afterward there was littlechance that any Basque would take the quarrel on himself. It is tooeasy for the men to marry now that they are so scarce, and it is verydifficult for one like me to find a husband. Besides, I have lived inthe world, monsieur, and, like many others, I do not like to marry asthough that were all that a woman might do. I do not see why I cannotgo to America, find this mine and kill this man. The money that was tobe my portion will serve to take me there and pay those who willassist me."
"You desire to find the mine--or to kill the man?"
"Both. I do not like to be poor. It is an evil thing, these days, tobe a poor woman in France. Therefore I wish to find the mine and berich, for, if I cannot marry, wealth will at least make life pleasantfor me. But I wish to find that man, more than the mine."
"And if I marry you, I will be deputized to do the butchery?"
"Monsieur mistakes me," Solange spoke scornfully. "I can do my ownavenging. Monsieur need not alarm himself."
De Launay smiled. "I don't think I'm alarmed. In fact, I am not sure Iwouldn't be willing to do it. Still, this vendetta seems to be ratherold for any great amount of feeling on your part. How old were youwhen your father was killed?"
"Two years."
De Launay laughed again, but choked it off when he noted the angrystiffening of mademoiselle's figure. Somehow, her veiled countenancewas impressiv
e of lingering, bitter emotions. She was a Basque, andthat was a primitive race. She was probably bold enough and hardyenough to fulfill her mission. She had plenty of courage andself-reliance, as he knew.
"The adventure appeals," he told her, soberly enough, though the fumesof cognac were mounting again in his brain. "I am impelled to considerit, though the element of chance seems remote. It is rather acertainty that you will fail. But what is my exact part in theadventure?"
"That rests with you. For my part, all I require is that you securefor me the right to go to America. I can take care of myself afterthat."
"And leave me still married?"
"The marriage can be annulled as soon as you please after we arrive."
"I am afraid it will hardly be as easy as that. To be sure, in theState of Nevada, where you are going, it should be easy enough, buteven there it cannot be accomplished all at once. In New York it willbe difficult. And how would I know that you had freed me if you leftme behind?"
"If it pleases you you may go with me." He caught the note of scornagain. In fact, the girl was evidently feeling a strain at having tonegotiate with him at all. She was proud, as he guessed, and the onlyreason she had even considered such an unusual bargain was hercontempt for him. He was one who, when he might have remainedrespected and useful, had deliberately thrown away his chances tobecome a sot and vagabond.
"But you will understand that this marriage is--not a real marriage.It gives you no right over me. If you so much as dare once topresume----" She was flaming with earnest threat, and he could wellimagine that, if he ventured a familiarity, she would knife him asquickly as look at him.
"I understand that. You need have no fear. I was a gentleman once andstill retain some of the instincts. Then I am employed to go with youon this search? And the remuneration?"
"I will pay the expenses. I can do no more than that. And if the mineis found, you shall have a full share in it. That would be a third."
"If I am to have a full share it would seem only fair that Icontribute at least my own expenses. I should prefer to do so. Whilemy pay has not been large, it has been more than an unmarried soldierneeds to spend and I have saved some of it."
"Then," said mademoiselle in a tired voice, "you have decided that youwill go?"
De Launay ordered and tossed off another drink and Solange shuddered.His voice was thickening and his eyes showed the effects of theliquor, although he retained full possession of his faculties.
"A sporting proposition!" he said with a chuckle. "It's all of thatand more. But still, I'm curious about one thing. This Morgan _la f?e_business. If I am to wed a fairy I'll at least know why they call herone. I'll take on no witches sight unseen."
Solange shrank a little. "I do not understand," she said, faltering.Her expectations had been somewhat dashed.
De Launay spun a coin into the air and leaned forward as it clashed onthe marble top of the table.
"Heads I go, tails I don't!" he said, and clapped his hand over it ashe looked at mademoiselle. "And if I go, I'll see why they call youMorgan _la f?e_!"
"Because of my coloring," said mademoiselle, wearily. "I have toldyou."
"But I have not seen. Shall I lift my hand, mademoiselle, with thatunderstanding?"
Solange stared at him through the veil and he looked back at hermockingly. Angry and depressed at the same time, she nodded slowly,but her stake was large and she could not refrain from bending forwardwith a little intake of the breath as he slowly lifted his hand fromthe coin. Then she sighed deeply. It was heads.
"Mademoiselle," he said with a bow, "I win! You will lift your veil?"
Solange nodded. To her it seemed that _she_ had won. Then, with nosign of anxiety or embarrassment she bent her head slightly, slippedthe coif back from her hair with one hand and lifted the veil with theother, sweeping them both away from her head with that characteristictoss that women employ on such occasions. Then she raised her face andlooked full at him.
He stared critically, and remained staring, but not critically. He hadseen a good many women in his time, and many of them had beenhandsome. Some had been very beautiful. None of them had ever had muchof an effect upon him. Even now he did not stop to determine in hismind whether this woman was beautiful as others had been. Her beauty,in fact, was not what affected him, although she was more than pretty,and her features were as perfect as an artist's dream.
As she had said, it was her coloring that was extraordinary. He hadseen sharp contrasts in his time, women with black hair and light-blueor gray eyes, women with blond hair and brown eyes, but he had neverseen one with that mass of almost colorless, almost transparent hair,scintillant where the light fell upon it, black in shadow where therolls of it cut off the light, nor had he seen such hair in such sharpcontrast with eyes that were large and black as night and as deep aspools. The thing would have been uncanny and disturbing if it had notbeen that her skin was as fair as her hair, white and delicate. As itwas, the whole impression was startlingly vivid and yet, after thefirst shock, singularly fascinating. The strange mixture of extremeblondness and deep coloration seemed to fit a nature that was bothfiery and deep.
De Launay reflected that one might well call her a fairy. In manyprimitive places that combination would have won her the name ofhaving the evil eye. In a kinder land it gave her gentler graces.
"Are you satisfied, monsieur?" asked Solange, with a sneer. As henodded, soberly, she dropped the veil and restored her cap. The peoplein the caf? had looked on with respectful and yet eager curiosity, amurmur of affectionate comment running about the tables.
"I'm quite satisfied," he repeated again, as he tossed a note on thetable to satisfy his account. Solange's mouth curled scornfully as shenoted again the stack of saucers indicating his habits. "I'm going tomarry Morgan _la f?e_, the Queen of Avalon, and I'm going to enlist inher service to do her bidding, even to unlicensed butchery wherenecessary. Mademoiselle, lead on!"
Solange led on, but her head was high and her face expressed anextreme disdain for the mercenary who had signed on with her.
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