CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE LAST ADVENTURE OF THE BLACK BAND
The last hours of the Black Band in Aramon were marked by many exploitsstill remembered in the town. Citizens, even men marked for their formerdevotion to the cause of the workmen, were stopped in the streets andrelieved of all they had about them, to their very watches and chains.
Shopkeepers were given the alternative of executing an immediate forcedloan or having their premises burnt over their heads. Some, running toocomplacently to the hiding-places of their wealth, found themselvesdespoiled of all. The two banks were threatened and squeezedalternately. A poll-tax was levied on the population and exacted at thepoint of the bayonet.
Underground reaction growled and raged in Aramon, and if the Committeeof Public Safety had remained a few days more, it is likely that theywould have found themselves hunted and shot like mad dogs.
But they had no such intentions. They acted precisely as does afraudulent bankrupt who lays his hand on every shilling in preparationfor an immediate flight. They did not intend ever to set eyes on Aramonagain, and they cared nothing for the dissatisfaction caused by theirlast measures of rapacity.
But the favour accorded to Matteo le Gaucher by the chief of the band atthe Mairie had not escaped the notice of his compatriots. The littlehunchback one day appeared sunning himself on the bridge wall, with hiswrist displaying a gold bangle, which everyone recognised as that whichhad been worn by Chanot. Instantly the quick Italian suspicions werearoused--and in all Italy none are so silent and shrewd as the men ofTuscany. But though they tried this way and that for a good clue, theywere beaten. All they could learn was that Le Gaucher was in the pay ofthe Bad Men, and that boded no good to their master. So, because theywere fond of the big, slow-moving, kindly man, they went back and toldhim. Arcadius served out a litre of wine apiece to mark his sense oftheir good-will, but as for any danger from Matteo, he merely shruggedhis shoulders.
But Arcadius, as he moved in his garden with his dainty mattock in hishand, and in his pocket his garden-scissors, which were strong enough tocut through a branch the thickness of his own thumb, had a vast deal oftime for thinking. And generally Arcadius thought to some purpose.
He was persuaded that neither Chanot nor any other would trouble theirheads about him. They would leave him with his flower seeds, his treeplants, and his brussels-sprouts in peace between the great gate of thecemetery and the rush of the river waters to the sea.
But for what, then, would so selfish and insolent a dog as Chanot notonly be willing to be openly on good terms with an impossible reptilelike Matteo, but actually present him with the gold bangle which he wassupposed to wear in memory of an ancient love affair?
Arcadius delved and thought. He pruned and snipped and thought, andfinally he finished by coming to a conclusion. A wise man was Arcadius,and like all who cultivate the ground his thoughts were longer and wiserthan his speech--though that was wise, too, when the slow sluices wereraised and Arcadius, under the influence of friendship or wine, let histalk run free.
The night of the 24th May, when at Paris the whole city seemed to beburning, was one of great quiet in Aramon. The Band at the Mairie seemedto have tired of their house searchings and the town had rest behind thebolted doors and barred windows which garnished every house, yet inspite of which no man felt safe.
With many doubts the burgesses drew on their night-caps, and beforeclimbing into bed, looked out back and front to see if the horizon werelit by the torches of burning houses in the suburbs, and to listen ifthe gun-butts were not beating some neighbour's door in, trembling allthe while lest their time should come next.
But for that night the grocer and the wineseller, the grain merchant andthe locksmith might sleep in peace beside their coiffed and bonnetedspouses. The Black Band had left the Mairie empty and resonant. A parthad passed the river in boats. Others had stolen one by one across thebridge, but instead of continuing down the main street of Aramon leVieux, had twisted sharply round to the left, passed under the railwayembankment, threaded a beautiful but difficult pathway overlooking theriver, and so at length, a mile below the town, found theboating-parties waiting for them.
The four of the inner circle, Chanot, Chardon, Leduc, and Violet, withthe necessary Matteo, kept together and avoided any conspicuous part inthe arrangements.
But Barres did the talking for everybody. He was most anxious todistinguish himself. He had been taunted with his careful inaction, andnow against schoolboys and their professors, mostly men of the peacefulrobe, he had suddenly grown very brave indeed.
Chanot had his reasons for thinking otherwise. He was playing a game soquaintly double and triple to-night that he smiled as he thought itover, and admired the intricate subtlety of his own brain as comparedwith the simple criminal instincts of his coadjutors.
All the way he kept a hand on the collar of Matteo. The hunchback ofArqua did not fill him with confidence. Indeed, he trusted only Chardon,whose innocent admiration he had long proven sincere. Leduc and Violetwere better than the rest, but taken because strictly necessary for thebusiness in hand. After that he, Chanot, would attend to their case.They could not expect to share equally with him. He had discoveredMatteo. He had wormed his secret out of him. His was the idea of themasking attack on the Lycee St. Andre, which would make a noise andoccupy the attention of the National Guard of Aramon le Vieux. He hadthought of the boat at Les Saintes, and had arranged for it to be intime to meet them there. What had Leduc and Violet to do with thesethings? Nothing whatever, they were simply privates called from theranks, and he would see to it that they did not interfere with theperquisites of the Commander-in-Chief.
He had even permitted himself to drop a hint of the proposed attack uponMont St. Andre in quarters which would ensure a prompt transmission ofthe news to Dennis Deventer.
Chanot only waited the proper moment to disassociate himself from thebrigands whom he despised for their ignorance and almost (but not quite)pitied for their simplicity.
The scaling party would have lost itself among the trees if it had notbeen for Chanot. He had been born in the neighbourhood and, if he hadchosen, could have led them blindfold. But for his own purposes heallowed them to stumble on, bruising and buffeting themselves againstthe rocks and trees, losing nerve and temper. Then, just when they wereworn out, he found the well-trodden path by the boat-hirer's house,guided them along it, and with encouraging words adjured them to greatersilence and caution. In fact, he behaved in every way like the modelleader of an expedition. If any had doubted him before, he had repentedin dust and ashes when Anton the wise, Anton Chanot, turned over theleadership to Barres, who, as his manner was, grasped it eagerly,without thanks, and simply as a right too long withheld.
The attack had been timed for midnight, when the ditches of the oldfortress were to be crossed, the scaling-ladders which they had carriedapplied to the walls, and they would find themselves inside.
The treasure was in the chapel, at least the bulk of it. The rest was inthe safes of the _econome_, who had his bureaux opposite. That wing,therefore, of the college must be held against all comers, while withchisel and file, jemmy and dynamite the "expropriators" were busy withtheir task. So little did these men trust each other that one man fromeach company was nominated to see the enumeration of the plate and towatch the opening of the safes.
One man they trusted, Chanot, and their respect was heightened by hisdeclaration that he desired no part of the spoil for himself. They hadfollowed him faithfully, and if he could reward those who had stood byhim when the majority drew back to save their skins, he was content.
A base of simplicity and even sentimentality underlies the brutality ofmany criminals. One has only to note the songs which are applauded at apenitentiary or reformatory concert. These men believed Chanot, andpreferred his self-abnegation to the rhodomontades of Barres, whorepeatedly declared that he, and he alone, would lead them to victory.
The black half-hour of waiting was horribly tryi
ng to the nerves. Theywere quite on the top of things, and though the night was so dark, theycould see the walls of St. Andre cutting the sky and shutting out thestars. The woods through which they had come were now retired fartherback--or at least so it seemed. The plateau stretched out behind,mysteriously grey, gradually descending towards Nimes and St. Gilles,but almost imperceptibly. Indeed, to the eyes of those town birds ofprey, it seemed a plain. That was their path of safety. By it they wouldmake good their retreat, laden with a golden spoil.
The signal was to be the striking of the Mairie clock, the golden,illuminated dial of which, almost beneath their feet, testified in thetranquillity which had not ceased to reign in Aramon le Vieux. The oldconservative and Protestant town had known how to keep its gates closed,its inhabitants safe (if not very prosperous), and always behind thedial of its Mairie clock was to be seen the equal shining of themellowest and gentlest light in the world.
During ten minutes the hand of Chanot pushed Matteo steadily before himinto the dusky covert of the wood. At the same moment three men atdifferent parts of the attacking line glided away unnoticed. The handsof the clock moved on. Though the figuring of the dial was too distantto be made out, the black lines of the minutes and hour hands could beseen approaching one another.
It was time for Chanot to be elsewhere. He had other work and Matteomust guide him. They slipped in Indian file through the wood, Chanotstill with his hand upon the Left Handed man's shoulder. For an instantMatteo seemed to hesitate. He had ascended from the other side andGobelet was hard to find, but at last he struck the main road betweenthe town and the _lycee_ above. It appeared to be perfectly empty, butChanot whispered angrily in his guide's ear. They must get back intoshelter. Here they were exposed to any passers-by--nay, to the firstfaint-hearted deserter from the attack above.
A thrill passed through Matteo's heart. He gave thanks to his patronsaint and promised candles for his altar when he should be rich. Beforehim was the bombed forehead of the gatehouse of Gobelet. The gate itselfwas padlocked securely, and the top adorned with spikes, but Chanot madeno attempt there. He only skirted the wall till he found a place whichpleased him. Then he ordered Leduc and Violet to make a ladder up whichthe light Chardon climbed. Then came Matteo and Chanot himself. Lastlythe ladder was dissolved into its elements and all found themselves onthe inner side of the garden wall of Gobelet.
Matteo now advanced with more certainty. Yes, the house lay therethrough this gate, along this path. There was the well-shelter he hadseen, and above them rose the dark side of the house, where was thekitchen entrance and all the apartments of service.
"BONG--BONG--BONG!" Solemnly, and with an air of detachment from merelyworldly affairs, the big hammer gave out the twelve strokes of midnight.Just so had it once called holy nuns to prayer in the Convent of theVisitation, and it tolled just the same to let loose a pack of the worstruffians on earth upon the chapel of St. Andre.
Anton Chanot listened carefully. He knew that now the _fosses_ would becrossed and the scaling-ladders laid against the walls. But sudden andstartling there came down the hill a wild yell, mingled of pain andanger. Rifles ripped and crashed. A light filtered through thetree-tops, which faintly illuminated the covered well-stoop under whichthe five were hiding.
"What fools!" said Chanot, cursing his late companions. "They have begunfiring too soon! And the light? Can they have already set fire to thechapel?"
He did not know that fate and a message from Dennis Deventer had servedhim well--that is, so far as his immediate purpose was concerned. Themissive which Hugh Deventer received at Gobelet contained these words inhis father's hand: "St. Andre to be attacked to-night. Go up and seewhat you can do. I send you some arms--also Brown with an electric-lightplant which you may find useful."
Hugh was compelled to go, and though he hated to leave Gobelet andAlida, he dared not disobey his father. Besides, hidden among its woodsand showing no facade to tempt plunderers, he did not believe that myfather's house was in any great danger.
In this he was right so far as the Band of the Mairie was concerned, buthe had not taken into account the vendetta of Matteo, the ambitions ofChanot, and the plot against the person of Alida.
The noise on the hill-top seemed rather to increase than to diminish,volley responded to volley, and to the yells of the brigands anothercry, shriller and more piercing, replied.
Chanot had altered his plans and taken his cue while he stood listening.He had some remarkable qualities and this readiness was one of them. Hehad intended to break his way into Gobelet before the noise of theassault brought up the swarming town or the National Guard of Aramon leVieux. But this (he saw now) would not do. Already on the Place Beauvaisthey were beating to arms. Well, he must make the more haste. So withoutan alteration of his determined bearing he walked round the house andknocked loudly at the main door.
My father, who as usual was not yet in bed, threw open a first-floorwindow (for those on the ground floor had been closed and strengthenedby the hand of Hugh Deventer). "What can I do for you?" my fatherinquired courteously.
"Let us in for God's sake, they are killing everyone up at the _lycee_.We have escaped--my friends and I, _pions_, and the others, three honestfellows from the gardens, whom we picked up on our way."
"Wait a moment, gentlemen," my father called out, "and if you willpardon the delay, you shall have all the shelter and succour my housecan give you!"
"What a lamb!" murmured Chanot, "he presents us with his fleece. Are allforeigners fools?"
"All English are," snarled Matteo. "In my country we give them to ourchildren to cheat--to prove their teeth upon."
The door opened, and there before them, a lamp in his hand, stood thegentle scholar, Gordon Cawdor, with a smile of welcome on his face. Theless instructed four would have leaped upon him immediately, but Chanotheld them back. I can see my father standing there before his potentialbutchers, inviting them to enter with a single large movement of thehand, infinitely noble and touching to me to think of to-day. Heprecedes them with an apology. They tramp after him, treading on oneanother's heels in haste to see the sacks of coin reported by Matteo.That worthy has drawn his knife from its sheath. The others have madeready their revolvers. Only Chanot has the education and the strength ofwill to keep a hold upon himself--which in turn gives him a hold uponhis comrades.
A stern gesture bade them put up their arms. They must play out theirparts and follow his lead. In the study they found lights, a fire, andtier upon tier of books climbing to the ceiling--a marvellous place,undreamed of by any of them. But where were the bags of coin, thewallets stuffed with bank-notes with which they were to flee across thewilderness of the Camargue?
"Seat yourselves, gentlemen, a welcome to you," said the host. "You arewell out of the trouble and safe with me."
And he set before them meat and drink, such as he could find in thecupboards of Saunders McKie.
"I do not disturb my servants for what I can do myself," he addedsmilingly, "but you are welcome and--here is Madame Keller and herdaughter Alida--which means that our dear invalid goes better. Madame,Mademoiselle, let me introduce to you some new friends who have takenrefuge with us. The _lycee_ has been beset by brigands and thesegentlemen have come to claim, what Gobelet has never refused, the rightof asylum."
At sight of Alida in her white, gauzy robes, standing in the doorway, athrill ran through the blood of Chanot. Never had he looked on suchbeauty. His heart beat thick, and instinctively he glanced sideways athis followers. Matteo sat bent forward, almost crouched as for a spring,his eyes small and glowing red like those of a wild boar before hecharges. Chardon was open-mouthed, but watchful of his leader. Leduc andViolet showed their teeth and fingered the hilts of their revolvers.
A kind of revulsion of feeling passed over Chanot, perhaps as much akinto what we in Scotland would call conversion as can be imagined of atrained and thorough-paced French scoundrel.
Under his breath he bade Leduc and his companion to keep their
seats,and kept his own hand hard on the shoulder of Matteo.
"We thank you, ladies, for your presence," he said, with his pleasantestmanner. "We had not expected so great an honour."
But Alida, glad of new faces and eager for news of Hugh Deventer, whosedesertion had left her companionless, asked many questions, to some ofwhich it took all Chanot's readiness to answer. She was, however, calledoff by Linn, who presently issued from the kitchen with a dish of eggshastily cooked.
"There is bread on the sideboard, cut it for these gentlemen!" saidLinn. And Alida hastened to serve each in turn, with a smile that was anaccomplishment in flattery.
Then followed a strange hour. The sound of shouting and continuousfiring could be heard from above. On the road outside the hoofs ofhorses clattered, and more than once Chanot thought that he heard thejingle of harness.
But with my father at the head of the table talking gently and equably,and Alida at the foot with her chin on her clasped hands, the men satand listened. Chardon answered when he was spoken to, but he keptlooking at his chief for guidance. Leduc and Violet drank steadily,though Chanot tried to kick them under the table. Matteo alone could notbe still. His breath whistled between his teeth. He leaned over toChanot and whispered, "Kill, kill--if you do not, I shall!"
But even for him the influence of these peaceful surroundings had itspower. The richly carpeted floor, the table with many flowers, the rowson rows of beautifully bound books, were so much powerful necromancy tothe Man from Arqua. But it could not last. The wolf must spring, andChanot watched him with an anxious eye.
"_Kill--kill!_"
The words came like the hiss of a poison snake. They had come to the endof the meal now and were trifling with their wineglasses--that is,Chanot and Chardon did so. Leduc and Violet looked on stupidly, but notyet ready for any movement against their chief. Only Matteo had becomeintractable. He at least would not be done out of his prize by a handfulof fine words. So Chanot should know. Matteo was in the house of thetreasure, and he meant to have his fingers among the clinking pieces.
"_Kill, man, kill, or I shall kill!_"
Chanot looked about apprehensively. Surely this time they must haveheard. But my father continued his talk upon the early art of Provenceand from her end of the table Alida placidly listened, all her thoughtsintent on the speaker.
Matteo rose unsteadily and stumbled towards her. She sat back in herchair with a gesture of fear. For the big hairy hands of the Arquan weregroping to seize her.
"Oh, take him away," she cried, turning to Chanot as the leader, perhapsalso because of the human qualities she had seen in his eyes--notexactly good, but with the capacity for good.
"I shall take the _donzella_!" cried Matteo, and caught her about theneck. Linn was beside her in a moment, but even her powerful hands couldnot disengage that hairy clutch. The fierce visage frothing at the lipswas close to Alida's face. She moved her head this way and that.
"Save me--save me!" she cried out in an agony of fear.
"_Kill--kill--lay out the others--take your gold--the gold I found foryou--the girl for me!_"
All were now on their feet. Chardon was watching his chief. Chanot'sface was pale as wood ash, but there was on it a kind of joy--thestrength of a new resolve.
"To the door--Leduc, and you, Violet," he ordered, "wait for me outside.I have something which will satisfy you!"
The men moved uncertainly away. Things were turning out strangely. WasChanot turning traitor? If so--they would see. But the power of thestronger will was upon them, and they were soon in the garden. They cameout on a dark, shadowy world, in which all things seemed of the samecolour, but scented of flowers and the full bloom of the _tilleul_, thebee-haunted lime tree of the south.
Above them they heard the irregular rattle of musketry, and the din ofcombat. A fierce light beat upon the tree-tops at intervals. No firecould pierce like that. The gleam was far too steady. It looked like thebeam of an electric arc-lamp, but how could the Jesuit professors of St.Andre have come into possession of such a thing?
Within the house of Gobelet they heard the voice of Matteo uplifted.
"_Kill--kill--you have turned soft, I shall kill you, Chanot. Matteo ofArqua is not to be cheated!_"
Leduc and Violet looked back through the door out of which they hadcome. The hall was dusk, but a light was burning somewhere out of sight.They could see a couple emerge out of the passage which led to thestudy--Chanot pushed the Arquan in front of him. The face of the chiefwas calm, but of a ghastly pallor--his lips almost disappearing, sofirmly were they set. His blue eyes had the dull glitter of lapislazuli, or rather of malachite--green rather than blue. But they werenot good to see. Death looked out of them, and chilled the marrow ofLeduc and Violet. Not for the world would they have crossed the will ofChanot at that moment.
They could see Chardon shutting the door of the study from within, andguessed that he was left there on guard, but they could not hearChanot's courteous last words of excuse for Matteo, "I fear thisgentleman is ill. He is from Italy and troubled with fever. He will bebetter outside. I will conduct him."
"Shut the door and let no one pass," he added to Chardon, in a rapidwhisper, "talk as if nothing had happened till I come back!" And thenext moment he was pushing his prisoner along the corridor. Leduc andViolet saw them come, and made ready to fall in behind, but they werenot prepared for what followed so swiftly.
Matteo le Gaucher suddenly dropped to the floor, pulling his collar outof the grasp of his captor. Then, quick as thought, he drew a long knifefrom his belt and struck the deadly forward blow at Chanot--the Arquanblow below the belt for which there is no parry. But Chanot had not fornothing been President of the Athletic and Sportive Association of theMidi. He was in admirable training and his eye forestalled the Gaucher'smovement. It was a fine thrust, delivered with the broad-cutting edgeupward. No man, even in Arqua, could have saved himself. But Chanot hadleaped aside, nimble as a cat. And the next moment the knife wasstricken from the Arquan's hand.
There was a wild, fierce struggle there on the threshold, the movementsof the combatants being so quick that Leduc and Violet dared notinterfere lest they should harm the wrong man. Biting, kicking, andscratching, Matteo le Gaucher was shoved out across the gravel, over thelawn and into a little _clairiere_ upon which shone directly the beam ofHugh Deventer's electric installation up on the heights of Mont St.Andre.
Leduc and Violet had followed marvelling, their eyes starting from theirheads, eager to see the end like children at a play. They knew that thiswas the chief's business and that he must finish it for himself. In themiddle of the green cleared space was a rustic bench, and the ground wasthickly strewn with pine-cones and needles. Chanot thrust his prisoner'shead down till he lay across the back of the seat, and then, withouthaste and calmly as a man who consults his watch, he drew from hispocket a revolver and fired once behind Matteo's ear. There was nostruggle. That had gone before. Chanot was very calm, and as for Matteohe only shuddered and sank in a heap, his body swinging arms down overthe rustic bench. The fierce light of the arc-lamp lay on the_clairiere_ and Matteo's shadow made a strange toad-like patch on thegrey-green sward. That was all.
"Now, Leduc, and you, Violet, take up this carrion and carry him nearenough to the fighting up yonder to be clear of all connection with thishouse. There is no treasure here. He deceived us, like the Italian hewas. But I shall not deceive you."
He opened his pocket-book and took out small notes for two thousandfrancs. One thousand he gave to Leduc and the other to Violet.
"I shall meet you in Spain," he said, "and there I shall expect toreceive from you an account of this night's mission. I am not to betrifled with as you see. I warn you to be very faithful. Take up theArquan, and I will see you safe outside the wall."
He unlocked the gate which opened from the grounds of the Garden Cottageinto the road, and stood watching them, as they toiled painfully up thehill, Violet leading with the dead man's legs over his shoulders, andLeduc
supporting his head, the long, hairy arms which had wrought somuch evil trailing in the dust.
"_Missa est! Amen!!_" said Chanot, who had served Mass in his time, andturning on his heel he strode back towards the house of Gobelet.