21
The Flight to the Jungle
Sleepless upon his blankets, Albert Werper let his evil mind dwell uponthe charms of the woman in the nearby tent. He had noted MohammedBeyd's sudden interest in the girl, and judging the man by his ownstandards, had guessed at the basis of the Arab's sudden change ofattitude toward the prisoner.
And as he let his imaginings run riot they aroused within him a bestialjealousy of Mohammed Beyd, and a great fear that the other mightencompass his base designs upon the defenseless girl. By a strangeprocess of reasoning, Werper, whose designs were identical with theArab's, pictured himself as Jane Clayton's protector, and presentlyconvinced himself that the attentions which might seem hideous to herif proffered by Mohammed Beyd, would be welcomed from Albert Werper.
Her husband was dead, and Werper fancied that he could replace in thegirl's heart the position which had been vacated by the act of the grimreaper. He could offer Jane Clayton marriage--a thing which MohammedBeyd would not offer, and which the girl would spurn from him with asdeep disgust as she would his unholy lust.
It was not long before the Belgian had succeeded in convincing himselfthat the captive not only had every reason for having conceivedsentiments of love for him; but that she had by various femininemethods acknowledged her new-born affection.
And then a sudden resolution possessed him. He threw the blankets fromhim and rose to his feet. Pulling on his boots and buckling hiscartridge belt and revolver about his hips he stepped to the flap ofhis tent and looked out. There was no sentry before the entrance tothe prisoner's tent! What could it mean? Fate was indeed playing intohis hands.
Stepping outside he passed to the rear of the girl's tent. There wasno sentry there, either! And now, boldly, he walked to the entranceand stepped within.
Dimly the moonlight illumined the interior. Across the tent a figurebent above the blankets of a bed. There was a whispered word, andanother figure rose from the blankets to a sitting position. SlowlyAlbert Werper's eyes were becoming accustomed to the half darkness ofthe tent. He saw that the figure leaning over the bed was that of aman, and he guessed at the truth of the nocturnal visitor's identity.
A sullen, jealous rage enveloped him. He took a step in the directionof the two. He heard a frightened cry break from the girl's lips asshe recognized the features of the man above her, and he saw MohammedBeyd seize her by the throat and bear her back upon the blankets.
Cheated passion cast a red blur before the eyes of the Belgian. No!The man should not have her. She was for him and him alone. He wouldnot be robbed of his rights.
Quickly he ran across the tent and threw himself upon the back ofMohammed Beyd. The latter, though surprised by this sudden andunexpected attack, was not one to give up without a battle. TheBelgian's fingers were feeling for his throat, but the Arab tore themaway, and rising wheeled upon his adversary. As they faced each otherWerper struck the Arab a heavy blow in the face, sending him staggeringbackward. If he had followed up his advantage he would have hadMohammed Beyd at his mercy in another moment; but instead he tugged athis revolver to draw it from its holster, and Fate ordained that atthat particular moment the weapon should stick in its leather scabbard.
Before he could disengage it, Mohammed Beyd had recovered himself andwas dashing upon him. Again Werper struck the other in the face, andthe Arab returned the blow. Striking at each other and ceaselesslyattempting to clinch, the two battled about the small interior of thetent, while the girl, wide-eyed in terror and astonishment, watched theduel in frozen silence.
Again and again Werper struggled to draw his weapon. Mohammed Beyd,anticipating no such opposition to his base desires, had come to thetent unarmed, except for a long knife which he now drew as he stoodpanting during the first brief rest of the encounter.
"Dog of a Christian," he whispered, "look upon this knife in the handsof Mohammed Beyd! Look well, unbeliever, for it is the last thing inlife that you shall see or feel. With it Mohammed Beyd will cut outyour black heart. If you have a God pray to him now--in a minute moreyou shall be dead," and with that he rushed viciously upon the Belgian,his knife raised high above his head.
Werper was still dragging futilely at his weapon. The Arab was almostupon him. In desperation the European waited until Mohammed Beyd wasall but against him, then he threw himself to one side to the floor ofthe tent, leaving a leg extended in the path of the Arab.
The trick succeeded. Mohammed Beyd, carried on by the momentum of hischarge, stumbled over the projecting obstacle and crashed to theground. Instantly he was up again and wheeling to renew the battle;but Werper was on foot ahead of him, and now his revolver, loosenedfrom its holster, flashed in his hand.
The Arab dove headfirst to grapple with him, there was a sharp report,a lurid gleam of flame in the darkness, and Mohammed Beyd rolled overand over upon the floor to come to a final rest beside the bed of thewoman he had sought to dishonor.
Almost immediately following the report came the sound of excitedvoices in the camp without. Men were calling back and forth to oneanother asking the meaning of the shot. Werper could hear them runninghither and thither, investigating.
Jane Clayton had risen to her feet as the Arab died, and now she cameforward with outstretched hands toward Werper.
"How can I ever thank you, my friend?" she asked. "And to think thatonly today I had almost believed the infamous story which this beasttold me of your perfidy and of your past. Forgive me, M. Frecoult. Imight have known that a white man and a gentleman could be naught elsethan the protector of a woman of his own race amid the dangers of thissavage land."
Werper's hands dropped limply at his sides. He stood looking at thegirl; but he could find no words to reply to her. Her innocentarraignment of his true purposes was unanswerable.
Outside, the Arabs were searching for the author of the disturbingshot. The two sentries who had been relieved and sent to theirblankets by Mohammed Beyd were the first to suggest going to the tentof the prisoner. It occurred to them that possibly the woman hadsuccessfully defended herself against their leader.
Werper heard the men approaching. To be apprehended as the slayer ofMohammed Beyd would be equivalent to a sentence of immediate death.The fierce and brutal raiders would tear to pieces a Christian who haddared spill the blood of their leader. He must find some excuse todelay the finding of Mohammed Beyd's dead body.
Returning his revolver to its holster, he walked quickly to theentrance of the tent. Parting the flaps he stepped out and confrontedthe men, who were rapidly approaching. Somehow he found within him thenecessary bravado to force a smile to his lips, as he held up his handto bar their farther progress.
"The woman resisted," he said, "and Mohammed Beyd was forced to shoother. She is not dead--only slightly wounded. You may go back to yourblankets. Mohammed Beyd and I will look after the prisoner;" then heturned and re-entered the tent, and the raiders, satisfied by thisexplanation, gladly returned to their broken slumbers.
As he again faced Jane Clayton, Werper found himself animated by quitedifferent intentions than those which had lured him from his blanketsbut a few minutes before. The excitement of his encounter withMohammed Beyd, as well as the dangers which he now faced at the handsof the raiders when morning must inevitably reveal the truth of whathad occurred in the tent of the prisoner that night, had naturallycooled the hot passion which had dominated him when he entered the tent.
But another and stronger force was exerting itself in the girl's favor.However low a man may sink, honor and chivalry, has he ever possessedthem, are never entirely eradicated from his character, and thoughAlbert Werper had long since ceased to evidence the slightest claim toeither the one or the other, the spontaneous acknowledgment of themwhich the girl's speech had presumed had reawakened them both withinhim.
For the first time he realized the almost hopeless and frightfulposition of the fair captive, and the depths of ignominy to which hehad sunk, that had made it p
ossible for him, a well-born, Europeangentleman, to have entertained even for a moment the part that he hadtaken in the ruin of her home, happiness, and herself.
Too much of baseness already lay at the threshold of his conscience forhim ever to hope entirely to redeem himself; but in the first, suddenburst of contrition the man conceived an honest intention to undo, inso far as lay within his power, the evil that his criminal avarice hadbrought upon this sweet and unoffending woman.
As he stood apparently listening to the retreating footsteps--JaneClayton approached him.
"What are we to do now?" she asked. "Morning will bring discovery ofthis," and she pointed to the still body of Mohammed Beyd. "They willkill you when they find him."
For a time Werper did not reply, then he turned suddenly toward thewoman.
"I have a plan," he cried. "It will require nerve and courage on yourpart; but you have already shown that you possess both. Can you endurestill more?"
"I can endure anything," she replied with a brave smile, "that mayoffer us even a slight chance for escape."
"You must simulate death," he explained, "while I carry you from thecamp. I will explain to the sentries that Mohammed Beyd has ordered meto take your body into the jungle. This seemingly unnecessary act Ishall explain upon the grounds that Mohammed Beyd had conceived aviolent passion for you and that he so regretted the act by which hehad become your slayer that he could not endure the silent reproach ofyour lifeless body."
The girl held up her hand to stop. A smile touched her lips.
"Are you quite mad?" she asked. "Do you imagine that the sentries willcredit any such ridiculous tale?"
"You do not know them," he replied. "Beneath their rough exteriors,despite their calloused and criminal natures, there exists in each awell-defined strain of romantic emotionalism--you will find it amongsuch as these throughout the world. It is romance which lures men tolead wild lives of outlawry and crime. The ruse will succeed--neverfear."
Jane Clayton shrugged. "We can but try it--and then what?"
"I shall hide you in the jungle," continued the Belgian, "coming foryou alone and with two horses in the morning."
"But how will you explain Mohammed Beyd's death?" she asked. "It willbe discovered before ever you can escape the camp in the morning."
"I shall not explain it," replied Werper. "Mohammed Beyd shall explainit himself--we must leave that to him. Are you ready for the venture?"
"Yes."
"But wait, I must get you a weapon and ammunition," and Werper walkedquickly from the tent.
Very shortly he returned with an extra revolver and ammunition beltstrapped about his waist.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Quite ready," replied the girl.
"Then come and throw yourself limply across my left shoulder," andWerper knelt to receive her.
"There," he said, as he rose to his feet. "Now, let your arms, yourlegs and your head hang limply. Remember that you are dead."
A moment later the man walked out into the camp, the body of the womanacross his shoulder.
A thorn boma had been thrown up about the camp, to discourage thebolder of the hungry carnivora. A couple of sentries paced to and froin the light of a fire which they kept burning brightly. The nearer ofthese looked up in surprise as he saw Werper approaching.
"Who are you?" he cried. "What have you there?"
Werper raised the hood of his burnoose that the fellow might see hisface.
"This is the body of the woman," he explained. "Mohammed Beyd hasasked me to take it into the jungle, for he cannot bear to look uponthe face of her whom he loved, and whom necessity compelled him toslay. He suffers greatly--he is inconsolable. It was with difficultythat I prevented him taking his own life."
Across the speaker's shoulder, limp and frightened, the girl waited forthe Arab's reply. He would laugh at this preposterous story; of thatshe was sure. In an instant he would unmask the deception that M.Frecoult was attempting to practice upon him, and they would both belost. She tried to plan how best she might aid her would-be rescuer inthe fight which must most certainly follow within a moment or two.
Then she heard the voice of the Arab as he replied to M. Frecoult.
"Are you going alone, or do you wish me to awaken someone to accompanyyou?" he asked, and his tone denoted not the least surprise thatMohammed Beyd had suddenly discovered such remarkably sensitivecharacteristics.
"I shall go alone," replied Werper, and he passed on and out throughthe narrow opening in the boma, by which the sentry stood.
A moment later he had entered among the boles of the trees with hisburden, and when safely hidden from the sentry's view lowered the girlto her feet, with a low, "sh-sh," when she would have spoken.
Then he led her a little farther into the forest, halted beneath alarge tree with spreading branches, buckled a cartridge belt andrevolver about her waist, and assisted her to clamber into the lowerbranches.
"Tomorrow," he whispered, "as soon as I can elude them, I will returnfor you. Be brave, Lady Greystoke--we may yet escape."
"Thank you," she replied in a low tone. "You have been very kind, andvery brave."
Werper did not reply, and the darkness of the night hid the scarletflush of shame which swept upward across his face. Quickly he turnedand made his way back to camp. The sentry, from his post, saw himenter his own tent; but he did not see him crawl under the canvas atthe rear and sneak cautiously to the tent which the prisoner hadoccupied, where now lay the dead body of Mohammed Beyd.
Raising the lower edge of the rear wall, Werper crept within andapproached the corpse. Without an instant's hesitation he seized thedead wrists and dragged the body upon its back to the point where hehad just entered. On hands and knees he backed out as he had come in,drawing the corpse after him. Once outside the Belgian crept to theside of the tent and surveyed as much of the camp as lay within hisvision--no one was watching.
Returning to the body, he lifted it to his shoulder, and risking all ona quick sally, ran swiftly across the narrow opening which separatedthe prisoner's tent from that of the dead man. Behind the silken wallhe halted and lowered his burden to the ground, and there he remainedmotionless for several minutes, listening.
Satisfied, at last, that no one had seen him, he stooped and raised thebottom of the tent wall, backed in and dragged the thing that had beenMohammed Beyd after him. To the sleeping rugs of the dead raider hedrew the corpse, then he fumbled about in the darkness until he hadfound Mohammed Beyd's revolver. With the weapon in his hand hereturned to the side of the dead man, kneeled beside the bedding, andinserted his right hand with the weapon beneath the rugs, piled anumber of thicknesses of the closely woven fabric over and about therevolver with his left hand. Then he pulled the trigger, and at thesame time he coughed.
The muffled report could not have been heard above the sound of hiscough by one directly outside the tent. Werper was satisfied. A grimsmile touched his lips as he withdrew the weapon from the rugs andplaced it carefully in the right hand of the dead man, fixing three ofthe fingers around the grip and the index finger inside the triggerguard.
A moment longer he tarried to rearrange the disordered rugs, and thenhe left as he had entered, fastening down the rear wall of the tent asit had been before he had raised it.
Going to the tent of the prisoner he removed there also the evidencethat someone might have come or gone beneath the rear wall. Then hereturned to his own tent, entered, fastened down the canvas, andcrawled into his blankets.
The following morning he was awakened by the excited voice of MohammedBeyd's slave calling to him at the entrance of his tent.
"Quick! Quick!" cried the black in a frightened tone. "Come!Mohammed Beyd is dead in his tent--dead by his own hand."
Werper sat up quickly in his blankets at the first alarm, a startledexpression upon his countenance; but at the last words of the black asigh of relief escaped his lips and a slight smile replaced the t
enselines upon his face.
"I come," he called to the slave, and drawing on his boots, rose andwent out of his tent.
Excited Arabs and blacks were running from all parts of the camp towardthe silken tent of Mohammed Beyd, and when Werper entered he found anumber of the raiders crowded about the corpse, now cold and stiff.
Shouldering his way among them, the Belgian halted beside the dead bodyof the raider. He looked down in silence for a moment upon the stillface, then he wheeled upon the Arabs.
"Who has done this thing?" he cried. His tone was both menacing andaccusing. "Who has murdered Mohammed Beyd?"
A sudden chorus of voices arose in tumultuous protest.
"Mohammed Beyd was not murdered," they cried. "He died by his ownhand. This, and Allah, are our witnesses," and they pointed to arevolver in the dead man's hand.
For a time Werper pretended to be skeptical; but at last permittedhimself to be convinced that Mohammed Beyd had indeed killed himself inremorse for the death of the white woman he had, all unknown to hisfollowers, loved so devotedly.
Werper himself wrapped the blankets of the dead man about the corpse,taking care to fold inward the scorched and bullet-torn fabric that hadmuffled the report of the weapon he had fired the night before. Thensix husky blacks carried the body out into the clearing where the campstood, and deposited it in a shallow grave. As the loose earth fellupon the silent form beneath the tell-tale blankets, Albert Werperheaved another sigh of relief--his plan had worked out even better thanhe had dared hope.
With Achmet Zek and Mohammed Beyd both dead, the raiders were without aleader, and after a brief conference they decided to return into thenorth on visits to the various tribes to which they belonged. Werper,after learning the direction they intended taking, announced that forhis part, he was going east to the coast, and as they knew of nothinghe possessed which any of them coveted, they signified theirwillingness that he should go his way.
As they rode off, he sat his horse in the center of the clearingwatching them disappear one by one into the jungle, and thanked his Godthat he had at last escaped their villainous clutches.
When he could no longer hear any sound of them, he turned to the rightand rode into the forest toward the tree where he had hidden LadyGreystoke, and drawing rein beneath it, called up in a gay and hopefulvoice a pleasant, "Good morning!"
There was no reply, and though his eyes searched the thick foliageabove him, he could see no sign of the girl. Dismounting, he quicklyclimbed into the tree, where he could obtain a view of all itsbranches. The tree was empty--Jane Clayton had vanished during thesilent watches of the jungle night.