CHAPTER XLVII
A MAN-CHIMPANZEE
Since the affair with the Rackbird, Cheditafa had done his duty moreearnestly than ever before. He said nothing to Mok about the Rackbird. Hehad come to look upon his fellow-African as a very low creature, not muchbetter than a chimpanzee. During Ralph's absence Mok had fallen into allsorts of irregular habits, going out without leave whenever he got achance, and disporting himself generally in a very careless andunservant-like manner.
On the evening that Ralph was expected from Brussels, Mok was missing.Cheditafa could not find him in any of the places where he ought tohave been, so he must be out of doors somewhere, and Cheditafa went tolook for him.
This was the first time that Cheditafa had gone into the streets alone atnight since the Rackbird incident in the Tuileries Gardens. As he was thecustodian of Mok, and responsible for him, he did not wish to lose sightof him, especially on this evening.
It so happened that when Cheditafa went out of the hotel, hisappearance was noticed by Mr. Banker. There was nothing remarkableabout this, for the evening was the time when the ex-Rackbird gavethe most attention to the people who came out of the hotel. When hesaw Cheditafa, his soul warmed within him. Here was the reward ofpatience and steadfastness--everything comes to those who wait.
A half-hour before, Banker had seen Mok leave the hotel and make his waytoward the Black Cat. He did not molest the rapidly walking negro. Hewould not have disturbed him for anything. But his watchfulness became soeager and intense that he almost, but not quite, exposed himself to thesuspicion of a passing gendarme. He now expected Cheditafa, for thereason that the manner of the younger negro indicated that he was playingtruant. It was likely that the elder man would go after him, and this wasexactly what happened.
Banker allowed the old African to go his way without molestation, for thebrightly lighted neighborhood of the hotel was not adapted to hisprojected performance. But he followed him warily, and, when they reacheda quiet street, Banker quickened his pace, passed Cheditafa, and,suddenly turning, confronted him. Then, without a word having been said,there flashed upon the mind of the African everything that had happened,not only in the Tuileries Gardens, but in the Rackbirds' camp, and at thesame time a prophetic feeling of what was about to happen.
By a few quick pulls and jerks, Banker had so far removed his disguisethat Cheditafa knew him the instant that his eyes fell upon him. Hisknees trembled, his eyeballs rolled so that nothing but their whitescould be seen, and he gave himself up to death. Then spoke out theterrible Rackbird.
What he said need not be recorded here, but every word of superheatedvengeance, with which he wished to torture the soul of his victim beforestriking him to the earth, went straight to the soul of Cheditafa, as ifit had been a white-hot iron. His chin fell upon his breast. He had butone hope, and that was that he would be killed quickly. He had seenpeople killed in the horrible old camp, and the man before him hebelieved to be the worst Rackbird of them all.
When Banker had finished stabbing and torturing the soul of theAfrican, he drew a knife from under his coat, and down fell Cheditafaon his knees.
The evening was rainy and dark, and the little street was nearlydeserted. Banker, who could look behind and before him without makingmuch show of turning his head, had made himself sure of this before hestepped in front of Cheditafa. But while he had been pouring out historrent of heart-shrivelling vituperation, he had ceased to look beforeand behind him, and had not noticed a man coming down the street in theopposite direction to that in which they had been going.
This was Mok, who was much less of a fool than Cheditafa took him for. Hehad calculated that he would have time to go to the Black Cat and drinktwo glasses of beer before Ralph was likely to appear, and he also madeup his mind that two glasses were as much as he could dispose of withoutexciting the suspicions of the young man. Therefore, he had attended tothe business that had taken him out of doors on that rainy night, and wasreturning to the hotel with a lofty consciousness of having done wrong ina very wise and satisfactory manner.
He wore india-rubber overshoes, because the pavements were wet, and alsobecause this sort of foot-gear suited him better than hard, unyieldingsole-leather. Had he had his own way, he would have gone bare-footed, butthat would have created comment in the streets of Paris--he had senseenough to know that.
When he first perceived, by the dim light of a street lamp, two personsstanding together on his side of the street, his conscience, without anyreason for it, suggested that he cross over and pass by withoutattracting attention. To wrong-doers attention is generally unwelcome.
Mok not only trod with the softness and swiftness of a panther, but hehad eyes like that animal, and if there were any light at all, thoseeyes could make good use of it. As he neared the two men, he saw thatone was scolding the other. Then he saw the other man drop down on hisknees. Then, being still nearer, he perceived that the man on his kneeswas Cheditafa. Then he saw the man in front of him draw a knife fromunder his coat.
As a rule, Mok was a coward, but two glasses of beer were enough to turnhis nature in precisely the opposite direction. A glass less would haveleft him timorous, a glass more would have made him foolhardy and silly.He saw that somebody was about to stab his old friend. In five long,noiseless steps, or leaps, he was behind that somebody, and had seizedthe arm which held the knife.
With a movement as quick as the stroke of a rattlesnake, Banker turnedupon the man who had clutched his arm, and when he saw that it was Mok,his fury grew tornado-like. With a great oath, and a powerful plungebackward, he endeavored to free his arm from the grasp of the negro. Buthe did not do it. Those black fingers were fastened around his wrist asthough they had been fetters forged to fit him. And in the desperatestruggle the knife was dropped.
In a hand-to-hand combat with a chimpanzee, a strong man would have butlittle chance of success, and Mok, under the influence of two glasses ofbeer, was a man-chimpanzee. When Banker swore, and when he turned so thatthe light of the street lamp fell upon his face, Mok recognized him. Heknew him for a Rackbird of the Rackbirds--as the cruel, black-eyed savagewho had beaten him, trodden upon him, and almost crushed the soul out ofhim, in that far-away camp by the sea. How this man should have suddenlyappeared in Paris, why he came there, and what he was going to do,whether he was alone, or with his band concealed in the neighboringdoorways, Mok did not trouble his mind to consider. He held in his brazengrip a creature whom he considered worse than the most devilish ofAfrican devils, a villain who had been going to kill Cheditafa.
Every nerve under his black skin, every muscle that covered his bones,and the two glasses of beer, sung out to him that the Rackbird could notget away from him, and that the great hour of vengeance had arrived.
Banker had a pistol, but he had no chance to draw it. The arms of thewild man were around him. His feet slipped from under him, and instantlythe two were rolling on the wet pavement. But only for an instant. Bankerwas quick and light and strong to such a degree that no man but aman-chimpanzee could have overpowered him in a struggle like that. Bothwere on their feet almost as quickly as they went down, but do what hewould, Banker could not get out his pistol.
Those long black arms, one of them now bared to the shoulder, were abouthim ever. He pulled, and tugged, and swerved. He half threw him oneinstant, half lifted the next, but never could loosen the grasp of thatfierce creature, whose whole body seemed as tough and elastic as theshoes he wore.
Together they fell, together they rolled in the dirty slime, togetherthey rose as if they had been shot up by a spring, and together they wentdown again, rolling over each other, pulling, tearing, striking, gasping,and panting.
Cheditafa had gone. The moment of Mok's appearance, he had risen andfled. There were now people in the street. Some had come out of theirhouses, hearing the noise of the struggle, for Banker wore heavy shoes.There were also one or two pedestrians who had stopped, unwilling to passmen who were engaged in such a desperate conflict.
r /> No one interfered. It would have seemed as prudent to step between twotigers. Such a bounding, whirling, tumbling, rolling, falling, and risingcontest had never been seen in that street, except between cats. Itseemed that the creatures would dash themselves through the windows ofthe houses.
It was not long before Cheditafa came back with two policemen, allrunning, and then the men who lay in the street, spinning about as ifmoving on pivots, were seized and pulled apart. At first the officersof the law appeared at a loss to know what had happened, and who hadbeen attacked. What was this black creature from the Jardin desPlantes? But Banker's coat had been torn from his back, and his pistolstood out in bold relief in his belt, and Cheditafa pointed to thebreathless bandit, and screamed: "Bad man! Bad man! Try to kill me!This good Mok save my life!"
Two more policemen now came hurrying up, for other people had given thealarm, and it was not considered necessary to debate the question as towho was the aggressor in this desperate affair. Cheditafa, Mok, andBanker were all taken to the police station.
As Cheditafa was known to be in the service of the American lady at theHotel Grenade, the _portier_ of that establishment was sent for, andhaving given his testimony to the good character of the two negroes, theywere released upon his becoming surety for their appearance when wanted.
As for Banker, there was no one to go security. He was committedfor trial.
* * * * *
When Ralph went to his room, that night, he immediately rang for hisvalet. Mok, who had reached the hotel from the police station but a fewminutes before, answered the summons. When Ralph turned about and beheldthe black man, his hair plastered with mud, his face plastered with mud,and what clothes he had on muddy, torn, and awry, with one foot wearing agreat overshoe and the other bare, with both black arms entirely denudedof sleeves, with eyes staring from his head, and his whole form quiveringand shaking, the young man started as if some afrit of the "ArabianNights" had come at this dark hour to answer his call.
To the eager questions which poured upon him when his identity becameapparent, Mok could make no intelligible answer. He did not possessEnglish enough for that. But Cheditafa was quickly summoned, and heexplained everything. He explained it once, twice, three times, and thenhe and Mok were sent away, and told to go to bed, and under nocircumstances to mention to their mistress what had happened, or toanybody who might mention it to her. And this Cheditafa solemnlypromised for both.
The clock struck one as Ralph still sat in his chair, wondering whatall this meant, and what might be expected to happen next. To hearthat a real, live Rackbird was in Paris, that this outlaw hadthreatened his sister, that the police had been watching for him, thathe had sworn to kill Cheditafa, and that night had tried to do it,amazed him beyond measure.
At last he gave up trying to conjecture what it meant. It was foolish towaste his thoughts in that way. To-morrow he must find out. He couldunderstand very well why his sister had kept him in ignorance of theaffair in the Gardens. She had feared danger to him. She knew that hewould be after that scoundrel more hotly than any policeman. But what thepoor girl must have suffered! It was terrible to think of.
The first thing he would do would be to take very good care that sheheard nothing of the attack on Cheditafa. He would go to the policeoffice early the next morning and look into this matter. He did notthink that it would be necessary for Edna to know anything aboutit, except that the Rackbird had been arrested and she need nolonger fear him.
When Ralph reached the police station, the next day, he found there theportier of the hotel, together with Cheditafa and Mok.
After Banker's examination, to which he gave no assistance by admissionsof any sort, he was remanded for trial, and he was held merely for hisaffair with the negroes, no charge having been made against him for hisattempt to obtain money from their mistress, or his threats in herdirection. As the crime for which he had been arrested gave reasonenough for condign punishment of the desperado, Ralph saw, and madeCheditafa see, it would be unnecessary as well as unpleasant to dragEdna into the affair.
That afternoon Mr. Banker, who had recovered his breath and had collectedhis ideas, sent for the police magistrate and made a confession. He saidhe had been a member of a band of outlaws, but having grown disgustedwith their evil deeds, had left them. He had become very poor, and havingheard that the leader of the band had made a fortune by a successfulpiece of rascality, and had married a fine lady, and was then in Paris,he had come to this city to meet him, and to demand in the name of theirold comradeship some assistance in his need. He had found his captain'swife. She had basely deceived him after having promised to help him, andhe had been insulted and vilely treated by that old negro, who was once aslave in the Rackbirds' camp in Peru, and who had been brought here withthe other negro by the captain. He also freely admitted that he hadintended to punish the black fellow, though he had no idea whatever ofkilling him. If he had had such an idea, it would have been easy enoughfor him to put his knife into him when he met him in that quiet street.But he had not done so, but had contented himself with telling him whathe thought of him, and with afterwards frightening him with his knife.And then the other fellow had come up, and there had been a fight.Therefore, although he admitted that his case was a great misdemeanor,and that he had been very disorderly, he boldly asserted that he hadcontemplated no murder. But what he wished particularly to say to themagistrate was that the captain of the Rackbirds would probably soonarrive in Paris, and that he ought to be arrested. No end of importantresults might come from such an arrest. He was quite sure that the greatstroke of fortune which had enabled the captain's family to live in Parisin such fine style ought to be investigated. The captain had never madeany money by simple and straightforward methods of business.
All this voluntary testimony was carefully taken down, and although themagistrate did not consider it necessary to believe any of it, thearrival of Captain Horn was thenceforth awaited with interest by thepolice of Paris.
It was not very plain how Miss Markham of the Hotel Grenade, who was wellknown as a friend of a member of the American legation, could be the wifeof a South American bandit. But then, there might be reasons why shewished to retain her maiden name for the present, and she might not knowher husband as a bandit.