The Pursuit

by Frank Savile

  CHAPTER XI

  RATTIER LOSES HIS CALM

  Major D'Hubert, Provost Marshal of the French forces occupyingCasablanca, grinned widely.

  "So you suffered him to escape?" he said.

  Commandant Rattier drummed fiercely on the office table.

  "Suffered?" he roared. "I entertained him--the _escroc_! I nourishedhim; I sent him ashore!"

  The soldier smiled and looked at Rattier's companion--Aylmer.

  "What open-hearted ingenuousness!" he chuckled. "You and I now, myCaptain! When one has been officer of the day a few thousand times, orsat upon a few hundred courts-martial, or acted as _maitre de logis_,one learns to sift a story then. And this one had its weak points, evenfor a sailor. Would any one not mentally deranged hire a lateen to takehim aboard his own yacht? No, I should have required something betterimagined than that--I."

  Aylmer shrugged his shoulders.

  "The man can make himself of an engaging personality, Major. Our friendacted according to the impulses of his generous soul. But the point isthat our man is hidden in the town. We come to you for expert knowledge.Who would be likely to shelter him, and where? You will pardon ourinsistence and intrusion, but our need is very pressing. It is thechild who is our concern, the child."

  D'Hubert made a gesture of assent.

  "Apart from my sincere affection for our simpleminded commandant,Monsieur, your tale is good enough for any honest man and a father ofbabes like myself. But this town of Casablanca is, in effect, ahaystack. Your quarry has the best of chances to act the needle."

  He opened a door into an outer office and shouted a name.

  "Sergeant Perinaud!"

  A body filled the doorway and entered, bending the last few inches ofits stature. The sergeant saluted and unfolded himself, his eyesreviewing the company with affable respect about two metres above thefloor.

  "Visit the guardroom at each gate, see the lieutenants of the Spanishpolice and bring me back a list of parties which have left the townsince morning. This is a matter of haste."

  The sergeant saluted again and then hesitated.

  "Is it permitted first to speak?" he asked.

  The major nodded jerkily.

  "It is, by chance, the movements of two men and a woman which are inquestion?" speculated Perinaud.

  Major d'Hubert opened his lips, shut them tight, meditated a moment, andthen 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 inan _arba_. My attention was drawn to the party thus. Two hours ago aband of the Beni M'Geel, Berbers, left by the eastern gate as for BerRechid. They had with them two Arabs and a woman under the canopy ofwhich I spoke. Arab and Berber, especially if the latter are of the BeniM'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 histalk, as I judged it, was to the woman, who, however, made no reply. Theother had the hood of his _haik_ pulled far over his face. I did not seeit."

  The major sat down at his desk, wrote a few lines swiftly, dashed sandupon the ink, and handed the completed note to his underling.

  "Let that be taken to General d'Amade without delay. Search may at thesame time be made in the town for an Englishman, his child, and a Moorattendant who landed from a launch of the _Diomede_ some three hoursback. The messenger may await the general's answer and bring it to mehere."

  As the giant saluted for the third time and diminished himself into thedoorway, Major d'Hubert confronted his friends with a pessimistic shakeof 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 ofsome of these wolves of Beni M'Geel within an hour of landing in astrange town shows more than talent. It amounts to genius."

  "This servant of his, Muhammed, is no stranger to the port," saidAylmer. "We learned that before we left Tangier. He is a well-known gunrunner, and stands high in his profession. He has made thesearrangements."

  Commandant Rattier flung aside his taciturnity with a suddenly impulsiveoath.

  "Name of all little names!" he cried. "Do we sit and discuss this matteras if it were a comedietta in which we take no more than the languidinterest of the dilettante! Are they not to be pursued--this past masterof perjury and his lieutenant? Are we to mount the town walls and wavethem affectionate farewells?"

  D'Hubert arched his brows with protest.

  "Pursuit? Certainly there is a question of pursuit, if it is allowed. Ihave just sent a _precis_ of your story to the commander-in-chief with arequest for his leave to send a patrol. In a very few minutes we shalllearn whether or no we have his permission."

  "Permission!" Rattier roared the word in the major's face. "I, PaulRattier, 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'spermission to chase this scoundrel to Timbuctoo, if I so wish? I am thesenior officer of marine here. I give myself leave, understand me--I!"

  "And these amiable Berbers?" asked the major, sarcastically. "Supposingthey 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 thisBaron de Landon has put upon my head? No Moor or Touareg or Berber shallstand between me and the object of my just retaliation, if I confronthim!"

  A small bell tinkled in a corner. D'Hubert made a gesture of apology ashe went towards a cabinet screened from the general office. He came backgrinning.

  "My Paul," he chuckled, "there will be shortly an insuperable barrierbetween you and your desire. In another hour you will not be the seniorofficer of marine at Casablanca. I learn by wireless that the_Barfleur_, with the admiral on board, enters the roads within thehour."

  Rattier stood for an instant motionless. Then he turned and darted forthe door.

  Before his fingers reached the handle Aylmer's grip was on his shoulder.With a passionate gesture of repulse the commandant shook him off.

  "I am not one to await admirals!" he roared. "I go to make arrangements.Within half an hour I leave the town--I. If I have to walk I will followthese Berber scoundrels, yes, if I have to crawl upon my knees!"

  As the two wrestled and argued on the threshold, the door opened fromthe outside. The massive proportions of the sergeant towered over themin respectful amazement. He saluted and deferentially edged a way forhimself towards D'Hubert.

  "The general was in the act of passing, my Major," he explained. "Heread your note and wrote his answer on the back in five words--he wasamiable enough to inform me."

  The major untwisted the little roll of soiled paper and as he inspectedit a smile creased his cheek. He chuckled.

  "A half troop of Goumiers!" he read. He looked at the frowning face ofthe commandant.

  "No need to go alone, my Paul. There is your escort." He hesitated amoment, debating. "Do either of you, by chance, speak Arabic?"

  "Am I an interpreter?" asked Rattier, bitterly. "Does one need a grammarand dictionary to arrest half a dozen scoundrels who are perfectly wellaware why they are being chased, and whom one will take the liberty ofshooting if they resist capture? For that plain English or French--or,for all practical purposes, Chinese--will suffice. Avoid alarmingyourself on that subject, _mon ami_."

  The major grinned.

  "I was not thinking of your quarry but your colleagues, my pigeon. TheGoumiers speak their own _argot_. They are good-hearted children, butapt to be tempestuous in matters of fighting." He meditated throughanother minute before he spoke with quick decision. "Sergeant! Prepareto accompany M. le Commandant within fifteen minutes."

  Perinaud saluted wi
th entire imperturbability.

  "And my instructions, my Major?" he asked.

  "To return with the prisoners which Commandant Rattier will indicate toyou, or, failing their capture, within twenty-four hours."

  "_Bien!_" Perinaud folded himself anaconda-like into the back office anddisappeared. Ten minutes later, a period which D'Hubert filled with muchvoluble advice, there was the tramping of many horses' feet without.Aylmer and Rattier strolled out into the open at the major's heels.

  Under the command of one of their own native officers, forty horsemen ofthe famous Algerian yeomanry had reined up in the dusty street. They satin their high peaked saddles, watching keenly the faces of D'Hubert andhis companions. Aylmer noted the eager, alert expectation which filledeach flashing brown eye. The Goumier, though he has proved his valor inmore than one pitched battle against the men of his own blood, is not aman of war as we understand it. Manoeuvring, tactics, the orderlinessof drill and discipline are not inherent in his nature. But the raid,the foray, the looting expedition are to him the apex and apogee ofhuman bliss. Thin, modest of stomach and worldly possessions, he passesover the quickly reached horizon of the desert and is forgotten of thewell-drilled colleagues he leaves behind. But see his return! Swellingwith good victuals, jingling with caparison of desert wealth, withchicken and kid pendent from his saddle-bow, who more popular than he?The savory incense of his mess attracts all nostrils; his lavishlyscattered loot widens the already capacious circle of his friends.Winning it, or wasting it when won, loot is the pivot on which hisreckless, joyous, heedless existence swings.

  Rising from the rear as a cathedral tower rises above the encirclingdwellings at its base, Perinaud's head and shoulders topped the ranks.His amiable smile, this time, had about it something of more thanordinary deference. It was the near kin of a smirk, and his yellowmoustache was twisted fiercely upwards. Aylmer followed the direction ofhis glance to find it focussed upon Claire Van Arlen.

  Her eyes met his. She made him a little gesture, half of appeal, as itseemed, half of command.

  As he covered the few yards which separated them, he noted, with a queertightening of the heart, the deep shadows which had grown beneath hereyes. But at the same time it was not all anxiety or weariness whichher face expressed. There was determination also. And this was reflectedin Mr. Van Arlen's glance. It dwelled upon Aylmer with expectancy andmore than expectancy,--with hope.

  Without preamble he answered the question which their eyes had asked.They heard him in silence to the end, and as he finished, the girl'sfirst comment was no more than a little sigh.

  "The sergeant's surmise is right; my instinct tells me that," saidAylmer. "A few hours--and I shall be putting the child in your armsagain."

  She looked up at the double rank of horsemen. A sudden vivid flash offeeling passed over her features. Her breath came with a little pant.

  "Ah, if I could ride with you!" she said fiercely. "If I could do morethan wait!"

  The color mounted to her cheeks, to her brow. A new note sounded in hervoice.

  "If they show fight--these men? If, rather than lose the child, he"--hervoice sank unsteadily for a moment--"does him an injury? You would notspare him?"

  He smiled a little wearily.

  "So you distrust me still?" he asked. "Why should I spare him? Because,to my shame, we are of one blood?"

  Mr. Van Arlen's thin hand rose in deprecation.

  "We can leave this matter confidently in Captain Aylmer's hands," hesaid. "We have only the one thing to think of--the child."

  "No!" she cried vehemently. "I want the child, but I want more thanthat. I want retribution. I want Landon in the dust. I want him made tofeel, as I feel. The child is much, but he is not all. Have youforgotten the last eight years of my sister's life? Do you remember whatshe has undergone and still has to undergo if the father of her son winsthis trick, as my heart tells me he will win it? I want vengeance. Iwant every chance to grasp it seized. I should not hesitate, where hiskinsman might."

  Aylmer nodded gravely.

  "I understand," he said quietly. "Perhaps it is natural. But you keepforgetting the one thing--that I work for my own reward. Even pity wouldbe a frail barrier between me and that."

  Watching her keenly, he saw a quiver of repulsion tremble about herlips, but it did not stay. She set them rather into grimness. She lookedat him keenly, debatingly, indeed, as if she weighed his words andsought to set a value on them.

  "Yes," she said, and there was a breathlessness in her tone as if sheslurred words which she did not dare to let herself hear. "I, too,understand. And my father would consider no price too high for theservice which won back his grandchild, and removed the menace ofLandon's existence from our lives."

  Van Arlen bowed unconsciously--his courteous, instinctive inclination ofassent.

  "Such a service would be beyond price or reward," he said quietly. "Wecould only do our best."

  But there was a queerly puzzled look in his eyes as they wandered fromAylmer to his daughter's face. He frowned a little, still unconsciously,in the throes of an obvious bewilderment.

  Aylmer looked at him once, swiftly, speculatively, and then turnedsteadily towards Claire.

  "And you?" he asked quietly.

  She did not flinch; she did not even show, this time, any sign ofrepulsion. The note in her voice now was exasperation, the nervousdefiance of one confronting an intolerable situation from which therewas no escape.

  "I? I should think as my father thinks," she said coolly. She turned asshe spoke and looked impatiently at the line of waiting horsemen.

  Aylmer nodded.

  "Thank you," he said briskly. He made a sign towards Perinaud, whojogged forward leading the spare horse whose bridle he had been holding.Aylmer vaulted into the saddle, and reined in beside his friend Rattier,who, using the pommel for a desk, was writing a few lines of instructionto his lieutenant. A guttural order rumbled from the native officer'slips.

  The line of horsemen wheeled and deployed into lines of four. With ajingle of accoutrements, they jogged off into the dust of the alliestowards the eastern gate.