TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER
FRIEND OR ENEMY?
"You need not worry," said the stranger to Hugh. "I am not your enemy,but a friend. I warn you that Marseilles is unsafe for you. Get awayas soon as possible. The Spanish police have learnt that you have comehere," he went on as he strolled at his side.
Hugh was amazed.
"How did you know my identity?" he asked eagerly.
"I was instructed to watch for your arrival--and to warn you."
"Who instructed you?"
"A friend of yours--and mine--The Sparrow."
"Has he been here?"
"No. He spoke to me on the telephone from Paris."
"What were his instructions?"
"That you were to go at once--to-night--by car to the Hotel de Paris,at Cette. A car and driver awaits you at the Garage Beauvau, in the RueBeauvau. I have arranged everything at The Sparrow's orders. You are oneof Us, I understand," and the man laughed lightly.
"But my bag?" exclaimed Hugh.
"Go to the hotel, pay your bill, and take your bag to the stationcloak-room. Then go and get the car, pick up your bag, and get outon the road to Cette as soon as ever you can. Your driver will ask noquestions, and will remain silent. He has his orders from The Sparrow."
"Does The Sparrow ever come to Marseilles?" Hugh asked.
"Yes, sometimes--when anything really big brings him here. I have,however, only seen him once, five years ago. He was at your hotel,and the police were so hot upon his track that only by dint of greatpromptitude and courage he escaped by getting out of the window of hisroom and descending by means of the rain-water pipe. It was one of thenarrowest escapes he has ever had."
As the words left the man's mouth, they were passing a well-litbrasserie. A tall, cadaverous man passed them and Hugh had a suspicionthat they exchanged glances of recognition.
Was his pretended friend an agent of the police?
For a few seconds he debated within himself how he should act. To refuseto do as he was bid might be to bring instant arrest upon himself.If the stranger were actually a detective--which he certainly did notappear to be--then the ruse was to get him on the road to Cette becausethe legal formalities were not yet complete for his arrest as a Britishsubject.
Yet he knew all about The Sparrow, and his attitude was not in the leasthostile.
Hugh could not make up his mind whether the stranger was an associate ofthe famous Sparrow, or whether he was very cleverly inveigling him intothe net.
It was only that exchange of glances with the passer-by which hadaroused Hugh's suspicions.
But that significant look caused him to hesitate to accept themysterious stranger as his friend.
True, he had accepted as friends numbers of other unknown personssince that fateful night at Monte Carlo. Yet in this case, he felt, byintuition, that all was not plain sailing.
"Very well," he said, at last. "I esteem it a very great favour thatyou should have interested yourself on behalf of one who is an entirestranger to you, and I heartily thank you for warning me of my danger.When I see The Sparrow I shall tell him how cleverly you approached me,and how perfect were your arrangements for my escape."
"I require no thanks or reward, Mr. Henfrey," replied the man politely."My one desire is to get you safely out of Marseilles."
And with that the stranger lifted his hat and left him.
Hugh went about fifty yards farther along the broad, well-lit streetfull of life and movement, for the main streets of Marseilles are aliveboth day and night.
By some intuition--why, he knew not--he suspected that affable littleman who had posed as his friend. Was it possible that, believing thenotorious Sparrow to be his friend, he had at haphazard invented thestory, and posed as one of The Sparrow's gang?
If so, it was certainly a very clever and ingenious subterfuge.
He was undecided how to act. He did not wish to give offence to hisfriend, the king of the underworld, and yet he felt a distinct suspicionof the man who had so cleverly approached him, and who had openlydeclared himself to be a crook.
That strange glance he had exchanged with the passer-by beneath the raysof the street-lamp had been mysterious and significant. If the passer-byhad been a crook, like himself, the sign of recognition would be one ofsalutation. But the expression upon his alleged friend's face was one oftriumph. That made all the difference, and to Hugh, with his observationquickened as it had been in those months of living with daily dreadof arrest, it had caused him to be seized with strong and distinctsuspicions.
He felt in his hip pocket and found that his revolver, an AmericanSmith-Wesson, was there. He had a dislike of automatic pistols, as hehad once had a very narrow escape. He had been teaching a girl to shootwith a revolver, when, believing that she had discharged the wholemagazine, he was examining the weapon and pulled the trigger, narrowlyescaping shooting her dead.
For a few seconds he stood upon the broad pavement. Then he drew out hiscigarette-case. In it were four cigarettes, two of which The Sparrow hadgiven him when in London.
"Yes," he muttered to himself. "Somebody must have given me away atShapley, and now they have followed me! I will act for myself, and takethe risks."
Then he walked boldly on, crossed the road, and entered the big Hotelde Louvre et Paix. To appear unconcerned he had a drink at the bar, andascending in the lift, called the floor-waiter, asked for his bill, andpacked his bag.
"Ah!" he said to himself. "If I could only get to know where The Sparrowis and ask him the truth! He may be at that address in Paris which hegave me."
After a little delay the bill was brought and he paid it. Then in a taxihe drove to the station where he deposited his bag in the cloak-room.
Close by the _consigne_ a woman was standing. He glanced at her, when,to his surprise, he saw that she was the same woman who had been sittingin the cafe with a male companion.
Was she, he wondered, in league with his so-called friend? And if so,what was intended.
Sight of that woman lounging there, however, decided him. She was, nodoubt, awaiting his coming.
He walked out of the great railway terminus, and, inquiring the way tothe Rue Beauvau, soon found the garage where a powerful open car wasawaiting him in the roadway outside.
A smart driver in a dark overcoat came forward, and apparentlyrecognizing Hugh from a description that had been given to him, touchedhis cap, and asked in French:
"Where does m'sieur wish to go?"
"To the station to fetch my coat and bag," replied the young Englishman,peering into the driver's face. He was a clean-shaven man of aboutforty, broad-shouldered and stalwart. Was it possible that the car hadbeen hired by the police, and the driver was himself a police agent?
"Very well, m'sieur," the man answered politely. And Hugh havingentered, he drove up the Boulevard de la Liberte to the Gare St.Charles.
As he approached the _consigne_, he looked along the platform, andthere, sure enough, was the same woman on the watch, though shepretended to be without the slightest interest in his movements.
Hugh put on his coat, and, carrying his bag, placed it in the car.
"You have your orders?" asked Hugh.
"Yes, m'sieur. We are to go to Cette with all speed. Is not that so?"
"Yes," was Hugh's reply. "I will come up beside you. I prefer it. Weshall have a long, dark ride to-night."
"Ah! but the roads are good," was the man's reply. "I came from Cetteyesterday," he added, as he mounted to his seat and the passenger got upbeside him.
Hugh sat there very thoughtful as the car sped out of the city of noiseand bustle. The man's remark that he had come from Cette on the previousday gave colour to the idea that no net had been spread, but that thestranger was acting at the orders of the ubiquitous Sparrow. Indeed,were it not for the strange glance the undersized little man had givento the passer-by, he would have been convinced that he was actually onceagain under the protection of the all-powerful ruler of the criminalunderworld.
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As it was, he remained suspicious. He did not like that woman who hadwatched so patiently his coming and going at the station.
With strong headlights glaring--for the night was extremely dark and astrong wind was blowing--they were soon out on the broad highway whichleads first across the plain and then beside the sea, and again acrossthe lowlands to old-world Arles.
It was midnight before they got to the village of Lancon, an obscurelittle place in total darkness.
But on the way the driver, who had told Hugh that his name was HenriAramon, and who insinuated that he was one of The Sparrow's associates,became most affable and talkative. Over those miles of dark roads,unfamiliar to Hugh, they travelled at high speed, for Henri had from thefirst showed himself to be an expert driver, not only in the unceasingtraffic of the main streets of Marseilles, but also on the dark,much-worn roads leading out of the city. The roads around Marseilleshave never been outstanding for their excellence, and after the war theywere indeed execrable.
"This is Lancon," the driver remarked, as they sped through the darklittle town. "We now go on to Salon, where we have a direct road acrossthe plain they call the Crau into Arles. From there the road to Cette isquite good and straight. The road we are now on is the worst," he added.
Hugh was undecided. Was the man who was driving him so rapidly out ofthe danger zone his friend--or his enemy?
He sat there for over an hour unable to decide.
"This is an outlandish part of France," he remarked to the driverpresently.
"Yes. But after Salon it is more desolate."
"And is there no railway near?"
"After Salon, yes. It runs parallel with the road about two miles to thenorth--the railway between Arles and Aix-en-Provence."
"So if we get a breakdown, which I hope we shall not, we are not farfrom a railway?" Hugh remarked, as through the night the heavy car torealong that open desolate road.
As he sat there he thought of Dorise, wondering what had happened--andof Louise. If he had obeyed his father's wishes and married the latterall the trouble would have been avoided, he thought. Yet he lovedDorise--loved her with his whole soul.
And she doubted him.
Poor fellow! Hustled from pillar to post, and compelled to resort toevery ruse in order to avoid arrest for a crime which he did not commit,yet about which he could not establish his innocence, he veryoften despaired. At that moment he felt somehow--how he could notexplain--that he was in a very tight corner. He felt confident after twohours of reflection that he was being driven over these roads thatnight in order that the police should gain time to execute some legalformality for his arrest.
Why had not the police of Marseilles arrested him? There was some subtlemotive for sending him to Cette.
He had not had time to send a telegram to Mr. Peters in London, or toMonsieur Gautier, the name by which The Sparrow told him he was known athis flat in the Rue des Petits Champs, in the centre of Paris. He longedto be able to communicate with his all-powerful friend, but there hadbeen no opportunity.
Suddenly the car began to pass through banks of mist, which are usual atnight over the low marshes around the mouths of the Rhone. It was abouthalf-past two in the morning. They had passed through the long darkstreets of Salon, and were already five or six miles on the broadstraight road which runs across the marshes through St. Martin-de-Crauinto Arles.
Of a sudden Hugh declared that he must have a cigarette, and producinghis case handed one to the driver and took one himself. Then he lit theman's, and afterwards his own.
"It is cold here on the marshes, monsieur," remarked the driver, hiscigarette between his lips. "This mist, too, is puzzling. But it isnearly always like this at night. That is why nobody lives about here."
"Is it quite deserted?"
"Yes, except for a few shepherds, and they live up north at the foot ofthe hills."
For some ten minutes or so they kept on, but Hugh had suddenly becomevery watchful of the driver.
Presently the man exclaimed in French:
"I do not feel very well!"
"What is the matter?" asked Hugh in alarm. "You must not be taken illhere--so far from anywhere!"
But the man was evidently unwell, for he pulled up the car.
"Oh! my head!" he cried, putting both hands to his brow as the cigarettedropped from his lips. "My head! It seems as if it will burst! And--andI can't see! Everything is going round--round! Where--_where am I_?"
"You are all right, my friend. Get into the back of the car and rest.You will be yourself very quickly."
And he half dragged the man from his seat and placed him in the back ofthe car, where he fell inert and unconscious.
The cigarette which The Sparrow had given to Hugh only to be used incase of urgent necessity had certainly done its work. The man, whetherfriend or enemy, would now remain unconscious for many hours.
Hugh, having settled him in the bottom of the car, placed a rug overhim. Then, mounting to the driver's place, he turned the car and droveas rapidly as he dared back over the roads to Salon.
Time after time, he wondered whether he had been misled; whether, afterall, the man who had driven him was actually acting under The Sparrow'sorders. If so, then he had committed a fatal error!
However, the die was cast. He had acted upon his own initiative, and ifa net had actually been spread to catch him he had successfully brokenthrough it. He laughed as he thought of the police at Cette awaitinghis arrival, and their consternation when hour after hour passed withoutnews of the car from Marseilles.
At Salon he passed half way through the town to cross roads where he hadnoticed in passing a sign-board which indicated the road to Avignon--thebroad high road from Marseilles to Paris.
Already he had made up his mind how to act. He would get to Avignon,and thence by express to Paris. The _rapides_ from Marseilles and theRiviera all stopped at the ancient city of the Popes.
Therefore, being a good motor driver, Hugh started away down thelong road which led through the valley to Orgon, and thence direct toAvignon, which came into sight about seven o'clock in the morning.
Before entering the old city of walls and castles Hugh turned into aside road about two miles distant, drove the car to the end, and openinga gate succeeded in getting it some little distance into a wood, whereit was well concealed from anyone passing along the road.
Then, descending and ascertaining that the driver was sleepingcomfortably from the effects of the strong narcotic, he took his bag andwalked into the town.
At the railway station he found the through express fromVentimiglia--the Italian frontier--to Paris would be due in twentyminutes, therefore he purchased a first-class ticket for Paris, and ina short time was taking his morning coffee in the _wagon-restaurant_ onhis way to the French capital.