Chapter IV
Men of the Night

I HAD little time given me to realise the extraordinary and humiliating position in which I found myself, for I was lifted up by my ankles, as if I were a fowl pulled off a perch, and jerked roughly down into the room, my back striking upon the stone floor with a thud which shook the breath from my body.

  "Don't kill him yet, Toussac," said a soft voice. "Let us make sure who he is first."

  I felt the pressure of a thumb upon my chin and of fingers upon my throat, and my head was slowly forced round until the strain became unbearable.

  "Quarter of an inch does it and no mark," said the thunderous voice. "You can trust my old turn."

  "Don't, Toussac; don't!" said the same gentle voice which had spoken first. "I saw you do it once before, and the horrible snick that it made haunted me for a long time. To think that the sacred flame of life can be so readily snuffed out by that great material finger and thumb! Mind can indeed conquer matter, but the fighting must not be at close quarters."

  My neck was so twisted that I could not see any of these people who were discussing my fate. I could only lie and listen.

  "The fact remains, my dear Charles, that the fellow has our all-important secret, and that it is our lives or his." I recognised in the voice which was now speaking that of the man of the cottage. "We owe it to ourselves to put it out of his power to harm us. Let him sit up, Toussac, for there is no possibility of his escaping."

  Some irresistible force at the back of my neck dragged me instantly into a sitting position, and so for the first time I was able to look round me in a dazed fashion, and to see these men into whose hands I had fallen. That they were murderers in the past and had murderous plans for the future I already gathered from what I had heard and seen. I understood also that in the heart of that lonely marsh I was absolutely in their power. None the less, I remembered the name that I bore, and I concealed as far as I could the sickening terror which lay at my heart.

  There were three of them in the room, my former acquaintance and two new comers. Lesage stood by the table, with his fat brown book in his hand, looking at me with a composed face, but with that humorous questioning twinkle in his eyes which a master chess-player might assume when he had left his opponent without a move. On the top of the box beside him sat a very ascetic-faced, yellow, hollow-eyed man of fifty, with prim lips and a shrunken skin, which hung loosely over the long jerking tendons under his prominent chin. He was dressed in snuff-coloured clothes, and his legs under his knee-breeches were of a ludicrous thinness. He shook his head at me with an air of sad wisdom, and I could read little comfort in his in-human grey eyes. But it was the man called Toussac who alarmed me most. He was a colossus; bulky rather than tall, but misshapen from his excess of muscle. His huge legs were crooked like those of a great ape; and, indeed, there was something animal about his whole appearance, for he was bearded up to his eyes, and it was a paw rather than a hand which still clutched me by the collar. As to his expression, he was too thatched with hair to show one, but his large black eyes looked with a sinister questioning from me to the others. If they were the judge and jury, it was clear who was to be executioner.

  "Whence did he come? What is his business? How came he to know the hiding-place?" asked the thin man.

  "When he first came I mistook him for you in the darkness," Lesage answered. "You will acknowledge that it was not a night on which one would expect to meet many people in the salt-marsh. On discovering my mistake I shut the door and concealed the papers in the chimney. I had forgotten that he might see me do this through that crack by the hinges, but when I went out again, to show him his way and so get rid of him, my eye caught the gap, and I at once realised that he had seen my action, and that it must have aroused his curiosity to such an extent that it would be quite certain that he would think and speak of it. I called him back into the hut, therefore, in order that I might have time to consider what I had best do with him."

  "Sapristi! a couple of cuts of that wood-axe, and a bed in the softest corner of the marsh, would have settled the business at once," said the fellow by my side.

  "Quite true, my good Toussac; but it is not usual to lead off with your ace of trumps. A little delicacy -- a little finesse --"

  "Let us hear what you did then?"

  "It, was my first object to learn whether this man Laval -- "

  "What did you say his name was?" cried the thin man.

  "His name, according to his account, is Laval. My first object then was to find out whether he had in truth seen me conceal the papers or not. It was an important question for us, and, as things have turned out, more important still for him. I made my little plan, therefore. I waited until I saw you approach, and I then left him alone in the hut. I watched through the window and saw him fly to the hiding-place. We then entered, and I asked you, Toussac, to be good enough to lift him down -- and there he lies."

  The young fellow looked proudly round for the applause of his comrades, and the thin man clapped his hands softly together, looking very hard at me while he did so.

  "My dear Lesage," said he, "you have certainly excelled yourself. When our new republic looks for its minister of police we shall know where to find him. I confess that when, after guiding Toussac to this shelter, I followed you in and perceived a gentleman's legs projecting from the fireplace, even my wits, which are usually none of the slowest, hardly grasped the situation. Toussac, however, grasped the legs. He is always practical, the good Toussac."

  "Enough words!" growled the hairy creature beside me. "It is because we have talked instead of acting that this Buonaparte has a crown upon his head or a head upon his shoulders. Let us have done with the fellow and come to business."

  The refined features of Lesage made me look towards him as to a possible protector, but his large dark eyes were as cold and hard as jet as he looked back at me.

  "What Toussac says is right," said he. "We imperil our own safety if he goes with our secret."

  "The devil take our own safety!" cried Toussac. "What has that to do with the matter? We imperil the success of our plans -- that is of more importance."

  "The two things go together," replied Lesage. "There is no doubt that Rule 13 of our confederation defines exactly what should be done in such a case. Any responsibility must rest with the passers of Rule 13."

  My heart had turned cold when this man with his poet's face supported the savage at my side. But my hopes were raised again when the thin man, who had said little hitherto, though he had continued to stare at me very intently, began now to show some signs of alarm at the bloodthirsty, proposals of his comrades.

  "My dear Lucien," said he, in a soothing voice, laying his hand upon the young man's arm, "we philosophers and reasoners must have a respect for human life. The tabernacle is not to be lightly violated. We have frequently agreed that if it were not for the excesses of Marat -- "

  "I have every respect for your opinion, Charles," the other interrupted. "You will allow that I have always been a willing and obedient disciple. But I again say that our personal safety is involved, and that, as far as I see, there is no middle course. No one could be more averse from cruelty than I am, but you were present with me some months ago when Toussac silenced the man from Bow Street, and certainly it was done with such dexterity that the process was probably more painful to the spectators than to the victim. He could not have been aware of the horrible sound which announced his own dissolution. If you and I had constancy enough to endure this -- and if I remember right it was chiefly at your instigation that the deed was done -- then surely on this more vital occasion -- "

  "No, no, Toussac, stop!" cried the thin man, his voice rising from its soft tones to a perfect scream as the giant's hairy hand gripped me by the chin once more. "I appeal to you, Lucien, upon practical as well as upon moral grounds, not to let this deed be done. Consider that if things should go against us this will cut us off from all hopes of mercy. Consider also -- "

  This argument seemed for a moment to stagger the younger man, whose olive complexion had turned a shade greyer.

  "There will be no hope for us in any case, Charles," said he. "We have no choice but to obey Rule 13."

  "Some latitude is allowed to us. We are ourselves upon the inner committee."

  "But it takes a quorum to change a rule, and we have no powers to do it." His pendulous lip was quivering, but there was no softening in his eyes. Slowly under the pressure of those cruel fingers my chin began to sweep round to my shoulder, and I commended my soul to the Virgin and to Saint Ignatius, who has always been the especial patron of my family. But this man Charles, who had already befriended me, darted forwards and began to tear at Toussac's hands with a vehemence which was very different from his former philosophic calm.

  "You shall not kill him!" he cried angrily.

  "Who are you, to set your wills up against mine? Let him go, Toussac! Take your thumb from his chin! I won't have it done, I tell you!" Then, as he saw by the inflexible faces of his companions that blustering would not help him, he turned suddenly to tones of entreaty. "See, now! I'll make you a promise!" said he. "Listen to me, Lucien! Let me examine him! If he is a police spy he shall die! You may have him then, Toussac. But if he is only a harmless traveller, who has blundered in here by an evil chance, and who has been led by a foolish curiosity to inquire into our business, then you will leave him to me."

  You will observe that from the beginning of this affair I had never once opened my mouth, nor said a word in my defence, which made me mightily pleased with myself afterwards, though my silence came rather from pride than from courage. To lose life and self-respect together was more than I could face. But now, at this appeal from my advocate, I turned my eyes from the monster who held me to the other who condemned me. The brutality of the one alarmed me less than the self-interested attitude of the other, for a man is never so dangerous as when he is afraid, and of all judges the judge who has cause to fear you is the most inflexible.

  My life depended upon the answer which was to come to the appeal of my champion. Lesage tapped his fingers upon his teeth, and smiled indulgently at the earnestness of his companion.

  ""Rule 13! Rule 13!" he kept repeating, in that exasperating voice of his.

  "I will take all responsibility."

  "I'll tell you what, mister," said Toussac, in his savage voice. "There's another rule besides Rule 13, and that's the one that says that if any man shelters an offender be shall be treated as if he was himself guilty of the offence."

  This attack did not shake the serenity of my champion in the least.

  "You are an excellent man of action, Toussac," said he calmly; "but when it comes to choosing the right course, you must leave it to wiser heads than your own."

  His air of tranquil superiority seemed to daunt the fierce creature who held me. He shrugged his huge shoulders in silent dissent.

  "As to you, Lucien," my friend continued, "I am surprised, considering the position to which you aspire in my family, that you should for an instant stand in the way of any wish which I may express. If you have grasped the true principles of liberty, and if you are privileged to be one of the small band who have never despaired of the republic, to whom is it that you owe it?"

  "Yes, yes, Charles; I acknowledge what you say," the young man answered, with much agitation. "I am sure that I should be the last to oppose any wish which you might express, but in this case I fear lest your tenderness of heart may be leading you astray. By all means ask him any questions that you like; but it seems to me that there can be only one end to the matter."

  So I thought also; for, with the full secret of these desperate men in my possession, what hope was there that they would ever suffer me to leave the hut alive? And yet, so sweet is human life, and so dear a respite, be it ever so short a one, that when that murderous hand was taken from my chin I heard a sudden chiming of little bells, and the lamp blazed up into a strange fantastic blur.

  It was but for a moment, and then my mind was clear again, and I was looking up at the strange gaunt face of my examiner.

  "Whence have you come?" he asked.

  "From England."

  "But you are French?"

  "Yes."

  "When did you arrive?"

  "To-night."

  "How?"

  "In a lugger from Dover."

  "The fellow is speaking the truth," growled Toussac. "Yes, I'll say that for him, that he is speaking the truth. We saw the lugger, and someone was landed from it just after the boat that brought me over pushed off."

  I remembered that boat, which had been the first thing which I had seen upon the coast of France. How little I had thought what it would mean to me!

  And now my advocate began asking questions -- vague, useless questions -- in a slow, hesitating fashion which set Toussac grumbling. This cross-examination appeared to me to be a useless farce; and yet there was a certain eagerness and intensity in my questioner's manner which gave me the assurance that he had some end in view. Was it merely that he wished to gain time? Time for what? And then, suddenly, with that quick perception which comes upon those whose nerves are strained by an extremity of danger, I became convinced that he really was awaiting something -- that he was tense with expectation. I read it upon his drawn face, upon his sidelong head with his ear scooped into his hand, above all in his twitching, restless eyes. He expected an interruption, and he was talking, talking, talking, in order to gain time for it. I was as sure of it as if he had whispered his secret in my ear, and down in my numb, cold heart a warm little spring of hope began to bubble and run.

  But Toussac had chafed at all this word-fencing, and now with an oath he broke in upon our dialogue.

  "I have had enough of this!" he cried. "It is not for child's play of this sort that I risked my head in coming over here. Have we nothing better to talk about than this fellow? Do you suppose I came from London to listen to your fine phrases? Have done with it, I say, and get to business."

  "Very good," said my champion. "There's an excellent little cupboard here which makes as fine a prison as one could wish for. Let us put him in here, and pass on to business. We can deal with him when we have finished."

  "And have him overhear all that we say," said Lesage.

  "I don't know what the devil has come over you," cried Toussac, turning suspicious eyes upon my protector. "I never knew you squeamish before, and certainly you were not backward in the affair of the man from Bow Street. This fellow has our secret, and he must either die, or we shall see him at our trial. What is the sense of arranging a plot, and then at the last moment turning a man loose who will ruin us all? Let us snap his neck and have done with it."

  The great hairy hands were stretched towards me again, but Lesage had sprung suddenly to his feet. His face had turned very white, and he stood listening with his forefinger up and his head slanted. It was a long, thin, delicate hand, and it was quivering like a leaf in the wind.

  "I heard something," he whispered.

  "And I," said the older man.

  "What was it?"

  "Silence. Listen!"

  For a minute or more we all stayed with straining ears while the wind still whimpered in the chimney or rattled the crazy window.

  "It was nothing," said Lesage at last, with a nervous laugh. "The storm makes curious sounds sometimes."

  "I heard nothing," said Toussac.

  "Hush!" cried the other. "There it is again!"

  A clear rising cry floated high above the wailing of the storm; a wild, musical cry, beginning on a low note, and thrilling swiftly up to a keen, sharp-edged howl.

  "A hound!"

  "They are following us!"

  Lesage dashed to the fireplace, and I saw him thrust his papers into the blaze and grind them down with his heel.

  Toussac seized the wood-axe which leaned against the wall. The thin man dragged the pile of decayed netting from the corner, and opened a small wooden screen, which shut off a low recess.

  "In here," he whispered, "quick!"

  And then, as I scrambled into my refuge, I heard him say to the others that I would be safe there, and that they could lay their hands upon me when they wished.

(End of chapter IV)

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