20

  Jane Clayton Again a Prisoner

  Though her clothes were torn and her hair disheveled, Albert Werperrealized that he never before had looked upon such a vision ofloveliness as that which Lady Greystoke presented in the relief and joywhich she felt in coming so unexpectedly upon a friend and rescuer whenhope had seemed so far away.

  If the Belgian had entertained any doubts as to the woman's knowledgeof his part in the perfidious attack upon her home and herself, it wasquickly dissipated by the genuine friendliness of her greeting. Shetold him quickly of all that had befallen her since he had departedfrom her home, and as she spoke of the death of her husband her eyeswere veiled by the tears which she could not repress.

  "I am shocked," said Werper, in well-simulated sympathy; "but I am notsurprised. That devil there," and he pointed toward the body of AchmetZek, "has terrorized the entire country. Your Waziri are eitherexterminated, or have been driven out of their country, far to thesouth. The men of Achmet Zek occupy the plain about your formerhome--there is neither sanctuary nor escape in that direction. Ouronly hope lies in traveling northward as rapidly as we may, of comingto the camp of the raiders before the knowledge of Achmet Zek's deathreaches those who were left there, and of obtaining, through some ruse,an escort toward the north.

  "I think that the thing can be accomplished, for I was a guest of theraider's before I knew the nature of the man, and those at the camp arenot aware that I turned against him when I discovered his villainy.

  "Come! We will make all possible haste to reach the camp before thosewho accompanied Achmet Zek upon his last raid have found his body andcarried the news of his death to the cut-throats who remained behind.It is our only hope, Lady Greystoke, and you must place your entirefaith in me if I am to succeed. Wait for me here a moment while I takefrom the Arab's body the wallet that he stole from me," and Werperstepped quickly to the dead man's side, and, kneeling, sought withquick fingers the pouch of jewels. To his consternation, there was nosign of them in the garments of Achmet Zek. Rising, he walked backalong the trail, searching for some trace of the missing pouch or itscontents; but he found nothing, even though he searched carefully thevicinity of his dead horse, and for a few paces into the jungle oneither side. Puzzled, disappointed and angry, he at last returned tothe girl. "The wallet is gone," he explained, crisply, "and I dare notdelay longer in search of it. We must reach the camp before thereturning raiders."

  Unsuspicious of the man's true character, Jane Clayton saw nothingpeculiar in his plans, or in his specious explanation of his formerfriendship for the raider, and so she grasped with alacrity the seeminghope for safety which he proffered her, and turning about she set outwith Albert Werper toward the hostile camp in which she so lately hadbeen a prisoner.

  It was late in the afternoon of the second day before they reachedtheir destination, and as they paused upon the edge of the clearingbefore the gates of the walled village, Werper cautioned the girl toaccede to whatever he might suggest by his conversation with theraiders.

  "I shall tell them," he said, "that I apprehended you after you escapedfrom the camp, that I took you to Achmet Zek, and that as he wasengaged in a stubborn battle with the Waziri, he directed me to returnto camp with you, to obtain here a sufficient guard, and to ride northwith you as rapidly as possible and dispose of you at the mostadvantageous terms to a certain slave broker whose name he gave me."

  Again the girl was deceived by the apparent frankness of the Belgian.She realized that desperate situations required desperate handling, andthough she trembled inwardly at the thought of again entering the vileand hideous village of the raiders she saw no better course than thatwhich her companion had suggested.

  Calling aloud to those who tended the gates, Werper, grasping JaneClayton by the arm, walked boldly across the clearing. Those whoopened the gates to him permitted their surprise to show clearly intheir expressions. That the discredited and hunted lieutenant shouldbe thus returning fearlessly of his own volition, seemed to disarm themquite as effectually as his manner toward Lady Greystoke had deceivedher.

  The sentries at the gate returned Werper's salutations, and viewed withastonishment the prisoner whom he brought into the village with him.

  Immediately the Belgian sought the Arab who had been left in charge ofthe camp during Achmet Zek's absence, and again his boldness disarmedsuspicion and won the acceptance of his false explanation of hisreturn. The fact that he had brought back with him the woman prisonerwho had escaped, added strength to his claims, and Mohammed Beyd soonfound himself fraternizing good-naturedly with the very man whom hewould have slain without compunction had he discovered him alone in thejungle a half hour before.

  Jane Clayton was again confined to the prison hut she had formerlyoccupied, but as she realized that this was but a part of the deceptionwhich she and Frecoult were playing upon the credulous raiders, it waswith quite a different sensation that she again entered the vile andfilthy interior, from that which she had previously experienced, whenhope was so far away.

  Once more she was bound and sentries placed before the door of herprison; but before Werper left her he whispered words of cheer into herear. Then he left, and made his way back to the tent of Mohammed Beyd.He had been wondering how long it would be before the raiders who hadridden out with Achmet Zek would return with the murdered body of theirchief, and the more he thought upon the matter the greater his fearsbecame, that without accomplices his plan would fail.

  What, even, if he got away from the camp in safety before any returnedwith the true story of his guilt--of what value would this advantage beother than to protract for a few days his mental torture and his life?These hard riders, familiar with every trail and bypath, would get himlong before he could hope to reach the coast.

  As these thoughts passed through his mind he entered the tent whereMohammed Beyd sat cross-legged upon a rug, smoking. The Arab looked upas the European came into his presence.

  "Greetings, O Brother!" he said.

  "Greetings!" replied Werper.

  For a while neither spoke further. The Arab was the first to break thesilence.

  "And my master, Achmet Zek, was well when last you saw him?" he asked.

  "Never was he safer from the sins and dangers of mortality," repliedthe Belgian.

  "It is well," said Mohammed Beyd, blowing a little puff of blue smokestraight out before him.

  Again there was silence for several minutes.

  "And if he were dead?" asked the Belgian, determined to lead up to thetruth, and attempt to bribe Mohammed Beyd into his service.

  The Arab's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, his gaze boringstraight into the eyes of the Belgian.

  "I have been thinking much, Werper, since you returned so unexpectedlyto the camp of the man whom you had deceived, and who sought you withdeath in his heart. I have been with Achmet Zek for many years--hisown mother never knew him so well as I. He never forgives--much lesswould he again trust a man who had once betrayed him; that I know.

  "I have thought much, as I said, and the result of my thinking hasassured me that Achmet Zek is dead--for otherwise you would never havedared return to his camp, unless you be either a braver man or a biggerfool than I have imagined. And, if this evidence of my judgment is notsufficient, I have but just now received from your own lips even moreconfirmatory witness--for did you not say that Achmet Zek was nevermore safe from the sins and dangers of mortality?

  "Achmet Zek is dead--you need not deny it. I was not his mother, orhis mistress, so do not fear that my wailings shall disturb you. Tellme why you have come back here. Tell me what you want, and, Werper, ifyou still possess the jewels of which Achmet Zek told me, there is noreason why you and I should not ride north together and divide theransom of the white woman and the contents of the pouch you wear aboutyour person. Eh?"

  The evil eyes narrowed, a vicious, thin-lipped smile tortured thevillainous face, as Mohammed Beyd grinned knowingly into the face ofthe
Belgian.

  Werper was both relieved and disturbed by the Arab's attitude. Thecomplacency with which he accepted the death of his chief lifted aconsiderable burden of apprehension from the shoulders of Achmet Zek'sassassin; but his demand for a share of the jewels boded ill for Werperwhen Mohammed Beyd should have learned that the precious stones were nolonger in the Belgian's possession.

  To acknowledge that he had lost the jewels might be to arouse the wrathor suspicion of the Arab to such an extent as would jeopardize hisnew-found chances of escape. His one hope seemed, then, to lie infostering Mohammed Beyd's belief that the jewels were still in hispossession, and depend upon the accidents of the future to open anavenue of escape.

  Could he contrive to tent with the Arab upon the march north, he mightfind opportunity in plenty to remove this menace to his life andliberty--it was worth trying, and, further, there seemed no other wayout of his difficulty.

  "Yes," he said, "Achmet Zek is dead. He fell in battle with a companyof Abyssinian cavalry that held me captive. During the fighting Iescaped; but I doubt if any of Achmet Zek's men live, and the gold theysought is in the possession of the Abyssinians. Even now they aredoubtless marching on this camp, for they were sent by Menelek topunish Achmet Zek and his followers for a raid upon an Abyssinianvillage. There are many of them, and if we do not make haste to escapewe shall all suffer the same fate as Achmet Zek."

  Mohammed Beyd listened in silence. How much of the unbeliever's storyhe might safely believe he did not know; but as it afforded him anexcuse for deserting the village and making for the north he was notinclined to cross-question the Belgian too minutely.

  "And if I ride north with you," he asked, "half the jewels and half theransom of the woman shall be mine?"

  "Yes," replied Werper.

  "Good," said Mohammed Beyd. "I go now to give the order for thebreaking of camp early on the morrow," and he rose to leave the tent.

  Werper laid a detaining hand upon his arm.

  "Wait," he said, "let us determine how many shall accompany us. It isnot well that we be burdened by the women and children, for then indeedwe might be overtaken by the Abyssinians. It would be far better toselect a small guard of your bravest men, and leave word behind that weare riding WEST. Then, when the Abyssinians come they will be put uponthe wrong trail should they have it in their hearts to pursue us, andif they do not they will at least ride north with less rapidity than asthough they thought that we were ahead of them."

  "The serpent is less wise than thou, Werper," said Mohammed Beyd with asmile. "It shall be done as you say. Twenty men shall accompany us,and we shall ride WEST--when we leave the village."

  "Good," cried the Belgian, and so it was arranged.

  Early the next morning Jane Clayton, after an almost sleepless night,was aroused by the sound of voices outside her prison, and a momentlater, M. Frecoult, and two Arabs entered. The latter unbound herankles and lifted her to her feet. Then her wrists were loosed, shewas given a handful of dry bread, and led out into the faint light ofdawn.

  She looked questioningly at Frecoult, and at a moment that the Arab'sattention was attracted in another direction the man leaned toward herand whispered that all was working out as he had planned. Thusassured, the young woman felt a renewal of the hope which the long andmiserable night of bondage had almost expunged.

  Shortly after, she was lifted to the back of a horse, and surrounded byArabs, was escorted through the gateway of the village and off into thejungle toward the west. Half an hour later the party turned north, andnortherly was their direction for the balance of the march.

  M. Frecoult spoke with her but seldom, and she understood that incarrying out his deception he must maintain the semblance of hercaptor, rather than protector, and so she suspected nothing though shesaw the friendly relations which seemed to exist between the Europeanand the Arab leader of the band.

  If Werper succeeded in keeping himself from conversation with the youngwoman, he failed signally to expel her from his thoughts. A hundredtimes a day he found his eyes wandering in her direction and feastingthemselves upon her charms of face and figure. Each hour hisinfatuation for her grew, until his desire to possess her gained almostthe proportions of madness.

  If either the girl or Mohammed Beyd could have guessed what passed inthe mind of the man which each thought a friend and ally, the apparentharmony of the little company would have been rudely disturbed.

  Werper had not succeeded in arranging to tent with Mohammed Beyd, andso he revolved many plans for the assassination of the Arab that wouldhave been greatly simplified had he been permitted to share the other'snightly shelter.

  Upon the second day out Mohammed Beyd reined his horse to the side ofthe animal on which the captive was mounted. It was, apparently, thefirst notice which the Arab had taken of the girl; but many timesduring these two days had his cunning eyes peered greedily from beneaththe hood of his burnoose to gloat upon the beauties of the prisoner.

  Nor was this hidden infatuation of any recent origin. He had conceivedit when first the wife of the Englishman had fallen into the hands ofAchmet Zek; but while that austere chieftain lived, Mohammed Beyd hadnot even dared hope for a realization of his imaginings.

  Now, though, it was different--only a despised dog of a Christian stoodbetween himself and possession of the girl. How easy it would be toslay the unbeliever, and take unto himself both the woman and thejewels! With the latter in his possession, the ransom which might beobtained for the captive would form no great inducement to herrelinquishment in the face of the pleasures of sole ownership of her.Yes, he would kill Werper, retain all the jewels and keep theEnglishwoman.

  He turned his eyes upon her as she rode along at his side. Howbeautiful she was! His fingers opened and closed--skinny, brown talonsitching to feel the soft flesh of the victim in their remorselessclutch.

  "Do you know," he asked leaning toward her, "where this man would takeyou?"

  Jane Clayton nodded affirmatively.

  "And you are willing to become the plaything of a black sultan?"

  The girl drew herself up to her full height, and turned her head away;but she did not reply. She feared lest her knowledge of the ruse thatM. Frecoult was playing upon the Arab might cause her to betray herselfthrough an insufficient display of terror and aversion.

  "You can escape this fate," continued the Arab; "Mohammed Beyd willsave you," and he reached out a brown hand and seized the fingers ofher right hand in a grasp so sudden and so fierce that his brutalpassion was revealed as clearly in the act as though his lips hadconfessed it in words. Jane Clayton wrenched herself from his grasp.

  "You beast!" she cried. "Leave me or I shall call M. Frecoult."

  Mohammed Beyd drew back with a scowl. His thin, upper lip curledupward, revealing his smooth, white teeth.

  "M. Frecoult?" he jeered. "There is no such person. The man's name isWerper. He is a liar, a thief, and a murderer. He killed his captainin the Congo country and fled to the protection of Achmet Zek. He ledAchmet Zek to the plunder of your home. He followed your husband, andplanned to steal his gold from him. He has told me that you think himyour protector, and he has played upon this to win your confidence thatit might be easier to carry you north and sell you into some blacksultan's harem. Mohammed Beyd is your only hope," and with thisassertion to provide the captive with food for thought, the Arabspurred forward toward the head of the column.

  Jane Clayton could not know how much of Mohammed Beyd's indictmentmight be true, or how much false; but at least it had the effect ofdampening her hopes and causing her to review with suspicion every pastact of the man upon whom she had been looking as her sole protector inthe midst of a world of enemies and dangers.

  On the march a separate tent had been provided for the captive, and atnight it was pitched between those of Mohammed Beyd and Werper. Asentry was posted at the front and another at the back, and with theseprecautions it had not been thought necessary to confine the p
risonerto bonds. The evening following her interview with Mohammed Beyd, JaneClayton sat for some time at the opening of her tent watching the roughactivities of the camp. She had eaten the meal that had been broughther by Mohammed Beyd's Negro slave--a meal of cassava cakes and anondescript stew in which a new-killed monkey, a couple of squirrelsand the remains of a zebra, slain the previous day, were impartiallyand unsavorily combined; but the one-time Baltimore belle had longsince submerged in the stern battle for existence, an estheticism whichformerly revolted at much slighter provocation.

  As the girl's eyes wandered across the trampled jungle clearing,already squalid from the presence of man, she no longer apprehendedeither the nearer objects of the foreground, the uncouth men laughingor quarreling among themselves, or the jungle beyond, whichcircumscribed the extreme range of her material vision. Her gazepassed through all these, unseeing, to center itself upon a distantbungalow and scenes of happy security which brought to her eyes tearsof mingled joy and sorrow. She saw a tall, broad-shouldered man ridingin from distant fields; she saw herself waiting to greet him with anarmful of fresh-cut roses from the bushes which flanked the littlerustic gate before her. All this was gone, vanished into the past,wiped out by the torches and bullets and hatred of these hideous anddegenerate men. With a stifled sob, and a little shudder, Jane Claytonturned back into her tent and sought the pile of unclean blankets whichwere her bed. Throwing herself face downward upon them she sobbedforth her misery until kindly sleep brought her, at least temporary,relief.

  And while she slept a figure stole from the tent that stood to theright of hers. It approached the sentry before the doorway andwhispered a few words in the man's ear. The latter nodded, and strodeoff through the darkness in the direction of his own blankets. Thefigure passed to the rear of Jane Clayton's tent and spoke again to thesentry there, and this man also left, following in the trail of thefirst.

  Then he who had sent them away stole silently to the tent flap anduntying the fastenings entered with the noiselessness of a disembodiedspirit.